Cocktails and Cowardice (Peridale Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 20)

by Agatha Frost

  “How cute.”

  Julia sent the picture to Jessie, who replied almost instantly with a one-word text: JEALOUS!!!!! She also included a yellow face blowing steam through its nostrils, a black heart (Jessie only ever sent the black ones), and a laughing crying face. Julia didn’t really understand the coded string of emojis, so she sent back a pink love heart and tucked her phone away.

  After admiring the view for a little while longer, she pulled her book from her bag: an old Danielle Steele paperback she’d bought at the local charity shop for 50p. She settled into the chair and picked up where she’d left off on the plane.

  “This is the life,” she whispered to herself. “This is the life.”

  4

  Dot

  “You continue to impress me, my dear!” Percy said as they emerged into the busy town plaza. “Your impeccable sense of direction never fails you.”

  “I’ve always been good at finding my way,” Dot replied, fluffing up her curls, which were already fighting the rising humidity. “Now, where do we start?”

  If Peridale had been built in a warmer climate, Dot imagined the central village green would look something like Savega’s plaza. It was similar in size, and the buildings seemed as old, if not older. Yet, the plaza couldn’t have been more different than the village green she knew so well.

  The greenery was confined to hanging baskets and the distant views of the mountains. Terracotta tiles in a traditional herringbone pattern covered the ground. The surrounding buildings weren’t made of golden Cotswold stone bricks. Instead, they were smooth and white, no doubt covered in a couple of centuries’ worth of layered paint.

  A three-tier water fountain with shooting streams commanded attention in the centre of the plaza, an obvious gathering point. A sizeable three-storey restaurant filled one corner, its outdoor seating taking up a good chunk of the space. Smaller bars and cafés were dotted around, all of them full. She noticed a good many clothes shops and a few places selling souvenirs.

  Still, the shopping seemed to be confined to the narrow alleyways that snaked away from the plaza in every direction. Quite a few of them appeared to have turned themselves into crowded makeshift markets.

  Like the hotel, the side of the plaza opposite the restaurant had a railing, although instead of looking up to the mountain, it looked down to the coast. Once again, Dot was drawn to the view. A flight of blue and white tiled steps sloped downwards, with more shops, hotels, cafés, and bars sprinkled along the way.

  Although Dot couldn’t see where the steps ended, she imagined if they walked down them for long enough, they’d eventually reach the beach. Of course, for the sake of Percy’s knees, she wasn’t likely to find out.

  “This is exactly how I pictured it,” Dot said with a contented sigh, spinning back to face the crowded plaza. “When Minnie said ‘small, gorgeous town in on the Spanish south coast’, this is what I saw.”

  “It’s quite something.”

  “And the air.” Dot inhaled a lungful. “I know we have good air in Peridale, but it feels fresher, almost. Like that feeling you get after you’ve just brushed your teeth and you drink something cold, but in a nice way. And hot.”

  “I know exactly what you mean, dear.” Percy inhaled too. “I wonder what Minnie was talking about when she referred to the trouble?”

  “Poor dear’s probably losing her marbles.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “But she’s still great fun!” Dot nudged her husband. “I told you she was fun. Shall we start with the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren? I think they’ll be the easiest to buy for.”

  “Right you are, my dear.”

  They went into the nearest clothes shop, and to Dot’s surprise, the offering wasn’t what she would have expected for something so off the beaten track. She wasn’t a fashion expert by any means. In fact, she tried her best to avoid such matters, but the clothes seemed rather trendy. And the prices were reasonable too. She left the first shop with t-shirts and hats for her grandson Vinnie, and her twin great-granddaughters, Pearl and Dottie, all with a hefty seven-euro discount off the overall price thanks to her haggling skills.

  “They’re going to love these,” Dot said, inspecting her loot as they left their first shop. “Where to next?”

  “Perhaps a spot of tea somewhere?” he suggested, his voice low and strange. “Let’s pop into that café over there, dear.”

  Percy linked arms and practically dragged her into the small café next door. Rather than sitting outside, he took them into the two-storey café and all the way up the spiralling staircase to a second floor looking out over the first.

  “Not to alarm you,” he started, lifting the menu to hide his face, “and don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed.”

  “By whom?” Dot cried, immediately looking over the balcony to the café below. “Don’t be so silly, Percival!”

  “I said, don’t look.” He popped open a second menu and handed it to her. “Play it cool. There’s a man with silver aviator sunglasses who followed us around that entire shop, and he didn’t take his eyes off us.”

  “I didn’t see a man!”

  “That’s because you were doing a wonderful job of shopping and bartering, my love,” he said, offering her a smile over the menu. “But remember what Minnie said about trouble? Paranoid or not, she could have been talking about pick-pocketers.”

  “Oh.” Dot’s heart sank. She could feel the weight of the purse in her handbag without needing to check it was still there. “I think I may have done something unwise. I’ve brought all our spending money out at once.”

  “Not to panic.”

  “I didn’t think.”

  “How much is currently in your purse?”

  “Around five hundred euros,” she said, her heart sinking. “Give or take. I know we’re planning to eat in the hotel most meals, but I wanted to treat everyone to at least one nice meal out at the end of the holiday.”

  “That’s very kind of you, my love.”

  “We might not get there now.” Dot went to look over the menu, but Percy gave her knee a quick squeeze. “What if we’re being silly?”

  “We probably are.” He laughed. “Better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it? It was only the other week we watched that documentary about the pick-pocketers in London. I know we’re not in London, but I doubt there’s any honour amongst thieves anywhere in the world. Remember the targets they prefer?”

  “The elderly.”

  “Exactly.” Percy turned a page in the menu, doing an excellent job of appearing calm. “They think we’re all slow and gullible. Well, I might be a little slow, but you’re still the sharpest knife in the box. What do you suggest we do?”

  Dot thought for a second, but she was more panicked than she wanted to let on. They’d known each other for less than a year and been married only a couple of months. While she felt she could be the most authentic version of herself with Percy, prickly edges and all, she knew he idolised her. Whether he didn’t see her flaws, chose not to, or simply didn’t care, she didn’t know, but she loved the pedestal he’d put her on.

  Well, she loved it right up until she actually had to be as brilliant and quick as he thought she was. Dot had a hard time accepting her age most days because she still felt like that woman in her forties from the photo album in her bag, but denial didn’t stop her brain being eighty-five years old and slowing each year. Just slightly, mind.

  Thank goodness it hadn’t slowed entirely because a little spark of an idea flickered. For that split second, she felt as brilliant and wonderful as Percy thought she was. Without saying a word, she knocked one of the forks off the table, and in one swift action, leaned over to pick it up. Her eyes glanced over the balcony for only a moment, and she saw a man matching the description Percy had given.

  “He’s there,” she said, placing the fork neatly back. “Man with the silver aviators and black leather jacket?”

  “That’s the fella.”

/>   “He’s sat outside, watching us.” Dot felt the heat rise up in her chest. “Oh, he’s picked the wrong pair of OAPs to rob today. Do you know what we’re going to do, Percy?”

  “No, dear.”

  “We’re going to outsmart him.” Dot slapped the menu shut and caught the attention of a white-shirted waitress downstairs by the counter. “But first, a nice calming cup of tea is in order, don’t you think?”

  And that’s precisely what they did. The waitress brought them a pot of tea to share with two small cups, and they took their time, drinking several helpings each. When it felt natural, Dot glanced over the balcony to look casually outside, as one would – and each time, her heart skipped a little beat when she saw the silver aviators staring up at her.

  “Marks for persistence,” Dot said, pulling a five euro note, enough for the tea and a tip, from her purse. “Now, you stay here and make yourself look useful, and I’m going to pop to the ladies’ room. When I come back, we walk out the front door, and we blend into the crowd.”

  “Then what?”

  “We get the hell back to the hotel and apologise to Minnie for not believing her.” Dot snapped her purse shut and dropped it back into her handbag. “Come down when you see me leave the bathroom, but not before. If he comes in and comes up here, you scream.”

  “Scream?”

  “Yes.” Dot kissed him on the cheek. “Fake a heart attack, or something. Scare the little bugger silly. Shan’t be long.”

  Without giving their watcher the satisfaction of letting him know they were onto him, Dot walked as quickly and casually as she could to the bathroom downstairs. Once inside, she locked the door, glad it was a single room with one way in and one way out instead of a row of cubicles.

  Once alone, her hands immediately started shaking. She felt reckless for what she was about to do. Still, it had been one of the tips in the documentary. For the sake of not losing five hundred euros, she wasn’t prudish enough not to use the one place most men wouldn’t think to look for money.

  She pulled the thick stack of colourful euros from her purse, split them in two, unbuttoned the middle of her blouse, and slipped a pile under the wire of each side of her bra. Dot gave herself a little wiggle, and when no money fell out, she refastened her blouse and looked in the mirror.

  “Genius,” she said, turning from side to side to make sure the colours didn’t shine through. “You’ve still got it, Dorothy South.”

  Dot dropped her empty purse into her handbag and caught sight of the leather photo album in her bag. If a mugger wanted to rob her of her saved pension money, there was a good chance he would snatch the whole bag. She pulled it out and flicked through. It contained too many happy memories to lose. She’d rather hand over every penny she had than lose these pictures of Albert.

  The years before his death had, ironically, been some of their happiest. The album was the only tangible thing she had left to trigger the memories of those blissful times, and she didn’t have duplicates for most of them.

  Using her brains once again, she looked around the bathroom. There weren’t many places to hide something so substantial, but there was a bin. Sighing, Dot wrapped the book in toilet paper and gently placed it inside.

  Dot always carried a pen and paper around with her, a necessity the younger generations seemed to have abandoned entirely. After scribbling a note, she retrieved an orange fifty euro note from her hiding place and wrapped it around the letter. She dropped the pen and pad back in her bag, content to lose the rest of its trivial contents. She took one last look in the mirror, fluffed up her curls, adjusted her brooch, straightened the creases in her blouse, and nodded that she was ready.

  “Thank you so much,” she said to the waitress after leaving the bathroom. “The tea was lovely.”

  Dot shook the girl’s hand – Maria, according to her name badge – and planted the fifty euro bill concealing the note into her palm. The young woman’s features dropped when she realised the amount of the second tip. Unravelling the bill, Maria revealed the note. Dot widened her smile, and the girl seemed to catch what she was throwing.

  Maria smiled back, slotted the money and note into her pocket, and nodded at Dot. All the while, the man who appeared to be the manager hadn’t looked up from the paper he was reading at the end of the bar.

  “All set?” Percy asked when he joined her at the bottom of the stairs.

  “All set.”

  Hand in hand, they walked straight out of the café, past the man with the aviators, and into the crowd. Dot glanced over her shoulder immediately, and their tail was already following them.

  “This way,” Dot said with as much calm as she could muster. “Just down here.”

  They slipped down an alleyway and through a market Dot didn’t remember coming through. Another peek over her shoulder confirmed the man was hot on their heels.

  “Not far now,” she said, turning down another, less-busy alley. “Just a little farther.”

  Another glance.

  He was still following them.

  “Dorothy?” Percy squeezed her hand tightly when they reached a four-way junction. “Are we a little lost?”

  “A little.”

  The further away from the plaza they ventured, the more danger they’d be in. She closed her eyes for a split second, and without thinking too hard about it, hurried in the direction she thought she heard the most people.

  They came out into another market street, this one even busier than the last. She looked over her shoulder as they squeezed through the shoppers, and found that the man was so close he’d be able to touch them if he reached out.

  “This is like that film with that Austrian man,” said Dot.

  “Hitler?”

  Dot shot him a sharp sideways glance. “When did Hitler make films?”

  “War films, dear.”

  “Not Hitler.” Dot looked around. “Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  “Oh, I quite like him.” Percy chuckled as they took another turn down another market street. “Kindergarten Cop?”

  “No, the one where he’s a robot.”

  “Twins?”

  “A robot,” Dot repeated. “From the future, with molten skin.”

  “Total Recall?”

  “How do you know so many Arnold Schwarzenegger films except the one I’m thinking of?”

  “How do you even know any?”

  “Because Jessie made me watch it!” Dot looked back, and he was closer still. “It doesn’t matter! In here.”

  Without thinking too hard about it, Dot pulled Percy into a clothes shop deep in the market that seemed to sell trendy clothes identical to the ones she was carrying in the bag. Knowing their options were limited, Dot chose honesty.

  “Hello, there,” Dot said, letting go of Percy’s hand to hold it out for the bearded shopkeeper to shake. “Erm . . . parlez vous Anglaise?”

  “I am afraid I do not speak the French,” he replied with a dry laugh, “but English, yes. Can I help you?”

  “You can.” Dot glanced over her shoulder. The man was stood in the shop doorway, staring at them without expression – was he a robot after all? “That man right there is following us. I think he’s trying to rob us. Would you please help us?”

  “Of course,” the shopkeeper said, looking over their shoulder at the man. “We have had problems with this man before. Follow me, please.”

  The shopkeeper took them through to a back room, which looked like an office-come-staff area. The dark wallpaper was peeling, the sofa looked like it didn’t have a spring left in it, and the television currently broadcasting a football game probably should have been thrown out in the last century.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, motioning to the desk with two chairs. “I shall call the authorities, but I will need to use my neighbour’s phone. Mine, you see, is broken.”

  Dot collapsed into a chair, adrenaline rushing through her system like it never had before. Sweat was also pouring down her face like it ne
ver had before, and for once, she didn’t care about her curls. She could feel they were drenched and plastered to her neck.

  Percy sat in the chair next to her, every limb visibly shaking. She let out a laugh, and he joined in, although she knew it was more from shock and confusion than anything.

  “Terminator,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “You were thinking of Terminator.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Out of curiosity, Dot picked up the old-fashioned rotary telephone on the desk. As old as it was, a distinct dial tone waited for her to input a telephone number. Before she could swivel the numbers, or even wonder why the man had said it didn’t work, a door opened, and it wasn’t the one in front of them.

  Unlike the bathroom in the café, the dark room behind the shop had more than one entrance and exit. She turned in time to see the shopkeeper, with the man in the aviators by his side. Before she could ask what in heavens was going on, someone crammed a black sack over her head and dragged her hands forcefully behind her back.

  5

  Julia

  “I can’t see a thing,” Julia said, squinting through Barker’s fingers. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see,” he whispered, guiding her around a corner. “Just a couple more steps. Keep your eyes closed.”

  Barker lifted one hand away and opened a door in front of her – or that’s what it sounded like – but she did as she was told and kept her eyes closed. He covered them again before guiding her forward. This time when he let go, he closed the door behind them. From the familiar scent and her vague understanding of the hotel’s layout, she guessed they were in their bedroom.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice coming from further ahead now, “you can open them.”

  Julia opened her eyes and blinked hard – not that she needed to. The candles dotted around the room weren’t bright, but they provided enough light to show the rose petals all over the floor and the bed. Out on the balcony, the plastic table had a red cloth over it. It was set for two, with a vase of roses in the middle. Barker had even changed from his t-shirt into a pale-blue cotton shirt, slightly open at the collar.