“Lionel, I have to ask where you were between the hours of quarter-past midnight on the morning of Friday the 30th and half-past eleven on the night of Saturday 31st?”
Lionel scratched his head. “Well, I was in bed at quarter-past midnight on Friday the 30th until six o’ clock when my alarm went off but I’m afraid the only person who can confirm that is Heather. Then I left the house at seven-thirty and got to the shop at eight o’clock. I did some paperwork, restocked the shelves and opened up, as usual, at nine.
“I took forty-five minutes for lunch from quarter-past twelve to one o’clock, when I went to the bank and bought a sandwich from ‘The Bakehouse’ in the town. Then I took it back to the shop and ate it while I read the paper.
“It had been a quiet day, because of the weather, I suppose, so I locked up shop a little early at quarter-to six and went home, where I stayed until the alarm went off at six o’ clock on Saturday morning and I went through the same routine again, except the shop closes at three o’clock on Saturdays. I came straight home after I’d locked up and stayed here until this morning.
“If you need anyone to vouch for my whereabouts, Sheila in the bank can tell you that I was there, Lydia in The Bakehouse will confirm that I went in and bought my usual sandwich, as I do almost every day, and Virginia will confirm, to the second, what time I left the shop and got back again. That girl doesn’t miss a trick.” He smiled and finished his drink. “So, you’ve got no idea who murdered him, then?”
“Not at the moment, no. But we’ve already had some promising leads from our enquiries.” Nathan scribbled in his notebook. “Right, so can I presume it’s safe to say that you have no information regarding the murder of Samuel Slade?”
“You can.”
Nathan knew the next part of his questioning wasn’t going to be so easy.
During the first robbery in which Lionel had suffered a serious head injury, Heather had been threatened with violence if she didn’t divulge the combination for the safe to the masked robbers.
The aftermath of the robbery had been traumatic for them all, but particularly for Heather. For months afterwards, she’d been unable to work, frightened to leave the house and terrified to answer the door. Many were of the opinion that had it not been for her involvement in the St. Eves Ladies Association, she may have ended up in therapy but, with help of the ladies, deeply traumatised but reparable, Heather Hall had slowly begun to smile again.
The second robbery, a year later, had almost killed her.
For days afterwards, everything she ate or drank came back up again such was her state of extreme panic. A spell in hospital had helped her to get her back on her feet but it was the SELA that coaxed her back to life. Yet again, they’d come to her rescue but Heather had never been the same since.
“Lionel. I have to speak to Heather, too. It won’t be easy for her, I know, but it’s necessary I’m afraid.”
Lionel Hall shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I can’t let you do that. You know how fragile she’s been since the robberies. Even though they were so long ago, she’s still troubled by what happened. I dread to think how the mention of Samuel Slade’s name will affect her - dragging all those old emotions up again.”
“Come on, Lionel. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. I have to question her. You know I do.”
Lionel Hall sighed heavily, not meeting Nathan’s eye. “I’m disappointed in you. I really am.” He got up from his chair, stopping halfway as he waited for his knees to straighten out. “Wait here. I’ll go and get her.”
Nathan hated that his questioning of Heather Hall would cause her pain, but he had little choice in the matter.
Lionel came back into the room. He was a tall, straight-backed distinguished looking man with a full head of snow-white hair and a matching moustache. Favouring tweed suits and brogues, he’d always put Nathan in mind of a country gentleman - a Lord of the Manor type.
“She’ll be along presently, but I’ll say it again, Nathan, I’m not at all happy about this.”
Nathan’s response went by the wayside as Heather Hall walked in, her hand outstretched, and he hid his sadness at how the past years had taken their toll on the woman.
Her shoulder-length salt and pepper hair was pulled back off her face with a band, accentuating the white flashes at her temples. There was a time when she’d been a jolly, curvaceous woman - vibrant and full of life - her ample flesh spilling over her necklines and a smile never far from her lips.
With her husky voice and infectious laugh, Heather Hall had been the guilty pleasure of many a young man, years ago, and it shocked Nathan now to see how thin and scrawny she’d become, with deep frown lines etched between her brows and around her mouth. Her smile was without warmth and he guessed that in agreeing to see him, she was putting herself through a tremendous ordeal.
“Nathan, how lovely to see you - you don’t call round nearly often enough. And you should bring that fiancée round for dinner one night.” She took his hand and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.
“Now, Lionel tells me you wanted to see me?” She sat down on the couch and rested her hands in her lap, fingers interlocked. “So, what can I help you with?”
Lionel glanced at Nathan. “I haven’t told Heather the reason for your call. I thought that might be better coming from you.”
Nathan nodded. “Of course. Look, Heather, I know what a difficult time you’ve had over the past few years and the last thing I want to do is stir up any bad feelings for you. The thing is ...”
“You’ve come to talk to me about Samuel Slade, haven’t you?”
“Er. Yes. Yes, I have. Is that okay?”
“Perfectly okay. I’ll be happy to answer whatever questions you have. Before we get started, though, I should tell you - so you’re in absolutely no doubt about my feelings - that when I heard about Samuel Slade’s murder, I cried with joy.
“I have never hated anyone in my life, but I hate the Slade brothers with every fibre of my being. I despise them with all my heart. And if you want to know if I killed Samuel, no, I didn’t. But, by God, I wish I had.”
Her hands were clenched so tightly together, her knuckles were white. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly and Nathan saw the colour slowly coming back to her fingers. “Okay, carry on.”
He heard the slightest tremble in her voice but her smile belied her inner turmoil.
“Right. Well, can you tell me where you were between ...”
Nathan continued with his questioning. Deep in his heart, he felt sure that neither Lionel nor Heather had anything to do with Samuel Slade’s murder but, as they had such strong motive, their names featured high on his list of suspects.
“Will that be all?” Heather had answered all his questions.
“Yes, thank you. I appreciate you talking to me.”
She nodded in acknowledgement. “In that case, I’ll leave you to chat with Lionel. I have things I should be doing.” She shook Nathan’s hand again and gave him a strained smile. As she reached the doorway, she turned.
“We just want a quiet life, now, Nathan. So we can try to heal, at last, from what happened all those years ago. Just me and Lionel, in peace. You understand, don’t you?” She smiled again when Nathan nodded, and walked out of the room.
As Lionel Hall reached for the decanter on the table beside him and poured himself another whisky, Nathan stood up to leave.
“Thank you for your time, Lionel. I appreciate your cooperation.”
The men shook hands and Lionel saw Nathan out, closing the front door softly behind him.
As he turned and walked back towards the living room, his wife appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“You did very well, my love. I’m proud of you.” Lionel stroked his wife’s face.
“Do you think we fooled him?” She clasped his hand to her lips.
“I’m sure we did, my love. I’m sure we did.”
Chapter 7
“For go
odness sake! What is so interesting about my flippin’ window? It’s not even as though they can see anything through the frosted glass. I don’t get it, but it’s creeping me out!”
Charlotte had arrived at the cafe that morning to find more footprints outside her kitchen window, the distinctive cheetah prints among them.
Jess shook her head. “I’ve no idea, but I wouldn’t worry about it - it’s probably just someone sheltering under the roof while they wait for a taxi, or while they make a phone call or something. I mean, why else would they be hanging around in the snow in the dark?”
“That’s what bothers me,” said Charlotte, a frown creasing her brow.
ººººººº
She was angry with herself for doing it, but Charlotte was becoming obsessive about checking for footprints. Every morning when she got to the marina, she cycled up the back road to see if her mysterious callers had paid her another visit.
On this particular morning she found not only the distinctive cheetah footprints amongst those which led to and from the window, but also a scattering of red dust on the snow.
She bent down to look at it more closely and as she straightened up, she saw a small hole in the wall. What the ... Leaning towards it, she realised it was the kind of hole a drill would make. The red dust was brick dust. Someone had drilled into the wall. She was sure of it.
Why would someone want to drill a hole in the wall?
She walked quickly back to the café. She was thoroughly spooked now and her hand shook as she pressed Nathan’s speed-dial number on her phone.
“Okay, I’ll send Ben round to see you. I can’t get there myself just now but I’ll try and come down later. And Charlotte, try not to panic. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this.”
“I hope you’re right, Nathan. I really hope you’re right.”
ººººººº
“Well, they must have been disturbed, or the drill broke, because it hasn’t gone all the way through the brick.” PC Ben Dillon rubbed his chin as he inspected the damage to the wall.
“Actually, Ben, that’s not very reassuring.” Charlotte was more concerned than ever. “That only makes me think they’re going to come back and try again. Why would someone do this? I mean, if they wanted to break in, why wouldn’t they just come through the front doors? And what about all the footprints outside the window? Surely the two must be connected?”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that whoever’s doing this isn’t intending to harm you. If that was the case, I reckon they would have done something by now. As annoying as it is I think this is probably more likely to be a case of petty vandalism. I’ll make a report, though, and ask a car to keep an eye on the place at night, okay?”
Charlotte nodded. “Thanks. I’m probably over-reacting, but that makes me feel a little better.”
“Right then, I’ll be off. I’ll see you soon. See you later, Jess.”
“Yeah, see you tonight.” Jess turned to Charlotte and gave her a hug. “Look. If we all keep an eye out for anything suspicious and a police car comes round a few times during the night, I’m sure we’ll find out who’s responsible for this really soon, so try not to worry about it, okay?
“Meanwhile, I vote we put the kettle on and make a cuppa.”
ººººººº
“Jess, I won’t be a minute. I’m just going to pop out for some lemons. We’ve sold so much shellfish bake, I’ve run out.”
Charlotte walked the short distance to the Mini-Mart where Adam was battling with a wooden framework.
“Afternoon, Adam. That looks like fun.” Charlotte grinned and began filling a bag with lemons.
“Hi. You know, these things should come with an idiot guide. I’ve been trying to assemble this damn stand for almost an hour.”
“What’s it for?”
“Our Christmas display.”
“Christmas! Oh, good grief - don’t remind me. What with the wedding to organise, I haven’t even thought about Christmas yet.”
“Hello, Charlotte.” Yolanda appeared from the back of the shop. “I thought I heard your voice.”
“Hi.” Charlotte took her lemons to the counter to be weighed. “Is everything okay? You look a little confused?”
Yolanda shook her head. “You know, I think I’m going out of my mind. I could have sworn that I filled that tub by the door with Christmas tree baubles yesterday but now it’s only half-full. I must have imagined it, so I’ve just been out the back to get some more. Anyway, that’ll be £2.60, please. And how’re you? What’s the news on your peeping Tom?”
“Oh, don’t say that - I’m trying not to think about it. No news, although the police are going to send a car round during the night to keep an eye on the place. That’s reassuring, if nothing else. Anyway, I must get back. I’ll see you both soon.”
ººººººº
That evening, Charlotte went shopping for gifts for Laura and Jess. Nathan had offered to go with her but she wanted to do this on her own.
A wind chime tinkled as she pushed open the door to the small jewellery shop, alerting the sales assistant to her arrival. Inhaling the scent of the patchouli incense candle burning behind the counter, Charlotte felt a sense of calm wash over her.
The shop was a veritable treasure trove of the most beautiful artisan pieces, lovingly crafted by local designers. Charlotte knew that she wanted to buy her gifts for Jess and Laura here, rather than at the more well-known jewellers in the town centre.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” The middle-aged, hippy chick sales assistant greeted her warmly.
“Hello, I’d like to look at some gifts suitable for a Maid of Honour and an adult bridesmaid. Do you have anything like that?”
“Yes, we have some beautiful pieces. Just give me a minute and I’ll fetch them from the cabinet for you to look at.”
As Charlotte waited she browsed the shop, marvelling at the exquisite hand-crafted items behind glass. She was admiring a silver and crystal owl brooch with vivid red stones for eyes, when she caught sight of a familiar face outside looking at the items in the window.
Oh no. She stepped to one side, out of the eye line of the window-shopper. The last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation with Richard Slade. Hovering out of sight, she hoped he wouldn’t come inside.
“Here we are.” The sales assistant was back and when Charlotte looked round, Richard Slade had disappeared.
ººººººº
Having bought her presents for Jess and Laura, Charlotte treated herself to a caramel hot chocolate and a large slab of ginger cake at a teashop in a quiet road just off the high street.
She sat at a small table in the window, watching the shoppers trudge back and forth in the slush, and drew a line through ‘Buy gifts for Laura and Jess’ on the ‘To Do List’ in her notepad. There were still a few things left on the list but with every one she crossed off, her shoulders relaxed that little bit more.
She was sipping her chocolate when she saw Richard Slade again. He crossed over to the opposite side of the road from the teashop and strode along the pavement, a small black holdall slung over his shoulder.
Craning her neck, Charlotte watched him walk all the way to the end of the road looking over his shoulder every now and then, as if he was expecting someone to be following him.
He turned into a small car park, stopping at a beaten up dark blue car with a sun strip across the top of the windscreen proclaiming, “SPEED DEMON’. He went to the back of the car and looked around furtively before opening the boot and putting the holdall inside. Then he got in the car and drove off, the thumping bass from his speakers clearly audible.
What’s he up to? Charlotte pondered his suspicious behaviour before her vibrating phone told her the wedding florist was calling.
Before long, she was deep in conversation about Gypsophila, Ranunculus and Calla Lilies, all thoughts of Richard Slade wiped from her mind.
ººººººº
> “I was either at band practice, hanging out with friends, playing at the Halloween gig or asleep. That accounts for the entire time between quarter-past midnight on Friday and the time the body was found.”
Larry Hall sat opposite Nathan in the interview room at the police station, munching his way through a bag of blackcurrant and liquorice sweets.
When Nathan had asked him if he’d answer some questions regarding the murder, Larry had agreed on the condition that he could answer them anywhere other than at his parents’ home. They drove him crazy, he’d said, always treating him like a child and eavesdropping on his conversations.
“What can I tell you? I don’t know anything about Samuel Slade’s death. I didn’t really know the guy. And before you ask, yes, I know that my parents had motive to kill him but if you ask me if they did it, I’d have to say no. They’re pretty gutless and stupid, really ... both of them.”
His words came as a shock to Nathan. Of all the adjectives he would have used to describe Lionel and Heather Hall, gutless and stupid weren’t among them.
“Your parents have been through a lot. I’m surprised to hear you talk about them that way.”
Larry shrugged. “You don’t have to live with them. You haven’t had to listen to them crying and wailing for years, on and on and on. I mean, they’re my parents and I s’pose I love them, in a way, but I find it very hard to feel sympathy for either of them. S’just me, I guess.”
“And would you say that you also had motive? Because of what happened to your parents?” Nathan watched Larry closely.
Larry popped another sweet into his mouth and crunched it loudly between his molars. “Um, well, I suppose you could say that I had motive because of that, but you’d be wrong because I’ve never felt like I wanted to get revenge for them, see? Dunno why, I just haven’t.”
He looked at his watch. “Anyway, is that everything? Just that I’d really appreciate it if I could go. I’ve got a band practice in an hour and I could do with going home and changing out of my work gear.” He indicated his grey overalls with the hi-vis panels.
Pumpkins, Peril and a Paella (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 7