by Agatha Frost
“Are you sure?” Julia asked, looking down at the book as though it was as valuable as the crown jewels. “I think he will really appreciate it.”
“Then that’s all that matters!” he announced as he wrapped up the book in brown paper before securing it in string. “Now, about that hug?”
Julia walked around the counter to give her father a hug, but they were interrupted almost immediately by the vibrating of her phone in her handbag. She pulled it out, surprised to see Johnny Watson’s picture flashing on the screen.
“I should take this,” Julia said with an apologetic smile. “We’ll resume the hug in a second.” Julia accepted the call and pushed the phone against her ear as she walked away from the counter. “Hello? Johnny? Is everything okay?”
“Julia?” Johnny whispered down the phone. “Are you alone?”
“I’m with my dad,” she whispered back, glancing over her shoulder to smile at Brian as he resumed looking at the medals. “Has something happened?”
“I don’t want to tell you over the phone,” Johnny whispered even quieter. “I was looking over the pictures I took on the opening night of the play. I think I’ve found something. Can we meet somewhere private?”
Julia hurried through the dark village to her café. She waited in the kitchen for Johnny to knock on the back door. When he did, she almost jumped out of her skin before letting him in.
“I hope you weren’t busy,” Johnny said as he crept into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder into the dark. “I felt like I was followed the whole way here.”
“Were you?”
“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” he said, pulling his canvas messenger bag over his shoulder before taking out a cardboard file. “I thought about taking this straight to the police, but I wanted to give you a chance to look over it first.”
Johnny fiddled with his glasses as he stared down at the file on the stainless-steel counter. Julia stared at it for a moment too before deciding it was ridiculous to treat whatever was inside like a ticking time bomb. She flipped open the file, a dozen glossy photographs stacked up inside.
“What have you found?” Julia asked as she stared at the top photograph, which appeared to be a picture of the stage at the village hall before the start of the opening show. “Put me out of my misery.”
Johnny separated the photographs, all of them looking like variations of the same thing. Nothing immediately jumped out at Julia.
“I was looking over the pictures again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything,” Johnny said. “When I heard about Poppy, I thought I might find something connected to the new information. I took this picture quite early in the evening before anyone arrived. I knew I wasn’t going to use it, but I wanted to get a feel of the space and the lighting so I could get the best shots when things started. I originally dismissed this picture because it didn’t seem important, but when I knew I was looking out for Poppy, I saw this.”
Johnny pointed to a vaguely red blur in the darkness next to the stage. Julia squinted, but she couldn’t see anything of interest. As though reading her mind, Johnny moved her further down the row of pictures.
“I have a feature called ‘burst’ on my camera,” Johnny said. “It means it will start capturing images from the moment it senses my finger pressing down on the button, and after. It picks the middle shot as ‘the shot’, but you can go into the burst to see the pictures around it. It’s important when you’re photographing action, just so you get the best shot every time.”
“Okay?” Julia said, still not seeing anything other than a red blur in the darkness next to the stage. “I still don’t see anything.”
“These six pictures are from the burst,” Johnny said, circling the first lot of pictures in the row. “When I saw the red, I looked at the burst to see if it was Poppy that I was seeing. It’s dark and grainy, right? You can’t see much.”
“I need my eyes tested,” Julia said, putting her face right up to the picture. “I’m putting it off.”
“Well, take it from someone who wears glasses,” Johnny said with a fiddle of his frames. “You can’t really see much, which is why I opened up my editing software to play around with the levels. By this point, I wasn’t expecting to find anything, I was just looking out of curiosity to see if it was Poppy, or if I was chasing a white rabbit down a hole.”
Johnny moved Julia down to the second lot of photos, which depicted the same scene, just much brighter. Suddenly, the dark shadow next to the stage was much lighter, and Julia could see two figures in the first picture. Just from the red hair, she could see that the blur did belong to Poppy’s vibrant hair.
“What does this prove?” Julia asked as she looked at the pictures. “I still don’t see anything incriminating.”
“How about if I do this?” Johnny picked up the edited pictures and stacked them on top of each other before flicking through them like a child’s picture book. “See anything now?”
Julia watched as Poppy darted down and then up again, something in her hands. Johnny flicked the six pictures back and forth, and she watched her spring up and down until she felt like she was watching a grainy video clip.
“You still can’t see much, can you?” Johnny said, reaching into his bag for a second file. “Stay with me. I needed to walk you through this, so you didn’t think I was jumping to conclusions. My camera is quite high quality, so I was able to zoom right in on that area and sharpen everything up. It’s not perfect, but tell me what you see.”
Johnny pulled out a second stack of photographs and flicked through them. This time, Julia could see the headset on Poppy’s head clearly, as well as the clothes she had been wearing that night. She watched as Poppy bent down and up again, something metallic in her hands. Julia squinted, her heart suddenly stopping when she realised what was happening between her and the second figure.
“They dropped the gun,” Julia exclaimed, her hand drifting up to her mouth. “They dropped the gun and Poppy was just picking it up for them! That’s how her fingerprint got on it. She probably thought it was the prop.”
“So, you do see it,” Johnny cried, his hand slapping down on the counter. “I’m not going crazy.”
“But who is the other person?” Julia asked, squinting at the shadow, the only thing visible was a hand accepting something from Poppy with a cloth. “That could be anyone.”
“It could,” Johnny said, reaching into his bag to pull out a single glossy photograph. “But I took another picture about ten seconds later after adjusting my camera’s white balance. Are you ready for this?”
Johnny slapped the picture on top of the others, this one needing no explanation whatsoever. The figure had stepped out of the shadows and into the bright lights of the village hall, and was walking away from Poppy, who was heading further backstage none the wiser about what she had just done. The figure was clearly clutching something heavy and solid in a stained cloth. Julia squinted at the object in the cloth, which could very easily be a gun, and then up at the face of the person holding it.
“Oh, Johnny,” Julia whispered, her mouth suddenly dry as she stared at the figure holding the suspected gun. “You did fall down the rabbit hole, but you found Wonderland.”
“Carlton Michaels,” Johnny replied firmly, jabbing his finger on the old man’s face. “The cleaner switched the guns.”
14
Julia hurried into her cottage closely followed by Johnny. The warming scent of beef stew and gravy hit her immediately, rumbling her stomach; she was hungry, but there was no time to eat.
“Why is your window boarded up?” Johnny asked as he closed the front door behind them.
“Long story,” Julia said. “Just wait here for a second.”
Keeping on her shoes and coat, Julia hurried down the hallway and into the dining room, where Barker was pouring white wine into two glasses at the neatly set dining table, a candle flickering between two empty bowls.
“Ah!” Barker said, turning around to kiss her on t
he cheek. “I was wondering what was holding you up. I thought we could have a date night indoors. Jessie is at Billy’s, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to share some news with – Oh. Hello, Johnny.”
Johnny stood in the dining room doorway, smiling sheepishly at the romantic setup, clearly knowing what he had walked in on.
“Barker, I’m so sorry,” Julia whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were planning this.”
“It’s okay,” Barker said, glancing at a letter on the edge of the table. “It can wait. It’s only my mum’s slow-cooker beef stew, so it will stretch to three. Are you hungry, Johnny?”
Julia looked into Barker’s eyes, wishing tonight of all nights was not the night she had to drag him out of the house to confront a cleaner who had slipped under the radar at every possible turn. She looked at the beautifully set table, and then at the letter; was that what he had been trying to talk to her about all week?
“‘Mystery Triangle Publishing’?” Johnny remarked as he stared at the letter on the table. “Is it a rejection letter for your book? I’ve had three from them so far. It’s almost impossible to get a publishing deal the traditional way these days, especially with those guys. It’s all about online now. I heard about a woman whose cousin swears her friend’s brother, or something, made –”
“Actually,” Barker said, picking up the letter with a nervous smile. “It’s not a rejection letter. I didn’t want to tell you like this, Julia, but every time I try to tell you, something interrupts us, so you may as well hear it too, Johnny.” Barker pulled the letter out of the envelope before passing it to Julia. “I started researching online about what I should do with my book when it was finished. I found a website for novice writers to find agents. I read on a forum that most places don’t take unsolicited manuscripts these days, so I sent a sample out to a couple of agents. One of them, Max Byrne, had heard all about the murders in Peridale this year, and he thought the chapters he read were promising, and with some work, the book could really go somewhere.”
Julia read over the letter, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the monetary value printed in bold letters halfway down the sheet.
“They’ve offered you a book deal?” Julia whispered, the letter trembling in her hands. “With a ten-thousand-pound advance?”
“It turns out, the publishers really liked the book,” Barker said with a strained laugh. “The second Max told them about the real-life connection, they bit his hand off. This letter came last week.”
“But I thought you hadn’t even finished it?” Julia replied, looking at the typewriter in the corner. “You’re always in here writing.”
“I’ve already started on the sequel,” Barker admitted, his eyes wide like a child confessing something naughty to his mother. “Read at the bottom. They’ve offered me an upfront three-book deal with an option for more, and bigger advances based on the success of the first book. They’re looking to publish early next year. It’s all happened so fast, it doesn’t quite feel real. I didn’t want to tell you I’d finished the book because I knew you’d want to read it, and I was nervous about what you’d think, mainly because you’re in it, and I value your opinion above any of these people.”
“You’ve been offered a three-book publishing deal?” Johnny mumbled, his eyes vacant as he stared at the flickering candle. “Unbelievable. That’s my dream.”
Julia read over the letter again, completely lost for words. She let the scale of the situation sink in, Marcus’ murder and Johnny’s photographic discovery suddenly meaningless.
“Please say something,” Barker whispered with a nervous smile as he ran his finger down Julia’s cheek. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“Mad at you?” Julia said, almost choking on the words. “Barker, I couldn’t be prouder if I tried.”
With the letter in her hand, Julia threw her arms around Barker’s neck and squeezed him tightly, savouring the moment, knowing what had to come next. She stared at the typewriter in the corner, guilt consuming her for not thinking Barker’s writing was going to go much further than Peridale.
“Beef stew?” Barker announced, clapping his hands together when Julia finally let go. “All this excitement has worked up an appetite.”
Julia glanced over her shoulder at Johnny, who still looked dumbfounded at Barker’s news, and then at Barker who seemed to finally realise that something was wrong, and that it was not usual for Julia to turn up late home from the café with Johnny Watson.
“We know who switched the guns,” Julia said, nudging Johnny to produce the pictures from his bag. “And we need your help to trap them into a confession.”
After explaining everything to Barker, they drove into the village. Once they were parked outside the church, they silently watched the village hall, the yellowy lights pouring through the windows in the double doors. Johnny reached deep into his bag, pulling out a pair of binoculars.
“What?” Johnny cried when he noticed Julia and Barker staring at them. “I’m a journalist. You never know when you’re going to need to stake out.”
“Have you ever used them before?” Julia asked as he pushed the binoculars up against his eyes.
“Well, no. But aren’t you glad I have them now?”
While Johnny surveyed the village hall, Barker looked over the pictures again, shaking his head as though he didn’t believe what he was looking at.
“It’s a gun,” Barker said as he looked at the picture of Carlton holding the cloth. “That much is for sure. It certainly explains how Poppy’s fingerprint ended up on it.”
“She was just being nice,” Julia whispered as she looked around the dark village. “Is that Catherine?”
They all turned around in the tiny car to look where Julia was pointing. Dressed in a long black trench coat, Catherine walked past Julia’s café and towards them, so consumed with looking over her shoulder that she did not notice the full car when she walked past. She slipped through the open church gates and hurried towards the village hall. Instead of walking through the front door, she danced around the side.
“What’s she up to?” Barker whispered before looking down at the pictures again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call for back up, Julia? This all seems a little shifty.”
“Not until I have a confession on this,” she said, lifting up her phone. “For the sake of vindicating my gran, and Poppy, we need an airtight confession. You said it yourself. If we take this to the police, there’s nothing guaranteeing that DS Christie will see what we see, and even if they arrest him, he could just say ‘no comment’ during the interview. We need to catch him out.”
“I still don’t know what his motive is,” Johnny thought aloud as he squinted through the binoculars. “Why would he want to kill Marcus? He’s been working here for years.”
“I don’t know yet,” Julia said as she looked down at the pictures in Barker’s lap. “But I hope we’ll find out soon.”
“I see him!” Johnny exclaimed. “He’s just come out of the cleaning cupboard with one of those huge industrial floor cleaning machines. Should we move?”
Before Julia could answer, a knock on her window made them all jump. Julia whipped around and squinted into the face of Ross, his clipboard still in his hands.
“What are you doing?” he asked after Julia rolled down her window. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“None of your business,” Johnny said as he hid the binoculars in his jacket. “It’s not illegal to sit in a car.”
“I never said it was,” Ross said with a chuckle. “In that case, I’ll leave you alone. I’ve tried to let everyone know that tonight’s performance was cancelled, but I have a feeling some people are still going to turn up, so I thought it would be best if I was here to explain the situation to people personally. Can’t leave it up to Carlton, can I?”
The faint yet distinct sound of smashing glass in the opposite direction made them all turn back to the village hall. They sat in silen
ce for a minute before Julia remembered what had happened before Ross turned up.
“Catherine!” she cried as she jumped out of the car. “She just snuck around the back of the hall.”
With Ross taking the lead, they trailed after him through the church gates, following the path Catherine had just taken. They reached the back of the hall, light flooding out of one of the windows overlooking the graveyard.
“That’s my office,” Ross groaned before he ran towards the smashed window.
They all huddled around the window, which had been cleared of its glass completely. With her back to them, Catherine was digging through one of the drawers in the desk, throwing papers everywhere as she looked for something.
“What are you doing?” Ross cried as he climbed through the empty window frame. “Are you looking for money?”
Catherine spun around, a fistful of paperwork in her hands. She let it flutter to the ground before taking a step back to the door behind her. Julia jumped through the frame, followed by Barker, and then Johnny.
“You’re just missing Scooby Doo,” Catherine snorted as her eyes drifted across the unlikely group before landing on Julia. “Why can’t you just keep your nose out of other people’s business? Hmm? I’ve heard all about you because people around this village have a lot to say. Regular little Miss Marple, aren’t you?”
“What are you doing here, Catherine?” Ross cried as he looked at the mess she had made. “I thought you’d already be long gone by now.”
“I’m looking for what I deserve,” Catherine cried, taking another step towards the door. “I put six months into this. I’m not leaving here empty handed. I know you keep the ticket money in here somewhere, Ross. Be kind to your Auntie Catherine. Give me what I’m owed. I’ll vanish before sunrise, and you’ll never see me again.”