“Her poxy brother abandoned all of her precious belongings at charity shops. I hoped to find her necklace.” Danny grew increasingly angry. The words seemed to explode out of him. “Noel never even bothered to tell me until all of it had been sold. How could the bastard toss all her stuff? Like she never existed? He even took the photos with her off the walls of the fish and chip shop.”
Had he? How interesting.
Motts glanced over at Inspector Ash, whose gaze was laser-focused on Danny. She had one last question for the youngest Orchard. “Did you run me over?”
“What? No. Bloody bint.”
“Right. That’s enough.” Inspector Ash slammed the door shut. “Why don’t you head inside to get warm? He’s not going to tell us anything else.”
“Okay.” She thanked both the police officers and went inside. Cactus watched her lock the doors for a second time. “Here’s hoping the excitement for the day is done.”
Thinking back to the conversation, Motts didn’t need Danny to say anything else. He’d given her a new name—Noel. And he’d also given her a reason to speak with Innis Walters again. She hoped he’d be more receptive. Maybe if she brought the photos to prod his memory.
She made herself a mug of hot chocolate and sank into the chair by the fire. Cactus leapt up into the seat beside her. “Right. Time to update the mystery.”
The primrose mystery.
Motts had saved the images into a file along with a Word document holding her questions. She struck through the ones connected to Danny. “Not one hundred percent certain he’s innocent. But I’m also not convinced he could’ve hurt her.”
Meow.
“That’s right. I need to know the exact date of Rhona’s disappearance and where Danny was.” Motts returned to the news article she’d bookmarked. It gave her the date when Rhona had last been seen. “Okay. If Danny helps his family in their gardening business, he can’t claim work as an alibi. No one tends plants in the middle of the night.”
She hoped Danny would remember his whereabouts. Though, she’d have to wait until the police released him. Inspector Ash wasn’t likely to allow her to interrogate the man.
Dozing in her chair, Motts was jolted awake by a pounding on her front door. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Ten in the morning. Bugger. She hadn’t intended to sleep in.
“Hang on.” Motts stumbled toward the front door, opening it to find Detective Inspector Herceg. “Hello.”
“I brought povitica. My mother’s version, with dark chocolate.” He held up a paper-wrapped package and a carrier with two cups. “And coffee.”
“Povitica?”
“A sweet yeast bread with swirls from my native Croatia. I’ve tried making them. Mine turns out like a lump of coal every time.” He smiled, following her into the cottage. “Ash called me about your adventures. Are you well?”
“Fine.”
“Motts.”
Motts stared at the detective—at his slightly crooked and strong nose, not his piercing eyes that made it difficult to lie. She didn’t feel fine. Her nerves hadn’t settled since getting locked in the shed. “You brought coffee.”
“Thought you might want some after the long night you had. Mrs Griffin assured me you enjoyed this particular flavour.” Teo grabbed one of the cups to set in front of her. “She was quite excited for some reason.”
Motts covered her face with her hands and resisted the urge to scream. “Who knows.”
Oh, good grief. She’ll be on the phone to my auntie Lily to tell her about the new person in my life. And Auntie Lily will call Mum.
And they won’t listen to my “he’s a nice detective who’s trying to solve a case and not date me.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Motts nodded. Fine, fine, don’t mind my silently screaming into the void. “So, tell me about povitica.”
Chapter Eleven
“Wherefore art thou, tiny Pineapple?”
“In the garden.” Motts smothered her laugh. Her uncle Tom had a flair for the dramatic. And he was one of the few people who occasionally used her proper name. “Did Auntie Lily send you?”
“She did. With food, because everything in life can be solved with a home-cooked meal.” He hefted up the large casserole dish in his arms. “One of her unique fusions, her family’s special fried rice mixed with a full English breakfast. Tastier than it sounds.”
And it was tastier than it sounded. Motts had a great appreciation for her auntie Lily’s culinary creations. Crispy sausage, roasted diced potatoes, tomatoes, and scrambled eggs. They went surprisingly well in fried rice.
“A whole casserole for me?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a bite. And I know your Cactus will steal sausage with or without your help.” He glanced around the yard. “You’ve made impressive progress. You’ll be able to put in your herbs in a month. Are you excited?”
“About herbs?”
Her uncle shook his head with a laugh. “About your little spot of heaven being situated the way you want?”
“I’m happy.” Motts got to her feet and dusted off her knees. She’d finally managed to complete sectioning off the garden. It was ready for plants whenever the weather decided to play nice. They’d had a sudden cold snap, but the weatherperson had promised things would warm up in a day or two. “I think.”
“You are.” He’d always been good about helping her identify emotions, especially at times when her parents struggled. “You were never this relaxed in London.”
London had been loud. Full of people, sounds, lights, and smells. The large city had often overwhelmed Motts.
One of the reasons Motts had considered accepting the inherited cottage was the chance to move somewhere quieter. She hadn’t expected skeletons to come up out of the ground. Or to become the focus of local gossip and drama. She still enjoyed the calm of the village more than London.
“Here, point me in the direction of the plates, and I’ll get lunch sorted.” He started toward the cottage while Motts gathered up her gardening tools. “Did River help you get your new scooter sorted?”
“He drove me out to pick it up.” Motts deftly dodged Cactus, who’d made his way off his bed by the fireplace to greet her and her uncle. “Patience.”
Meow.
“I feel confident that was a ‘hurry the hell up.’” Her uncle pried the lid off the casserole dish. He quickly found two plates for them. “Does he need his own bowl?”
Motts glanced at her uncle, trying to decide if he was teasing or being serious. She decided to treat it as a real question. “He’ll snack from my plate.”
While they ate and her uncle filled her in on the family goings-on, Motts’s thoughts drifted to everything that had happened in the last few days. She hadn’t delved much into the cold case. Her nerves hadn’t fully settled.
During his visit earlier in the week, Detective Inspector Herceg hadn’t been too open with divulging information. He thought she shouldn’t get drawn further into the case. Motts had dragged a few details out of him.
Danny Orchard had been cleared of any suspicion with regards to the murder, though they’d charged him with trespassing and given him a warning for stalking. He’d been able to provide an ironclad alibi for the night Rhona disappeared. Local rumours about the couple meeting up had simply been gossip.
Gossip or misdirection?
Innis had been quite vocal in his belief that Danny and Rhona had been going out. He’d also had ongoing issues with his sister. Money (and inheritances) tended to bring out the worst in people.
“What are you thinking about, little Pineapple?” Her uncle tapped his fork against her plate. “Not to your liking?”
“It’s yummy.” She made a concerted effort to focus on the fried rice and her uncle. Bugger. Don’t let your thoughts wander when family is here. They’ll think something is wrong. “Thanks for bringing it.”
Why am I so awkward?
“Your dad worries about you.”
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br /> “Uncle Tomato.” Motts didn’t want her parents to stress over her being so far away. “I’m doing fine.”
“Fine?” he questioned. “We’ve very different definitions of the word. You’ll admit things haven’t exactly gone to plan for you thus far.”
“No one predicts they’re going to find a body buried in a shallow grave in their garden. Do they? I’m managing. It’s not the first dead person I’ve discovered.” She thought she’d done remarkably well not to have a complete and total breakdown. “Did you see my garden? I’m doing brilliantly with adulting.”
“You are. And I’m proud of you. So are your parents.”
“Mum’s upset.”
“Your mum loves you so much. She’s struggling with her only child being so far away.” He pointed a rice-covered fork at her. “Don’t let her make you nervous. She’ll calm down eventually.”
Would she? Motts wasn’t convinced. Her uncle let the subject go as they finished up their lunch; he didn’t press her for anything else.
“Now, don’t you go finding any more adventures. Hug?” He opened his arms, waiting for her to decide. She went in for a quick embrace. “And make sure to enjoy the rest of the fried rice for supper. You can bring the casserole dish over on the weekend, if you like.”
After seeing her uncle off, Motts grabbed the hollyhock bouquet she’d finished the night before. A client in Yorkshire had ordered it a few weeks ago. She wanted to drop it off at the post office to go in the mail, plus she could stop by the bridal shop to chat with Marnie.
“You’re going to be fine.” Motts gave herself a pep talk. “No one is going to try to run you over—again.”
Breathing in deeply was a definite mistake. Motts pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the sneeze. Flowers all along the cliffs and hedgerows had blossomed as spring took hold.
They were beautiful. Her allergies didn’t quite have the same appreciation for them. She’d tried wearing a mask during spring, but they never worked.
Breathing masks made her feel as though she were suffocating. Her mum had tried to force one on her as a child. She’d had the worst meltdown, and the subject had never been broached again.
Visually, though, Polperro had become as beautiful as any painting in a museum. Motts understood why most of her family had never wanted to leave or had returned after a time away. Her mum and dad had been the lone holdouts, preferring life in the bustling city.
It was hard to believe she’d been in Cornwall for two weeks already. Polperro seemed more like home than London ever had to her. And oddly, it made her want to solve the mystery even more.
Motts made the short drive down the hill from her cottage to the post office. She had to smile when Mrs Ferris held the door open for her. “Hello.”
“Doc. Come see who’s out and about,” she yelled into the back while taking the box out of Motts’s arms. “We were sick with worry after your crash. It’s lovely to see you doing so well. Can I do anything else for you? Need stamps?”
The sweet, adorable couple fussed over Motts. Mrs Ferris reminded her so much of her gran. The older woman even snuck a KitKat into her pocket, something Motts’s gran always did when she visited.
On her way out of the post office, Mott’s stumbled on a hint of a clue. She spied a photo of four teenagers on the wall by the door. She immediately recognised two of them, Rhona and Danny; she didn’t know the others.
“Our grandson, Derek, and two of his best mates. Our boy is away in the military now.” Doc joined her. “You’ll know Danny Orchard, of course. And his girl, Rhona, the poor dear. God rest her soul. And the last one is Noel Watson. He runs his family’s charity shop over on The Coombe.”
“Does he?” Motts stood on her tiptoes to get a closer look at the quartet. Something on Noel’s wrist caught her attention. “He’s wearing a bracelet.”
“His father’s. Niall Watson fished with a local fishery. They all got those bracelets one year after a bad storm,” Doc commented offhand. He patted her shoulder gently. “You be safe out there, alright?”
Despite wanting to immediately head to the charity shop, Motts didn’t want to go on her own. She guided her scooter in the opposite direction to Griffin Brews. It would kill two birds with one stone—coffee and an accomplice.
“Mottsy.” Vina almost vaulted the counter to come give her a hug. “Hello, darling. Coffee or tea this fine afternoon?”
“Did they overcharge your personality again?” She patted her ex-girlfriend on the shoulder and extracted herself from the exuberant hug. “Have you or Nish had a lunch break yet?”
“Why?” Nish finished up with a customer. “Tea and biscuits? Coffee? Pastry? Mum outdid herself. She whipped up curry cream and dark chocolate ganache macarons.”
“I’ll take a shed-load of them.” Motts’s mouth had already started to water. “And coffee. To go. I’m heading over to the Watson Charity Shop.”
“Are you?” Nish paused while placing macarons into a box. “Vina already had her break. But I can go with you.”
“Bastard.” Vina flicked him with a rolled-up tea towel. “Here I am doing all the work.”
“All the work?” Motts glanced between the twins. “Vina didn’t even do all her coursework in university.”
“Traitor.”
“Are my babies causing problems again?” Leena Griffin came through the swinging door from the kitchen. Her hands and apron were covered in flour. “Did they offer you tea or coffee? Lazy children.”
“Amma,” Vina complained dramatically.
“Why can’t my babies be as sweet and calm as you?” Leena wrapped Motts in a floury and saffron-scented hug. “Are you well?”
“I am the epitome of sweet and calm.” Vina went over to help a customer while her brother laughed at her.
“You enjoy the macarons. I’ve got pasties in the oven.” Leena squeezed her one last time, then disappeared into the kitchen.
“So, coffee and treats. And what’s this about the charity shop?” Nish handed over the cup and box. “Things have quieted down, so I can go with if you like.”
The macarons didn’t make it out of the coffee shop. Motts noshed her way through them rapidly. They had the perfect combination of crunchy outside and soft inside; the sweet and spicy curry cream mingled with the bite of the dark chocolate ganache.
“I could bathe in that.” Motts licked the last bit of ganache off her finger. “Does your mum know she’s a genius?”
By the time they left the coffee shop, Motts had finished her drink and far too many macarons to be healthy.
They walked the few streets over to the charity shop. Motts stopped a few stores down from Watsons. She didn’t usually make impulsive decisions.
“We need a plan.”
Nish pulled his attention away from the window display at the jewellers. “This sea glass broach is stunning.”
“Nish? A plan?”
“Let’s wing it. You’ll get stuck trying to remember your conversation script if we plan every nuance of our attempt to weasel information.” Nish did have a point. “I’ll help.”
Her heart started to beat faster the closer they got to the door. Motts tried the breathing exercises River had taught her. They eased the frantic anxiety.
Nish held the door open for her. “After you.”
“Has to be, since you’re holding the door.” She ignored his wry chuckle. “Oh, they have a book section.”
“Motts.”
Ignoring him, Motts squeezed between racks of clothing to check out the bookshelves running along the right wall. She grabbed a book of poetry by Ann Kelley, a Cornish author. A second one on Cornwall’s role in various wars caught her attention; Teo had mentioned an interest in history and battles.
“Are we shopping?” Nish followed her along the aisle.
“Might as well. It’s quiet in here.” Motts didn’t want to spring questions on a complete stranger. “He’s likely to be more open to answering if we’ve bought at least one book.�
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“Delaying tactics.”
“Maybe.” Motts grabbed a third book from one of the shelves. “Who’s donating graphic novels to a shop in Polperro?”
Instead of answering, Nish held his arms out. She piled up a few including The Encyclopaedia of Early Earth, one she’d been wanting to read for a few years. The Wicked + The Divine also made it onto the stack.
“My arms are going to snap.” Nish leaned his head around the books when Motts went to add yet another one. “Can you even fit all these on your scooter?”
“Good point.” She reluctantly put back one of the Mouse Guard series by David Peterson. “I’ll come back for these.”
“Are you ready for the questioning phase of this adventure?” Nish cautiously manoeuvred through the cramped shop in the general direction of the till. “A little help?”
Motts grabbed his arm to stop him from careening into a table of posh perfumes. “Sorry. Here, I’ll guide you.”
“Hello there.”
Motts recognised the pleasant man who greeted them from behind the till. He hadn’t changed much from the photo of him during his younger days. “You’re Noel.”
“I am.” He smiled, taking the books to calculate the cost. “Did you find everything you needed? We’ve a fair few books at the mo’.”
“I saw a photo of you at the post office.” Motts tried for casual; from Nish’s quiet laugh, she hadn’t quite succeeded. “You knew Rhona.”
Noel’s friendly grin disappeared in an instant. “Three quid for the lot of books.”
Motts exchanged a glance with Nish, who shook his head subtly. She fished out a fiver and handed it over. “Did you know her well?”
“Mind your own business.” He slammed her change on the counter and fled into the back room of the shop.
“Well, that’s us told.” Nish gathered up her books. “Come on, I’ll carry these back over to the café for you.”
Why is everyone so testy when it comes to even mentioning Rhona’s name?
Chapter Twelve
“I can do without your help.” Motts gently lifted the paw from the page. Cactus loved to nudge at her book while she read. “Meowing at me won’t change my mind.”
Poisoned Primrose (Motts Cold Case Mystery Book 1) Page 7