Greengage Shelf

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  “Further afield? Do you mean Liam? I know your husband and his brother believe Liam’s out to rob or swindle Alice.”

  Jackie’s head snapped up. “No, not him. Liam is only a misunderstood, young lad.”

  Her Scottish accent had been stronger in that last sentence. Was it the martinis having an effect? Or the fact that she’d been more emotional than one would predict from this numbed woman? Also, Kit noticed, that defence speech had been shorter than expected. Was she trying to be subtle?

  “Okay, fine, not Liam. Who then?”

  Jackie rubbed her thin eyebrow, leaving a little smudge which proved most of the brow had been painted on. “Look, I didn’t mean you should go find some poor sap to make your new suspect.” That last word had all the venom of a king cobra with a hangover. “The book has been misplaced, Ms Sorel. I’m sure it will show up at the bottom of Caitlin’s wardrobe.”

  There was a beat of significant silence. Then, Jackie’s hand clasped the edge of the bar. She tightened her grip until her knuckles whitened. “I mean, in Alice’s wardrobe. Or under her sofa. Perhaps my dear mother-in-law never even had the book but has imagined it.”

  Matt put another martini in front of Jackie, who took it as if it were a lifeline and downed it in one long gulp. She stood and gave Kit a glare so malicious it nearly burned a hole in her head. “My husband was right, you are trouble. You’re making our lives miserable for your own entertainment. Well, why don’t you take up golf or knitting? Perhaps even head back to the mainland to one of your gay bars and bother your own people?”

  Before Kit knew it, she was standing as well. “Whoa. Hold on, Jackie.”

  “No, I won’t. Did I offend you? Such a shame. Now, listen to me.” She pointed a red-nailed finger at Kit. “Even if the will was read and the book stolen, hell even if the bookshelves were tampered with and the alphabetical order disrupted or whatever, no serious crime has been committed. If it had, we would’ve called the police. Your snooping is unrequired.” She grabbed her handbag. “Thank you for the drinks. Now stay away from me and my family, especially Caitlin.”

  Jackie swanned out with poise, showing little effect of three martinis downed so fast.

  Kit watched her go, remembering how Alice had told Rachel that her family weren’t aware that the books had been alphabetised before they were interfered with. Since this was hearsay from Rachel, Kit didn’t know if it was true. She also didn’t know if Alice had recently told Jackie about the alphabetising, but it was still interesting that Jackie knew about it and had mentioned it. She sat back down.

  My burger must be stone cold by now, she thought with a pout.

  Kit leaned her elbows on the bar. More than Jackie’s defensive behaviour, the sudden rudeness, and the comment about alphabetized books, the words “at the bottom of Caitlin’s wardrobe” kept spinning in her mind. Misspoken words or a slip-up?

  Since you pay before your meal and don’t usually tip in pubs, Kit could run off with only a quick wave in Matt’s direction. That saved time was needed. She had to hurry into the Caines’ house and check Caitlin’s wardrobe before Jackie got there and moved the book.

  Luckily, they’d both be on foot. Jackie would be hampered by her heels and her need to look sophisticated and controlled. However, to get there before Jackie and somehow get access to the wardrobe, Kit would have to be much faster.

  She swore under her breath and once again broke out into a petulant run.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Don’t Die to Death!

  The route between Pub 42 and the Caines’ house ran through the town centre and out to the leafy, posher outer areas. As Kit sprinted, she intersected the road that led up the hill to Howard Hall. Therefore, it wasn’t unexpected to see Laura’s little Beetle come pottering along, but it still hit Kit like a blow to the stomach. She squinted to try to see Laura’s face.

  How upset is she?

  The Beetle slowed, and Laura rolled her window down. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” Kit panted, every feeling under the sun crowding into her chest.

  “Is… is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. In fact, you’re running like said ghost is chasing you!”

  “I’m okay,” Kit panted. “I hate to ask this, particularly since we have relationship baggage to unpack, but could you quickly drive me to Jackie and Phillip Caine’s house?”

  Laura drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she considered it. “I was on my way downtown for a surprise visit to schmooze a supplier. I can do that tomorrow, though. Sure, I’ll drive you. Get in.”

  Kit didn’t have to be asked twice. She put her seatbelt on and watched Laura tuck a big curl behind her ear before starting the car and driving off.

  A long second later, she had to break the silence. “Is it okay if, um, do you mind if we save talking about my comments in the orchards for later? The clock is ticking on this.”

  Laura didn’t take her eyes off the road. “If this is helping Alice, then we should shelve our relationship chat, yes.”

  Kit’s sigh of relief was so loud it made Laura chuckle, which broke the ice somewhat.

  “See, me being obliging can be a good thing,” Laura teased.

  “Shush, gorgeous, we’re shelving that chat, remember?” Kit bantered back.

  While she filled Laura in on the mission, they came to a tall, mock-Tudor villa. It was at the end of a long road of nice houses, which all seemed to hide in embarrassment at not having a massive, wrought-iron fence with the name “Caine” in big metal letters, a showy front garden, and a garage bigger than Kit’s cottage.

  Kit squinted through the windscreen up at the house, which was lit by surprising amounts of streetlights.

  “It’s amazing what some inheritance and an RAF officer’s wage can buy,” she muttered.

  “It helps if your architect brother designs your home for you,” Laura said, not unkindly. She was trying to park somewhere and having no luck.

  “I meant the amount of lighting they have. The streetlights down on the high street barely function, but sure, the villa and garden are impressive too. Looks a bit out of place on the street of smaller houses, though.”

  Laura opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. Then she thought better of her decision and said, “I think that was intentional. On a road with more high-end houses, this place would look normal. Here it looks—”

  “More like the swanky mansion I assume the good Wing Commander Caine has wet dreams about.”

  “Kit.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  “In all fairness, I’m sure Jackie had something to do with that as well. Her theatre background has always made her tastes run towards the, shall we say, ostentatious.”

  Despite their hurry and the tension between them, Kit couldn’t help being cheeky. “Babe, are you trying to say tacky?”

  Laura squirmed in her seat while she parallel-parked. “No. I meant ostentatious. Now shush, I’m trying to park.”

  Kit dutifully kept quiet while Laura squeezed her car in between two pristine suburbitanks.1 When the sound of the car engine had died away, she asked, “Any thoughts on how we can get into the house?”

  “Can’t we simply ring the doorbell?” Laura asked. “I’m not comfortable with breaking into people’s houses. The Caines stealing a book from a family member might not be much of a crime, but us committing burglary certainly is.”

  “It’s not burglary. Laura, I’m not a criminal. I only want to find that book for Alice.”

  “Can’t we call the police and ask them to get it?”

  “They’re busy with loud drunks and domestic fights. If we tell them that there might be a missing book at the bottom of a teenager’s wardrobe, they’ll tell us to bugger off.”

  “I suppose so,” Laura whispered. “And Alice didn’t want the police involved.”

  Kit ran a hand through her hair. Of all the people she could bring along for this highly dubious quest, her conscientious girlfriend might
’ve been the worst choice. Aimee, Rajesh, or even Rachel would’ve been halfway into the house by now.

  And yet Laura now looked around and said, “No sign of Jackie. Getting a taxi around here is unlikely unless you have pre-booked, so she must still be walking over. Whatever we do, we should do it now before she arrives.”

  Kit grinned. “That’s the spirit, honey! I promise that if we get in trouble or offend someone, I’ll take the full blame and say you didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Like I’d let you do that,” Laura said grimly. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  She got out of the car, and Kit followed. Laura’s hands trembled as she tried the gate and found it unlocked. She snuck in and started creeping about like a villain in a kid’s show, all long steps and arms out to the side. She looked so comical that Kit had to fight the urge to giggle. Instead, she followed Laura while trying to formulate a plan.

  “If I remember correctly from my last visit years ago,” Laura whispered, “Caitlin’s bedroom is on the second floor to your right.”

  Kit threw a glance up and saw a light on in that window. “Shit, she’s home.”

  “She would be. Phillip has her under house arrest when she’s not at school,” Laura whispered, still walking like the ground was trying to eat her feet.

  “Right.”

  Kit found herself happy that Laura was here. Firstly, because she was being adorable, and secondly because she knew the layout of the house. Google Maps had given Kit the address to this place but obviously not where to find Caitlin’s bedroom.

  Thirdly, everything was better when Laura Howard was around. Even if things were unsettled between them at the moment.

  Kit nearly tripped over a root and traced it up to a tall tree. Laura could no doubt identify what kind of tree it was, but while Kit was rubbish with distinguishing flora and fauna, she always recognised something useful when she saw it. The tree wasn’t far off from Caitlin’s window. She gave it a cheerful pat and whispered, “Babe, if I climb this, do you think I can reach the window and open it from the outside?”

  Laura stared at her, the disbelief in those hazel eyes obvious even in the dim light. “No. That window will be locked. There will be a teenager in there. They probably have some sort of advanced alarm system. Not to mention that this tree is too far away, so you’d have to throw yourself the last bit.”

  “Stop being a Negative Nellie,” Kit hissed back. “I’m gonna climb up to get a better view at least. Hopefully Caitlin’s napping. Wait, maybe she’s not in the room but left the light on?”

  Laura made a groan of doubt mixed with pity. “Slim chances, dearest.”

  “Better than no chances. Besides, like you said, Jackie could be here any moment. The time is now.”

  Kit examined the tree trunk. Growing up in a flat on the outskirts of Raynes Park, Greater London, there’d been few trees she was allowed to climb. However, Kit had been the monkey bars champion at her school’s playground, so she began climbing with confidence. That soon waned when she found there were no handgrips. Weren’t trees meant to be knobbly and full of branches? Why was this one so bloody smooth!? It didn’t help her nerves that, when she wobbled, Laura squeaked like a mum when her toddler picks a flower full of wasps.

  Still, Katherine “Kit” Sorel hated quitting. She engaged her muscles more and clumsily shimmied up, climbing higher by the second. Moving like this made her aware that her knickers felt weird. Had she had put them on the wrong way around this morning? Typical. When she finally reached her goal, it was impossible to avoid seeing how high up she was due to the light streaming out of Caitlin’s window.

  Kit avoided the urge to punch the tree trunk in rage. Caitlin was both awake and occupying her room. She was sprawled across a four-poster bed, typing on her phone.

  What the hell do I do now? Knock and demand to search her room? She’d laugh in my face.

  Kit changed her grip as she was sliding. Maybe she could get Laura to distract Caitlin so she left the room. Or perhaps Laura could throw some stones on a downstairs window? Maybe ring the landline phone, if they had one.

  Yeah, Phillip Caine will still have one of those. Probably a posh one, placed next to a drinks table with expensive booze in carafes. I wonder if…

  Kit’s train of thought stopped as dead as if it was out of train tracks. In front of her loomed the face of a bored teenager, who was currently chewing gum and taking a picture of Kit with her iPhone. When she was done, she opened the window.

  “Hey. Up a tree, huh? Right outside my room, too. I can’t decide if that’s lit or creeptastic. Dad says you’re stalking me. Are you? If so, are you gonna kill me, or do you want my autograph?”

  “Caitlin. Be serious.” Kit didn’t know why she was whispering. “You know I’m only worried about you and want to help Alice clear this mess up.”

  Caitlin put the phone down and stopped chewing her gum. The bored facade made way for real concern. “You’re not going to stop investigating, are you?”

  “No. Not unless I fall out of this tree tonight and die to death!” Kit hissed in panic.

  “Die to death? Don’t you mean ‘drop to your death’ or something?” Caitlin said.

  “Please don’t do either” was heard from the bottom of the tree.

  Caitlin peered down. “Who’s there? Is it Rach? I know she’s part of your squad ’cos Liam said she came with you to question him.”

  Kit had no time to reply as Laura piped up, “No, it’s me, Laura Howard.”

  “Oh! Hi, Miss Howard!”

  “Good evening, Caitlin. How are you?”

  “Fine, considering I’m flippin’ grounded. What about you? I hear your uncle’s squatting in your house?”

  “I’m well, thank you. And yes, he’s staying with me for a while.”

  Kit shut her eyes against Greengagers and their small talk. “Right, if we’re done with the chit-chat, can I climb down this bloody tree, before I fall, and be invited in, please?”

  “God, chill! I’d let you in, but Dad says I can never talk to you again. Oh, and Mum is on her way home. I’m not allowed to talk to anyone until she’s back.”

  “Caitlin, if you don’t open that door, I’ll attempt swinging from this tree, through the window, and into your room. I won’t make it.”

  “No, she absolutely will not make it” was heard down near the tree roots.

  Kit rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s lack of confidence but couldn’t argue with it.

  Caitlin chewed her pink-glossed lip. “I suppose I’ve got to let you in. Dad won’t like the garden being full of dead librarians.”

  “Thanks,” Kit said sardonically.

  “Climb down, and I guess I’ll go open the front door,” Caitlin said, sounding as thrilled as someone accepting a glass of grey, lumpy milk.

  After Kit’s descent down the tree—half climb and half fall—she’d been too frazzled to appreciate the interior of the house. Besides, it was too confusing to be appreciated. Phillip’s starkness had squared off against Jackie’s flamboyance. The starkness had won most of the battles, especially when it came to colour schemes.

  Except in Caitlin’s room, where the walls were painted magenta at the bottom and, over a blue dado rail, mint green. Suddenly, Kit re-evaluated trusting this girl.

  “I suppose you’re here to ask me to give you the book,” Caitlin said, her voice dripping with weariness.

  “Nope,” Kit said. Quick as an oiled fox, she slipped past Caitlin to the poster-covered wardrobe. She flung it open and waded through schoolbooks and shoes, to Caitlin’s complaining grunts, until she found Journey to the Centre of the Earth.

  Kit stood with the book in her hand. She’d been wondering why Caitlin hadn’t pushed her away from the wardrobe or at least shouted about the intrusion of her private space and property. Now she saw why. The relief was obvious on Caitlin’s face.

  At least until the front door was opened with such a crash that they heard it clear as day upst
airs. Then Caitlin’s eyes widened, and she whispered, “Mum’s home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Attack of the (Drunken) Mummy

  A great number of thoughts went through Kit’s mind during the time Jackie slammed the front door, stomped up the stairs, then threw open the door to Caitlin’s room.

  Sadly, none of the thoughts were useful. They mainly consisted of advice like: Run! Hide! Pretend to be someone else! And most unhelpful of all: Did my fitness watch count my climb up that tree as part of my daily exercise target?

  Also, there was the muscle-memory guilt of being found in a girl’s bedroom by said girl’s mother. Kit hadn’t felt that since she was a closeted teenager.

  She chased these thoughts off with a bout of rightful wrath.

  She was the advocate for truth.

  The one stepping up to help despite threats and hard-to-climb trees.

  The defender of Alice Caine’s interests.

  She was… possibly in over her head.

  That last thought popped up when Jacqueline gave her a glare which not only made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but also made the hairs want to apologise for ever having been so insolent as to exist in Jackie’s presence.

  Kit, however, wasn’t going to cower. Laura’s hand rested against her lower back now in a silent expression of support, so Kit dredged her emotional larder and found a smile to plaster on her face. “Hello again, Jackie.”

  “Don’t you dare hello me,” Jackie hissed between panting breaths.

  Kit buried that smile back where she’d found it. This was not going to be pleasant. “Are you all right, Jackie?” she asked. “It’s quite the walk here from Pub 42. Especially if you’re in a hurry.”

  “Oh, do keep quiet, you nosy, blasted nuisance!”

  Jackie’s shrill voice echoed in the small room. This was a true feat considering how the walls were covered in posters of various boy bands, whose pretty boys all looked a bit like butch women Kit had dated in the past.