First Among Equals

by Katherine Hayton

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t take too much convincing for Holly to arrange for Derek to stay with her soon-to-be ex-husband. Halfway through the explanation, he broke in stating he’d be glad to help. His relaxed tone convinced her he’d been expecting something far more demanding—maybe like being subjected to the tirade she’d unleashed on him in the office the week before.

  Whatever their current situation, Simon was a genuinely good guy. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much that he’d chosen to leave. Looking back, Holly could see that there’d been moments—a lot lately—when he’d tried to connect with her, but she hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Caught up with work or lost inside her own head, there hadn’t been a lot of room for his needs.

  Holly swallowed past a lump as she realised that perhaps it was for the best. That Simon had seen it first and acted just made him more courageous than her.

  With Derek up to speed on where to go and who would be waiting for him, including a recent picture that Holly sent in a text to his phone, she helped him pack up the car with things she thought he might need.

  Just before he reversed out of the garage, a mewing sound came out of the room. Mindful of her sister’s advice a day earlier, Holly asked Derek, “Is that your cat or a stray?”

  “Oh, my goodness! Mittens!” Derek’s face fell, and he scrambled out of the car. “I completely forgot. I can’t go anywhere while this guy needs to be fed.”

  “I can look after him if you like,” Holly offered. She bent down and clicked her fingers. The cat bounced over to her and started rubbing up against her hand. Either naturally affectionate or feeding time was well overdue. She scooped the small bundle of fur up and snuggled it against her chest.

  “Here.” Derek slid the house keys off his keyring. “You’ll need these. His food is in the pantry, on the highest shelf and the water and food bowls are in the laundry. He has a litter box in the small hallway beyond that.”

  “Got it. I promise I’ll come to visit him every day and make sure he’s coping with your absence.” When Derek’s face remained crinkled up with concern, Holly leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Mittens will be just fine. You go see your dad.”

  On her way to the prison, Holly phoned through to Meggie to cancel dinner.

  “Don’t be silly,” Meggie said when Holly tried to apologise. “Once I saw what happened with Crystal, I wasn’t expecting to hold you to the invitation. Let me know if you need anything. I mean it.”

  Holly smiled as she put the phone back in her pocket. The expression faded as she realised how much time the detour to Derek’s house had taken.

  As Holly pulled open the door of the police station, she thought either she’d be met by a foot-tapping younger sister or would have missed her altogether, betraying the earlier promise.

  When Holly tiptoed through the door with every muscle in her body tensing as though waiting for someone to point the finger, she was disappointed to find out that wasn’t the case. Two hours and Crystal was still being interviewed.

  That news caused Holly’s blood temperature to rise until her temples were pounding with the beginning of a headache. She looked about her with a dazed expression, overwhelmed by the possibility of losing her sister to prison. Then PC Dale Raggorn stepped in to rescue her.

  “Come and take a seat over here with me,” he told her. “I’ll brew you up a nice cup of tea.”

  The weather was so hot that a steaming drink shouldn’t have sounded very welcoming. Holly was so grateful for the show of kindness after her shock that she eagerly accepted the offer.

  She perched on a chair next to the PC’s desk, looking at a computer screen covered with poker matches before it changed to a screen saver showing the NZ Police Logo bouncing around instead. When the PC returned to the desk, Holly had recovered enough to begin questioning him.

  “Do you guys really believe that Crystal did this terrible thing?”

  The officer shrugged and sipped at his own cup, gesturing for Holly to do the same. Without asking, he’d topped up the black tea with a heaping of milk to cool it and then spooned in sugar. About five teaspoons, Holly judged. She liked her tea sweet, but this was going overboard. After a few more gestures to drink up, she realised he was probably trying to keep up her blood sugar.

  It had been a very long day.

  “I can’t talk about an active case with you,” he said. “First of all, privacy concerns. Second, we don’t need any close relatives drawing wild conclusions and getting upset without reason.”

  Holly was about to protest that she never got upset without reason when she gathered that he was feeding her a clue. Instead of issuing a belligerent warning, she nodded. “I don’t suppose it’s against regulations to ask if you know how much longer she’ll be, PC Raggorn.”

  “Not at all,” he said with a smile. “Because the answer is that I don’t have the faintest idea. And call me Dale. If you’re in trouble, you can refer to me by my title, but it just sounds like someone calling out for my dad, otherwise.”

  “Your dad was a police officer, too?”

  “Yep. And his dad before him. Family tradition.” Dale chewed on his lower lip. “Never really thought of doing anything else, if I’m honest.”

  “It’s nice to have a strong sense of history tying you to your job. I think that’s why my sister Crystal loves the bakery so much.”

  Dale nodded. “That’s sure been here a long time, too.”

  “Crystal used to love looking through the family album and laughing at the getup. I don’t think Dad was too pleased with the hilarity his seventies flares inspired, but we could all have a chuckle at the Victorian garb. That was well back. Right when the bakery was set up.”

  The PC chuckled. “You know that we still have a record of your great-grandma?”

  Holly’s eyes widened. “Great-grandma Celia got into trouble?” She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s been a while since I read through them, but they’re definitely down in the storage area. When I get a moment free one day, I’ll show them to you. They’re quite a good laugh, and they’re well into the public domain.”

  “What about now?”

  “When I’m the only one manning the front office?” Dale shook his head and laughed. “Sarge would have my guts for garters if I tried on a trick like that. I’m afraid that I’m up here until it’s time to clock off.” He cocked his head at her. “If you wanted to fill in some time, though. I can do you a few rounds of cards.”

  Holly’s face brightened. “That would be lovely. I need something to distract me. What game?”

  “Poker? I can do Gin Rummy in a pinch, but it’s been so long that you’d need to refresh my memory.”

  “Poker, it is.”

  Dale pulled a pack of cards from his desk drawer and started to shuffle. Watching him, Holly’s mouth dropped open. “What are you, a magician?”

  “Just a man who spent too many hours alone as a teenage boy.” Dale smiled as he shuffled with only his left hand, eyes never once leaving her face. “You should see what I can do with a set of marbles.”

  Holly burst into laughter again. “They still have marbles? Those were long gone by the time I got to school, and that must have been a good two decades before you arrived.”

  “Two years, maybe. Certainly not two decades.”

  “I think I’m a lot older than you’re giving me credit for, but that was a lovely compliment, young man.”

  Dale dealt out a hand, and Holly picked up her cards. Doing so, her injured hand was exposed under the strong overhead light for a second. “What happened to you?” he asked. “I take it the other guy’s black and blue?”

  “The other guy is a window.” Holly flexed her fingers. “But it’s not too bad. I got some ice on it straight away.”

  She turned her attention away from one hand to another and began to spread her cards out, slotting them in and out of place. Holly raised an appreciative ey
ebrow and allowed her lips to curl up slightly at the corners. Her cards were absolute rubbish. Game on.

  “Oh,” Holly said, diving into her handbag. “We should be betting.” She pulled out a box of matches and the interest on Dale’s face immediately faded into confusion.

  “What? Whoever loses gets burned?”

  “Didn’t you ever play for matchsticks as a kid?” When Dale shook his head, nonplussed, Holly tipped the box out onto the desk and quickly divvied them up, pushing Dale’s allocation toward him. “There you go. No halving or quartering, neither. If you want to place a bet, it’s got to be in whole matches.” She clicked her tongue. “That’ll have you thinking twice.”

  He laughed and sorted through the pile, straightening them up, so all the heads were facing in the same direction. “How many cards do you need to draw?”

  All of them obviously wasn’t an option. Holly selected a two of clubs and a four of spades and slid them back to the dealer, face down.

  “Two cards for the lady,” Dale called out, dealing them back.

  The door at the back of the station opened, and Holly leapt up from her seat. Sergeant Matthewson led a very tear-stained Crystal down the hall. The best she could manage when she saw her sister waiting was a small, tired smile.

  “We’re coming to visit your residence,” the Sergeant announced. “We have Crystal’s permission.”

  Holly frowned at her sister, trying to read her face. Exhaustion had wiped away most of her emotions, leaving her with no clues to go on.

  “May I ask what you’re searching for?”

  “I told them I tossed the box of peanuts in the trash.” Crystal sighed. “They want to come and search for it to verify. I said there were—”

  “Hold it right there!” Sergeant Matthewson held up his hand to forestall Crystal’s statement. He looked at Holly. “Can I ask you a question before we go any further?”

  When she nodded, he continued, “In the box of peanuts that your sister threw away. How many packets were left?”

  “Four.” Holly spoke the words without thinking, grateful that she hadn’t been asked something harder. Then a disturbing thought intruded, and she checked Crystal’s face. Her sister nodded, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. For a split second, it occurred to her that Crystal might have lied.

  “Okay. We’ll escort you home and check the items in your trashcan, and then that’ll be the end of the questioning for now. You weren’t planning on going anywhere, were you?”

  Sergeant Matthewson cocked his eyebrow at Crystal, who shook her head.

  “Good. We might need to ask you back in once we progress the investigation. In the meantime, I’d ask that you stay out of the bakery. Once you’re officially cleared, then we’ll let you know, and you’ll be allowed back to work.”

  Crystal’s mouth fell open. “But if I can’t go in the bakery, we’ll lose all our business!”

  “How long will it take to clear my sister, Sergeant?”

  The man raised his hand again. “I think you know I can’t answer that. These are severe charges we’re dealing with here, and there’s a lot of information to collect and process before we can begin to understand where the answer lies.”

  “Does that mean the police tape is staying up?” Holly asked. “Or will I be allowed entry into the bakery if I need to?”

  “We’ll pull that down tonight. Our officers have scoured the place, removed the evidence, and taken the photographs they need. You can go back in,” he said, looking at Holly. Sergeant Matthewson then pointed at Crystal. “You stay out.”

  Although the policeman offered Holly and Crystal a lift back home, they were more comfortable walking. As the Sergeant pulled away from the curb, Holly took her sister’s hand. “Was it awful?”

  “So awful.” Crystal shook her head. “I’m just looking forward to coming home and putting my feet up for the night. I can’t even be bothered cooking at this stage.”

  “If that Indian restaurant you like still offers takeaways, then I’ll fetch them later, once the police are out of our hair.” Holly nudged her sister. “I might even be talked into ordering an extra serving of poppadoms.”

  “Go on, then. Talk me into it!” Crystal managed a small laugh.

  Her smile fell away as they approached the front of the house. Sergeant Matthewson stood there, a grim face reminding both sisters they were involved in serious business.

  “Could you show me where the trashcan is? Inside or outside?”

  “Outside,” Crystal said, letting go of Holly’s hand and walking in front of Matthewson. “It’s down the side of the house in a small recess. I’ll show you.”

  She pointed as they drew near, and the Sergeant turned on a flashlight. He’d already pulled on gloves and now used his left hand to lift the lid with the edge of his fingertips while the right kept the beam shining, nice and steady.

  After a second or two of him just staring down into the container, Holly stepped forward, twisting a curl by her forehead around a finger. “Do you want me to put the outside light on? It’ll make it easier to see.”

  “I can see well enough, thank you.” The sergeant’s voice was tight and edged with anger. “Miss Waterston? Would you like to point out where in this trashcan are the peanuts you insisted you threw away?”

  Crystal shot a terrified glance at Holly, a frown of confusion wrinkling up her brow. She bent over the edge of the can, then extended her neck further forward.

  “But I swear! After the altercation with Mr Masters last night, I swear that I threw them away. They should be sitting right on top!”

  Chapter Nine

  Crystal whirled around to face Holly. “I swear I put the box in there. You saw me, right?”

  Holly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I stayed at the gate, so I didn’t see you toss them away.” She felt like a traitor for saying the words, but they were the truth. Her sister’s face fell in disappointment. Holly turned to Sergeant Matthewson. “But if my sister says she threw them away, then that’s what Crystal did. She’s not a liar.”

  The sergeant sighed and took a step back, hands up. “Not for me to decide. If you did throw those nuts away, though, who on earth do you think would pick through your garbage to get at them?”

  “Cats,” Holly said, and Crystal’s expression changed from one of despair to hope. “There are feral cats constantly coming onto this property. They’re such nimble things, I wouldn’t put it past them to go rooting through our bin for food.”

  The two sisters moved closer together while they waited to see what the policeman would make of the suggestion. Matthewson sighed and nodded. “Yeah. They’re a problem all over town.” He scratched the back of his neck, then stretched it back to look straight up at the stars.

  “Not much I can do about that, either way,” he said. “I’ll go back to the station and make a report. If you find any packets with telltale signs of cat claws, don’t touch them. Just phone or drop by the station house and let us know. Okay?”

  They both nodded like puppets controlled by the same strings.

  After Matthewson turned, Crystal stepped forward hesitantly. “Does that mean I’m free to stay here?”

  “Yes. We’ll ask you back to the station if there are any new developments. Otherwise, stay out of the bakery and don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The women moved inside. Once the door was closed, Crystal sagged against it, raising her hands to cover her face. “What am I going to do? The bakery needs to stay in operation just to cover our overheads. It can’t afford to stay shut while the police work this out. I’ll lose all my contracts!”

  The distress showing in every line of Crystal’s body made Holly feel desperate. Foolish, even.

  “Come here.” Holly sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. “Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. The results may not be spectacular, but I was raised in the bakery, too.”

  “Would you do that?”<
br />
  “Why not?” Holly grabbed hold of her sister’s arm and pulled her down. “It’s my legacy, too.”

  By eight the next morning, Holly realised that she’d bitten off far more than she could chew. The list of instructions had seemed manageable the night before, sitting in the cozy living room with someone who knew what she was doing. Today? If Holly made it through the next few hours without tugging out every single strand of hair, that would be a miracle.

  The first batch of cupcakes she’d put in the oven had gone brilliantly. When she turned them over on the rack to cool, the scent filling the air had been so divine that it was all she could do to stop herself devouring one. Or two. Or three.

  With the next batch in, and the first batch cooled, Holly turned to icing. Simple. A trick that as a child she’d performed a thousand times over. Surely, she wouldn’t have lost the knack.

  Her confidence was outweighed only by the enormity of her failure. With one hand in sub-par condition and a gap of twenty years since she’d last attempted anything similar in earnest, the result was disastrous.

  If Halloween had been around the corner, perhaps Holly could have salvaged the situation. A pair of googly eyes stuck into the mess she’d made, would be a saleable item at least.

  No such luck.

  The icing had been too thick at first. When Holly spread it across the cake, instead of forming a glossy layer, it pulled up the crust and gathered a mess of crumbs into its trail.

  That was a simple fix.

  Holly added a smidgen of hot water, only to find that the mixture immediately went the other way. With half the batch still waiting with mouth-watering appeal, naked, Holly started from scratch again.

  Lucky her curly brown hair was tucked away in a plastic net, or it would have been in danger of being pulled out, right then and there.

  The ganache was a simple recipe she remembered from childhood. What Holly didn’t remember was how easily it separated when just one thing moved out of balance. Instead of stirring together, it became dry and lumpy. A far cry from the smooth velvet that had been her aim.