Murder on Silver Lake

by Hugo James King

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Put it back, right now.”

  I sighed heavily. “I’ll hand it to Paul once he’s finished talking to the Peterson’s daughter. She’s distraught, the poor thing.”

  “Why did you even pick it up?”

  When I called Ruth, I blurted out the order of events, but it was a ramble. I’d have been surprised if she remembered anything after the interval of silence I took.

  “Charlie brought it over.”

  “Let him take it back.” Her voice petering into a snicker.

  “It was covered in dirt—mud, whatever, blood perhaps.”

  “Blood?” she gasped.

  Pursing my lips in thought. “You’re a nurse, you’re not allowed to feel sick about blood.”

  “No, no, no.”

  I mindlessly tapped my fingers on the wallet. “Then what?”

  “Before you mentioned blood, I thought he threw himself off the bridge.”

  “You never know.”

  “Wishful thinking. He was too selfish to have done it to himself.”

  There were no secrets about Gilbert’s problems; debt, drinking, gambling, the entire village knew. And no secret he’d swindled half of his neighbours out of some monetary investment. He’d done it to Harry, he’d done it to several other businessmen—most of them belonging to the boy’s club they had. Even his own brother; it’s how little he truly cared.

  “Think it’s been a long time coming?” I wondered aloud. “You and Frank didn’t lose much, so I’d rule you two out. But everyone else,” I scoffed, taking in a sharp gulp of cold air.

  “Does Harriet know?”

  His second wife, Harriet Sodbury. A lovely woman, roughly twenty years younger than him. She was lovely, but she had stolen a man from his wife. Although Gilbert and Wendy argued constantly, Harriet was good for him.

  “Paul will probably send an officer over.”

  “Ohhh. Have you spoken to him yet?”

  I tapped my teeth together. “He’s busy.”

  “Well, tell him I said hello.”

  My eyes rolled around, settling cold inside my sockets. “Hope it’s soon, I need to walk somewhere to warm myself.”

  “He’s probably waiting for you to get pneumonia.”

  “Another death? I don’t think he can handle this one.”

  “That bad?”

  I clicked my tongue. “Anyway. We should go see Harriet later.”

  “We?”

  “Well, I mean, it’s not her fault he wasn’t beloved. The least I can do is pay my respects.”

  Charlie came yapping behind a tall man. The man was balding at the top of his head, the winter sun shining at it like a polished school hall.

  “Right, I’ve got to go,” I spat. “Paul’s here.”

  “Good luck,” she laughed.

  Paul took a seat beside me, he sighed, pressing his hands across his stomach and hips. We stayed in silence for a moment.

  Paul Green was Harry’s younger brother. He’d always been there to look out for me, but the relationship strained after Harry sold all his properties on his deathbed. Paul didn’t see a penny when he died, most of the will was left in my name and several small business and charities. Unfortunately, it left Paul forced to work day and night at the police station.

  Dipping his chin to his neck, he sighed. “First big case.”

  The first big case to hit Silver Lake in some time. I looked to him, wondering what he wanted me to say. We no longer had a chit-chat relationship. The most I saw of him was crossing paths at Petunia Heights when he visited his mother.

  “Can’t quite believe it.” I tapped the wallet on my knee.

  “We have a fairly good idea of who it is.”

  My tongue clicked, taking Paul’s attention. “Charlie brought this over,” I said, raising the wallet. “It’s Gilbert’s.”

  “Sodbury?” He took the wallet.

  “Mhmm.”

  Paul’s fingers combed through the cards, his shaky cold hand pulling at the plastic.

  “Is it him?” I asked.

  “We need to get an ID on him still.”

  Between a squint of his hooded eyes, he stared. “Didn’t you see him?”

  I shook my head. “She stood in my way, thankfully. I saw a hand, some upturned dirt; looked like he’d been digging.”

  “Good.” He coughed out into the cold. “Harry wouldn’t have wanted you in the middle of all this.”

  I restlessly pulled at the sleeves of my coat, keeping myself from saying something I’d later regret. “I’m sure if he was here, he’d be taking Charlie for walks.”

  “Well, my brother was allergic,” he spoke plainly. “Doubt you’d have a dog at all.”

  The negativity. It oozed from him like a plague. I looked to Charlie, entertaining himself on the grass. “He’d have loved him.” Part of me thought Harry was living on inside the rescue beagle. Glancing back to Paul’s scowling face. “Is that why you got a cat when your brother was alive?”

  He scoffed.

  I’d hit a nerve.

  “The cat was all Penny’s idea, we’ve got three now.”

  “Three? And two kids?” My lips pursed into a smile. “Got to be expensive.”

  He nodded. “Children are a blessing, Eve,” he said. “You should know—oh, actually.”

  In a snap of action, I stood. “That’s low, even for you.”

  Paul followed and stood, he was much taller than me. “I hope you’ll listen to what I said.”

  “And that was?” My forehead creased as I squinted to look at him.

  “To stay out of this.” He waved a hand around in a huge gesture.

  “Why would I want to get bogged down by this?”

  Visibly grinding his teeth, Paul huffed. “I know what you’re like when you’ve got an idea, when you want to know something. It’s what my brother loved about you, but it’s something I don’t want getting in the way.”

  He could’ve asked politely. I snapped my fingers at Charlie. “Before I go, I—”

  “What’s your question?”

  “Suicide or murder?”

  Shuffling his feet and plunging his hands into his coat pockets, he looked me in the eyes. “It’s an active investigation.”

  “I have a right to knew if there’s a killer on the loose.”

  He scoffed, smiling slightly. “That’s not a right. That’s being nosey.”

  “I can’t say there was a lot of blood, but from what I did see. I know there was blood.” The sight of Charlie told me enough, his paws had carried the blood across the grass and the stuff was on my coat.

  “Sure. There’s blood.”

  “And if it is Gilbert, I’m sure you’ve got a laundry list of names.”

  His smile grew at the corners. “You know as well as I do, Mr Sodbury had his enemies.”

  “Must be exciting, to finally work a murder investigation—or any investigation at all.”

  Paul smirked, tapping the wallet. “I’m not going to spin wicked conspiracies, I’m only interested in finding out what happened.”

  “I suppose the pressure is the on then.”

  “Pressure?”

  I tried turning and leaving, my final words to him. Charlie yapped at Paul, stopping the plan in my thoughts.

  He repeated his question.

  “Everyone knows, if you don’t make any headway, they’ll bring in someone from the city and completely humiliate you.”

  I turned, quick on my feet, snapping my fingers. Charlie yapped once more, running ahead of me along the path.

  He shouted after me. “That won’t happen!”

  And there, the reason Paul and I didn’t speak. He lived in spite and anger, every expression he’d taken on in the last five years etched into his skin. I, on the other hand, had grieved my husband and respected the wishes of his will. Paul wasn’t impressed Harry still paid for the residential treatment and care of their mother, and by proxy, I was paying.

  It mu
st have seemed quite emasculating.

  I waved a hand. “Bye—bye, Paul.”

  I didn’t dislike him, but he tried to get on every one of my nerves.

  On my way home, I dug my phone out and dialled for my boss.

  No answer.

  Probably for the best.

  FOUR

  Once home, I flicked the central heating switch by the boiler in the kitchen. My numb fingers, stretching to bring life and warmth back to my hands. Charlie yapped from the foyer, where I’d left him in his dirty state.

  “Wait there.”

  As the boiler gurgled and glugged, turning on, I approached Charlie.

  His muddy pawprints went in lengths, up and down, from the doorway to the foot of the stairs. No surprise now, I was used to the mess, especially after a walk.

  “One second.” I pulled away the layers I wore, hanging them by the door.

  I pressed the back of my hand against the radiator by the door. Unfortunately, the heating system didn’t work so quick.

  Charlie jumped at my leg, pawing at my knee.

  He knew the drill. I’d pick him up and carry him to the bathroom.

  Passing through the kitchen, I had a large bathroom. It had once been two rooms, a small utility closet and then a bathroom, but Harry had knocked it through for a larger bath tub. The washing machine and dryer were now situated inside the garage, alongside many boxes of paperwork. The car, which belonged in the garage sat out in the drive—but for purposes of insurance policy, I told them it was kept in the garage overnight.

  Charlie fought me with a wiggle as I placed him inside the tub.

  “No time for games.” I turned the faucet and water spat from the shower head.

  He complained, grumbling from the back of his throat.

  “It’ll get warm,” I said, grabbing at some dog toys.

  Running in circles, away from the water, he barked as it splashed his feet.

  Warmer now, I placed both hands beneath the shower head; faster than waiting for them to warm naturally.

  Pulling the showerhead from the stand, I teased at Charlie’s paws. “Ready?”

  He jumped, pawing as the water came, shooting him in the face. It was a game for him, but it wasn’t for me, not when the dirt and blood came from his coat, covering the bottom of the tub.

  “I’ll have to get the groomers out,” I grumbled.

  Brriinngg. Brriinngg.

  The home phone rang from the wall mount.

  I turned the shower off. “Wait,” I instructed, holding a finger in Charlie’s face. “Let me get that.”

  Drying my hands on the way to the phone, rushing as it almost danced from the holster.

  “Hello, Green household,” I said.

  “Evelyn, darling,” a languid voice spoke; my boss. “It’s Diane. I missed a call from you. I do hope it isn’t work-related. You know I have a strict business hours policy.”

  Diane Von Rose; sharp, cutting, and incredibly rich. Her husband was the Patrick Powell, and of all the magazines she could’ve been editor-in-chief at, she chose Inside the Cotswolds. The magazine was low maintenance and very high in perks, it beat working for a newspaper which asked for daily articles.

  “Well, strictly speaking, it’s—”

  “Business or not business, Evelyn?”

  “Business, but—”

  Diane droned. I knew the sound well, in pitch meetings, it meant she hated an idea, and if you didn’t move on from it fast enough, you’d be assigned to covering her first thought. She’d snap her fingers and you’d have your assignment, like it or not.

  “Tell me,” she said. “Now I’m on the phone. You may as well enlighten me as to why you decided to reach out via mobile phone.”

  I pulled my head from the receiver and coughed, clearing my throat. “I know, we’re a travel magazine.”

  “Oh, there’s a but?”

  “But a man was killed.”

  “Truly awful.”

  “And I want to write a small piece, a eulogy about his effect on Silver Lake.”

  “No,” she said. “Advertisers don’t want morose prose about a man’s life, unless it’s to document the death of a royal and the service being held in one of the manors here.”

  I hadn’t thought it through, I’d called from a place of annoyance at Paul’s words. “You’re right,” I said. “But I was there when the body was found and I guess—”

  “You’re not thinking right,” she finished, clicking her tongue. “Shouldn’t you be at the chocolatiers? I need the piece for Monday morning. We’re going to print on Wednesday.”

  I did. Inside the Cotswolds was a bi-weekly magazine, it went to the printers on a Wednesday and was out for the weekend; twice a month.

  “I’m heading there in a couple hours,” I said. “After the morning I’ve had, I need the chocolate.”

  “Great,” she said. “Eight-hundred words.”

  “Will do!”

  Thud.

  Silence.

  Charlie yapped. His sixth sense knew when I wasn’t occupied.

  “Coming!”

  In the bathroom, I touched at the radiator. Still cold.

  “You’ll need to have a cold towel,” I said, pulling the large blue towel away.

  Splashing around in the little water left at the bottom of the tub, he jumped.

  “Come on then.” I held the towel open, diving in with a scoop and pulling him out. “Let’s get you dry.”

  I sat on the ground with him, rubbing at his head and paws.

  He poked his head out of the towel, smiling at me.

  “I’ll give you a proper bath later when it’s warm.” I’d also be able to shampoo his coat then too. Massaging the towel across his body, my mind flickered back. We’d have to steer clear of the lake from now on, at least until I’ve forgotten what happened.

  “EVE!” a voice called out.

  “Ruth?” What was she doing here? “In in the bathroom.”

  Ruth rushed in, bursting through the door. “Glad you’re not in the bath.”

  I scoffed back a chuckle. “Still ran in anyway.”

  Ruth was tall, at least taller than me. She had shoulder-length jet black hair and a fringe covering her forehead. She looked at me with her wide eyes, the black eyeliner on her waterline gave her an almost crazed look.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?” I asked.

  She waved a hand at me. “Please,” she said. “Nobody is gonna to die.” She immediately clapped her hands around her mouth. “Oh—”

  “What?”

  “I said it.”

  My face creased in confusion. “What?”

  “I said die.” She slapped her cheeks, pulling her hand down to her neck. “I’m the absolute worst. A man is dead, and I’m here being completely disrespectful.”

  An overreactor. It’s the way Ruth had always been, and I loved her completely for it. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” I stood, pulling the towel from Charlie.

  “I couldn’t well sit in wait.”

  “You arrived quickly.”

  Waving a hand once again, as if glossing over information. “What did Paul say this time?”

  “He brought Harry into it.”

  “Typical,” she grumbled. “I take it he’s still a stress.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Ruth didn’t have long. She needed to be at the care home but considered my situation to take priority.

  We sat in the large glass conservatory on the back of the house, the only place not covered in paperwork or boxes. We had warm mugs of tea and a view of the ice dusted grass over the garden.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised about any of Paul’s actions,” she said, sipping from her mug. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you it was a man’s job and you shouldn’t involve yourself in it.”

  “He knows, of course, what Gilbert did to Harry. But I want to know what happened to Gilbert. The man was a con artist, someone had it in for him.”


  “Hope it wasn’t someone from the boy’s club?” Ruth raised her fingers, crossing them for luck. “I’m glad Frank didn’t invest,” she said. “Granted, it was before the GP opened. Could you imagine if he did; we’d have no money.”

  I raised my brows at her. Thankful Harry had only invested a little in whichever scam Gilbert had been bragging about. “Luckily.”

  “Well, at least if they are looking for a murderer, they won’t be knocking at my door,” she chuckled.

  “But they will come here.”

  She chuckled harder. “I’ve seen you throw a ball to Charlie,” she said. “I hardly see with the strength of a murderer, Eve.” Charlie yapped at the mention of his name. “Even he agrees.”

  I puffed out my cheeks. “Thank you for putting that in my mind,” she said. “I probably look guilty as well; right at the scene of the crime.”

  “I’m kidding,” she said with a tut.

  “Whoever did it, I think they were hoping the river would drag him down into the lake.”

  My body convulsed in a shiver, spilling tea across my trousers.

  “I told them I wouldn’t be long.” Ruth said, glancing to her watch.

  I nodded. “You should be going.”

  “I’ll be an hour or two, depending on what they’ve got me doing.”

  “Don’t be late for our lunch date,” I said. “Hopkin & Son at half-one.”

  “Half-one,” she repeated with a nod. Ruth stood, stretching her back. “Plenty of time.” Looking around the conservatory, she smiled. “Good to see this room is clean.”

  We walked through the living room, instantly hit with sight of mess.

  “When are you—” she began.

  “I’ll get to it soon.”

  “That’s what you’ve been saying for years.”

  I huffed. “You’re sounding like my mother now.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t clean it.”

  She tried, but I put her and my sister up at a hotel in Briarbury. “It’s not a task you can give to someone else,” I replied. There were lots of things in the house holding sentimental value, even more of them I couldn’t bear to part with, and in the mix of it all was the rubbish. “I’ll get to it.”

  Ruth hummed, giving me a once over with her eyes. “I’m sure you will.”

  I would… eventually.

  FIVE