Greengage Shelf

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Kit’s ears had been right; a car was approaching. Now, at the most inopportune time, Wing Commander Caine’s white BMW pulled up next to them.

  He wound down the window. “Caitlin! Get in this car right now.”

  “But Dad, I…”

  “Not another word. Don’t tell this woman anything. Just get in.”

  With sluggish movements, Caitlin obeyed.

  Phillip turned his piercing gaze to Kit. “And you will either find yourself a useful existence on this island, one that doesn’t include bothering citizens, or you’ll go back to wherever the hell you came from!” He bared his teeth before adding, “Is that understood?”

  He didn’t wait around for an answer, but instead drove off at a dangerous speed.

  “I guess that was a rhetorical question,” Kit muttered at the back of the speeding car.

  So, Caitlin had stolen the book, but it wasn’t due to her habit of taking things. If she was to be believed, she’d taken it for someone else. Someone who had used a thirteen-year-old’s need to matter and to be noticed to steal for them.

  Kit set her jaw. Now she was even more determined to find out who the culprit was. Now… that word brought her back to the present and what time it was. Her lunch hour had ended twelve minutes ago.

  “Shit! Rajesh is going to make me clean the kitchen drain again. And then flay me. Or maybe the other way around.”

  There was only one thing to do. She’d have to bloody run again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Luckily, Bob/Kipp Tumbles In

  It was unbelievable. They were alone. Kit was able to walk through the orchards, the one with the greengage trees to be exact, with her girlfriend without being bothered by a certain uncle, any of Greengage’s strange inhabitants, or even the bookshelf mystery.

  Laura’s hand was warm and soft in hers. There was a plaster on her right thumb where she had a paper cut, one which she somehow had gotten cherry jam into when demonstrating their wares to a new buyer this morning. Kit felt that plaster, and her heart warmed at her usually so elegant girlfriend’s clumsiness.

  The sun shone through the lush, vivid leaves above them, making Kit squint up at the trees, which were filled with greengages in every shade of yellow and green. She reached up to squeeze one.

  “They’re not ripe yet, right?”

  Distractedly, Laura said, “No, they’ll be ripening for another two to three months since we pick them in early autumn.” She knitted her brows. “Sorry, I’m still digesting what you told me about yesterday’s events. Caitlin took the book?”

  “Yep.”

  “But not to keep it?”

  “Nope, she took it for someone else.”

  Kit dodged a branch. She preferred the orchards with taller trees. They didn’t make so many attempts to smack you in the face.

  “I see. It’s a shame Phillip interrupted her. To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t catch up with you earlier. He’s determined to make sure you don’t investigate this case.”

  “Yeah. I wonder if it’s because he’s trying to protect Caitlin. Or does he really just want to be left alone? Or does he, you know…” Kit ducked under another branch.

  “Have something to hide?”

  “Exactly.” Kit’s blissful calm had disappeared, her brain back in crime-solving mode.

  Once again, she pondered the role she was moving into. The island’s mystery solver. Did she have the time and energy for that? Well, she certainly had the nosiness for it, but still, it was a lot to take on.

  “That,” Laura paused as if unsure, “well, that is not the only thing on your mind lately, is it? The book mystery, I mean. You’ve been quiet. Around me.” Laura stopped and ran her hand absentmindedly over the bark of the nearest tree. “It hasn’t been as extreme as the way Shannon behaved with Rachel, but I can tell that something is wrong. I haven’t mentioned it before because I assume,” she winced, “that it’s my fault. Or Uncle Maximillian’s. All depending on if you blame him for his behaviour or me for encouraging it, I suppose.”

  Kit stopped as well. She felt giddy with relief. Finally, a chance to bring up the shelved-romance issue. “Since you ask, I’ll be honest. I need more time with you. Alone. It doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic, I just want it to be you and me without any interference or worrying about what we might say.”

  “Mm.”

  “I love you, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

  “I know,” Laura said quietly.

  The words that had been buried in Kit’s mind kept spilling out. “I promised to be patient and not complain about this, but it’s been a month and half, and when I spoke to Maximillian, he said he wasn’t feeling any better. Who knows how long he’ll stay! It’s time to ask him to shove off.” Kit rubbed the overheated back of her neck. “Babe, sometimes I wish you were less, I don’t know, obliging.”

  She stopped the flow of words. Laura’s normally pale skin had gone chalk white. Kit’s heart skipped a beat.

  Shit. Why did I say that? Didn’t last Christmas teach me not to whinge about Laura’s helpfulness? She must be disappointed.

  Kit kicked a branch in her path.

  No, not disappointed. Hurt. Because I want her to change. Even worse, if she does what I asked and throw Maximillian out, she’ll suffer because I made her do something that goes against the core of her personality. I’m a pillock.

  Laura began walking again with slow heavy steps. “It goes without saying that I see your point, Kit.”

  “I- I didn’t mean to order you to do something or to change you,” Kit stuttered. “Or to act in a way that makes you uncomfortable. I only—”

  Kit was interrupted by a man falling down the slope next to them and rolling into the orchard, barely squeezing past two rows of trees and avoiding hitting them. His tumbling mess of limbs came to a stop at their feet. He shook himself off and stared at Laura with wild eyes.

  “Your uncle!” he panted.

  Laura brushed dirt off his shirtfront. “Calm down. Take a breath.” He obeyed. She nodded and said, “Good. Now tell me.”

  “Your uncle’s been locked in your office for the last hour. I went to check on him and found him on the phone.”

  Laura grabbed his shoulder. “You let him use the phone?”

  “He’s a Howard. This is Gage Farm. As he likes to point out, this place is his… what’s the term he uses?”

  “Birthright,” Laura intoned.

  The man, Kit was pretty sure his name was Bob or maybe Kipp, gulped in a breath. “Yes, anyway. He was on the phone, and on the desk in front of him was your client list.”

  “What?” Laura shrieked.

  “Yes,” Bob or Kipp said with a wince. “I asked what he was doing, and he put his hand over the receiver and explained that he was calling all Gage Farm clients to inform them of our immediate raise in prices.”

  “WHAT!?”

  Bob/Kipp’s wince deepened. “Yes. Almost doubling the prices. He refused to stop when I asked him. Also, he said he was working alphabetically, and when I left, he was on the Es. Meaning that he’ll soon get to—”

  “Farradays,” Laura breathed.

  “Who are they again?” Kit asked.

  Laura faced her, fear making her left eye twitch. “A chain of pubs all over the Midlands and the borders of Wales. They’re our biggest client! Kit, I must run. We’ll have to continue this discussion later.”

  As Laura and Bob/Kipp rushed up the slope and towards the office, Kit shouted after her, “I love you!”

  She hoped that the fact that Laura didn’t turn and reply was only because she hadn’t heard her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tapping Her

  The next day, Kit had closed up the library and was fiddling with the alarm system, which today had decided that the number four key didn’t work, when her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  She squeaked with joy and relief when she saw it was from Laura. It read:

  I’m sorr
y about yesterday and for missing our good-night call last night. I fell asleep at my desk after hours of figuring out which clients he phoned. He wasn’t working alphabetically but randomly, so it’s a huge job and won’t be finished for a while.

  Kit texted back:

  That’s fine! I’m glad the reason I haven’t heard from you wasn’t that you were too pissed off with me after our chat in the orchard. Do you think you can undo the damage Maximillian caused?

  By the time the alarm had agreed to let her use the number four key and finish, a reply came in.

  Hopefully. Many of our clients complained about that we had to raise prices at the start of the financial year. Hearing now that we were raising them, almost doubling them, again made many of them have a knee-jerk reaction to go elsewhere. So, as I said, I’ll be busy with this for a while.

  Kit had just finished reading that when another text from Laura came in.

  In regards to me being upset with you, there was a lot to ponder and to discuss after that chat. Sadly, that will now have to wait. I’m aware that this is bad timing considering the argument was about me not having enough time for you. I promise we’ll work something out. I love you. x

  As fast as Kit’s fingers could tap the screen, she typed out a reply:

  We will. I’ll do anything to make this relationship work. Even be called Susan until I die. I love you so much. xx

  Kit inhaled a deep lungful of the warm evening air, feeling much lighter. They’d sort it out. Laura still loved her just as much. She could now focus on the next step in the bookshelf case.

  During a lull after lunch, she’d been emailing Aimee. Neither of them were allowed to use their phones at work but both had to check their work emails, so that was a great way to bounce ideas off of each other. Aimee claimed that neither of the Caine siblings, or Jackie for that matter, would be happy to share their inheritance. How was it she’d put it? Something like:

  They’re selfish pricks. No way would they share. One of them stole the will to check how much they got. Then they placed the will in the bank and spent the past year scheming about how to get their hands on ALL the dosh. Trust me, they’re plotting something evil!

  It had taken Kit two emails to convince Aimee that this wasn’t a thriller or a detective story where family members would start kidnapping or killing each other for money. Especially not as the sums involved, which would be huge for someone like her and Aimee, were a pittance for these people. As much as Kit disliked some of the Caines, she didn’t think they’d venture past petty theft and heated arguments. Unkind as the thought was, she doubted they had the imagination to plan anything too nefarious, not to mention the nerve to go through with it. Besides, they all cared too much about what people thought of them to risk prison.

  Aimee was right about one thing, though: the will had to be at the centre of this.

  Kit pocketed the library keys and enjoyed the warm air. It was a nice night for a walk. It was an even nicer night to get some answers. She’d failed when trying to interrogate Phillip, Anthony, and Liam. Alice didn’t know anything. Caitlin was being kept under wraps by her dad. That left Jacqueline “Jackie” Caine, and Kit knew she liked to have her pre-dinner tipple at Pub 42 right about now.

  This time she wouldn’t mess it up. She considered possible questions to ask Jackie while opening her rucksack to rifle through books, half-empty hand creams, tissue packs, protein bar wrappers, and old receipts until she found her Voyage d'Hermès. She sprayed the perfume on her pulse points, pulled up her skinny black jeans, smoothed down her hair, and slung her rucksack over one shoulder. She was ready for battle.

  She marched to the pub, thinking about the burger she was going to inhale as she did her questioning. She might not be Sherlock Holmes, but at least she could multitask.

  Next to her, Mrs Carlton walked past with her pregnant terrier. Kit noted their energy and stamina. Here was one to watch in the lady-and-dog-walking bets.

  Kit was sat at the bar and halfway through her burger when Jackie entered Pub 42 as if every piece of floor her high heels touched was now her domain.

  “Ay up, here’s the Queen of Scotland,” Matt said as he handed Kit another Diet Pepsi.

  Kit watched Jackie approach the bar and stand next to her to order a dry martini. Matt was right, there was something royal about the way she held herself. Although, it reminded Kit of Jackie’s time in the theatre, as her demeanour looked even more put on than the vast amounts of make-up that adorned her face.

  While waiting for her drink, Jackie cast a glance to her side and saw Kit.

  “You.”

  “Me,” Kit said with what she hoped was a charming smile.

  Jackie looked amused. “Pardon a random question, but what blush do you use?”

  Kit tried not to wince. Her pink cheeks had always been a source of embarrassment. “I’m afraid I don’t. I only wear make-up to very posh events, and I don’t go to many of those.”

  “I suppose you attend more of them now that you’re dating Laura Howard.” It was a statement, not a question, and Jackie left no space for a reply. “I know that was how it was for me. I went from having drinks with the cast and crew of Edinburgh theatres to all of a sudden being a Greengage swell, expected to uphold a certain…” She rubbed her fingertips together in the air as if trying to use friction to find the correct word.

  “Style?” Kit supplied.

  Jackie pursed her lips. “No. That wasn’t it. Never mind.”

  Her martini was placed before her, and in an unladylike gulp she swallowed down half of it with eyes closed tight. Kit tried not to gawk at what was probably a person self-medicating away an unhappy life.

  “So, um, I’m glad we ran into each other. I wanted a quick chat,” Kit ventured. She had a feeling that when that martini glass was emptied, Mrs Caine would be out the door without warning.

  Jackie gave a mirthless laugh. “Of course you did. You either want to harass me like you did my daughter over that misunderstanding with Baxter’s cufflinks or tap me for information regarding this missing book silliness.” She raked her clever eyes over Kit, from her Converse up to the hair, which Kit now smoothed self-consciously. “Or perhaps, you’ve grown tired of Greengage’s favourite daughter’s self-righteous wholesomeness and want to… tap me in a different way.”

  Jackie’s tone made the innuendo crystal clear. Kit didn’t think it was used for the shock factor either; it appeared to be an actual invitation. The Kit from a few years ago would have considered it. This woman had a damaged beauty and the air of someone who could be saved by pure-hearted affection, someone who’d offer her the freedom to live life the way she wanted.

  Except Kit didn’t save women anymore, at least not by getting them into her bed and her heart. All she needed and wanted was Laura. Well, and more of the burger she’d abandoned for this chat.

  “In the past, I’d have jumped at the chance to be with you. Now, however, I’m in love. And I never cheat. So, you were right the first time—I want to tap you for information.”

  Jackie sneered and took another gulp of her martini.

  Kit quickly turned to the person behind the bar. Most of the time that was Rachel, but that night Matt had left his kitchen to play bartender. Kit hoped this meant Rach and Shannon were off in some corner having a chat. Maybe even a snog?

  “Matt, could you get Mrs Caine here another martini?”

  “Sure, I’ll keep them coming,” he said conspiratorially.

  Jackie groaned. “Don’t call me Mrs Caine. You make me feel old.”

  “Okay then, Jackie. Can I start by asking if you know anything about how Caitlin is involved with the missing book business?”

  With a disdainful laugh, Jackie replied, “Do you really think that smiling prettily and buying me a drink will make me say something that might get my daughter in trouble? She’s one of the best things in my life. If it wasn’t for my children, the few attractive men on this island, and this pub’s strong martinis, I don’t
know if I’d keep dredging on.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows at Kit while pushing a fresh martini over to Jackie. Kit ignored him. She had to get this chat right.

  “That’s quite bleak, Jackie, but I’m glad you love Caitlin so much. She clearly needs love and,” Kit crossed her fingers this wouldn’t backfire, “maybe someone to talk to? About her stealing and her loneliness, I mean.”

  Jackie slammed down the martini glass so hard Kit was surprised it didn’t crack. “Are you actually sitting there telling me what my daughter needs? While hinting that I’m not providing her with it?”

  “No, I only meant that I worry about her. She’s a good kid but not a very happy one, and I think that shows in her addiction to taking things.” Kit hesitated, rolling the next words around in her mouth before she took the risk of letting them out. “I also worry that someone used her coping mechanism of stealing to get their hands on that book. Caitlin told me she did take it, but that is was for someone else. That she was being helpful.”

  A myriad of emotions crossed Jackie’s face. Kit thought she could spot worry, sadness, and anger. However, those feelings could mean many different things. They could mean she’d known that someone was using her daughter this way and felt guilty. Or that she hadn’t realised the severity of it. Or that she didn’t know. Those emotions could also mean that she was upset about being caught, if she had made Caitlin take the book.

  “I’ve spoken to Alice, you know. I’m aware that you think this all boils down to the will,” Jackie said in clipped tones. “I am also aware that you’ve been told that the will was very fair and that none of us Caines would contest it. So why don’t you look further afield if you’re so convinced that there’s something immoral about this book going missing?”