by Agatha Frost
“Why?” Julia asked.
“Because he’s dangerous.” Christie’s jaw tightened. “We’ve been getting reports about an American from all over, but we didn’t start piecing things together until you reported him breaking into Percy’s flat. Some cameras around the village caught video footage of him, and facial recognition found him in the INTERPOL database in seconds. You know what that means, Brown.”
“He has previous.”
“Lots of previous.” Christie inhaled deeply. “His name is Rex Davis, not that he’s gone by that in years. He has more aliases than I’ve had hot dinners. Rex is a Texas native living in Atlantic City, New Jersey, where he works with the Mercy Boys.”
“The Mercy Boys?” Barker repeated, eyes widening. “Are you serious?”
“Who are they?” Julia asked, looking between the two men. “How do you know about them?”
“Because they’re the stuff of legend!” Barker shook his head with a dry laugh. “When I was researching my first novel, I fell into a hole researching them. You name it, they’ve done it. Laundering, theft, fraud, tax evasion, and even murder, but they’re notorious for getting away with their crimes. They have millions to throw at dodgy lawyers, and they know how to cover their tracks. If they ever end up in court, they seem to know every legal loophole in the book. More people are serving Mercy Boys sentences in New Jersey prisons than the number of actual Mercy Boys.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy theory,” Jessie said.
“Oh, it’s very real,” Christie said, sucking air through his teeth. “Rex Davis is one of their new guys, but don’t underestimate him. They only let the worst of the worst into that gang. He’s in charge of their loan shark operation. From the records I’ve managed to get my hands on, there’s nothing this man won’t do, including dunking someone in liquid nitrogen.”
“You think the Ameri—Rex, I mean, killed Ian?” Julia asked, though she never could have imagined such a thing before hearing the truth. “He’s that dangerous?”
“I’m almost certain of it.” Christie nodded, his eyes locking on Julia’s. “He’s now our lead suspect, but we can’t pin him down. We’ve checked all his aliases at every hotel in a fifty-mile radius. Still, men like him can whip up three new identities before breakfast. He shows up like a ghost and vanishes just as quick. He’s clearly an expert at what he does, and right now, he’s hunting down a bag of cash I think he stole from Ian.”
“How do you know that?” Barker asked. “Have you hacked his phone?”
“Not quite. Ian stowed away on a cruise liner heading back from America and guess which state he boarded?”
“New Jersey,” they chimed in unison.
“Bingo.” Christie rubbed his neck. “You want to talk about dodgy? That Ian Cropper would have fit right in with the Mercy Boys, and something tells me he tried to. Obviously, we’ve been looking into Ian’s movements leading up to his death. Still, the last record we have of him is from well over a year ago, when he used a one-way ticket to Atlantic City. We suspect that, over the past year, he befriended key members of the group. They run some of the shadiest casinos in the area, and we spotted Ian in quite a few pictures uploaded by tourists. People tagging the casino gave us dozens of eyewitness accounts showing Ian working at the casino on one of the roulette wheels.”
“He had a job?” Julia arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound like the Ian Cropper I’ve heard about.”
“Well, it seems Ian would have done everything to get close to the Mercy Boys,” Christie continued. “This is all speculation, of course, but our theory is that perhaps Ian somehow got into the gang, stole the money, stowed himself away, and came back to England just under three weeks ago.”
“Eugene did say Ian wasn’t begging for money,” Julia said, the tiny detail springing forward. “Ian owed Marley money, and Marley actually believed he would pay it back for once. Why would he come back hidden on a boat?”
“Officials were onto him over there. You only get three months for every twelve on a tourist visa, and he appears to have remained Stateside illegally for over a year. Besides, he never would have got a bag of cash through airport security. Not these days. Some cleaner found him hidden away in a storage cupboard in the staff quarters. Ian opened the bag and thrust money at her to let him go. By the time she raised the alarm, Ian was already long gone. The police were looking for a man of his description, but it didn’t get linked to Ian until his murder. Still, I’ve seen the camera footage, and it was definitely him. From the cleaner’s eyewitness statement, the bag was bursting with cash. It could have been millions.”
“Millions?” Jessie cried, choking on the words. “No wonder that Rex nutter is ripping up the village!”
“Rex might have followed him over on the next boat because there’s no record of him leaving his home country,” Christie said, looking around the destroyed flat. “The Mercy Boys will have sent him to get their cash back, and it seems he’s thorough. Although, I’ve no idea why Rex would think Jessie had the money. Surely by now he’s figured out hardly anyone around here knew Ian.”
“Ah.” Jessie smiled tightly. “Yeah, I might have accidentally tackled him the other day.”
“What?” Barker and Christie cried.
“It’s Julia’s fault!” Jessie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “She made us follow him.”
“You followed him?” Christie’s face drained of colour. “Julia, for once in your life, can you not throw yourself into danger?”
“Jessie is exaggerating,” Julia replied through pursed lips. “And, in my defence, I knew nothing about all this gang stuff until sixty seconds ago.”
“Didn’t they teach you stranger danger in school?” Christie snapped. “From now on, why don’t you just assume all people creeping around the village asking questions about a recently murdered man are trouble until proven otherwise?”
“Maybe next time I will.”
“We’re not here for that,” Barker said firmly, striding into the flat. “My daughter’s flat has been destroyed by a man you’re looking for. Since you’re so quick to remind me I’m no longer a DI, what are you going to do?”
“All right, Brown.” Christie pulled his phone from his pocket. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You know what the job is like. Need-to-know basis and I didn’t think you needed to know. I’ll call this in and get my boys on the case, but something tells me we’re going to have a hard time proving Rex Davis had anything to do with this. He will have made sure of that.”
“And until then?” Julia asked.
“I suggest you get the door back on its hinges.” Christie pushed his phone against his ear. “And it’s probably best if Jessie doesn’t sleep here alone until we have Rex in custody.”
“You can stay with us,” Julia offered.
“Fat chance.” Jessie snorted, pulling out from under Julia’s arm. “There are quite enough people in that madhouse, thanks. I’ll stay with Dot or something. If she doesn’t want me on her sofa, I’m sure Alfie wouldn’t mind giving up his bed for his precious little sister in her hour of need.” She looked around the flat, rocking back on her heels. “C’mon, there’s a roll of bin liners in the kitchen. Might as well get cracking.”
JULIA DID something she rarely ever did: she didn’t open her café. While Barker drove home to grab his drill to reattach the door, Julia scribbled a sign citing ‘NO POWER. Closed.’ She didn’t like lying to her customers. Still, she didn’t want to fuel the gossip surrounding her family.
Instead, they spent the day stuffing everything into black bags and heaping them on Jessie’s bed. By the time Julia’s café would have closed, they had filled the bed with enough bags and broken furniture to reach the lampshade. Jessie’s sitting room and kitchen had reverted to the bare bones shells they had been when she first moved in. A fake pot plant sat on the television stand, the only two items to survive Rex’s revenge rampage.
“Can we take all that to the tip tomorrow?” Jessie ask
ed, already closing the bedroom door. “I’m knackered and starving.”
“the Plough?” Barker suggested.
“the Plough.” Julia nodded. “We’ve earned it.”
When they walked through the Plough’s doors, however, Julia wished they had gone anywhere but. The pub was packed to the brim, with a rowdy birthday group filling half the space.
“We could get a chippy tea?” Barker suggested.
“And eat it where?” Jessie asked, nodding at the only empty table in the corner. “I don’t fancy sitting around at yours with the cast of Downton Abbey, and currently, I don’t have a chair to my name. Let’s just sit down and pretend no one else is here.”
They sat at the dirty table, and Jessie immediately headed to the bar to order their drinks. Julia and Barker glanced over the menus, avoiding the stacked-up plates and glasses in front of them.
“I told you so,” Barker roared over the raucous party on the other side of the pub.
“About what?”
“This all boiling down to money,” Barker replied flatly. “I might have been barking up the wrong tree with Thomas, but I knew money played a part.”
“Vinnie could have told you that,” Julia shot back. “That much has been obvious from quite early on. Ian’s entire life revolved around the stuff, so why shouldn’t his death? Rex isn’t the only one who had money issues with Ian.”
“The others weren’t chasing millions, though, were they?”
“You think Christie’s theory is correct?”
“Don’t you?” Barker shot her a look. “You heard about the Mercy Boys. You saw what he did to Jessie’s flat – and Percy’s, for that matter! He’s been trouble since the moment he showed up. You just don’t want to admit that Christie might be right.”
Julia understood where Barker was coming from. Even though they were closer than they had been, Julia was rather notorious for doubting Detective Inspector John Christie’s every decision – just as she had done when Barker was the village’s only DI. Some might have suspected Julia of having issues with authority, but that wasn’t the case. Her problem was people running away with ideas without looking at the bigger picture, something her husband and DI Christie had in common.
Julia’s lack of authority, on the other hand, gave her the freedom and objectivity necessary to step back and take things in a little slower. She rarely ever set out to investigate a mystery, but she often found herself in the middle of them. Even she had to admit she had become rather adept at solving them. In this case, however, she had to admit Barker made a fair point.
“Maybe you’re right,” Julia replied, slotting her menu back in the stand when she decided she would have fish and chips with mushy peas. “Even if Rex didn’t kill Ian, we now know what he’s capable of. I’m not sure I want to be involved, anyway. Dealing with a local dispute is one thing, it’s quite another when you throw an Atlantic City gang into the mix.”
“So, what are you saying?” Barker returned his menu. “We just let it go?”
A young and stressed looking server rushed over and cleared their table, returning seconds later to wipe it down and give them fresh cutlery wrapped in napkins.
“Julia?” Barker prompted when they were alone. “Do we leave it?”
“I’m thinking.”
Jessie returned with their drinks on a tray, looking as stressed as the poor girl rushing around to clear tables.
“They’re still IDing me,” Jessie moaned as she slid the two pints of lager and an orange juice onto the table. “You’d think they’d give up, eventually. I was in here last night.”
“You’re nineteen.”
“Exactly!” Jessie exclaimed, lifting her pint in the air before taking a sip. “One year over the British legal drinking age. I don’t know how people like Rex waited until they were twenty-one. Speaking of which, how are we going to find this American, then?”
Julia and Barker glanced at each other.
“We’re not going to find him,” Barker replied after sipping from his pint. “You don’t go looking for men like that.”
Jessie gulped down more of her beer. “Someone has to, and that Christie is as useless as an umbrella made of frogs.”
“An umbrella made of frogs?” Barker echoed.
“Does it sound useful to you?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Exactly!” Jessie picked up the menu but put it back before even looking at it. “Fish and chips all round?”
“Yes, please.”
“As usual.”
Jessie drained a quarter of her beer before pushing her way through to the crowd to the bar again.
“So?” Barker turned to face Julia. “Are we done with this?”
“You just said we weren’t going looking for him.”
“There’s a difference between looking for a dangerous man and still investigating other angles.”
Jessie jogged to the table. “Bread?”
“Sure, why not?”
“None for me,” Julia replied. “I’m eating for two, not three.”
“Could be twins,” Jessie said before doubling back to the bar.
“Does run in the family,” Barker said. “But that’s a conversation for another day. So? Are we in or out?”
Jessie ran back. “Tartar sauce?”
“Yes!” Barker snapped. “I mean, yes, please.”
“None for me.”
Jessie narrowed her eyes at Barker before turning on her heels and retracing her steps through the crowd. When they were alone, Barker twisted back to Julia. He opened his mouth to speak, but Julia rested a finger on his lips.
“Why don’t we talk about this later?” Julia suggested softly. “It’s been a long day, and we’re all a little stressed, ravenous, and exhausted. Hardly a good basis for solid decision-making.”
“You’re right.” Barker sighed. “Let’s just try to enjoy what’s left of the evening.”
Mostly they did, even with the raucous party growing ever louder with every new round of drinks consumed. By the time they were stuffed to capacity and ready to leave the busy pub, darkness had descended on the village.
“Right, I suppose I should get to Dot’s,” Jessie mumbled through a yawn as they lingered outside the pub. “Wouldn’t it be funny if she didn’t let me stay? I might be crashing on your floor yet. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.” Julia pecked her on the cheek.
“Keep your wits about you, kid.” Barker patted her slowly on the shoulder. “If you see Rex, run in the opposite direction, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jessie rolled her eyes before spinning around and waving over her head as she set off. “Night, hypocrites.”
Julia and Barker glanced at each other, unable to refute Jessie’s label. Instead of returning to Julia’s car, they lingered in the glow of a streetlamp outside the pub.
“We should go home,” Barker said, looking up and down the street. “It’s late.”
“Yeah,” Julia replied, nodding slowly. “We should.”
Barker pushed his hands into his pockets and sucked the air through his teeth, but didn’t make the first move; his feet seemed glued to the pavement slabs. Julia knew she would have to make an attempt, but her shoes had fallen victim to the same glue.
“Pssst!” Julia heard. “Up here.”
Julia spun around and scanned the lit up B&B. She spotted Eugene leaning out of one of the higher windows, one hand on the frame.
“Have you got a free minute to talk?” Eugene whispered, glancing over his shoulder into the bedroom.
“Sure,” Julia replied, shielding her eyes from the glare of the streetlamp. “Should we come up?”
“No, no. I’ll come down to you.”
Thirty seconds later, Eugene crept through the front door, leaving it slightly ajar. Clutching his velvet dressing gown closed, he tiptoed down the garden path, glancing up at his bedroom window before opening the gate.
“Marley’s asleep,” Eugene whispered, je
rking his head towards the tight walkway between the pub and B&B. “He’d be rather upset if he knew I was talking to you, but I’ve been trying to catch you all day. Not as easy as I anticipated, with your café closed and having no idea where you live.”
“Jessie’s flat was broken into,” Julia explained as they followed Eugene into the shadows of the narrow alley.
“Oh, dear. Is the poor girl alright?”
“She will be,” Barker replied. “We’ll sort it. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
Eugene’s eyes darted up and down the alley, and even though the party noise travelled through the pub’s walls, they were utterly alone.
“The meeting at Dot’s went quite pear-shaped, didn’t it, dears?” Eugene began, his eyes firmly on Barker. “But I know we all have the same intention. We want to get to the bottom of what happened to my brother. He might not have been a perfect human being. In fact, he was probably as far from perfect as anyone could be. However, he was still my brother, and he deserves to rest in peace without this huge question mark lingering over his soul for the rest of eternity.”
“What are you saying?” Barker queried, folding his arms and cocking his head. “Do you know something?”
Eugene’s jaw worked, his plump cheeks darkening with every click. Julia gave him an encouraging nod, but he looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.
“I think I’m sleeping next to a murderer,” Eugene blurted, covering his mouth the second the words left his lips. “God forgive me.”
“Marley?” Julia cried.
“Yes, dear.” Eugene’s eyes darted to the opening of the alley as a group of boisterous teens walked past. “He is my husband, and, therefore, the only man I sleep next to.”
“What makes you think Marley killed Ian?” Barker asked.
“Like I said,” Eugene whispered, pulling his dressing gown together more tightly, “he’s my husband. I know him better than anyone. I can confidently say he hasn’t been the man I married since Ian turned up at the Comfy Corner the night before the wedding. He’s been acting so strange, and it’s only getting worse. He’s hiding something from me, that much I am certain of.”