Pumpkins, Peril and a Paella (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Bryan, Sherri

  “Yes, it’s Slippery Samuel Slade.”

  “Oh no! Not Maureen’s Slade’s son?”

  Nathan looked surprised. “Yes. How d’you know about the Slades?”

  Charlotte told him about the Slades’ visit to the café. “The poor woman, she’s going to be devastated.”

  Nathan scoffed. ““Poor woman?” You must be joking. That woman is a witch, pure and simple, and not just at Halloween.”

  “Well, I think you’re being very insensitive - she might not be your favourite person, but she’s a mother who’s just lost a son. Have some sympathy, will you?” Charlotte scolded him gently. “Anyway, why did you call him ‘Slippery’ Samuel Slade.”

  “Because every time I thought we were getting close enough to arrest him, he slipped out of our grip. We used to call his brothers Wriggly Richard and Tricky Trevor for the same reason.”

  “How did he die, do you know?”

  “Well, first signs indicate that he was strangled because of the bruising around his neck but the post-mortem will tell us more. If there’s any more to tell, of course.”

  “Who’s going to tell his mum?”

  “Me, probably. Unfortunately.”

  “Honestly, it’s so awful. They’ve just come back from a lovely holiday in Tenerife and within a few days, her son turns up dead.”

  “Ah, that explains the tan.”

  “What was the motive, any idea?”

  “Well, there are a few people around here who’d probably like to see Samuel Slade dead but, at the moment, robbery’s a possible motive because his watch is missing. And if I know Samuel Slade, it would have been a damn expensive one.”

  “How d’you know he had a watch? Not everyone wears one. I don’t.”

  “Because there’s a tan line on his arm - a white band and a hexagonal-shaped mark on his wrist - it’s quite distinctive.”

  “How awful to think that someone may have lost their life because of the watch they were wearing ... I shudder to think.” Charlotte frowned as she pulled her jacket around her.

  “Well, unfortunately, not everyone’s as decent as you.” Nathan squeezed her hand.

  “What about his phone? Are there any clues on that? You never know, maybe the killer called him. Don’t they say that most murder victims know their killers?”

  “They do say that, yes, but he didn’t have a phone. Well, not on him, anyway.”

  “That’s weird, don’t you think? I mean, how many people leave home these days without their phone?”

  “It’s surprising, yes, but not beyond the realms of possibility. He could have forgotten it when he went out, or mislaid it.” Nathan picked up his notebook and pulled up the collar on his coat.

  “Right, I’ve got work to do. I’ll take you home first and then I’ll go down to the station. You almost ready to leave?”

  “I’m ready now.” Charlotte switched off the lights and picked up Pippin before closing the front doors and fastening the heavy chain and padlock securely around the handles.

  Averting her eyes from the tent on the other side of the awning, she prayed that Samuel Slade’s murderer would be found very soon.

  Chapter 5

  Nathan stood on the doorstep of the handsome town house, PC Farrell at his side.

  “Have you met the Slade family?”

  “Erm, no, I don’t think I have, Chief.”

  “You’re in for a treat.”

  The blurred image of Richard Slade grew closer through the opaque glass panel in the door. When he opened it, the look on his face told the police officers he wasn’t impressed with being woken at twenty-to one in the morning.

  “Good morning, Mr. Slade. This is my colleague, PC Farrell. I apologise for the hour, but I need to speak with you and your family as a matter of urgency.”

  “You know, of all the people I didn’t want to set eyes on again during my lifetime, you’re at the top of my list, Costello.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, I can assure you, Mr. Slade. Now, if we could come in, please?”

  “What for? Is it about Samuel?”

  “I really would prefer to discuss the matter inside.” Nathan was quietly insistent.

  Richard Slade cursed loudly and stood to one side. “Thank you.” Nathan and PC Farrell stepped into the house.

  “Wait in the living room. I’ll get Ma, but I’m warning you, she won’t be happy about being woken in the middle of the night.”

  As he disappeared, PC Farrell leaned forward and whispered, “You were joking about this being a treat, weren’t you?”

  “Ma! MA! The cops are here.”

  Richard Slade’s bellowing voice reverberated around the house as he banged on his mother’s bedroom door. “What? Dunno, they won’t say! And you won’t believe who it is.

  “Trevor! TREVOR! Get your lazy backside out of bed. The cops are here.”

  He reappeared in the living room.

  “I was right. She’s not happy about being woken up and she’s going to be even less happy when she sees you.”

  Trevor Slade was the first to join them.

  “What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, treating them all to a ringside seat view of his tonsils.

  Richard shrugged as he chewed his nails. “Dunno. Must be about Samuel, I s’pose.”

  They sat in silence for what seemed like hours but it was only five minutes before Maureen Slade wheeled herself in from her ground-floor bedroom.

  “There’s only one reason I can think of that you’d be calling round here at this time of night. It’s about my Samuel, isn’t it?” As her eyes, still heavy with sleep, began to focus she recognised the police officer standing in front of her.

  She straightened herself up in her chair, her eyes narrowed with disdain. “You’ve got a nerve, Costello, coming into my house. You know, if I didn’t want to know so badly what you have to say, I’d will myself up out of this chair and kick your backside down the street. You scum. How dare you come round here after what you did to my family?”

  Nathan waited until he was sure she’d finished speaking. “Mrs. Slade, Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Maureen grabbed Richard’s hand. “I know what he’s going to say but I don’t want to hear it. I’m not ready for it.”

  “Ma.” Richard stroked her hand. “We have to know. He has to tell us.”

  Maureen glared at Nathan. “Alright, tell me, but get it over with quickly.” She tightened her grip on her son’s hand and closed her eyes.

  “It is my sad duty to inform you that a body has been found on the marina and I’m very sorry to tell you that we believe it to the body of Samuel Slade.”

  Maureen gasped and fell back in her chair, her breathing rapid.

  Richard and Trevor leaned over her, their faces close to hers. “Ma? Ma! Are you alright?”

  “Yes, yes, just give me some air.” Maureen pushed them away and sat slumped in her chair, a crumpled tissue held to her eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “We’re not entirely sure yet, but the coroner has requested a post-mortem. We’ll know more when the findings of that come back.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  Nathan was reluctant to say too much. “We really don’t know for sure, Mrs. Slade, but as I said, the post-mortem will tell us more.”

  “When will you know what happened to him?”

  “We’re hoping that we’ll be in a better position to answer any questions you may have by tomorrow. As soon as we know anything, we’ll be in touch.”

  “And when can I see him?” Maureen Slade pulled another tissue from a box at the side of her wheelchair.

  “Tomorrow afternoon, hopefully, but we’ll confirm that.”

  “Will you need one of us to identify the body?” Richard Slade turned to his mother. “Me or Trevor can do that, Ma. It’ll be too upsetting for you.”

  Nathan nodded his thanks. “That will be very helpful, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “And I’
m sorry to ask but would it be possible for one of you to come and do that now? The quicker the body is identified, the quicker we can move on with the investigation. We’ll take you and bring you back, of course.”

  Richard Slade nodded. “Give me a minute to get dressed. Trevor, you stay here with Ma.”

  As Richard left the room, Maureen Slater glared hatefully at Nathan.

  “Right. You’ve said your piece. Now you can get out.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, you can get out. Go on! Leave us in peace!” She thrashed out, her voice frantic. “Tell me, Chief Inspector. Why is it that you always bring bad news to my door? I bet you love it, don’t you? Coming round here to break the news to old Mrs. Slade that her son’s been bumped off?”

  “I can assure you, Mrs. Slade, it gives me no pleasure at all to be the bearer of such dreadful news but, as you wish, we’ll leave you now. We’ll be in touch as soon as possible regarding the arrangements to see your son but, in the meantime, on behalf of the St. Eves police force, may I extend our sincere condolences to ...”

  “Oh, save your breath.” A weary Maureen Slade turned her chair round and wheeled out of the room. “And it’d better not be you who gets in touch, Costello,” she called over her shoulder. “God help me if I ever have to speak to you again.”

  ººººººº

  Having formally identified the body of his brother, Richard Slade sat opposite Nathan in the police interview room, red-eyed but impassive.

  “Are you sure you feel up to giving a statement, Mr. Slade? We can postpone this until later if you’d prefer?”

  “No, let’s just get it over with. I don’t have very fond memories of cop shops so I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible. I’m sure you understand?”

  “Okay. When did you last see your brother, Samuel, alive?”

  “Thursday night. At home, around nine, I suppose. He was getting ready to go out.”

  “On his own or were you and Trevor going with him?”

  “No. He was going on his own. We didn’t often go out together - after spending so much time inside, we liked our own company, see? Samuel liked to go out drinking and womanising, Trevor just likes drinking, and I like to drive around. When you haven’t had your freedom for so long, it’s good to be able to get in your car and drive wherever you want to go”

  “I see. And you didn’t see Samuel after he was getting ready at home?”

  Richard shook his head. “Nope. I spoke to him, though. Just before quarter-past twelve. He was in The Bottle of Beer.”

  “Why did you call him?”

  “Because Ma wanted to know where he was. She worries about us since we got out of prison.”

  “Was he with anyone, do you know?”

  “No one in particular, I don’t think. Just the usual crowd who drink in the bar.”

  “Okay, and after that? Do you know if he stayed in the bar for long, or if not, where he went when he left?”

  Richard shrugged. “Dunno. He said he’d be back late, but he’s said that before and not come home.”

  “We believe your brother had been wearing a watch. An unusual design - it had a hexagonal face. Do you know if he was wearing it when he left the house on Thursday evening?”

  Richard shrugged again. “No idea. I didn’t make a habit of checking his wrists before he went out but I expect so, yeah. He usually wore it.”

  “Can you give me a description of it, please?”

  “I dunno ... gold, hexagon-shaped face. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “How was your relationship with your brother, Mr. Slade?”

  “What?”

  “Your relationship with your brother. How was it?”

  Richard laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, here we go. I agree to come in and answer some questions and you take advantage of the situation and start trying to fit me up.”

  Nathan shook his head. “Not at all. I’m simply trying to ascertain how the relationship was between you and your brother.”

  Richard laughed again. “Yeah, right. Okay, if you must know, it was crap. We’d never got on, even when we were young, but as we got older it got worse. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t stand the sight of him. And before you ask, no, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t kill him.” He glared at Nathan. “Anyway, I don’t care what you think. You’ve got nothing on me. Can I go now?”

  Nathan tapped his pen on the desk. Richard Slade had been far more candid than he’d expected.

  “Yes, you can go. Thank you for coming in.”

  PC Farrell escorted Richard from the room, returning twenty minutes later after she’d dropped him home. “Well, Chief. What do you think?”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. I’m not convinced he’s the killer. I mean, he’s got the potential, I’m sure of that, but I’m not sure he’s the killer in this case. What about you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s our man, Chief. Not one bit. I’ll definitely be keeping my eye on him, that’s for sure.”

  Nathan leaned back in the chair and cradled his head in his hands. “He could be our man but we’ve a long way to go, and a lot of people to speak to, before we get to the bottom of this.

  “Samuel Slade had a lot of enemies, some of whom, I’ve no doubt, will be toasting their good fortune as we speak. And one of them will have done the deed. The question is, which one?”

  ººººººº

  “That’ll be four more large breakfasts, two mediums and three scrambled eggs on toast, two with bacon, please.” Jess passed a ticket to Charlotte through the arch in the wall on an extremely busy Sunday morning.

  “Oh my God! Where’s everyone coming from?” Charlotte moved swiftly around the kitchen, arranging tomatoes, bacon and sausages on the griddle, dropping hash browns into hot oil and chopping mushrooms to sauté in butter. She was opening a tin of baked beans when she cut her finger on the sharp edge of the lid.

  “Ow! Damn it!” She ran her finger under the tap and put pressure on the cut with her thumb as she reached up onto the shelf for the first aid box.

  She took out the long roll of sticking plaster and looked for the scissors to cut a piece off. No scissors.

  She went through to the bar to fetch the other pair of scissors she knew they kept in a box along with all the pens that didn’t work, the small coins that no one wanted, bottle openers, screwdrivers, drinks coasters and emery boards. No scissors.

  Where are they?

  She scanned the café and spotted them on top of one of the fridges under the bar. As she reached for them, she inadvertently pushed them away and wasn’t quick enough to stop them from sliding across the polished steel surface and falling down behind the fridge.

  “Damn, Damn Damn it!” She couldn’t cook with her finger pouring blood. She ran back into the kitchen to check on the food and called Jess in from the terrace.

  “What’s up? Oh my gosh! Let me get you a plaster.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “No, we’ve got no scissors - they just fell down the back of one of the bar fridges. Can you just tear off a piece of sticky tape with your teeth and stick this piece of kitchen paper to my finger, please? As long as I’ve got something over the top of it to cover the bleeding, I can put this finger guard on it and get back to cooking. When everyone’s gone, perhaps you can help me pull the fridge out so I can reach behind it and get the scissors out?”

  Temporary first aid completed, Charlotte got back to work. It occurred to her that the reason they’d been so busy without any letup was because the forensic team was still working in the tent and bad news travelled fast. Like moths to a flame and driven by morbid fascination, people had flocked to the café for the chance to see a real life murder investigation in progress.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Ava’s dulcet tones.

  “Morning, Charlotte, dear.”

  “Hi Ava. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m so busy I can’t stop and chat just now.�
�

  “Oh, it’s alright dear, I’ve only come to see if you have any copies of this week’s local newspaper left. I was in the middle of the crossword puzzle at home this morning and I knocked a cup of coffee all over it. Anyway, you don’t appear to have any.”

  “Oh. Are there none under the paperweight at the end of the bar?”

  “There are no papers and no paperweight either, dear.”

  Charlotte plated up the breakfasts and rang the bell for Jess to pick them up. She wiped her hands on her apron and went out to the bar.

  “You see, dear. No papers or paperweight. I did tell you.”

  “Well, where on earth has that gone?” The snow globe paperweight that had been in the same place, at the end of the bar, for years, had vanished. “Sorry, Ava. I think you’ll be able to pick up a newspaper at the Mini-Mart, though.”

  “Yes, dear, I’ll do that. They’re bound to have some.” Ava pulled her scarf around her neck as she prepared to brave the winter temperatures. “Don’t suppose you know anything yet about what happened yesterday, do you? Who the unfortunate person was? How they died? That sort of thing?”

  Charlotte shook her head. As much as she loved Ava, discretion was definitely not her forte. If Charlotte put an ad on the front page of the local paper, you could bet the news wouldn’t reach as many people as it would on Ava’s gossip grapevine.

  “Sorry, I don’t. I’m sure all the details will come out soon enough, though.”

  “Hmm, I expect you’re right, dear. Well, I’m off to meet Harriett and Betty for our walk and then we’ll be in for lunch later. I do hope we’ll be able to get in - it’s terribly busy.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll reserve you a table. Would you like one next to the heater?”

  “Oh, yes please. That would be lovely. Thank you, Charlotte. Right, I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye, Ava.”

  ººººººº

  “Well, it’s official. That was our busiest Sunday ever!” Jess flopped down on the empty terrace with a large cup of cappuccino and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I reckon I must have walked 100 miles today, in and out in and out.”