Peridale Cafe Mystery 22 - Scones and Scandal

by Agatha Frost

  If Barker noticed the sound of the pram’s wheels crunching through the twigs and undergrowth, he didn’t look back to confirm it. He only stared at the house as it came into focus, like it was pulling at him the way she’d felt only moments before.

  The forest floor gave way to an actual stone path, where a group of kids were playing house in a hollow tree stump. She passed two stone posts for a gate belonging to a wall that had long since gone.

  When Julia was a little girl, people teased of a witch who roamed the woods, with many saying the abandoned house was her evil lair. The late Victorian-era house wasn’t as old as Wellington Manor, and nowhere near as grand, but disrepair had aged its gothic frontage by centuries. It looked like a light breeze might make it crumble.

  “I can’t believe someone just left this place to the elements,” Barker said, his first acknowledgement of Julia’s presence since entering the forest. “How long has it been like this?”

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “Then I imagine the structure is barely holding up.” He stopped caressing the window frame and climbed through the hole where glass would have once been. “Stay here. And actually stay this time.”

  Julia was more than happy to oblige, though she’d prefer if Barker’s delivery didn’t sound so much like Dot’s when commanding to the dogs. As much as she appreciated the architecture, she preferred her homes with windows and without vines and weeds growing from every crevice.

  As unsettled as the possibility of the shoe coming from the house left her, she wasn’t scared of the building or the surrounding forest. It had been years since she believed in witches, and it was hard to be frightened when she kept catching the rainbow hat of King’s owner out of the corner of her eye.

  “It’s clear up here,” Barker called through a smashed hole in a window above Julia. “There’s still some furniture in here. I’m shocked your dad hasn’t scoured the place. I’ll check the other side.”

  Julia pushed past the blocked-off front door and circled the house, checking the windows that weren’t boarded. The rooms were near bare, the ceilings exposed, and the plaster walls crumbling. If any furniture remained downstairs, it had long since been abandoned.

  At the back, a low wall had survived to fence in a small patch of the woods, though it wasn’t difficult to imagine the wild greenery once belonging to a garden or vegetable patch. She reached for the gate, which, though nearly rotten, had also survived, but froze when something shiny in the undergrowth caught her eye.

  A needle attached to a syringe.

  “Bingo!” Barker called through another smashed window at the back, lifting a crinkled plastic bag for her to see. “Call Christie and tell him I’ve found Leah’s Blu-Ray player.”

  6

  T he drive to the nearby village of Tetbury took at least thirty minutes. And only in low traffic, when the lights played along, and no tractors or lost lorries kept movement to a crawl.

  Twenty-two minutes after hanging up the phone, Leah burst into the café, despite having just been in Tetbury for her bride’s dress fitting. After a shared glance, she and Julia retreated to the kitchen to speak far from the café’s always-listening ears.

  “They’ve found him?” Leah asked, breathless.

  “I said we found his other shoe.”

  “But in his hideout?” Leah chomped on her fingernails. “You said he’s been hiding in Howarth House.”

  “I said he might have been.”

  Julia guided Leah around the stainless-steel island and settled her on a stool. The stock boxes now took up the counter against the wall. Even with everything they’d already used for the scone marathon, many boxes remained. As though on cue, Katie appeared with a latte and set it in front of Leah, who looked as though she wished it were another chilled glass of wine.

  “I can’t sleep,” she whispered when Olivia was their only audience. “Even if Johnny’s ankle cast wasn’t whacking me in that tiny bed of his, I still wouldn’t be able to shake the thought of someone in my house . . . It’s too close to everything that happened when I first came back.”

  Julia had to admire Leah’s ability to refer to the ordeal of being taken from her home by old enemies and tied up in a basement for several days as ‘everything that happened’, but whatever helped her cope.

  “I understand why it reminds you of that,” Julia said, resting her hand on Leah’s trembling fingers, “but this is different.”

  “And if I’d been home?” Leah slurped the latte. “I should have been home.”

  “Then the light would have scared them off, and it would have been someone else. There’s already been another, according to Peridale Chat.”

  “But now that they know where he’s lying low, they’ll catch him, won’t they?”

  “I hope so,” Julia said as positively as she could. “Let’s just wait to see what the police find.”

  Leah stared hopefully at Julia, the creasing concealer under her eyes barely enough to lighten the dark shadows. Julia wouldn’t have noticed, but Leah always looked so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; she really must not have been sleeping well.

  “I tried to call your gran this afternoon,” Leah said after a calming breath, clearly ready to steer the conversation in other direction. “When I told her who it was, she asked ‘Leah who?’”

  “Unbelievable. She’s known you since you were a kid.” Julia glanced at Olivia, sound asleep in her pram, though the twitching brow and puckering lips warned she wouldn’t remain that way for much longer. “I’m guessing it wasn’t a social call?”

  “I wanted to see if she had anything for me to do before the meeting tonight.” Julia smiled at this reminder of Leah’s teacher’s pet days at school. “Probably for the best that she fobbed me off. I’ll need to give my bride the biggest bunch of flowers I can fit in my car. I’ve never left somewhere quicker. Just the thought that this might be knocked on the head almost sent me to sleep . . .” Frowning, she sipped her latte and added, “Bad choice of words, considering.”

  “How’s the dress look?”

  “It’s all neck, sleeves, and ruffles,” she said with a shudder, holding her hands out wide around her hips, “but I smile and pretend I don’t hate it because they have more money than sense. I can only do so much. When I plan my wedding, it’ll be—”

  Leah’s brief levity vanished in a wobble of her lips. As she stared up at the ceiling lights with glassy eyes, it was clear she was choking back tears.

  “Oh, no.” Julia retrieved the kitchen roll and ripped off a sheet for Leah. “That can’t be good.”

  “It’s just—”

  “Julia!” Katie pushed through the beads, red-faced and wide-eyed. “You’ll never guess what I just overheard about your gran. She—” Katie stopped with a squeak when she noticed Leah. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is a bad time.”

  “No, no.” Leah buried the threat of tears behind a smile. “I’m just overwhelmed. What did you hear?”

  Leah pulled a compact from her bag – much emptier than Julia’s as of late – and attempted to pat out her undereye with some powder. Sighing, she snapped it shut and tossed it back, ready for Katie’s attention to divert back to them after she watched some customers leave.

  “Okay, they’ve gone,” she said as the bell above the door jingled behind her. “Two women from some bridge club? They didn’t mention your gran by name, but . . . Well, I’ll let you decide. Apparently, some friend of Amy Clark’s gate-crashed their last meeting, started an argument with Ethel, cheated her out of her winnings, threw a cup of tea in her face, and said she had started a rival group to frame Ethel for Penelope’s murder.”

  “Some of that sounds like my gran,” Julia said, unsure if she should laugh or cry. “Most sounds like the overactive imaginations in the gossip network.”

  “That’s not the weirdest part,” Katie said, folding her arms and popping one hip. “I know they’re useful, but who’d want to join a club for bridges?”

  In the en
suing silence, Julia and Leah shared a glance, but Katie’s laughter at her joke didn’t come.

  “Not bridges,” Julia said, biting into her lip to stop a reactionary chuckle. “Bridge. It’s a card game.”

  Katie’s tanned face turned a shade so red it almost looked purple. Clenching her eyes, she winced. The bell above the door rang again and she spun into the café with a rattle of beads.

  “Saved by the bell,” said Leah, holding back a laugh. “Bless her. You forget she’s our age.”

  “And my step-mother.”

  “Now that I can’t wrap my head around.”

  “And Olivia’s step-grandmother.”

  “Okay, now I’m just dizzy.”

  “I’ve found it’s best not to try. I take Katie as she comes.”

  “Honestly? When I first moved back, I never imagined I’d like her.” Leah glanced through the beads. “But she’s alright, isn’t she? She puts it all out there, and she still has an innocence about her.” Leah shook her head. “I thought Amy was supposed to be interviewing Ethel?”

  “You know my gran,” Julia said with a sigh. “She can’t help getting involved. Either way, it sounds like she’s working her way through the suspects. Shilpa overheard that something similar happened with Penelope’s husband after a choir rehearsal.”

  “Maybe we should say something to her?”

  “How do you think that will go?”

  “Good point.” Leah’s fingers drummed the countertop. “I’m starting to think this group wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “Starting?” Julia winked. “We’re not going to solve anything by harassing suspects when we still know so little about who Penelope was. Other than the busybody obsessed with where I parked my car.”

  “Speaking of Penelope,” Leah said, clicking her fingers together. “When I couldn’t sleep last night, I was thinking around in circles, and she came to mind. Is there any chance she’s related to Melinda Newton?”

  “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” Julia blew her lips as the years melted away in her mind. “Do you remember the time she burnt down half the girls’ bathrooms because she was smoking in there?”

  “Mrs Benson caught her, so she stuck it in the toilet roll holder.”

  They both laughed. Nobody had resented Melinda for her mistake. The school had given everybody the rest of the day off, and in the corridors, Melinda was a legend that lingered at least until Sue’s turn at the school a few years later.

  “I wonder where she is now.”

  Leah’s face dropped, and Julia knew the answer. A few years ago, such a face would have shocked her, but Gerald Martin wasn’t the only forty-year-old in the graveyard. She’d seen more classmates in the newspaper’s obituaries over the last two years than ever before, though she hadn’t caught Melinda Newton’s name.

  “How did it happen?”

  “No idea,” she said. “I didn’t know either until this morning. I mentioned that I’d thought about her, and Johnny told me. Said it happened a while ago. Do you think there’s a connection to Penelope? Or Desmond, whoever he is?”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Julia said for the second time that day. “If it’s not, it could help us get to know Penelope better. A daughter? Or a sister? I think you’ve just given yourself a mission to get on with after you deliver those flowers. Something to take your mind off . . .”

  Julia’s words fell away as Barker strolled in through the back door. She looked around him into the yard behind the café, but he was alone.

  “Right,” he began, rubbing his hands together, “there’s good news and bad news.”

  “Just tell us, Barker,” Leah urged, hand on stomach. “I feel sick.”

  “It looks like he was there.” He closed the door behind him and leaned against the island. “And I found a bag of stuff that we think might be yours. No laptop, but he’s probably already sold it. There’s been reports of someone trying to flog electronics at Fern Moore.”

  “I don’t care about the laptop,” she said. “Please tell me that isn’t all the good news?”

  “He wasn’t there.” Barker offered an apologetic smile. “And only your things seemed to be present. The lack of any other items reported stolen makes us think it was only a temporary hiding place for that night. Looking at a map, if he hit the angle right, there’s a good chance he ran directly there through the fields.”

  “Explains the mud,” said Julia. “I imagine his sock was worse. If he was even wearing socks.”

  “He’s probably used that place before, and he left stuff there, so he might come back,” he said, leaning in closer. “The police will keep an eye on it. They swept the forest at first light the morning after Penelope’s murder, so that might have scared him off for good, though.”

  “So, he’s still out there? And could be anywhere?” Julia asked. “What more do we have now that we know where he ran to?”

  “A second shoe?”

  “I shouldn’t have got my hopes up.” Leah finished her latte. “I don’t think I’ll rest until he’s caught.”

  “The police are doing everything they can.”

  “When does that mean anything?” Leah jumped off the stool and flung her handbag over her shoulder. “Thanks for doing something at least, Barker.”

  Leah kissed Julia on the cheek and left through the back door. Julia had been hoping to discover what had nearly driven Leah to tears. She had a feeling that was no small part of why Leah’s exit had been so hasty. Julia sighed. There was always the meeting later.

  “What an afternoon,” Barker said, running his hand across his stubbly jaw. “For a second there, I thought we had him. I was sure he’d be hiding in one of the rooms. That place is huge. It’s gorgeous. I can’t believe it’s been left there to fall to pieces like that.”

  “Sums up how this investigation is going,” Julia said. “Well, not gorgeous, but I wouldn’t use that word for the house, either. Are you still meeting Christie?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Can you have Olivia for fifteen minutes?” Julia sniffed into the pram. “Smells like she’ll need changing when she wakes up.”

  “You know you don’t even need to ask.” He kissed her, his thumb rubbing her shoulder. “Fifty-fifty, remember. I meant what I said earlier. It’s nice to see this side of you again.”

  “One interview,” she affirmed, stroking Olivia’s soft cheek. “It’s about time to gather some useful information. Won’t be too long.”

  After packing up a box with one of each flavour scone and enough cream and jam, she tied her fanciest ribbon yet and left the quiet café. She’d intended to walk straight to Mulberry Lane, but Shilpa waved her over as she passed the post office next door.

  “Your gran is no different than Penelope,” she said, lifting a bucket filled with familiar pink and white flowers. “I just told her someone had stolen a bunch of these, and she didn’t even stop to talk about what we could do. What’s the point in a neighbourhood watch if it’s not watching the neighbourhood?”

  After promising to talk to her gran about her priorities, Julia left Shilpa to the business of carrying the flowers back inside. Lingering on the corner, Julia looked at the church. She’d seen identical pink and white flowers on Gerald Martin’s grave with that sloppily written message on the tag.

  ‘You were right.’

  When he’d crouched down, had the young man been leaving stolen flowers? Had he been reading a tag as Julia had done after him? Or had he been writing one? She supposed those flowers could have been left at any time, but they were fresh, and the messy handwriting had the look of youth to it. If that boy had stolen and left them, what had Penelope been right about?

  More importantly, would discovering the answer to any of these questions get her any closer to a concrete answer about what happened to Penelope?

  Rounding the corner onto Mulberry Lane, she felt as though she were clutching at straws. Hopefully after this outing, she’d have something more
useful to report at the meeting.

  She passed the burnt-out shell of Trotter’s Books, still unsold after Julia’s eventful turn in a book club in the lead up to Christmas. Heavily pregnant, she’d found herself sucked into the middle of a mess so big that she’d spent the following months certain she’d never follow another trail again.

  The colour of coffee beans, Vicky’s Van blended into the shadow of one of the large trees at the bottom of the winding street ahead of Julia’s father’s antique’s barn. Not that it was easy to miss. The queue of eight made sure of that.

  Tacking onto the back, Julia made it nine.

  While she waited, she wondered if this new offering was impacting her café. She’d never been able to gauge how many shoppers fell within her target demographic. Vicky’s Van was undoubtedly busy, but Julia didn’t recognise many of the people waiting their turn. Tourists and out-of-village shoppers, no doubt. Plenty of those made their way to her café. Grateful for them though she was, she’d always got the impression the locals where the ones keeping everything afloat.

  Besides, she offered something Vicky Van’s didn’t, beyond homemade cakes and bulk discounts on scones: a place to sit, and more importantly, talk.

  People really seemed to like Vicky too. Along with being a decade younger than Penelope, Vicky's personality was different from the deceased woman's in every way. After Julia’s scouting mission when the van first popped up, Katie had asked what Vicky was like, and the word ‘bubbly’ had been the best descriptor.

  The line moved quickly, as most people only opted for a drink and a quick chat. The cakes in the display case did look tempting at first glance, but Julia didn’t know how much moisture could be in the sponges and brownies behind their plastic wrappers. At least Vicky wasn’t trying to pass them off as her own.

  “Julia.” Vicky’s face lit up when she shuffled to the front of the queue. “It’s really good to see you again. I was in your café just the other day, as it happens.”