I turned to see him, shimmy between the back of a car and the bonnet of another. He carried Charlie in his arms. I smiled.
“He doesn’t let anyone else carry him,” I said.
Nora and Spencer followed behind Paul.
Once Nora had caught a look at Sandra. There was no denying that they knew each other. There was no denying that they’d once had a friendship, and Nora had gotten so far as to trust Sandra with the information about Spencer.
But even without Nora. Both the mother and son, Sandra and Daniel, had scars and welts on their bodies. The same marks and scars which matched with bad chemical burns and science conducted by amateurs.
TWENTY-FIVE
Two Hours Later
After the arrests were made, and Spencer was freed, the evening turned to midnight, and the clean-up crew were in the middle of the ballroom, sorting through the mess the guests had left.
Ruth and I sat at an empty table as all the harsh bright lights shone down on us. Everyone else had either cleared out and gone home, via taxi, or went to their respective beds inside the manor.
We had mugs of hot chocolate, and Charlie chowed on a small mound of food set out for him by the staff.
“I bet we’d have been bored if this didn’t happen,” Ruth said, sighing into her mug as she took a drink. “Keeps us on our toes.”
“I don’t want to talk about toes,” I said. After the running around I’d done, the soles of my feet and toes hurt. I sat with them resting on another chair. “I hope tomorrow someone can carry me.”
“Our bodies aren’t getting any younger,” Ruth said.
A loud clap came from the end of the hall.
Paul, slowly clapping as he walked forward towards us.
He was followed in by Patrick.
“Well, you did it,” Paul said. “You managed to do what you do best.”
“What’s that?” I laughed. “Meddle.”
It seemed to be the word of the evening. I was the meddler, of course. I was the one who knew when something didn’t settle right, and he should’ve been thankful for it as well.
“Great job!” Patrick said, startling Paul.
“Thank you,” Paul replied.
“To the women,” Patrick clarified. “They did a wonderful job tonight.”
“Should I give you a—”
“No, no,” Patrick said. “I’ll speak with Eve after you.”
Paul nodded. He bit into his lip and held back a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I told you at the beginning of the night, that I might need help. And sure, when someone gives you a confession, it’s really hard not to accept it without question.”
“I’ll accept the thank you, would probably mean more for Charlie though,” I said. “But all of this means I do have my story. An angle nobody else has. And this time I think I broke someone’s leg.” I glanced to Patrick as he nodded back.
Paul chuckled. “You didn’t break it,” he said. “Mostly, it was probably a sprain.”
“I didn’t think you’d have that in you,” Ruth said. “But it’s not like you intended on it, or are we dealing with Eve the enforcer now.”
“Oh, hush,” I pawed at her arm.
Paul sighed, letting off the bulked stress he’d carried around as a weight on his neck. “I’m sure this is the last we’ll cross like this now,” he said. “I’ll be moving to cases on the county scale.”
“I’m going to the nursing home to visit your mother on Monday evening, if you and Penny would like to come with me.”
Our relationship to this point had been fairly strained. We’d alternate when we visited, that way we’d never clash. I felt we were ready to be civilised in a personal respect.
“I’m sure Penny would like that,” he said. “But, I should be going now. I have a huge report to write, and an explanation as to why it took as long as it did.”
As Paul left, I sunk into my shoulders, drinking up the sweet sugary hot chocolate. Next up, was Patrick, and I knew just what he was going to say.
“Diane is sleeping upstairs,” Patrick said.
Although I didn’t think it was going to be that.
“I told her what happened, although I doubt she’ll remember,” he continued. “I think everything that happened sent her a little—you know, spiralled.”
Ruth chuckled. “If it happened at my party, I’d be the same.”
As would I.
“But, you’re right, you have a story nobody else has,” he said. “And I halted publication of anything naming Spencer as the murderer. I don’t want to be sued.”
I smiled. “Sounds wise.”
“Which is why, your piece, the first piece for the newspaper will be about this tonight,” he said. “I know it just happened, but if you could get anything down to go out for Monday, you’ll be making a great impression.”
That was one way to sell me on it.
“For Monday,” I said.
He looked to his watch. “That means you’ll have to get something done tomorrow,” he said.
“Easy!” Ruth said. “We took notes. Didn’t we?”
We had. They were in my purse.
Looking to it on the table. I knew what was written on those notes, and on them, I’d written both Patrick and Diane’s names. “They’ll be useful to pin together what happened, and what was going through our minds.” I hoped he didn’t want to see them.
He clapped his hands before rubbing them. “Well, I can’t wait to see what you write.”
This was the third time I was being forced to go back and replay events.
A third time my skull felt like a walnut being cracked into.
“For Monday,” I repeated.
About the Authors
HUGO JAMES KING
Always a storyteller.
Always a curious mind.
He grew up surrounded by farms and rolling hills.
He now lives in the North West of England.
Dependant of two: a white Japanese Akita and a ginger Bengal cat.
A consumer of supermarket-brand coffee and a creator of large-dish lasagnes.
JESSICA LANCASTER
Jessica Lancaster grew up in England with a love for reading whodunnit murder mysteries.
She’s loves nothing more than a good cup of tea with some chocolate biscuits.
Named after Angela Lansbury in “Murder, She Wrote”, Jessica Fletcher; she dreamed of a day to be her own sleuth in a series. This sparked Gwen in the Cowan Bay Witches Cozy Mystery series and Evanora in the Witchwood Cozy Mystery series.
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Silver Lake Cozy Mystery Bundle Page 37