The Peridale Cafe Cozy Box Set 4

by Agatha Frost

  “She wants me to look into Gloria’s death.”

  “Of course, she does!” Dot waved her hands dramatically. “Flora has always been stuck to Gloria’s side! She followed her around like a little lapdog.”

  “And are you going to do it?” Sue asked, arching a brow. “Don’t you think you’ve got enough on your plate?”

  “I said I would.” Julia shrugged and ran her fingers through her damp ponytail. “The café is closed for the next week. I wanted us to enjoy our first week of being married at home. If I open, I’m going to have to deal with all the pity looks and questions, so I might as well put my week off to good use.”

  “And those answers could come tomorrow,” Sue said, exhaling. “Let the police do their jobs.”

  “And if they do, nothing has been lost,” Julia replied. “But until then, it won’t hurt to gather some information. I don’t think I’ll be able to settle until we have some answers.”

  “Julia’s right.” Barker stood beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “This happened at our wedding. We have a responsibility to at least try to figure out what happened.”

  “Then count me in!” Dot slapped her knee and stood up. “What do you say, Alfie? We can snoop around the choir. I’d bet my pension one of them did it!”

  “I suppose so,” Alfie said, wiping his mouth after taking a bite of a sausage roll. “I’m up for helping.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Barker pulled Julia in closer. “Now, we appreciate you all showing your support, but I think my almost-wife and I need some space.”

  “Say no more.” Brian stood up and lifted Vinnie off Katie’s knee. “It’s this one’s bedtime anyway. We’ll get out of your hair. Call us if you need anything.”

  Julia valued Barker for being the one to prompt them to leave. She would never have been able to say anything, and even though she relished spending time with her family, tonight was not the night to sit around until the early hours waiting for Dot to finish the last drops of champagne.

  They left one by one, each taking a tray of food at Julia’s request. Jessie lingered by the door, still in her bridesmaid’s dress.

  “I can spend the night at Billy’s.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder to the door. “You probably want to be alone.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Julia pulled her into the sitting room. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. I need your snarky quips to cheer me up.”

  Without being prompted, Barker built a roaring fire and put on one of Julia’s favourite DVDs, Breakfast at Tiffany's. The three of them cuddled up under a giant fluffy blanket, Mowgli sprawled in front of the fire, and for the rest of the evening, Julia left her world and lost herself in Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard’s on-screen chemistry.

  Chapter Five

  Julia spent the entirety of the next day in her pyjamas. She barely moved from the couch, choosing instead to watch Sunday television from under the warm safety of a blanket. She watched a marathon of people going to other people’s homes for dinner and rating them, and a slew of property buying and selling programs.

  Jessie brought her regular cups of peppermint and liquorice tea, and Barker intercepted every knock at the door. They had fish and chips delivered for dinner, and by the end of the night, they were all on the couch again, this time watching Barker’s favourite film, Die Hard.

  The telephone remained unplugged, and all mobile phones were switched off. The events of the previous day were never mentioned, and even though Julia couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in her chest, it was easier than she had expected to pretend nothing had happened. When she finally crawled into her warm bed at half past ten, after a bubble bath, she wondered why she hadn’t spent more days of her life so cut-off and relaxed.

  On Monday morning, which was also Bonfire Night, Julia’s eyes sprung open at eight, just like they would have if she were opening the café. She got as far as making herself toast before she remembered what had happened, and that was only because she opened the broken fridge to grab the butter.

  She stared at her first wedding cake. The cake that never was for the wedding that didn’t happen. It taunted her, urging her to spend another day on the couch. It had been years since she had watched weekday morning television. Were the same faces still lingering around, or had they been replaced with fresher, younger ones?

  “If I do,” she said to herself as she closed the fridge, “I might never move again.”

  Instead, she quietly dressed and left the cottage, leaving Barker and Jessie asleep. The chilly morning air filled her lungs, refreshing her after a full day of stuffy radiator heat. Though she had her car keys in hand, she decided to walk and stretch her legs, instead. When she reached the centre of the village, her heart was pumping, and her mind was revitalised.

  With a renewed sense of self, Julia hurried down the alley between her beloved café and the post office. She rarely used the back entrance, but just this once, she didn’t want people to know she was there.

  After turning on the kitchen lights—keeping the front ones switched off—she got to work. She had no idea what she wanted to bake, but a need deep within compelled her to create something. If not to level her mind, then to stop the rushed wedding cake being the last thing she had made.

  Her fingers worked automatically, with her mind taking a backseat. Baking was the best free therapy she had access to, and, an hour later, she had twenty neat gingerbread biscuits decorated like fireworks to show for her efforts. She hadn’t planned on celebrating Bonfire Night, so the colourful biscuits brought a smile to her face.

  With no intention of opening the café, Julia boxed her work, ready to walk back home to the safety of her cottage. That changed when she received a text message from Dot, via Alfie’s phone, that an emergency Peridale Harmonics Choir meeting was happening at the church in ‘five minutes!!!!!!!!!’.

  Julia stared at the message, unsure of what to do. Could she step foot back into the church where her wedding had been ruined by a woman’s death? Her curiosity tingled, but so did the call home. She glanced at the box in her hand; she would enjoy her creation more if she could share it with a group of people.

  Leaving the café behind, she walked across the village green to St. Peter’s Church. Aside from the police car stationed outside, there were no other signs of what had happened. The choir, including Alfie and Dot, were already milling around in the vestibule when Julia walked in. Dot immediately spotted her and dragged her into a quiet corner.

  “Rita called the meeting at the crack of dawn!” Dot whispered, looking around at the other members. “She telephoned us all to let us know the police had finally released the church and that she wanted to meet to discuss our future. I’d ask who died and put her in charge, but we all know the answer to that one. She’s going to steamroll everyone and promote herself to leader.”

  “Can she do that?”

  “Who’s going to stop her?” Dot cast an eye at the other members. Her eyes lingered on Flora, who was standing on tiptoes to read the signs on the noticeboard. “They’re a bunch of wet lemons. I’d put myself forward, but I’ve only been here a month. I only really joined to sing at your wedding. If I weren’t undercover trying to suss out which of these old codgers bumped Gloria off, I’d have thrown in my sheet music already!”

  “You’re probably the oldest here, Gran.”

  “In age, yes.” Dot pushed up her tight grey curls. “But in spirit? The old ticker still has many hours left on the clock. Don’t count me out just yet, dear. I’m going to crack this case before you do! You’ll see.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Julia chuckled, casting her eye over the members. She recognised Alfie and Flora, as well as Shilpa Patil from the post office and Evelyn Wood from the B&B. Amy Clark, the regular church organist, was also a member, along with Dot’s unexpected love interest, Percy Cropper.

  There was also a young, beautiful woman with sandy hair, eyes like a doe’s, and full lips. Julia would have put the English ros
e beauty in her late twenties. She stood so close to Alfie that their arms were touching.

  “Who’s she?” Julia asked, nodding at the girl. “I don’t recognise her.”

  “That’s Skye,” Dot said after spinning around to look. “Don’t know her surname, but I think Alfie has a thing for her. Poor fella gets tongue-tied whenever she enters a room.”

  “Did she sing at the wedding?”

  Dot’s nose scrunched up as she thought about it. Julia cast her mind back to the fateful day, but she didn’t remember noticing the young woman, and she was sure she would have remembered such a beauty if she had been there.

  “I rushed in late, so I can’t be sure,” Dot said, her finger tapping on her chin, “but now that you mention it, I don’t remember seeing her.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She may be young, but she’s feisty. Nobody stood up to Gloria like she did! They had a huge argument during our last rehearsal.”

  “What did they argue about?”

  “Oh, the usual humdrum.” Dot waved her hand. “Skye wanted a solo, Gloria wouldn’t give her one. Skye wanted to take it to a vote, but Gloria’s style was hardly diplomatic. Dictator comes to mind, actually. Kim Jong Un would have struggled getting a word in with Gloria Gray!”

  “Who do you think would have won the vote?”

  “Skye, for sure!” Dot announced. “No doubt about it! Her voice is something else. Gloria might have had the experience, but Skye has the raw talent. I see a lot of myself in her, as it happens.” Dot wriggled her brooch with a soft smile. “She could go professional. Did I mention that I won—”

  “Miss Singing Peridale 1953?” Julia jumped in. “Only every day since you joined the choir.”

  “It’s a shame they don’t hold the competition anymore.” Dot sighed wistfully, her eyes drifting off. “I fought off my competition like a true champion.”

  “How many people were you up against?”

  “Oh, I can’t remember that, dear.” Dot pursed her lips and waved her hand. “I’ve lived many lives since then.”

  “What did you sing?”

  “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" Dot replied instantly. “I was note-perfect!”

  “Selective memory, I see,” Julia teased.

  At that moment, the church doors burst open, and a sunglasses-adorned, redheaded woman stormed in. She wore a black turtleneck that snaked up to her jawline, with a pearl necklace over the fabric. A floor-length, fur-lined, red-tartan cardigan billowed behind her, so long it would have dragged across the floor if not for the black heels on her feet. If Julia had to guess, she would have put the woman between forty-five and fifty. Julia recognised her from the wedding, but she hadn’t paid her much attention.

  “This way, Harmonics!” the woman demanded as she walked past them all, only ripping her glasses off and putting them into her short, blow-dried hair when her back was to them. “Hurry! I don’t have all day!”

  The rest of the choir lingered for a moment, looking like they didn’t know if they wanted to follow or leave.

  “Rita Bishop, I presume?” Julia asked Dot as they followed the unsure flock.

  “Who else?”

  Rita took her position at the front of the church, standing exactly where Father David had been during the ill-fated ceremony. Rita glanced at the spot where Gloria had fallen and died, but her eyes didn’t linger for more than a second.

  “Don’t be shy!” Rita cried, a cold laugh leaving her red-tinted lips. “We have a lot to discuss, and, to perform here again, we’ll need to get over what happened. We only have six days until Sunday’s service, so chop-chop!”

  Rita clapped her hands together as though summoning a pack of trained dogs. Julia held back and sat on the back pew with her gingerbread fireworks, not wanting to intrude any more than she already had.

  The choir shuffled to the front of the church, taking seats on the front pews. Rita clasped her hands together and smiled down at them from her elevated position, looking ready to deliver a sermon.

  “Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming,” Rita started, her smile broadening as she looked at each of the members. Her eyes drifted up to Julia but didn’t linger. “I wasn’t sure you’d all be here considering the short notice, but it seems you’re all as dedicated to saving this choir as I am.”

  Rita paused for breath. The other members shuffled in their seats, but none of them said anything.

  “It’s with great sadness that we meet here today.” Rita again glanced at the spot where Gloria had died. “Gloria Gray served this choir for many decades and, for that, I think we’re all grateful. A round of applause for Gloria!”

  Rita clapped, but the other members joined in less enthusiastically. Julia squirmed in her seat, wondering if she was watching the world’s most ill-timed performance art piece.

  “That said, we cannot, and will not, linger in sadness!” Rita continued. “We are leaderless, and that can’t be. Father David rightfully cancelled yesterday’s service out of respect, but that just means we have six days to get ourselves together for this coming Sunday! So, going forward, I propose I take over Gloria’s duties as choirmaster.”

  “It’s only been two days!” Flora cried, jumping up from her seat. “You can’t expect us to move on like that.”

  “It’s what Gloria would have wanted.” Rita snapped back with the frozen smile of a circus clown. “She loved this choir more than anything, and, despite our differences over the years, I’m not willing to let it go to rack and ruin, which is why I selflessly volunteer to take over the mammoth task of getting us performance-ready. If you think you’d make a better leader, Flora, by all means, stand up and take charge!”

  Flora immediately sat down, her head bowing. Rita didn’t try to hide her pleasure at silencing the woman.

  “We are on a sinking ship.” Rita began to pace the stage. “You can all run like the rats or sit still and go down with the ship, but I intend to do neither! I propose we change things around here. No one person should perform all the solos. We should each have a chance to shine, and if you decide to elect me as your new choirmaster, I will make sure that we do that—not just in this church, but all over the country! Gloria always thought so small! There’s a bigger audience out there for us. Choir is cool! There are competitions in every county, and, with a lot of work, we could be competing on a national scale.”

  “Gloria always said competitions weren’t for real choirs,” Flora piped up again. “Gloria said that we should—”

  “Gloria is dead!” Rita cried, stopping in front of Flora. “If we stay in the past, we’ll each die out one by one, and this choir will go with us! Members have been dropping like flies for years. Look at us! We’re a pale imitation of what we once were. We need to evolve and grow if we want to survive in this modern age. I can help us do that. I have the passion it requires. If none of you wants me to take charge, I’ll walk out that door and never return, but I think you crave the growth just as much as I do. We’ve all sat in these meetings, angry and upset at Gloria’s narrow and selfish vision. She made herself a star while we all sang harmonies in the background. No more! We’re all the stars of this choir, and I vow to show the world.” Rita paused and inhaled deeply, regaining her spot in the centre, her hands clasped back together. “Raise your hand if you don’t want me to be choirmaster.”

  No hands immediately floated up, which brought a grin to Rita’s face. After almost a minute of silence, Flora’s hand drifted shakily above her head.

  “Only one?” Rita scanned the faces of the other members, daring them to object. “Just Flora? Then it’s decided. I shall lead this choir into a new golden age. Flora, you can leave.”

  “L-Leave?”

  “A group is only as strong as its weakest link.” Rita planted her hands on her hips. “If you don’t trust me, I can’t trust you. Now, if you want to take back your vote, you’re more than welcome, but if not, you know where the door is.”

  Rita swep
t her hand to the door as she smiled down at Flora. Flora stood up, clutching her baggy scarf. She looked around, wearing the same pitiful expression she’d had at Julia’s cottage on the night of Gloria’s death. Julia almost stood up and said something, but Skye beat her to the punch.

  “This is ridiculous!” Skye cried, followed by a shaky laugh. “This is supposed to be fun. We’re trading one dictator for another!”

  “But we’ve wanted to do the competitions for years,” Shilpa said. “If Rita can get us there, then—”

  “We don’t need Rita to get there.” Skye tossed out her arms. “We can do it ourselves.”

  Rita marched off the step to draw level with Skye. Even though the young beauty was taller than Rita, the redhead’s presence filled every corner of the room.

  “Who here has an honours degree from the Royal Academy of Music?” Rita asked, raising her hand slowly above her head. “Only me?” She looked around and waited for another hand to raise, but none did. “I thought so. Do I need to say more?”

  To Julia’s surprise, Skye sat down. Nobody else sprang to Flora’s defence. She wondered if being out of Gloria’s shadow had left Flora without a place in the choir in the eyes of the other members. Flora stepped out of the pews and set off up the aisle, her eyes firmly on the floor. She passed Julia without looking up, and the door banged behind her when she left.

  “You’re free to follow, Skye.” Rita motioned to the door. “But I know you want the limelight more than anyone. You crave recognition for your voice, and you deserve it. You have natural talent, and you need training that I can give you. Gloria was content having you on the back row, but I won’t be.”

  “But do we have to be so cruel about how we do things?”

  “There’s a difference between being disciplined and cruel,” Rita said, her smile spreading again. “Stars are forged in the heart of an explosion, not in comfortable, quiet corners! Now, does anyone else have anything to say? I have to get to my Pilates class.”

  There was a general shaking of heads before Rita pulled her sunglasses from her hair and stormed down the aisle, her cardigan billowing behind her. The door slammed and seemed to send an icy shiver through the ancient building.