A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery

by Helena Lamb

  Later, she unpacked all the purchases and laid them out on her bed, feeling a glow of pleasure at the sight of the colourful dresses, the pretty tops, the skirts and trousers. Next to the trousers was a pile of frothy lace and silk, matching knickers and bras; one set in ivory, one in a pale peachy pink and one in a soft mint green. She suppressed a smile at the thought that she would be the only one to see them, but at least if she had an accident and ended up in hospital she needn’t worry about being seen in old tatty underwear. Did the nursing staff notice underwear, she wondered? Probably not, but it was still a nicer thought that she would be wearing decent undies. She glanced down at the floor where three pairs of sandals sat squarely on the cream carpet; one flattish pair, glossy brown leather, perfect for work; one delicate strappy pair in deep coral leather, and one smart cream pair with a medium heel. Gina had tried to persuade her to go for a higher heel but Beth had been adamant, these were the highest she wanted to go. She carefully packed the sandals back up in the tissue paper and placed the boxes in the bottom of the wardrobe then found hangers for all the new clothes, having to raid Nell’s wardrobe when she ran out. Now for a shower and bed. It had been a busy day but good. Very good.

  The next day was not so good. Another burglary.

  Beth heard about it from April and Sue when she arrived at the charity shop.

  “Reynard’s House, you know it, Beth, a few houses along from Gina’s. That’s why she’s not here yet. She phoned to say she would be a bit late, she’s been round to see if she can do anything.”

  Beth felt cold. Reynard’s House was in fact two houses along from Beth’s, in the same lane of large individually designed houses right on the sea front, their gardens sloping down to the beach path. Anyone could access the gardens from the beach. How would her friend feel? Gina had a good burglar alarm but so presumably did Russell and Francesca Dean, the owners of Reynard’s House. Beth racked her brains for what she knew of the couple. Both doctors, at Portsmouth hospital. Two teenage children at private school somewhere.

  Gina rushed in twenty minutes later. “Sorry, sorry April”. Gina’s hair was still immaculate, kept back from her face with a narrow velvet band, but she had no lipstick on and her hands shook slightly as she put her bag down and picked up her apron.

  “That doesn’t matter love, calm down”. April pushed Gina onto a chair and turned to Beth, ordering her to make a cup of tea “strong, with sugar”. Beth made the tea, omitting the sugar. Shock or not, Gina would grimace at sweet tea.

  Gina sat on the chair, cradling a mug of strong tea. The other three women stood around, waiting for her to fill them in.

  “So Francesca came home early, she didn’t feel well at work this morning. She usually works Wednesday afternoons but got someone to cover for her and came home after her morning appointments. She knew something was wrong straight away, the burglar alarm didn’t go off, but she went in and went through the house. They could have still been there.” Gina’s voice rose and Beth clasped her hand as Gina shook her head to clear it and continued.

  “The place was a mess, everything thrown around, but no graffiti or anything thank God. Her jewellery box was empty but they had a safe and although they found it, they couldn’t break into it. Then the usual iPads, kindles, laptops etc. the children’s computer games, small items they could carry. Oh, and some silver and a couple of small sculptures and paintings. Fran and Russell had some lovely things.”

  Tears dribbled down Gina’s cheeks and she hastily brushed them away. “Sorry, it’s just the shock and...”

  She broke off; Beth, April and Sue guessing she was thinking it could have been her house.

  Just then a group entered the shop and April and Sue hurried to serve them, April telling Beth to stay in the store room with Gina and empty bags.

  “Sorry!” Gina tried to smile. “Come on, let’s get busy and take our minds off it. And why aren’t you wearing your new clothes?” wiping her cheeks and looking up at Beth, noticing her jeans and faded T shirt.

  “They’re much too nice to wear here, when I’m just sorting all this stuff out and….” her voice trailed off at the expression on Gina’s face “Alright. Alright I know! I’ll start wearing them tomorrow, I promise.”

  “You’ll wish you had worn them today. I met Melissa on my way here, and she wanted to know what the matter was and wants us both to go round after this.” Gina gave a shaky laugh at Beth’s horrified face.

  “Serves you right for not getting rid all your old clothes straight away! You could have washed and pressed them and brought them with you today.”

  “No one would want my old clothes.” Beth made a face. “They’ve been well loved and worn to death.”

  The two women started to empty and sort out bags and the afternoon passed quickly, Gina calming down with the routine of sorting and organising goods.

  “I’ve never been in this house before.” Beth looked round the kitchen curiously, at the glossy units and island at one end, the elegant glass table in the centre surrounded by black leather and chrome chairs and the two large sofas at the end overlooking the garden, as Melissa handed her a cup of tea. “It’s lovely.”

  And very different from her own, thinking of her cluttered kitchen with its cream painted units, wood worktop, the oak table and farmhouse chairs and the dresser she was always meaning to clear of random objects. Everything always seemed to find its way to the dresser, but at least it meant she knew where to look for items. Homes reflected their owners and Beth knew she wouldn’t relax so much in this kitchen, no matter how stylish it might be. A bit like the kitchens on Grand Designs, she reflected, beautiful but not homely, not her sort of homely anyway. She always meant to have a colour scheme in the kitchen but the reality was a kaleidoscope of colour; pale blue storage jars, red saucepans, cream kettle and toaster. But the overall effect was warm and cosy and suited Beth. This kitchen was minimalist to the extreme, the worktops empty apart from a chrome toaster, kettle and state of the art coffee maker. Elegant but too clinical for Beth.

  “It is” agreed Melissa “and I know what you’re going to say, it’s way too big for one person, but come and see this” picking up her own tea cup and ushering the two women ahead of her back through the hall and in to another room through double doors. Beth gasped. The room stretched from the front of the house to the back with a large square bay window overlooking the road at one end and another bay with French doors at the other, leading onto the terraced garden. The walls were painted white with curved, silver light fittings along them and two fireplaces, both original, flanked the outside wall. There was no furniture; instead the whole room had been turned into a studio with tables holding paints, jars and still life arrangements. Canvasses were propped against the walls and three easels filled the space. The only incongruous note was the wood effect vinyl on the floor and Melissa laughed as she caught Gina looking down at it.

  “There’s the most beautiful parquet floor underneath but I couldn’t risk ruining it, so had this put down on the top while I am here! This is why I rented it; the Thomson’s put all their furniture in store which meant I could use these rooms as I wanted. The light in here is amazing, so is the space. I live in the kitchen and work in here. Have a look.” She gestured towards a small pile of finished canvasses and some framed paintings and the two women walked over to see.

  Beth caught her breath. “They’re beautiful Melissa” and they were, mostly paintings of plants and flowers, so skilfully painted they could almost be touched and smelt. Some were of animals, people’s pets maybe? Beth was in no doubt that they captured the animals as closely as photographs would have done. A still life painting of some terracotta pots caught her eye. She could almost smell the sun baked clay and feel the texture and curves of the pots. Gina was examining the flower paintings with awe.

  “Melissa! You’re so talented! Where do you sell them? Do you take commissions?”

  Melissa pushed her shiny chestnut waves back from her face and laughed. �
��Yes I do, in fact I do a lot. I advertise on the internet and have photos sent to me of pets, gardens, houses. But I like painting flowers best; I like the detail in petals and leaves and the colours.”

  “Do you sell through galleries? We have one here. Julian Soames runs it, his wife Ali helps as well. He’s a potter really but he sells local artist’s work. You should call in.”

  “I have already. Yes, he was very helpful and is coming round to see my work to decide if it’s the sort of thing he could sell. And I sell to galleries all over the place, a couple back in Bristol, some in London, Brighton.”

  Beth and Gina were in no doubt that Julian would jump at the chance to sell Melissa’s paintings and the three women went back to the kitchen.

  “Now, enough of me. Gina, what happened today? Why were you so upset? Tell me while I cut this cake, it’s from Bread and Buns, which I’m assured is the place to buy cakes round here. Though I expect all the worthy ladies bake their own?” lifting arched brows towards Beth.

  “Some do, they enjoy baking. I do if I have the time. But bought ones can be just as good, this one is delicious”. Beth contentedly licked the cream cheese frosting off her fingers and accepted another cup of tea.

  The talk switched to the burglary, then to the local area and it was gone half past six before Beth stood up to leave.

  She checked the answer phone and wandered into the kitchen, patted Charlie’s head where he lay in his basket with it resting on his paws, one eye open watching her. Thought of supper and abandoned the idea, she was too full. The carrot cake had been supplemented by scones with jam and clotted cream and both Gina and Beth had indulged. Melissa had munched her way through a large slice of cake and two scones piled high with cream. How on earth did she stay so slim? wondered Beth, who only had to sniff cake to put on weight. Life wasn’t fair. Well, at least she could walk off the calories now by giving Charlie a long walk to make up for the fact it was later than usual.

  It was still sunny but the wind had blown up and white froth bubbled over the shingle at the water’s edge, looking like a frill of lace on a wedding dress. A few children were still playing on the beach; their shouts high and clear as they ran off their last bit of energy before bed. Charlie also ran off his energy as Beth sat on the shingle and threw bits of driftwood down into the water’s edge for him to retrieve. Footsteps scrunched behind her then stopped and Beth looked up, squinting into the lowering sun, as a voice asked “Can I join you? Or is this space taken?” Beth recognised her new neighbour, Tom, and looked around at the expanse of empty shingle, laughed.

  “I think there’s room for one more.” Tom squatted next to her, then sat down on the shingle and stretched his long legs out, looked at her and smiled, a well-shaped firm mouth, straight white teeth, smooth tanned skin. Beth couldn’t see his eyes, behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, but could make out laughter lines and a few more lines under his thick, sandy coloured hair, where it fell over his forehead. His jeans were almost as disreputable as hers, she saw; even worse, being ripped at the knees. His short sleeved cotton Polo shirt revealed muscled tanned arms, and a patch of gold hair curled at the neck. She was suddenly aware of her old jeans and the blue tee shirt that had been washed so many times it had lost its shape and hung unevenly, being lower on one side than the other. It also clung a little too snuggly to her curves. Oh well, nothing she could do about it now.

  “Hello Tess.” Beth held her hand out to the gentle looking dog that stood by his master, slowly wagging her tail. “Oh, aren’t you a lovely girl”. Charlie bounded up with his stick, dropped it and started circling the Golden Labrador, barking excitedly.

  “Charlie! Stop!” Tess slowly sank down next to Tom, rested her heavy head on his knees and gazed at the little Scottie dog as Beth picked up the stick and threw it again. Charlie stood, tail wagging, torn between staying with his new friend to continue their acquaintance, or chasing his stick; but his usual exuberance won out and he hared off back over the shingle into the water.

  “So, how are you settling in? I expect you’re still unpacking?”

  “Good, thanks. And yes to the unpacking, it’s going to take ages. I’ve unpacked the kitchen boxes, and the bedding and towels and so on. Now I’m on the books and CD’s, that kind of stuff. Though I haven’t got enough bookshelves or storage so I should get that sorted first, really. The living room looks alright, it’s just got the furniture in it as yet but the curtains are up now, lampshades fitted and so on. And the kitchen is done. But the large spare bedroom is full to the ceiling; anything I wasn’t sure about, I just told the removal men to put in there. But it will all get sorted one day, there’s no hurry.”

  “What brought you here? Do you know the area?”

  “Slightly. We had all our family holidays on the Isle of Wight when I was a child so I have fond memories of it.”

  Lucky man, thought Beth, thinking back to her own childhood; not many fond memories there, and certainly no holidays.

  Tom gazed at the island just a mile across the water from them, and continued.

  “I always wanted to retire to the coast, that old cliché” grinning at her “so I looked all along from Eastbourne to Poole. This seemed a real town, all the facilities I wanted, good transport links and so on. And the house prices were good, better than Brighton or Bournemouth. So here I am.”

  “Where were you before?”

  “Reading. I’ve been there for nearly fifteen years, in the same flat. So I’d accumulated quite a lot of …well, rubbish really! Things I didn’t need, anyway. So I had a good clear out before I moved, a good declutter. It’s very therapeutic.” Another grin. His face was open, friendly.

  Beth nodded her dark blonde hair whipping around her face in the breeze.

  “I should do that. I’ve collected too much stuff over the years.”

  “It’s easily done. Accumulating stuff I mean. Getting rid of it isn’t quite so easy. You have to be ruthless.”

  “So what do you want to do; now you’re here? Do you sail?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I’d quite like to take it up. No, I like walking, and Tess here needs that.” He stroked the dog’s smooth head gently. “And I like reading, visiting old towns, buildings, that sort of thing. Music. I write a bit so the plan is to semi retire and do some writing. I lectured in politics and economics, that’s what I write about” in response to Beth’s quizzical look.

  “Ah.” Beth didn’t know what to say. Not exactly two subjects she could discuss for long, for any amount of time, come to that. She had no interest in economics and although she was interested in current affairs, she didn’t know or understand enough to discuss politics in any great depth; didn’t trust what she read in the newspapers so gleaned all her views and information from the news on television and radio but was doubtful they would stand up to debate with an expert.

  Tom laughed. “I know. That’s a conversation killer, like saying I’m from Inland Revenue or a traffic warden. Though come to think of, that doesn’t stop conversation, it usually stirs it up! But I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing moving here, two burglaries in a week! Is it a sink town of crime and depravity?” His grin told her he was joking.

  Beth smiled. “No, it’s a very law abiding little town. Usually the worst thing that happens is when the local youths pull flowers out of the hanging baskets! Though actually that is a crime of major importance, in Frances’s eyes.”

  “Ah Frances, flower arranger in chief. She’s coming round tomorrow to cut some of the flowers in the garden. I must say, it’s a lovely garden, some really unusual plants. I’m looking forward to working in it. The house is good too; it’s still got a separate living room and dining room, but I’m making the dining room into a library cum study. I can eat in the kitchen, it’s plenty big enough. And the location! Those living room windows just frame the sea and being able to step out of the front door and walk over the road to the beach is wonderful! Now, your turn, I know you live over the road
from me, Carol said. What do you do? How long have you lived here? Are you from here originally?”

  Beth shook her head. “No. I was born and grew up in London, then moved to Bournemouth for work. And you’re right, it is expensive there! But I worked in a small family run hotel and had accommodation. I went to college there and worked shifts around my lectures. Then I moved here ten years ago.”

  “Was that for work?”

  “No. My sister lived here...” she swallowed “but she was killed in an accident, a car accident, ten years ago. She had a twelve year old daughter, Nell. She was divorced, Nell’s father lives in Australia, didn’t really want to know, so I moved here to take care of Nell.”

  Tom shifted, put his large hand over hers. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

  Beth looked down at his hand over hers, waited to tense, but his skin was soft and his fingers warm and firm, pressing comfortingly against hers.

  “No, it’s okay. But that’s how I ended up here. Nell’s home was here, her friends were here, I couldn’t uproot her to Bournemouth. So I got a job here and we lived in Louise’s flat at first but moved to my little cottage just over a year later. And I’ve been there ever since. Nell went to university and now has a job in Winchester, rents a flat there.”