Cocktails and Cowardice (Peridale Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 20)

by Agatha Frost

  “No,” she said firmly, snatching the brooch before he could yank it from its place at her collar. “It’s very precious to me.”

  But Rafa didn’t care. He grabbed her wrist and pried open her fingers until she had no choice but to release her grip. He grabbed the brooch and let go of her. His swollen features remained eerily expressionless the entire time. Dot had lived long enough to recognise the look of a broken man.

  “You can only be controlled if you let people control you,” she called as he walked back to the door with their things. “If that man last night is your grandmother’s husband and the person in charge of all this, I can see why you’re scared of him, but you still have a choice. You’re young enough to have a life of your own. A real life.”

  Rafa paused at the door, and to Dot’s surprise, he turned.

  “You do not know me,” he said, his tone as blank as his face.

  “I know you didn’t put bullets in your gun,” she replied. “That’s enough for me right now, Rafael.”

  Rafa’s one good eye drifted up to her, only lingering for a moment – just long enough for Dot to see a line of tears forming along the lashes.

  And then he left, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

  “Was that part of your new plan, dear?” Percy asked, his voice breathier than she was used to.

  “No plan this time,” she admitted, not seeing the point in keeping up the façade. “We’re truly at their mercy now.”

  Dot pulled the poster from her breast pocket and unfolded it. Knowing that Julia was looking for them had to be enough. Pregnant or not, she was their only way out.

  “I think I’ve figured out L B,” Percy said out of the blue. “Was it light bulb?”

  “It was.”

  “Very clever, my love.”

  Dot folded the poster and tucked it back into her pocket.

  “Another game?” Dot asked.

  “I don’t think I’m quite in the mood anymore. And I can’t spy anything without my specs.” Percy edged away from the wall and curled on his side, facing away from her. “Tell me about your life, dear.”

  “My life?”

  “I want to hear it all.”

  “What about the bread?”

  “For once,” he said, pausing to sigh, “I don’t think I’m all that hungry.”

  “Okay.” Dot shimmied down behind her husband and wrapped her arm around his middle; he looped his fingers through hers. “Where do I start?”

  “I’d say at the beginning,” he said, squeezing tight. “Day Dot. And don’t skimp on the details. I want to hear everything.”

  And so Dot talked. She went as far back as she could remember, starting with the dreaded ballet lessons her snooty mother had pushed upon her when she was four years old.

  She got all the way up to her mid-twenties and raising Brian with Albert before she realised Percy had fallen asleep. She carried on telling the story of her life anyway.

  It beat sitting in silence.

  17

  Julia

  For the fourth time during the video call, Sue’s face froze and turned to tiny, fuzzy squares on Julia’s phone screen. She left the bedroom and walked out onto the balcony, spinning around until Sue unfroze.

  “Wow!” Sue squinted at the screen, her focus so firm that her nose scrunched, bringing up her top lip, exposing her teeth. “Can you move out of the way? I want to get a look at that view!”

  “I can do you one better,” Julia said, scanning the symbols on the screen, trying to remember Jessie’s exact words about the camera flip icon being ‘stupidly obvious’ since there were only four to choose from. Sun in her eyes, she pulled the phone up closer, tapped one, and while the camera didn’t flip, the volume vanished, cutting off Katie’s singing in the background. “Hang on.”

  “Nice double chin,” Sue said when Julia pressed that same button again. “I just screenshotted that, so you’re welcome.”

  “Here.” Julia pressed the ‘obvious flip’ button and turned to face the valley. “Not a bad view, eh?”

  “Not a bad view at all,” she replied, still squinting. “Why didn’t I get an invite?”

  “On our honeymoon?”

  “To our great-aunt’s hotel.”

  “Last I heard you still hadn’t remembered who she was.”

  “And I still haven’t.” Sue shrugged and bit into something flaky, pastry crumbs sticking around her lips. “You got cheques and signed headshots, and I didn’t get diddly squat.”

  “She’d stopped sending them by the time you were old enough to remember.” It was Julia’s turn to squint at the screen. “What are you eating?”

  “Oh.” Sue flipped the camera this time, the view changing to one of the tables in Julia’s café. “Shilpa’s samosas. We’ve been selling them in the café. Evelyn’s been baking too, although we’re not sure about her cakes. Amy Clark swears she started seeing pink dragons in the sky after eating one yesterday. Might give one a try when the twins are in bed.” She took another bite and flipped the camera back to her face. “Even dad’s been chipping in when he’s not flogging antiques. Alfie, too. It’s a real village effort. Jessie is like a mini version of you these days, and even she just about manages when you’re gone. Without the both of you, it’s taking a village effort to make just one Julia.”

  “I miss the place,” was all Julia could think, so she said it aloud.

  “It misses you too.” Sue’s gaze drifted over the top of the screen and into the direction of what Julia knew was the kitchen. “Would you look at her go? How did we end up with an idiot like this for our stepmother?”

  The camera flipped, and Sue graciously zoomed in on Katie dancing around the kitchen using a wooden spoon as a microphone, whipping her blonde curls from side to side.

  Julia couldn’t help but laugh.

  “There’s no music.”

  “I made her put headphones in,” Sue groaned. “She was doing my head in with the singing. I swear to God she thinks she’s a forty-year-old Britney Spears.” Sue slowly zoomed in further, this time on the sequins spelling out ‘DIVA’ on the backside of Katie’s pink tracksuit bottoms. “Bless her, though. She’s trying her best. She’s only almost burnt the place down twice.”

  “Be nice,” Julia said, “I thought you two were friends now.”

  “Oh, we are,” Sue replied, flipping the camera back to her face. “And I love how you assumed I was joking about her nearly burning the place down. Twice. Let’s just say we had a very firm talk about why we don’t leave tea towels next to the hob when we’re trying to make scrambled eggs. And I do mean eggs. Including more shells than most people are comfortable with eating.”

  “What are you even doing there?”

  “I’ve just finished a shift at the hospital,” she said before taking another bite. “I’ve been coming as often as I can to pitch in.”

  “You really don’t have to,” Julia said, sitting at the table still set for the dinner they never had on the night the ransom note turned up. “You could just close it.”

  “You still need money coming in.” Sue joined her in sitting, taking the table nearest the counter. “And it’s the least we can do. You’re out there doing whatever you can for Gran. I could still come over. There are flights three times a day. Just say the word and—”

  “I think we’re paying the ransom,” Julia cut in, getting to the point of why she’d called Sue in the first place. “Well, not us but Minnie. She’s selling the hotel, and there’s going to be enough to pay off the ransom.”

  “Are you serious? She’s actually going to do that?”

  “They go back a long time.” Julia shrugged, looking out over the valley. “She’s been putting off selling for years, and Lisa’s stabbing has made her realise a few things. In any other situation, I’d tell her to slow down and think about it, especially with Lisa being in hospital still, but what choice do I have? The ransom note was clear about giving us a week. Time’s running out and we’ve ba
rely made any progress.”

  She paused, looking into the bedroom. Barker was at the dressing table on Lisa’s laptop. He caught her eyes and shook his head.

  “It’s just,” she continued, exhaling heavily, “the buyers haven’t replied yet.”

  “Will a sale go through so fast?”

  “With these people, I’d say so.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Sue whispered. “Have you figured something out?”

  Julia considered telling Sue everything they’d discovered so far about The Buyer and Barker’s theory that it had to be Inspector Hillard. Dot was, after all, Sue’s grandmother too. She had a right to know what was going on. But Julia knew her sister well enough to anticipate a barrage of repetitive questions, and Julia didn’t have enough answers yet.

  “I need to get going.”

  “Okay.” Sue pouted. “But don’t think I don’t know what thought process went on in your head because I do. Just promise you’ll tell me if there’s any big developments?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll let you go.” Sue stood up, and flipped the screen, this time to the front door of the café, as Neil, her husband, walked in with Pearl and Dottie, Julia’s nieces. “My lift home is here, anyway.”

  After a quick moment with the twins and Neil, Julia hung up and re-joined Barker in the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at the sheets of paper Barker had stuck up over the dressing table.

  He double-clicked the laptop trackpad, and another sheet of paper spat out of the printer they’d stolen from reception. He stuck the paper on the wall with tape and stepped back.

  “It’s going around in circles,” he said, sitting next to Julia. “Every email address from the offer emails leads to a company, which leads to a holding company, which leads to a parent company. It just goes on and on in those loops. They’re all crossed over, but the trail never seems to end. It’s one giant cover-up. Whoever is sending those emails knows what they’re doing. They’ve made it impossible to follow the paper trail to a single source.”

  The laptop had been in their possession for almost a full twenty-four hours, and Barker had spent most of them trying to find the source of the emails. She’d finally had to slap the laptop shut at three in the morning and drag him to bed because she couldn’t stand jolting awake to the sound of the printer any longer.

  “The emails have been coming in for eighteen months, all nearly identical,” Barker said, picking up a notepad. “Three emails, one a day, always at the same time. Every three emails, the address and company name changes. I’ve only gone back eight months, and it seems like the stream of changes is never-ending.” He paused to read over his notes. “As frustrating as it is, it’s given me enough data to notice a pattern. All of the companies reach a dead-end eventually, with thirteen becoming dead-ends at this one.”

  “Lo Que Viene Primero,” Julia read aloud, knowing she was butchering the pronunciation. “Which means?”

  “It loosely translates as ‘What Comes First’,” he said, underlining the words on his pad. “It could be one of those things that’s lost in translation because the name alone tells me nothing. The minute I start digging into who owns it, I’m sent on another wild goose chase. To make it worse, it’s all in Spanish, so who knows what I’m missing.”

  Julia wasn’t sure it mattered anymore, even though she was impressed with her husband’s determination. If The Buyer was as desperate to buy this hotel as he was every other business in town, the money would come through soon, even without another email. As long as they had the money, they could start the process of getting her gran and Percy home. Maybe then her interest in the ‘who’ would reignite. But for now, she only cared about getting them back. If that meant playing their game, then so be it.

  “Maybe it doesn’t—”

  The door opened and Jessie walked in, giving Julia the perfect excuse to swallow the suggestion that Barker stop chasing the trail for a while. Jessie kicked the door closed behind her, hands filled with plastic bags. She plonked herself on the edge of the bed, dropped the bags, and collapsed backwards. Her face was bright red and glistening.

  “Shopping is exhausting,” she whined, propping herself up on her elbows. “Turns out not everything in those shops is disgusting. Alfie’s never going to believe I have all of these designer clothes, especially since I didn’t even spend a hundred euros.”

  “So, we’re openly donating money to gangs now?” Barker asked, arching both brows at Jessie as he glanced into one of the bags. “These are the people who might have Dot and Percy.”

  “I wasn’t just shopping.” Jessie rolled her eyes and stood up, ripping the bags away from Barker. “I was questioning people. Thought I’d get further if I was buying stuff. People love money.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “That these people really don’t like talking about their boss.” Jessie pulled a t-shirt from her bag and held it up against herself while looking in the mirror. “This looked less hideous in the shop.”

  “So you learned nothing?”

  “One guy told me he didn’t even know who The Buyer was and that he dealt with other people.” She screwed up the t-shirt and stuffed it back in its bag. “Oh, and there’s a guy sat in reception. Said he’s waiting for Minnie. Told him she was probably going to be at the hospital for hours, but he said he wasn’t moving.”

  “What guy?” Julia asked, already standing.

  “Didn’t ask.” Jessie shrugged and pulled out another t-shirt, even crazier than the first. “I’m all questioned out. I think I was too distracted with the questions that I didn’t pay enough attention to what I was buying. These are crap.”

  Leaving Jessie to continue digging through her illegal clothes, Julia took the lift down to the ground floor to try and get rid of the newcomer. Minnie had yet to return after rushing back to the hospital a little before eleven the previous night.

  The lift doors slid open. The ‘guy’ wasn’t just a random person, it was Arlo Garcia. For a moment, Julia wondered why Jessie hadn’t recognised him. Then she remembered she’d only caught a brief glimpse of him as he was pushed, screaming, into a police car. Arlo glanced in her direction with a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

  “I came to see you at the café,” Julia explained as she walked towards him. “My husband’s the private investigator.”

  “Ahh, yes, I remember.” He stood and walked over to the desk, so Julia assumed the position on the other side. “Where is Minnie? I would like to speak to her.”

  “She’s at the hospital,” Julia explained, “with Lisa.”

  “How is Lisa?”

  “She’s stable,” she said. “Showing good signs, according to Minnie’s last phone call. They think she’ll pull through.”

  “Good.” He nodded, almost to himself. “This makes me glad.”

  “You didn’t do it, did you?” Julia asked. “Stab Lisa, I mean.”

  “No.” He shook his head, his brows furrowing tightly. “I cannot believe Minnie would think this of me. The inspector told me she gave a statement against me.”

  “And the watch?”

  “I was attacked.” He lifted up his t-shirt to show his bruised ribs. “Night before Lisa was stabbed, two men, they beat me and took all my stuff. I did not even think about my watch, not that it mattered. These police did not believe me until someone anonymously handed in the security camera footage of the mugging happening outside their shop.”

  “Did you know the men?”

  Arlo shook his head. “It was dark. I remember only their clothes.”

  “Same clothes sold in the plaza?”

  “So, you have noticed the gang?” He seemed to relax. “Glad I am not the only one. Yes, it was them. I do not know why they would want to frame me, but they did.”

  Julia had a few ideas. A car engine drew Julia’s attention to the door, and a taxi pulled up.

  “Are you still adamant you didn’t s
teal from La Casa?” she asked. The passenger window was blocked by the menu board in front of the hotel.

  “Absolutely.” The accusation seemed to upset more than offend him. “Between us, I think Lisa wanted my job. Please, if you see Minnie, tell her I am leaving Savega. This place, it does not feel like the home it once was.”

  “Tell her yourself,” Julia said, nodding towards the doors as Minnie walked slowly down the steps in front of the hotel.

  Arlo met Minnie halfway across the small courtyard. She stopped in her tracks but softened just as quickly. She pulled him into a hug, and after minutes of crying and hushed conversation, Arlo kissed Minnie on the cheek and left.

  “How’s Lisa?” Julia asked when Minnie finally came inside.

  “She’s doing better,” she replied, clearly distracted by what had just happened. “The police told me they were releasing him. They said he was framed. I feel for the man, I really do. I feel awful.”

  “You weren’t to know.”

  “Who would want to kill Lisa and frame Arlo for it?” Minnie scratched at her grey hair, which was rattier than ever. “It seems absurd!”

  “Someone who knew about Arlo’s alleged theft from the hotel,” Julia said, pieces of her theory still falling into place. “You said Lisa was the one who caught Arlo?”

  Minnie nodded. “And I’m not sure I believe that anymore.”

  “I don’t think I ever did,” Julia said, almost to herself. “Arlo seems to think Lisa wanted his job, but I think it might be the opposite. She didn’t want to take on his role. I think she hoped—”

  “That having no chef would push me to sell,” Minnie finished. “Instead, I just dumped the work on her and expected her to fill yet another role. I’ve been so blind. I. . .” Her voice trailed off as she walked over to the desk. “Where did these come from?”

  Julia hadn’t looked down while she was speaking with Arlo. If she had, she would have recognised the handwriting on the two white envelopes instantly. They were perfectly laid out side by side, each addressed to ‘La Casa’ in careful, neat handwriting.