by Kim M Watt
Again, nothing, and the cars at the bridge loomed closer, and she just hauled the wheel over, hard as she could and never mind if the damn thing rolled, because then at least she’d stop.
For one awful, stomach-clenching moment she thought the SUV really was going to go over, then she was into the side road, only the car was sliding and staggering, and she collided with the wall in a sickening snarl of metal on stone and shattering headlights. The other car had stopped backing up, halted by someone else pulling into the lane behind him, and the SUV was still moving, the stone wall of the bridge screeching against the side as its weight and momentum carried it forward. Miriam muttered an apology to Alice and heaved the wheel toward the wall as hard as she could force it. The screeching intensified, punctuated by a very pricey-sounding crunch, and the car stopped. Miriam stayed frozen where she was, both hands on the wheel, sweat prickling her sides. She was panting, and her phone was ringing, and people were shouting outside the car, running toward her. She lowered her forehead very carefully to the wheel and wished she’d just stuck with knitting.
DI Adams’ Golf drew up next to the SUV with a growl of its powerful engine, and Colin threw his door open before she could even put the handbrake on.
“Auntie Miriam!” he shouted, his normally red face pale. “Are you alright?”
Miriam was sitting on the tailgate of the ambulance with one of those crinkly foil blankets over her shoulders despite the sun, wondering if they carried tea for these sort of mild emergencies. Well, mild for her. Not so much for Alice’s poor car. “I’m quite alright, dear,” she said. “Not even a scratch. Really. It’s such a fuss.” She waved vaguely, taking in the ambulance, and the uniformed officers cordoning off the road, and the people standing around staring. She almost felt like she should actually be hurt, just to make all this worthwhile.
“Thank God for that.” He sat beside her, the ambulance’s suspension dipping under his weight, and hugged her. “You gave us an awful scare.”
“It was quite a fright,” she agreed. “But telling Alice is going to be worse. Look what I did to her car!”
“You did do a number on it,” DI Adams agreed, examining the SUV.
“Adams,” Colin said.
She looked around, eyebrows raised, then said, “Oh,” in a rather different voice, and added, “But she’ll just be happy you’re okay.”
Miriam had doubts about that, but she just looked up at her nephew, still sat with one arm around her and a frown on his face, and asked him, “Can I get some tea? I could really use some tea.”
Colin looked at the paramedic, who nodded and said, “She’s fine. Bit of a fright, is all. Could have been a lot worse.” She patted Miriam’s arm. “Just take it easy for the rest of the day.”
Miriam nodded, and said, “I like your hair.”
The woman, who had long blue hair tied back in a ponytail, touched it and smiled. “Thanks. It tends to distract people.”
“Yes. Well done.” Miriam frowned. “I think it works.”
The woman laughed softly and said, “Well, good.”
“I think that’s enough driving for you today,” Colin said, and helped her up. “Do you need anything from the car?”
“My bag,” Miriam said, and was about to ask what they were going to do with the SUV when a patrol car pulled up. Alice was in the front seat, as impatient to get out as Colin had been. “Oh no!”
“Miriam!” Alice exclaimed, hurrying toward her. “Are you—”
“Alice, I’m so sorry!” she wailed, clutching the foil blanket to her chest. “Your poor car! I don’t know what happened! Everything was fine, and then I just— I don’t know what happened!” She was surprised to find herself on the verge of tears. That was no good. Alice didn’t approve of tears. “I’m so, so sorry!”
Alice just stared at her for a moment, then put both arms around her and hugged her hard, tears and crinkly foil blanket and all. “You silly thing,” she said, and Miriam was startled to hear a tremble in the older woman’s voice. “As if I care about the car.”
Miriam gulped, and found the tears were going to make their presence felt, whether she liked it or not. She still tried to hide them, until DI Adams, who had retrieved her bag from the SUV, found a packet of tissues and handed them to her. Then she bawled in a most undignified way, and Alice didn’t even let go of her.
It was a little unnerving.
Miriam stared at the letter sitting on the table, the bold black print unnecessarily stark against the heavy paper. She still felt shaky and unsure of herself, and the letter wasn’t helping. She added some extra sugar to her tea. That was meant to be good for shock, she was sure of it.
There had been two sheets of paper in the envelope. The first one, the one Alice had seen as soon as she opened it, said simply, Consider today a warning, and under it was her car registration. The second one was more detailed.
Alice Martin, it said, and listed her address, her phone numbers, her National Insurance number, even her bank account details and her favourite tea (although, as Alice pointed out, it was Yorkshire Tea, which was hardly a stretch to guess). All of which could be found by someone who knew how to look. But it also listed the trips she’d made in the last week, who she’d been to see, and when she’d seen them. It even mentioned the detective inspectors, who were sitting there frowning at the letter too. DI Adams said it didn’t much matter if they were seen together anymore, as Alice was obviously under surveillance, and now she was going to be under police protection, too.
Alice hadn’t said much to that bit.
Underneath the list of facts and figures, the letter said simply, We know you. This can be easy and profitable, a business arrangement to suit all parties. Or not. Your choice.
It wasn’t signed, of course.
Miriam took a sip of tea and wrinkled her nose at the over-sweet taste.
“Alice, this is serious now,” DI Adams said.
“I know.” Alice rubbed her forehead, as if there was a small headache starting there. Or a big one. Miriam thought that if she were prone to stress headaches, she’d have a monster now. Instead she hiccoughed, and grabbed her glass of water.
“Here we are,” a waiter said, appearing at Miriam’s shoulder so suddenly she yelped and spilled water down her top. She looked at it in dismay, and hiccoughed once, rather loudly.
“Oh dear,” the waiter said. “Let me grab you some more napkins.” He set Miriam’s baguette on the table and hurried away again as she tried to mop the spill up. Alice unrolled the napkin from her cutlery and passed it over.
“He sneaked up on me,” Miriam said.
“He did,” Alice agreed, then added, “Put your glass down, dear. He’s coming back.”
Miriam put the glass down obediently. After the crash – she shuddered. The crash. Her crash. She still couldn’t quite believe it, but the sound of metal on stone seemed to be carrying on incessantly, just on the edge of hearing, even here. But, after the ambulance had driven off, anyway, DI Adams had bundled them into her car. She’d wanted to take them to the police station, but Alice had insisted Miriam needed a cup of tea, so they were here, in the beer garden of one of the pubs in town, the river running quietly just beyond the wall and umbrellas sprouting from wooden picnic tables all over the tiered grass. It was early for lunch, and the only other people in the garden were an elderly couple sharing a pot of tea and holding hands.
“Are you feeling any better?” Colin asked.
“Oh yes,” she said, going for brave but coming up a little on the squeaky side. But it was at least a little true. She knew why she’d crashed now, if nothing else. She’d crashed because she’d been driving Alice’s car. The one whose registration was printed on the paper in front of her. She hiccoughed again, and managed not to spill the glass as the waiter materialised, putting a bacon butty down in front of Colin.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, grinning so widely it made Miriam’s cheeks hurt.
“We’re go
od,” DI Adams said.
Miriam nodded, inspecting her haloumi and salad baguette. She suddenly wished she’d gone for a bacon one too. This was not a day for half measures.
“Chips?” Colin said hopefully.
“Oh, right, yes. Coming up.” The waiter rushed off, and the little group looked at each other. Miriam tried holding her breath in the hope of banishing the hiccoughs, but she could feel another one building. She desperately wanted Beaufort to materialise out of the bushes and make the whole thing seem much more reasonable, but he wouldn’t. Not here, so close to Skipton.
She sighed, and said, “Is Dandy around?”
DI Adams looked up from the letter, which she’d slid into a plastic bag. “He’s, uh.” She blinked at the river. “Swimming, apparently.”
“Wet invisible dog,” Colin said. “Great.”
“At least someone’s around,” Miriam mumbled. Although a wet invisible dog was less reassuring than a warm, visible dragon.
DI Adams tapped the letter and said, “Where’s the envelope?”
Alice looked in her bag, then shook her head. “I must have dropped it.”
DI Adams frowned at her for a long moment, then said, “Right. Alice, this is you done. No argument.”
To Miriam’s astonishment, Alice nodded. “I quite agree,” she said. “When I saw that note and realised Miriam was driving my car …” she trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant, then shook her head. “Not worth the risk.”
Both inspectors seemed rather taken by surprise, too. “Um, right,” DI Adams said, and scratched her jaw as if not sure what to do next. “Good?”
“Good,” Colin echoed, and looked from one woman to the other. “Are you sure? This isn’t one of those ‘Let’s tell the police what they want to hear while we rush off and raise the W.I.’?”
“Not this time,” Alice said. “I’ve kept the rest of the W.I. out of it, anyway. And this is just too risky.” She reached out and took Miriam’s hand, and Miriam’s hiccoughs resurfaced. Could people be possessed? If there were dragons and goblins and talking cats, perhaps that was a thing?
“I really am fine,” she said.
“Of course you are,” Alice said, releasing her and examining a rather uninspired-looking salad. “And we shall keep it that way.” She moved a lettuce leaf around and added, “Are they rationing dressing around here?”
Lunch was oddly pleasant after that. The sun was warm enough for it to almost be uncomfortable (Miriam wasn’t sure how DI Adams was coping in her suit jacket), and her haloumi baguette was reasonably good. Colin’s chips were even better. DI Adams made Alice show her the resignation email she was sending the council, and hit send herself, then warned her not to go back on her word. Alice just shook her head.
“I will not put my friends at risk,” she said. “Not ever.”
Miriam thought of confronting goblins in the middle of the night and tracking down murderers in spring storms, but didn’t say anything. If Alice was stepping out of the investigation, she wasn’t going to argue. Not at all.
Colin complained loudly because half his bacon butty vanished from his plate, replaced by a puddle of water and some saliva, but Miriam gave him half her baguette in exchange for the chips. It was too big, anyway, and her stomach was still tight and nervous, still singing that song of crumpling metal. And Alice seemed very adamant, but she’d known Alice too long to think she’d let go of anything that easily.
“Alright,” DI Adams said as they walked back to the cars. “Let me know if you see anything odd, okay?” She raised a hand to a woman in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, leaning against the side of a slightly decrepit-looking estate. “DC Smythe will take you home. In theory, you should be alright now you’ve done what they asked, but no point taking chances.”
“Okay,” Alice said, suspiciously agreeably in Miriam’s opinion.
DI Adams looked like she was entertaining doubts, too, but as she started to say something Colin shouted, “Goddamn it!” He leaped away from the little group, waving one arm around wildly and swiping at his jeans at the same time. They were splattered liberally with water, and he glared at DI Adams. “Really? Really?”
“I think it means he likes you,” she said.
“Well, I do not like him.”
“Colin!” Miriam said. “That’s mean.”
He waved at his jeans. “I’m soaked! And I bet I smell of invisible dog.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter if one can’t actually smell it,” Miriam offered, and he snorted.
“I still know.”
“Well, at least he doesn’t talk,” Alice said, and crossed to the car while DC Smythe looked past them curiously at the scowling Colin. “Come on, Miriam.”
Miriam gave the two inspectors a nervous little wave and clambered into the back of the estate. Alice climbed into the front passenger seat, and DC Smythe said, “Do you need to go anywhere in town first?”
“I think we just need to go home,” Alice said. “It’s been quite a day.”
“Right you are,” the detective constable said, and they drove in thoughtful silence all the way back to Toot Hansell.
“Alice,” Miriam said, one hand on the front door of her cottage. “You’re not going to do something silly like investigate on your own, are you?”
“Of course not,” Alice said. She’d accompanied Miriam to the door, but turned down a cup of tea, which seemed just as suspicious as her agreeing with the inspectors. “I was scared today, Miriam. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
Miriam gave a funny little hiccoughing burp. “Well, okay, but you can’t be leaving me out of things!”
“I won’t. Don’t worry, Miriam. I’m not putting you in a situation like that again. You just have a nice afternoon.”
And as that was as clear a dismissal as Miriam had ever heard, she opened the door and stepped inside, watching as Alice went back to the car and they drove off down the lane. The way Alice was acting niggled, like that one seed stuck in your teeth that won’t come out, but surely Alice wouldn’t lie? Not to her. She sighed, and poked at the climbing roses trying to force their way inside. She’d do a spot of gardening. That would make her feel better.
As it happened, it didn’t make her feel all that much better, but by the time she’d attacked the weeds that were threatening to block out all light to the veggie garden, and dead-headed all the flowers in the borders, and run her lawnmower (set at the highest setting, so as still to allow plenty of cover for bees and other critters) around the uneven lawn, cursing at the mole hills and apologising to the daisies, she was at least tired enough to feel she’d earned a cold drink and a rest. She packed away her gardening tools and fetched a pint of homemade lemonade from the fridge, then pottered out to her rickety wooden table and sat down with a sigh.
She sat there listening to the garden purring with busy life around her, wriggling her green-stained toes and wondering what to do. Maybe she should make some dinner and take it around to Alice’s, say she needed company. Or maybe she could just sneak into Alice’s garden and keep an eye on her, make sure she stayed there. No, that’s what the detective constable was for, and besides, it’d probably get her accidentally arrested or something, the way her day was going.
She was still thinking about it when she heard the back gate creak open, and the clatter of scaly bodies passing through. She smiled, her shoulders dropping and her heart suddenly finding a better rhythm. The dragons were here. If anything in the world could make her feel safer, that would.
“Over here,” she called, as Beaufort led the way past the crouching apple tree toward the house.
“Miriam!” he shouted. “You’ve been gardening!”
“I have,” she said, seeing Mortimer padding after the High Lord. His scales were an anxious grey, which seemed a bad sign, and unease wormed into her heart again.
“It looks marvellous,” Beaufort declared. “And the smell! Cut grass. Just wonderful.”
“Ye-es.” Miri
am watched Amelia and Gilbert appear. The youngest dragon had furious purple spots on his cheeks, and Amelia virtually radiated outrage. “What’s going on?”
“Well. We may have a slight problem,” Beaufort admitted, and Miriam set her glass down before she could drop it.
She hiccoughed, sighed, and said, “Cake?”
Because even if nothing else was right, tea and cake always was.
17
DI Adams
“Do we believe our contrite Ms Martin, then?” DI Collins asked, as they let themselves back into the poky office they shared.
“Not particularly,” DI Adams said. “I mean, I believe she’s upset about what happened to Miriam, but this is Alice.”
“I still think she was a spook. I can just see her poisoning a foreign enemy with a blow dart then escaping off a skyscraper using a parachute fashioned from her cocktail dress.”
“Just how much time have you spent thinking about this?”
“I don’t sleep well.”
“I wouldn’t either, if I was thinking about Alice armed with blow darts.” DI Adams sat down at her computer and switched it on, watching a puddle spread around Dandy where he’d flopped to the floor.
“Speaking of venom, the lab report’s back on Charles Morgan,” Collins said, clicking open an email.
“Can we hope for cocaine?”
“Hmm. No. They were able to recover some of the cupcake still in his oesophagus, and there were generous amounts of dried shrimp powder in the icing.” He made a face. “That’s just nasty.”
“Any chance it was an accident?”
He scrolled down a little further. “Unlikely. Apparently it’s not used as a colouring or anything like that, so you really wouldn’t put it in a cupcake. And Lucas also says that he’d have been able to do further tests and potentially trace the box if it hadn’t vanished.”