He wagged his tail, glancing at me before he shook his head, as if to gesture me forward and open the door at his will.
I must’ve really needed the sleep, although I didn’t feel like I’d been down long at all—even if it had been a solid ten-hour period, if not longer. I didn’t recall the time when I came home.
Wrapped in a thick nightgown, I let Charlie out on the back garden. I walked back into the kitchen, clinging my arms around myself and pulling the robe string of my nightgown tight at my waist.
“Let’s sort this out,” I said with an affirmative nod to all the papers on the ground. I wasn’t even going to look at them, I couldn’t, it was driving me crazy to see so many names, numbers, things I didn’t know my husband did. It was best for me if I could throw them all inside a box and be done with it. All of them in the garage and all taped shut until I had the energy or want to go through them individually.
Firstly, I needed to brew the kettle and make myself a coffee. I detoured to the front door, collecting the morning paper and bottle of milk from the doorstep.
The headline faced outward. “LOST BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN”, I continued reading. “Mary Ellsworth, 61, from Bath, mourns the loss of her dramatic weight transformation.” I rolled my eyes. Glancing to the image beside it, a large woman in one rectangle, and the same woman after weight loss. I thought it would’ve been something else.
As I poured hot water into my coffee, I turned the page, skimming for anything to jump out. We weren’t going for a walk this morning, so I was taking a quick read before the big clean got underway.
Charlie whined by my feet once again. “Right, right, right I’ll feed you,” I grumbled back, my fingers flicking over a page.
After adding the milk to my coffee, I went to feed Charlie and fill his water bowl. A draught blew in, knocking the door of the conservatory shut with a wallop.
“Need to get a dog door fitted too,” I mumbled, creating an imaginary checklist as I headed into the conservatory to properly shut the door.
Back in the kitchen, I continued flicking through the newspaper, my eyes scanning the headlines until finally they settled on something.
“WOMAN FOUND DEAD” that was more front-page headline, and yet they went with a weight loss. “Silver Lake’s very own Red Rose Duchess, Doreen Maidstone, was found dead on Thursday the 31st of January.”
I didn’t need to read any more. My sight shifted to the bright blue banner at the bottom of the page. The tagline read, “BEST ROSES IN TOWN”. Taken aback, it was a little pre-emptive. Very much so, to consider themselves the best. Doreen wasn’t even cold, and Briarbury in Bloom were trying to soak up the attention.
It didn’t settle with me at all.
My eyes glanced back to the article.
No mention of murder. Just an account of an old lady who was found dead. It was being investigated; probably because it was a murder. Nobody died out of the blue, especially when there was a clear murder weapon.
My fingers trembled at the sight of Paul’s name in the paper. He was quoted as saying “Doreen was and always will be a beloved member of the community. Her death will be mourned by her many loyal customers.” Nothing about how she died. They were brushing it under the rug.
I stomped into the hallway and grabbed the phone from the hook. Before I knew it, Paul was on the other end of the call, saying hello, repeating it and asking what I needed.
“How dare you!” I said.
“I don’t have time for your games today, Eve.”
“No, how dare you brush Doreen’s death away like it wasn’t suspicious,” my hoarse voice growled. “I can’t even begin to understand why you decided to give a statement about her.”
“Listen, I’m trying to run an investigation,” he said. “I don’t need more people like you, trying to get involved.”
“Like me?” I scoffed. But almost instantly, I felt foolish. I agreed, it was what I’d been thinking, we didn’t need everyone knowing it was a murder, that’s when people began acting suspicious. “Well, I don’t think you should’ve said anything to anyone.”
“And you’re my boss now?” His voice petered into laughter. “Eve, I really don’t need it from you. I’m very busy today.”
“Busy giving more interviews?” I asked, letting my own anger get in my way. I could only ask myself, had it been something to do with me not giving him any mention in my own article.
“No, and please, don’t call me unless you know something.”
“Wait—do you know?”
“What?”
I wondered if I needed to ask about Philip, and whether or not he’d gone to visit the police off my suggestion yesterday evening. Although I knew better than to dog someone in it. That wasn’t my place to say. I shook my head, shaking the thought off.
“What, Eve?” he asked, once again.
“Nothing,” I said, slamming the phone on the hook.
I needed some much-needed breathing room and space after the call. I needed a pint glass filled with water, chased down by the entire mug of coffee.
Blood pumped wildly through me. I had too much energy and I needed to get rid of it.
“I’m going to clean now, Charlie,” I said, as he sat on the floor and looked at me. I clung to the kitchen counter. “So, don’t get in the way of the papers, or you might find yourself hauled into a box accidentally.”
He didn’t understand a word, lowering his body to the ground as he laid, his eyes transfixed on me. I wondered if what I’d said somehow indicated a dog move. I never got around to the traditional route of training him to sit, lay, stay, or give paw—I assumed he knew it all anyway, he was a rescue after all.
I hauled handfuls of paper into boxes, uncaring what I was grabbing at. Whether or not they went together, whether or not they had pictures, I wanted rid of it all.
After one box was filled, I taped it shut and pushed it aside, like curling, I tried to get the boxes I slid across the tile close to the hallway with the garage door at the far end of the kitchen.
I threw more paper into a second box, more and more. Filling them high and squashing them down with a hand—then stomped with a foot, forcing more paper inside until the box couldn’t take any more.
In the space of two hours, I’d thrown every single piece of paper into a box, every piece that had caused me havoc over the last couple of years in the kitchen. There was still the mess spread out in the living room, but I could only handle one place at a time.
With the five stuffed cardboard boxes, I stacked them inside the garage. I didn’t label them or state what was inside them. I knew what was in there, and they’d stay like that until I revisited them—which I didn’t want to do any time soon.
They reminded me that I didn’t know my husband as well as I thought I had. I didn’t remember him the way he was with other people, and with every new piece of information coming in from different pieces of paper where he’d signed his name and written notes, it was distorting the person I remembered him as.
He was charitable. He was kind. He invested heavily, helping businesses bloom throughout the community. And yet, seeing his name, it reminded me what I’d lost.
To me, he was lost, even if he wasn’t far from me, given the fact his urn was on the mantelpiece in the living room.
TWENTY
I had tired myself out and managed to build quite the hunger before meeting Ruth at Briars, the café. When she finished work, I was already seated at one of our regular spots beside the window. I didn’t care much for privacy today. Today, we were very much about to stick our noses in some businesses that people might’ve thought were best kept out of.
“Ordered for you too,” I said to Ruth as she took a seat across from me at the table.
Seconds later, the waitress arrived with a tray of products. Two coffees, and two plates with sandwiches on. I’d ordered a ham and cheese panini with a pickle on the side, and for Ruth, mainly her usual; bacon, lettuce, and tomato baguette, aptly known as the BL
T sandwich.
“Divine!” she grumbled, pulling at the buttons of her shirt blouse. “They’re hiring a weekend nurse so no more Saturday’s for me.”
“Which means we’ll be able to plan our weekends better,” I said. “And I cleaned up, I basically threw everything in boxes, and I don’t want to see another one again.”
“All?” she asked, grabbing at her plate.
“No, well—well, the living room hasn’t been touched yet, so that’s still a no-go zone, I guess.” I took my plate, grabbing at the pickle. I needed the zap of sourness on my palette.
“Oh, it’s a start, at least.”
“At least!”
As we began eating, my stomach rumbled. It had been rumbling for the better part of me waiting on Ruth, but only now was it being listened to, and it was being fed—not like I ever let my stomach go without.
“Did you see the article in the paper?” she asked.
Funnily enough, I brought it along with me. “Oh.” I dug a hand into my bag, pulling out the paper. “Yes. I did. And I also spotted something else in there as well.”
“Well, it’s a good thing Paul’s told everyone it wasn’t a murder.”
“In not so many words, yeah.” Although it wasn’t how I originally felt about the issue, my anger had somewhat calmed, and was mostly flared because it was Paul who was at the centre of it all. “Think it might make him look like a liar, or incompetent when it’s all revealed who killed the poor woman, though.”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m sure they’ll spin it as saving themselves from outing the fact it was a murder investigation.”
I guessed—but it was still something flaring the anger in my system. It overwhelmed me with everything currently happening.
“So?” she continued.
I flipped through the newspaper, having been side-tracked. “The advert right at the bottom.”
Ruth read it, scoffing at the words. “That can’t be right.”
“It is,” I said. “And right beneath Doreen’s piece.”
“Well, they must have paid for the ad, and someone figured, people’s eyes are going to be on Doreen’s piece, so might as well make a business decision out of it.”
“But what gets me is that they’re talking about being the best roses.”
Ruth tilted her chin and creased her brows. “Oh, yes.”
“I wouldn’t have been bothered, but the wording.”
“Like they knew something before it happened.”
I shuddered. I didn’t think Jonathan had anything to do with the murder, but there were signs flickering, like an old neon sign above a store, pointing inside at him. But those weren’t shining anywhere near as bright as the lights gleaming at Amanda.
“Good thing we’re heading over there,” Ruth said.
“Well, yes. And I’m interested in seeing how they can spin this, other than, y’know, hyperbole for the sake of sales.”
“Entirely possible that’s what he’ll say.”
I huffed, already making excuses for the man. It was either him or Amanda, one of the two of them were the killer, and I needed to find out as soon as possible. I also needed to speak with Amanda on a much more serious note. Her son’s father could’ve equally been at fault, and if she knew this, I was sure she’d tell me.
“Afternoon ladies,” a voice cooed as a hand flapped in our faces.
Nancy stood with a huge smile spread across her face.
I was digging into the corner of my sandwich at the time, my face stuffed with food. I hummed and nodded, waving a hand back at her.
“Nancy,” Ruth said. “How’re you?”
“Oo I’m good,” she said. “Well, I heard from Paul’s wife, that there’s more to Doreen’s death.”
Well, I guess now the gossips knew about it, it was only a matter of time until someone started running scared from a police investigation.
I wiped my mouth on a napkin. “Oh no, what happened?”
Nancy scooted Ruth over in her seat, sitting beside her. “You ladies didn’t hear it from me, but they think she was murdered.”
Ruth and I locked eyes. “Oh no,” we grumbled together.
Nancy suppressed a smile with her lips and a shake of her head. She truly loved having information and it showed. “It’s awful, isn’t it,” she said. “I cannot think about who would want to hurt Doreen.”
“Well, you were part of the crocheting club, right?”
“Knitting,” Nancy grumbled back. “And yes, we were.”
“Nancy,” Ruth said, turning her body to the woman. “Did you know about Doreen wanting to move away?”
“She did talk about the south of France an awful lot,” she said. “But you know, we all talk about retirement, we all imagine the places we’re going to live.”
“And?”
“And it’s just not realistic,” she said. “We’re all far too attached to this place. It’s why none of us moved.”
Not quite the case. “I’d move for the weather,” I said. “Somewhere warmer.”
“With a beach,” Ruth said.
“No, no, no,” Nancy added, tapping her fingernails on the table. “I could never live like that, because it would make my holidays go by unappreciated.”
Off-topic. I wondered what else Nancy had to tell us.
Apparently, nothing more. But she knew Doreen’s death wasn’t natural, and someone was there, someone had killed her. It was only a matter of time before the entire town knew about it and hysteria overcame the people.
Once Nancy left, I took a weighted sigh of relief. “I don’t think she knows anything,” I said. “More of a theorist, if anything, trying to read between the lines.”
“Of course, she doesn’t know.”
“No mention at all of the shears.”
“Speaking off,” Ruth said. “I got to thinking last night. We didn’t go out into the greenhouses.”
“Well, we left Philip there,” I said. “Kind of got a little awkward, and I didn’t want to snoop while he was watching over us. He more-or-less said it himself, he knew that place very well.”
“And I just hope—”
“I think he really cared for her,” I said. “I think he was taking care of the plants as well. He knew it mattered to Doreen.”
Ruth picked at a loose leaf of lettuce on her place. “I’m just being a sceptic, the devil’s advocate in all this.”
“Good.” I needed that. I knew myself well enough to need someone around to quiz and question my moves and motives. I needed her around, and if I didn’t have it, I’d be listening to myself ranting and rave—I’d go crazy. “At least I can tell Paul I have a partner in all of this.”
“As long as Frank doesn’t find out,” she chuckled back. “He already thinks we’re going doolally, apparently one of us read a little too much Nancy Drew as a child.”
The ownness on that was probably me.
We ate our lunches uninterrupted by anyone else joining our table.
“Hope we can get some answers,” I said, pushing my plate aside. “Just something to let me know that Jonathan had no hand in this, and we can move onto Amanda.”
Ruth nodded. “I’m with you on this.”
“Good.”
“Well, are we going to see him then?” she asked, pulling her handbag onto the table as she fished around for her purse. “I’ve got this,” she said. “You get the next one.”
“Let do it,” I said, pushing my arms back inside the jacket I’d been sitting in.
TWENTY-ONE
The flower shop was further up the road from the café. It hadn’t rained today but there was a cold nip in the air. I’d wrapped a nice thick scarf around my neck and found comfort in my insulated jacket. It was all I needed to keep the cold out and keep the warm in.
Charlie, on the other hand, huddled by my feet. He wasn’t a fussy dog, but the last time we’d been to Briarbury in Bloom I had been carrying him. He looked to me as if begging the question of whether I’d be picki
ng him up.
Usually, it was only when I feared he’d run off or be too overwhelmed by everything inside. So, before we entered, I hauled him into my arms, carrying him as I would a new-born baby.
Entering alongside Ruth, we were taken aback by how busy it was. Voices hummed by, loudly calling over one another. And on display, prepared single red roses.
“Business is booming,” I mumbled under my breath to Ruth.
“Guess the advert worked.”
“I guess so.”
I pressed my chin high, forcing myself to try and look above and beyond the heads bobbing around inside the shop. I noticed the door to Jonathan’s office was closed shut. He must’ve been inside, he must’ve been crunching the numbers, or basking in the glory of what had happened and how he was now winning and on top of the world.
“Can you hold Charlie?” I asked, heaving the dog up on my arm. “I’m going to see Jonathan; I think he’s in the office.”
Ruth accepted Charlie, pulling him into an arm and cradling him like a baby. “Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?” she mumbled to him, puckering her lips and stroking the space between his eyes.
I never babied him like that, but I’d never had children and so my desire to baby animals was low. “I’ll be right back,” I said.
Cutting through the people with an arm forward to signal where I was headed. I wasn’t about to be caught up in some people as they argued who was ahead in the queue.
I knocked heavily on the door.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
A muffle of sound came.
“Jon?” I called back.
The door swung open and he stood with a crease of concern on his brow. Quickly relieved into a smile. “Oh, Eve,” he said. “Thought you were Max.”
“Sorry,” I said, waving a hand. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, sure,” he said, glancing across my shoulder out into the people. “It’s a busy day today.”
Welcomed in, I took a seat across from his office desk. “It’s very busy,” I added to what he’d said.
Silver Lake Cozy Mystery Bundle Page 23