Mitch immediately springs into special agent mode, walking over to the group of people arguing on the wedding dais. Esme and I join him.
“What’s happened?” he asks them. “What’s going on?”
A handsome man dressed in a tuxedo spins round to face us. “Who are you?”
Mitch offers a hand to shake. “Special Agent Hargreaves, sir. I’m from the CCIA. I understand there’s a problem?”
“Too bloody right there’s a problem,” the groom replies, ignoring Mitch’s hand. “The woman I’m supposed to be marrying has disappeared!”
Mitch drops his unshaken hand back to his side. “How did you discover she’s missing?”
“Dorothea, that’s Poppy’s mother, just went up to her bedroom to present Poppy with a necklace as her something borrowed for the ceremony, but she was nowhere to be seen,” the man says, words tumbling out as he paces back and forth, gesturing wildly.
Whoever this guy is, hotel or agency staff, I get the feeling he’s missed his calling as an actor. He even looks like you’d expect a man jilted at the altar to look. Fear and anxiety are pulsing the air all around him. He’s doing a pretty good job of capturing that rock god look as well. He really could pass for a famous musician. Solidly built and tall, his designer stubble frames his handsome face and his eyes are an intense blue.
“You’ve got to find her!” he adds, suddenly spinning round and grabbing Mitch’s arm. “You will find her, won’t you?”
“Of course we will,” Mitch replies, confidence oozes from every pore. This might be his first assignment in charge of everything but he isn’t showing any sign of nerves as far as I can tell.
A woman who looks to be in her fifties slips an arm around the groom. “It’ll all be fine, Taylor. Try not to get quite so worked up.”
Mitch, seemingly placated a little, nods repeatedly and takes a deep breath.
“And you are?” Mitch asks the woman.
“The mother of the bride,” she replies. “Dorothea Randall.”
“So, what are you going to do? How quickly can you find her? Do I need to postpone the wedding ceremony?” The groom bombards Mitch with questions, his few seconds of calm now clearly over. Then he lowers his voice. “You do realise how embarrassing this is, don’t you? We even have a photographer from Celeb Spotter magazine here to take all of the wedding pictures. What the hell am I going to tell him?”
Hmm. I’d say he’s definitely going to have to postpone everything, but I keep my mouth shut and instead catch the eye of the mother of the bride, pointing to a row of empty seats. “Shall we sit down for a moment?”
She nods, stepping away from Taylor and perching on the edge of a seat at the end of the aisle. I sit next to her and lower my voice. “Dorothea, I’m Amber. I’m here to help find your daughter. I’m so sorry she’s disappeared. I just wanted a quiet word with you to check there isn’t any chance the bride might have got cold feet and left of her own accord.”
Dorothea shakes her head, concern evident in her eyes. “Of course not! Poppy loves Taylor with all her heart. She’s been so looking forward to this day, planning everything meticulously. She wanted it to be perfect. Not just because of the photos they’re allowing Celeb Spotter to take, but also because the day she marries Taylor is so precious to her. There’s no way she’d change her mind at the last moment and run out on him. I’m certain of it.”
OK. So that was a long shot - that the bride might have just done a runner - but it had to be worth asking the question as a starting point, right?
I rest a hand on the woman’s arm. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Unfortunately, I think you and Taylor might well have to speak to the hotel manager about rescheduling the ceremony. Maybe you could try again in a few days? Rest assured though, we will find Poppy.”
We have to, otherwise I can wave goodbye to any chance of getting my dream job.
The woman nods as I get to my feet. “Perhaps we could start with having a look in her bedroom to see if there might be any clues there?” I suggest, getting into the swing of things. This is the first time I’ve worked on a case without somebody mentoring me and, yes, it’s scary, but it’s also exciting and challenging. My heart is racing and I’m keen to get started. Especially as we have less than twenty-four hours to find the missing bride-to-be.
“Just what I was about to do,” Mitch says, strolling over with a scowl on his face as he overhears my words.
Oops. Have I already overstepped my place as an apprentice support officer? It seems Mitch thinks so. If he doesn’t like me thinking for myself then I get the feeling he’s really going to have problems with Esme, who, I’m certain, is not going to be a woman to hold back on this assignment or mince her words.
“I’ll show you to Poppy’s room,” the bride’s mother says.
As we follow her out of the marquee, I spy Taylor being comforted by a startlingly beautiful blonde woman. She’s wearing an elegant long gown which I presume is a bridesmaid’s dress.
“Who’s that with Taylor?” I whisper to Dorothea. “Is she one of the bridesmaids?”
Dorothea nods. “Yes, her name is Lottie. There are two other bridesmaids as well.” She points across to a table laden with glasses of what appears to be champagne. Two women in identical dresses to the one Lottie is wearing are sipping from glasses and looking rather inebriated. “That’s the other two, Deidre and Constance. Otherwise known as Deedee and Connie. They’re…”
“We’ll interview the rest of the wedding party after we’ve thoroughly examined the bride’s bedroom,” Mitch interrupts. “Could you lead the way now please, Mrs. Randall?”
“Actually, it’s Miss Randall,” Dorothea replies, her fingers fiddling with the pearl necklace at her throat. “I’m divorced. I reverted back to my maiden name of Randall.”
“Is Poppy’s father attending the wedding?” I ask Dorothea as we make out way towards the hotel.
Beside me Mitch gives a huff of disapproval, presumably at my audacity in asking yet more questions.
“No, when we divorced Poppy cut off all ties with him.” Her fingers go back to her neck for more anxious fiddling with the pearls.
“Does Poppy have any siblings?” Esme asks, appearing on Dorothea’s other side. Mitch is striding off ahead of us, across the hotel’s lawns.
“Sadly, she’s an only child. Her father and I were unable to have any children so we adopted Poppy.”
Mitch stops when he reaches the entrance to the hotel and turns back to face us. “I’ll need you to use your key card to gain entry to the hotel, Ms. Randall.”
She nods, fumbles in her bag and eventually finds the card. Looking flustered she tries to swipe it, taking three attempts before the light changes from red and to green and we’re inside the hotel at last.
“Where are we going? What’s the room number?” Mitch demands.
“I’ll show you,” Dorothea replies, stepping to the right and walking up a small flight of steps.
If Poppy did decide to ditch her wedding then she clearly did so without so much as a thought for her possessions, as well as her husband-to-be. Her room looks as though a cyclone has torn through it. There are clothes scattered all over the four poster bed and right across the floor. An array of makeup, combs, brushes and hair accessories adorn the dressing table. On the oak console table sits a large jewellery box, the lid open to reveal a diamond tiara. Presumably Poppy was planning to wear that with her wedding dress. I take a step closer and spot some rings and a gold bracelet nestling on the pink silk interior of the box.
Taking in the scene around him, Mitch asks, “Is Poppy usually quite a tidy person?”
Dorothea shakes her head.
“Right, let’s get started,” Mitch says, rubbing his hands together. “This place is such a mess, it’s difficult to say if she left willingly or if there was a struggle. Amber, you search the bathroom. Esme, check through the stuff on the bed and the floor, and I’ll go
through all the drawers and the wardrobes.”
Check the bathroom. Why do I get the feeling being instructed to check the bathroom is Mitch’s way of reprimanding me for starting my own line of questioning earlier with Dorothea? So far I’ve only ‘worked’ on cases with James and with Charlie. James, whilst undertaking my training, and Charlie, when I was first drawn into all of this CCIA stuff. I was still working for the local newspaper and also part-time in the village pub when I ended up getting myself involved in a murder investigation Charlie had been sent to solve. Both guys, though highly experienced special agents with reputations for being amongst the CCIA elite, still treated me as equals. They encouraged me to learn, to contribute and get involved with the challenges before us whilst solving cases. Mitch, with probably only a handful of cases under his belt, seems to have far too many airs and graces for my liking and obviously wants to take complete charge, bossing us around. Well, I need to pass this test so, in turn, I guess that means I need to keep my mouth shut and get on with my instructions.
Bathroom search, here I come.
The bathroom is bigger than my whole flat back home. There’s a freestanding claw foot bath in the centre, aligned so that whoever is reclining in the tub can enjoy the view of the hills from the picture window. I hope there are no paparazzi lurking amongst the trees out there with gigantic telephoto lens at the ready, eager to snap a shot of a naked celebrity enjoying a bath and sell it to the highest bidder.
Turning my attention back to carrying out my search, I open the floor to ceiling cupboard next to the marble vanity unit. Inside is, unsurprisingly, a selection of toiletries. Fake tan. Body moisturiser. Hand cream. Nail polish. I shut the door; nothing suspicious in there then. A bathrobe hangs on a hook on the back of the door. I search its pockets. Nothing. I stand still and let my eyes roam over every inch of the space. Maybe there isn’t anything here to give us a clue as to what happened to Poppy, but I need to be thorough and make absolutely certain I haven’t missed anything before I report back to Mitch. I spot a silver flip-top bin tucked around the side of the glass which screens off the shower area. Dropping to my hands and knees, I notice two things. One, the bathroom has underfloor heating because the floor tiles are blissfully warm. Two, there’s a piece of paper crumpled up inside the bin. I fish it out and carefully unfold it. The note has been ripped into tiny pieces before being bundled together and disposed of. I put the numerous pieces on the floor and try to fit them back together, like a paper version of a jigsaw. My task would be easier if the note was from a regular-shaped piece of paper, but it isn’t. It looks as though the words were scrawled across the middle of an A4 writing pad and then ripped diagonally across the sheet. Eventually three of the pieces appear to fit and form a word. Mistake. I peer at the other bits of paper as I move them around. Two more bits slot into place and form another word. Sorry. I’m on a roll here. Could this be an apology from Poppy for running out on her wedding? But if it is, then why did Poppy tear it up and put it in the bin?
I can hear Mitch and Esme continuing their search in the bedroom. How long will it be before they finish their tasks and come in here? I want to try and find out what this note says all by myself. It might not be relevant to the case, but it could also be the lead we’ve been looking for to get this investigation up and running. OK. Breathe. Focus. I move the remaining pieces of paper around. Come on, I chant silently. Please let the pieces fit and the note reveal its secret.
If it has a secret to hide, that is. I might well be scrambling around on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor for no good reason.
“Amber! What have you found?” Mitch marches into the bathroom, closely followed by Esme.
Sugar. I wasn’t quick enough, and now Mitch is going to take over. Well, technically, he is the one in charge of this investigation, I remind myself as Mitch crouches on the floor next to me, nudging me unceremoniously out of the way. And we are supposed to be working as a team. Hmm. Perhaps I should just have taken my discovery straight to him anyway.
“You should have come and fetched me to check this out,” he says, as he starts trying bits of paper here and there, attempting to complete the note.
I push back, resting my head against the wall and meet Esme’s gaze. She rolls her eyes behind Mitch’s back. Clearly she’s not impressed with his lack of working-as-a-team abilities either.
“What is it?” Dorothea gasps as she walks into the bathroom. “Have you found something?”
“Do you know if Poppy might have kept in touch with any old flames?” I ask her, earning myself another shot of disapproval from Mitch. I’m thinking maybe Poppy could have got cold feet because she still had feelings for one of her ex-boyfriends.
Looking uncomfortable, she nods. “It’s possible. Poppy’s such a sweetheart. She’s pretty, she’s smart and she’s successful. But she’s also vulnerable and men, well, they take advantage of that, don’t they?”
“They do indeed,” Esme replies with a sigh which suggests she knows all about men messing women around. “So, Poppy had dated quite a bit, had she?”
“I’m afraid Poppy had a weakness for men who are trouble. She always thought she would be the one to turn them around and bring out their inner goodness. She wanted to help, but more often than not she just ended up getting used and it would all end in disaster.” Glancing out of the bedroom window she adds with a distinct bitter edge to her voice, “I blame her father and our divorce. Maybe she’s a bad judge of character because of what she saw me going through when Tony left us both. She was only twelve at the time. As if she didn’t have enough to cope with, all of that teenage angst, then she had her father walking out as well.”
“Do you think Poppy might call the men she’s been involved with mistakes?” I ask as I get to my feet, recalling the words I’d managed to piece together from her note. “Have you heard her use that word about her ex-boyfriends?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Dorothea nods. “I’d agree with her too. In my opinion all of the men she got herself involved with were huge mistakes, except for David and Taylor.”
So the note could be a clue then.
Dorothea continues, “With each of them I thought she might have finally found a decent, honest man, worthy of her love. Taylor, well, he isn’t like a rock musician, is he?”
Mitch stands up and raises an eyebrow. “And what, in your opinion, Miss Randall, is a typical rock musician?”
“You know,” she replies with a delicate shrug. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Taylor loves his rock and roll, but he also loves my daughter. Of that I’m sure. He works with a charity which campaigns to encourage sobriety amongst young people too, so he isn’t into getting stoned or drunk. He’s a good and honest man. Poppy disappearing like this is tearing him apart.”
“It looked as though the bridesmaids were doing a good job of consoling him when we left the marquee,” Mitch says, with a hint of a smirk. “Who are the bridesmaids by the way?”
I step forward and open my mouth to reply, recalling their names from when I asked Dorothea in the marquee. Mitch shoots me a grumpy look and stares me down as if daring me to say something he can have a go at me about. I decide, on this occasion, to keep quiet. I know I need to play an active role in this investigation in order to be in with a chance of passing this assignment but I obviously need to tread carefully around Mitch.
Dorothea clears her throat. “There are three of them. Lottie, Connie and Deedee. Lottie and Poppy have been friends since university. Constance, she prefers to be called Connie, is a colleague of Poppy’s, they work at the same public relations firm. The company is called Go To PR. The third bridesmaid, Deidre, known as Deedee, is Poppy’s cousin, she’s like a sister to Poppy.”
“Is that how Poppy and Taylor met?” Esme asks. “Is Taylor a client at Go To PR?”
“Yes, he is. A friend of his recommended the company to him,” Dorothea answers.
I check my watch and my stomach clenches, the time
is going too fast. Will we be able to solve this case before the deadline of six o’clock tomorrow evening? I push back the rising panic and force my mind to focus on the case. “You were telling us about the two men Poppy has been involved with who you thought were decent,” I prompt. “You told us about Taylor but what about this David guy you mentioned just a few moments ago? You said you thought he was a good guy. What happened there?”
Dorothea’s fingers go back to twirling the beads on her necklace. “Ah, yes, David. They first met at university, they were friends, but after finishing their studies they eventually lost touch. Fate intervened though when they met up again at a party years’ later.” She sighs. “David was so upset when she ended their relationship. It didn’t help matters that she began seeing Taylor straight away either.”
“How long ago did they break up?” I ask.
Dorothea looks thoughtful for a moment. “It was just over a year ago, I think. As I say, as soon as she broke things off with him, she started seeing Taylor. Poppy and Taylor hadn’t been together very long when they got engaged. She said she knew Taylor was the man for her and they started planning the wedding straight away. Taylor had touring commitments coming up in America with his indie rock band, so they scheduled the wedding to give them time for a honeymoon in the States before the tour started.”
“Did you ever meet David?” Esme asks, backing up my line of questioning, as Mitch, who is now back on the floor, scrabbles around once more with the pieces of paper from the ripped up note.
On Trial Page 2