She’d hung out at Griffin Brews in the kitchen for a while, helping Vina and her mum make dough. They sent her home with more macarons and a few lamb biryani pasties. It made the perfect combination for an early supper.
Curling up in her new favourite armchair, mostly because of its proximity to the warmth of the fire, Motts had one of her newly acquired graphic novels, a mug of tea, and the box of yummy biscuits. Cactus had tried to steal the macarons several times. She’d managed to keep them out of his little paws.
He didn’t seem to understand chocolate wasn’t for kitties. She’d obviously spoilt him rotten. Her sweet little naked baby. She covered him more securely with the edge of the blanket.
Motts closed her book and bent forward to place it on the coffee table. She’d struggled to focus all evening. Her mind kept going to their brief encounter with Noel.
Why had he shut down so instantly at the mention of Rhona’s name? It made no sense. Motts hadn’t asked any probing questions.
The men in Rhona’s life all seemed intensely sensitive to even the mention of her name. Instead of clearing them, it made them even more suspect. She wondered if Teo was aware of Noel.
I could send him an email.
Plymouth isn’t that far away—maybe too far for a scooter ride.
Or, I can send him a message and spare myself the agonising anxiety and stress.
In theory, email was less stressful than an impromptu in-person visit. In actuality, Motts dithered for thirty minutes over the wording of the subject line. She managed after an hour and a half to get through the message.
Hit send.
Hit send.
Hit send.
Oh my god, I hit send.
Motts closed her laptop, left it on the coffee table, and hid behind the sofa for a few minutes. “Oh, honestly, why am I the way that I am? Overdramatic much?”
No matter how much Motts berated herself, every aspect of sending and receiving messages, whether text or email, caused her stress. She’d tried a myriad of methods to control the anxiety; none of them actually helped.
Just looking at her laptop caused her heart rate to spike up rapidly. Motts breathed in and out slowly until her pulse settled. She stared at her computer for a second more.
“I won’t know if Teo responded unless I look, will I?” Motts forced herself to stand up. “Never has my computer appeared more terrifying.”
Teo had not responded. Her inbox contained a fifteen-paragraph update from her dad. He told her all about the squirrels showing up in their garden; he was in the midst of a battle trying to keep the little critters from eating the birdseed.
A second email from her cousin about the dinner invite to his parents’ place warned her about Auntie Lily wanting to set her up on a blind date. I guess I’ll be coming down with a sudden case of plague. That sounds plausible. Can’t eat with you, I’m going to die.
Die of embarrassment.
After sending a panicked response to River, Motts found a new message. Teo politely reminded her not to get too close to the investigation. He worried.
Why does his worrying make me feel happy?
Weird, but happy?
The detective hadn’t known about the connection with Noel. Teo agreed the intense reaction to Rhona’s name was at the very least odd. He didn’t say whether he planned to follow up.
The message was a satisfyingly unsatisfying email. Motts’s curiosity had only increased with the lack of knowledge. Is he going to talk to Noel? Or maybe to Doc Ferris? Perhaps I should stop by the post office again.
Or ask Marnie.
In the excitement of her charity shop finds, Motts had forgotten to visit Marnie. She’d go by after breakfast in the morning. Here’s hoping I manage to stay out of trouble in the process.
As the evening progressed, Motts found herself dreading bedtime. She kept finding chores to finish. Dishes, dusting, folding laundry, cleaning out Moss’s terrarium, reorganising her books in a variety of different ways. It was three in the morning when her exhaustion caught up to her.
She crawled into bed on top of the covers and stared anxiously out the bedroom window into the darkness. Cactus leapt upon the duvet beside her. “What if he’s out there again?”
Her mind played tricks on her. Every little sound had her convinced a break-in was imminent. She sat up, scooting up against the headboard with pillows and her multiple blankets making a buffer zone around her body.
Despite her attempts to doze, Motts kept opening her eyes to watch the window. She found the anticipation of something happening almost worse than the actuality of it. Cactus clambered over to flop in her lap, offering a warm and purring sort of comfort.
Motts grabbed her mobile from the nightstand. Her fingers trembled, and she tightened them around the phone. You can ask for help. Everyone says so.
They never mention how hard it’s going to be, though.
After another ten minutes of not sleeping, Motts scrolled through her contacts. She messaged Vina, the person most likely to be awake. Also the one who’d never get angry at being disturbed.
She hated bothering people. It made phone calls almost impossible. She tended to get eaten up with anxiety over it.
Vina arrived ten minutes later with a coat covering her pyjamas. She had a large thermos in one hand and a bag in the other. “I brought Amma’s warm milk tea and spiced scones.”
“Your mum was awake?”
“Not sure she ever sleeps.” Vina shrugged. “But she was sleeping, don’t worry. We made these in the coffee shop, so I popped by to steal a few.”
“Is it stealing if you own the café?” Motts crossed her legs and had to smile when Cactus curled up between them. “I shouldn’t be so scared. I’m fine. They caught Danny. He’s not going to peer in my windows again.”
“Fear is fear, Mottsy.” Vina bent forward to gently squeeze her knee. “Glad you called. I was dealing with a bout of insomnia myself.”
“Why?”
“I met someone.” She quickly shoved half a scone into her mouth.
“Did you?” Motts took a sip of tea, sighing contentedly at the familiar flavour. She had no idea how Leena made it so delicious. “And? Are you happy?”
Vina shrugged. “Do you ever regret our breakup?”
Motts hesitated for a minute. She never knew if non-autistics wanted honest answers to difficult questions. “I….”
“Truthfully,” Vina prompted.
“Not really.” Motts kept her gaze on her mug of tea. “You know you’re my best friend. You, Nish, and River. You’ve all been my only friends. We didn’t work as a couple.”
“We could’ve.”
“You wanted sex. I’m not into sex,” Motts said matter-of-factly. “Do you regret it?”
“No.” Vina licked the sticky glaze from the scone off her fingers. “I’d have missed you if we hadn’t stayed friends. That mattered more to me.”
“Good. We’ve answered a pointless question to distract from your bombshell. Tell me about your new girlfriend.” Motts poked Vina on the bottom of her sock-covered foot. “Are there pictures? Have you told your family?”
“You’re the first in the family I’ve told.”
Motts gave her a watery smile. She was moved to know Vina considered her family. “Well? What’s her name? Is she local?”
“Taara. Taara Khatri. She’s Punjabi. Travels between Lahore and London for her family’s company. They import herbs and spices for Indian restaurants and shops across England.” Vina twisted her phone around to show Motts a photo. “She’s so out of my league.”
“How?” Motts studied the image of the stylish woman. “She dresses better.”
“Rude.”
“You live in jeans and long-sleeved hoodies.” Motts glanced down at her own pyjamas. “Granted, I once spent an entire month wearing the same soft penguin onesie. So, who am I to judge?”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“She’s very aesthetically pleasing.” Motts thought b
oth Vina and her new girlfriend were equally stunning. She didn’t see the point in comparison. “And so are you.”
“We’ve got to work on your compliment skills.” Vina reached into the bag she’d brought and pulled out a packet of Jaffa Cakes. “Found these tucked in the cupboard at home. Pretty sure Nish hid them for you.”
Munching on the biscuits, Motts tried to sort out her feelings. She was pleased for Vina. Her friend deserved every ounce of happiness in the world.
And Motts meant what she’d said earlier. Their relationship, as a romantic one, had been doomed for failure. They hadn’t been sexually compatible.
Their friendship had mattered more.
Motts snagged a second Jaffa Cake. “I’m happy for you.”
Vina considered her for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Brilliant. I’m so relieved. Now I just have to introduce her to the family. You’ll be there, right? I need moral support. Amma compares every date I have to you.”
“Weird.”
“Not really. You’re the only person who doesn’t seem to grasp what a magnificent person you are.” Vina pointed the mug at her. “See. There you go. Shrinking into yourself like Moss, pulling her head into her shell. You do know compliments are good things, right?”
Motts shrugged.
“Do you want to talk about your anxiety attack?” Vina moved the conversation to another topic; Motts didn’t find this one any easier than compliments. “Was it the peeping Tom episode?”
“Am I ever going to feel safe in the cottage?” Motts grabbed Cactus, hugging him to her chest. “I keep seeing faces in the shadows in the dark.”
“Of course you will.” Her friend shifted up to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around Motts. “It’s going to take time.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
* * *
Two days later, Motts was exhausted from struggling with fear-induced insomnia. She had managed to unpack, clean, and organise every inch of her cottage. The garden looked immaculate. She’d gotten some of her new herbs and plants into the ground.
Sleep?
Sleep had been one thing she hadn’t managed successfully. She’d been catnapping, which wasn’t as healthy for her as it was Cactus. Nothing seemed to help, not even the herbal tea Auntie Lily sent over with River.
Motts had moved from her backyard to the front of the cottage. There were boxes under the two front windows and a tiny plot to the left of the door. She’d dug up all the flowers and handed them off to her uncle Tom for his garden.
The sound of a car driving up the lane towards her cottage caught her attention. Motts glanced up to find Detective Inspector Herceg climbing out of his vehicle. He waved, moving around to the boot and retrieving a large box.
Motts sat back on her heels with her trowel in hand. “Has something happened? Did you have a break in the case?”
A break in the case?
I’ve been watching way too much Rosemary & Thyme.
And Father Brown.
And every other mystery show available on the internet.
“Can’t speak on the case.” He carried the box over and balanced it against his side. “I’ll say we’re following up on a few leads.”
“Police always say that on the telly when they don’t have any leads at all.” Motts had been taking notes from how they handled investigations in shows. “What’s in the box?”
“Shows aren’t always based completely in fact.” Detective Herceg tilted the box slightly to reveal the contents. “Motion-activated outdoor lights for the front and back of your cottage. I also have a CCTV system for you, along with one of those doorbells with a webcam. You can download apps to your tablet or phone. You never have to wonder who’s out in the dark. The lights will let you know, and the cameras will provide another layer of protection.”
Motts got to her feet and brushed nervously at the dirt on her jeans. “I don’t know what to say.”
He hefted the box in his arm. “Don’t need to say anything aside from giving me permission to install it. I won’t if you aren’t interested.”
“But why?” Motts crossed her arms, huffing in annoyance when dirt from the trowel got on her shirt. “Is this a service detective inspectors provide to the community?”
“Not quite.” He patted the box with one hand. “I wanted you to feel safe in your cottage. And this technology might help.”
Motts didn’t know how to respond. She decided maybe they should head inside to finish the conversation. “Would you like tea?”
“If you don’t mind, we can talk over the details.” He followed her into the cottage and placed the box on the small table in the kitchen. “The cameras and lights are ones I’m familiar with. I used them on my place and my parents’.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank me by getting some sleep, yeah?” Teo began lifting items out of the box. He had four lights to cover the entire property. “You’re safe here.”
Motts watched him get to work installing the cameras. “I’ll do my best.”
Chapter Thirteen
With the lights and cameras, Motts managed to sleep well for the first time in days. She discovered that once again village gossip had been the culprit in ratting her out to Teo. Nish had mentioned it to Hughie, who’d told Inspector Ash, who’d casually shared the information with Detective Inspector Herceg.
Wonderful.
She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the rumour vine. Unlike her bad experiences in school, this one seemed determined to make her life better. She decided not to worry about it.
Why worry about it? Her dad had always told her not to worry about other people. She could only control herself.
She had other things to worry about.
Who had killed Rhona Walters? The question haunted her almost as much as the ones she had about Jenny’s death. Two young women taken under disturbing circumstances.
With her insomnia dealt with, Motts had a new drive to solve the mystery. She’d decided to confront Danny directly. First about why he’d been at her place, and second about the day Rhona disappeared.
March had brought them beautifully sunny weather. Motts took advantage of it by getting out her bicycle. She rode down the hill from the cottage and made her way to the nursery the Orchards ran as part of their gardening business.
“What do you want?” Danny Orchard Sr. blocked the entrance to the nursery. He had a shovel in one hand and rested his arms against the top. “Haven’t you caused us enough trouble?”
“Me?” Motts considered getting back on her bicycle and racing away. She wanted answers, though. “I haven’t done anything. Your son decided to trespass on my property in the middle of the night. And I’d like to ask him a few questions about why.”
“You’re—”
“Let me handle this.” Danny stepped around his father, shoving him into the shop and closing the door on him. “Sorry. He can be a right bastard when he wants.”
Motts stared at Danny, unsure of how to proceed. “Why?” she began and stopped, still not confident what to actually ask.
Why?
Why brain?
How is “why” going to help?
“Why did you scare me half to death?” Motts decided to try for a second time with a complete sentence.
Danny rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He motioned for her to follow him down the sidewalk, away from the front of the nursery. “After Rhona’s body was found, I’d heard you discovered clues. I wanted to see if you’d figured out who killed her.”
“Why?”
“I loved her,” Danny practically shouted at her. He held his hands up when she started to back away. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Rhona was my everything. We’d dated without anyone knowing for ages. Innis didn’t approve of me. We were going to elope. Eventually.”
“Okay. Did you know about the box hidden in my garden?” Motts showed him the images from her phone. “Was the bracelet yours?”
“The necklace and earring were Rhona’s. I bought them for her. No idea who took the photo. A few blokes in the village used to have that bracelet. Our own little club.” Danny scratched his jaw and finally handed the phone back to her. “I had no idea who stole the jewellery or buried it.”
Motts wasn’t sure she believed him but continued with a different question. “Were you meeting her that night?”
Danny shook his head quickly. “She was having a girls’ night. One of her friends had messaged her to go out.”
“To London?”
“No, don’t be daft. Who’d drive up to London for a night?” Danny retorted. “Who said that?”
“Innis.”
“Of course, he did. He hated Rhona. Bastard.” Danny leaned closer to her. “I always thought he’d done it.”
“Oh?” Motts moved Danny from suspect to potentially helpful witness in her mind. “He’s grumpy as all get out, but not every cranky human commits murder.”
“Innis wanted complete ownership of the Salty Seaman. Rhona had 51 percent. They never told anyone. Her brother wanted to run the place while she wanted out of Cornwall.” He stopped when they reached the corner. “She let him manage the shop, never once questioned him on what he did.”
“Then why would he care about her having 51 percent?”
“She wanted to sell the place.”
“Oh.” Motts had no doubts Innis would’ve fought tooth and nail to keep the Salty Seaman in the family. “Was there a buyer?”
“She never said.” Danny glanced behind them when someone shouted his name. “They’ll be wanting me for a delivery. I am sorry for scaring you the other night. It was a dreadful thing to do. My mum read me the riot act when I got home from the police station.”
Motts bit back her instinctual response of “it’s okay,” because it wasn’t. “Try not to do it again, alright?”
“Right.” Danny nodded, then jogged down the sidewalk.
Walking her bike a little further, Motts considered the brief conversation. Danny had dumped a load of information on her. She wondered if the police had pulled Rhona’s text messages. Did mobile companies keep the records on those for years? Or delete them?
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