Whether Ben privately thought I told you so or not, he didn’t say so to Keeley, but was at the cottage within the half hour, and after looking at the letter, his face betrayed nothing but concern.
“Did you not see or hear anyone, or anything at all?”
“I was asleep. I think it was the letterbox that woke me up.”
Ben dashed out then, leaving her looking after him rather bemused, until she heard his voice across the road and realized he was questioning her neighbors. He came back twenty minutes later, looking grim.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. Nobody saw anything. Old Mr. Crocker across the way heard a car coming up and down the hill, but didn’t look out the window.”
“I heard a car,” Keeley said, remembering that distant drone, “but I don’t know if it was too far away. I mean, it sounded like it was in the next street. If the letterbox woke me up, surely I would have heard a car pulling off.”
“You would think. But sleep can play tricks on your perception.”
He sat down next to Keeley, who hadn’t moved the entire time he was asking questions and still had the letter clutched in her hands. Taking it off her with a pair of tweezers, Ben placed it into a Baggie that lay on the arm of the sofa. He put it with the message facing down and out of sight—deliberately, Keeley thought.
“Have you been asking any more questions today?” He sounded weary rather than accusing. Keeley shook her head with vehemence, her hair flying round her shoulders.
“No. Honest.” She gave him a brief account of her day, particularly any conversations with Belfrey residents, though she found herself omitting the part where Duane had attempted to ask her out for dinner.
“Okay. I’m sorry to keep repeating myself, Keeley, but are you absolutely sure you can’t think of anyone in Belfrey who would have reason to target you like this?”
“No, no one. Well…” She hesitated, wondering whether now was the time to share her information about Raquel. Ben gave her a curt nod, urging her to go on. “Raquel doesn’t like me very much. She’s been almost threatening, ever since I first bumped into her.”
Ben didn’t look surprised; neither did he jump to the other girl’s defense, as Keeley had expected. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. It doesn’t seem like her style, to be honest, but I know she can be very catty.”
That’s the understatement of the century, Keeley thought. “I’m guessing it was her that complained about my snooping,” she said, the carefully blank expression that came over Ben’s face confirming it even though he didn’t answer. She took a deep breath, deciding now was the time to share both her information and fears regarding Raquel, whether Ben liked it or not. “I was asking her questions because I thought she might know something. You see—” she went on, ready to relay Tom’s information, but was silenced by Ben’s lifting a hand to her, the way one would hush a small child. Keeley bristled immediately, but fell silent nonetheless.
“You thought she killed Terry? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Little Miss Sleuth, but Raquel has a very good alibi for that night.”
Keeley felt herself go red with annoyance at his gibe and with other, more secret irks. How good an alibi? Because she was with you? She tried to banish the thought from her mind even as it lodged itself there. It was nothing to her who Ben spent his time with; she shouldn’t care. They didn’t even like each other. Except she did care.
“I see.” She put her head down, avoiding his eyes. “I know you two are friends.”
“We are?” The sound of genuine surprise in his voice made her look up, and her spirits lifted when she saw an expression of distaste cross his face. “I wouldn’t say so. But not liking someone doesn’t mean I can go around accusing them of things they haven’t done. As I said, her alibi checks out.”
Keeley was barely listening to anything except that crucial phrase. He doesn’t like her, she thought, the words fizzing in her stomach. Ben looked confused, and she realized she was smiling widely at him. She straightened her face, and as she did so, caught up with the rest of his words. If Raquel had an alibi, he must at some point have questioned her. Even so, he might not know about the money. If Raquel had some sordid secret, she would hardly want to share it with Ben. Annoyed at Ben’s dismissal of her, she decided to keep the information to herself, at least until she had more proof than Tom’s account.
“I still think she’s behind the letters. She threatened me, said I would be sorry if I crossed her.”
“Really?” Ben raised his eyebrows. “I’ll question her in the morning. You definitely haven’t been talking to anyone else?”
“Not about the murder, but Daniel Glover and his brother were quite hostile toward me yesterday.” She relayed the conversation. Then added, as an afterthought:
“There’s Maggie from my first night at the Inn and her friend Norma too. Not that they’ve been nasty to me or anything—they just seem, I don’t know, the type.” She fell quiet, fearing Ben would think her last comment inane, but instead he nodded as though he knew exactly what she meant. Either that or he was just humoring her. It was hard to know what were his real thoughts and what belonged to what she was coming to think of as his “detective face.” She had thought she caught a glimpse of the real Ben at lunch the other day, until Raquel turned up. Now she looked at him from under her eyelashes, taking in the clean, masculine lines of his face, as well as the shadows under his eyes and the slight furrow in his brow.
“It must be difficult, being responsible for this case,” she said, feeling a wave of compassion for him. His face seemed to soften and he leaned back into the cushions of the settee.
“I’m not strictly wholly responsible—the person officially in charge would be the detective chief inspector, but of course, they’re busy with bigger things. A rural murder like this, they bring the big guns in only if it looks as though it’s getting complex. Or if the investigating officer on the case isn’t making any headway. That would be me. If I can solve this thing, I could even make detective sergeant. If not, well—” he spread his hands out on his lap, palms up, “—I’ll look a typical country policeman who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.”
Keeley swallowed a chuckle at the expression, instead giving him a sympathetic nod.
“It’s a lot of pressure.” She wasn’t the only one this was affecting, although she doubted Ben Taylor sat alone in his house at night jumping at every noise.
“It’s not what’s important, though. What’s important is catching this guy. And keeping you safe. Keeping everyone in Belfrey safe, I mean.” He flushed a little, as though making an admission he would rather he had kept to himself, but any frisson of warmth she might have felt at his concern for her was swallowed by his reiterating, once again, that she was in danger.
“That’s why you have to stop this silly snooping,” Ben went on, and Keeley, who had been leaning companionably in toward him, sat straight up, affronted. His use of the same word that had stared up at her from the latest letter rankled.
“Well, maybe I would, if you told me anything,” she snapped. “First you treated me like a suspect, now like a silly child. It was my café, you know, that nearly got burned to the ground, and it’s me who is getting threatened. What am I supposed to do, sit here like a scared victim?” Keeley nearly shouted the last words, surprising herself with her own anger, an anger she hadn’t fully allowed herself to express. She looked at Ben, expecting him to roar back, but instead saw a look of startled admiration cross his face; then he simply sat and regarded her until she snapped again. “What?” And then cringed at the petulant tone in her voice.
“You might be right. You have a right to know about the investigations to a point, but I can’t share classified information with you, Keeley.”
“Classified information,” she snorted. “Don’t sound so pompous.” At the chastened expression on his face, she laughed, her anger dissolving. Ben looked mollified.
“I seem to keep getting off on the wrong foot with you, don’t I? I don’t mean to.”
He looked so contrite, Keeley almost felt sorry for him.
“I’m trying to remain professional, but it’s hard.” He looked at her so intently, Keeley felt her heart skip.
“What do you mean?” she asked, holding her breath, which she let out in a deflated sigh as he went on.
“The trouble with working in a location like this is you know everybody, so everything is more close to home.”
“I see. Haven’t you thought of transferring to Derby City?” The idea made her stomach twist, unsure whether she would prefer him out of her hair or here, continuing to stir up unwanted feelings. She must be a glutton for punishment.
“Lots of times. My superiors have even suggested it, but this is home, I suppose. And lately, it’s been anything but boring.” He gave her a smile that was like the sun coming out, it was so sudden and broad. She looked at those full lips and strong white teeth and felt a murmur of heat in her stomach.
“Look,” he said, serious again, “if I let you in on a few details of the case, will you at least agree to stop questioning potential suspects? I’m only thinking of your safety. What happened to your friend coming to stay?”
Keeley shook her head. She had spoken to Carly a few days ago, only to hear her friend was planning a holiday very soon with her “amazing” new boyfriend. Not wanting to burst her bubble, Keeley hadn’t mentioned her troubles.
“How about your mother?” Keeley’s reaction to that suggestion must have shown plainly on her face, judging by Ben’s snort of amusement. “Okay, not your mother. Perhaps I’ll arrange for one of the constables to keep vigil outside your house for a few nights. It might scare off your anonymous letter writer.”
“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Not to the mention the fact that local gossips would have a field day with that juicy bit of information. She wouldn’t be going into the inn for a while; that was for sure.
“Not if the person responsible for Smith’s death is indeed your mysterious letter writer. Although, I will question Raquel. I’d prefer it if I was wrong on that count.”
So would I. Keeley wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, feeling a sudden chill that wasn’t all to do with the night air coming through the open window.
“You said you would let me in on some details?” she prompted, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind. He hesitated, looking deep in thought, no doubt sifting through the facts to select those he was prepared to share with her.
“We’re working on the assumption there was a business or financial aspect to Terry’s death. Which may link in to the arson, though it isn’t clear why.”
“The only person who would benefit financially from the arson is my mother,” Keeley pointed out, before remembering that Darla had indeed been complaining about Ben questioning her.
“It’s just a theory.”
“Could it be something to do with his betting shop? I mean, that’s all money based.” Perhaps now was the time to share her blackmailing theory.
“We’ve looked at that, but nothing immediately obvious jumps out. Although—” He stopped abruptly. Keeley nodded at him to go on, then said when he still hesitated, “I’m not going to repeat anything.” Although being warned off by a poison pen rankled, it was also starting to scare her more than any injured pride was worth. Also, although she would be dragged by wild horses before admitting it, earning even a modicum of Ben’s trust gave her a fuzzy feeling of pleasure.
“There were a few strange deposits in his bank account—his personal, rather than business account. That’s really all I can say, unless you’re going to tell me you knew something about it?”
Keeley shook her head, even as she mused over this new information in her mind. Raquel obviously wasn’t the only person Terry Smith had been targeting.
“It’s blackmail, isn’t it?” she said, trying to sound as though the idea had only just dawned on her. “He was blackmailing someone. Annie said he was the type to go snooping through people’s dirty laundry.”
Ben nodded. “Good at this, aren’t you? It’s a strong possibility. I should have a warrant to trace the accounts that the money is coming in from by next week.”
“So you are making some headway.”
“A little, but it could turn out to be something or nothing. I’ve questioned everyone in this bloody town, and just can’t seem to get a handle on this case.” He shook his head in frustration. Keeley was surprised, not having realized his questioning had been so thorough. “I’ve even spoken to Norma and Maggie,” he admitted with a wry grin, “in the hope they might be aware of some juicy secrets worth blackmailing someone for, but all I got was a rather lurid account of Old Mr. Crocker’s affair with the lady who runs the launderette.”
Keeley laughed at that. “Good for him. I would imagine if those two knew anything, it would be all round the town, in any case.”
“Most likely. If it is blackmail, and that’s what prompted the murder, then somebody had a secret worth killing for. Something they didn’t want anyone to find out.”
Keeley thought about that. What secret could be bad enough to kill for?
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said quietly. When Ben looked at her with alarm, she went on hurriedly, “Not about me. The reason I was questioning Raquel, why I thought she might have something to do with it.”
Ben relaxed back into the cushions and raised an eyebrow at her. “Go on.”
“Someone told me they had seen Raquel handing money to Terry from the till. The idea of blackmail did cross my mind then,” she admitted.
Ben looked amused. “Giving out money is generally what people do with tills,” he said. Keeley blushed.
“Yes, but this was a wad of money, apparently.”
Now he looked more interested, if still a little skeptical.
“And who told you this? Are they, in your opinion, a reliable source?”
Keeley thought about Tom and his vacant expression, the smell of marijuana that clung to him, and his comments about naked yoga.
“Possibly not, no,” she admitted. “But it would be a bit of a coincidence if it wasn’t true.” What was it with his insistence on defending Raquel? she thought with annoyance. “I mean, if it looks like she’s responsible for the letters, and if she was being blackmailed by Terry, that seems pretty suspicious.” Keeley had a thought. “You said he was hit with a blunt object? There must be lots of things that could do the trick in the diner.”
Ben’s mouth twitched. “You think she carried the coffee urn round to the café and clobbered him over the head with it?” When Keeley crossed her arms and glared at him, he held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Okay, okay, I’m only teasing.”
“Pretty bad taste,” Keeley said huffily, “and you did say you didn’t find the murder weapon.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You implied it.”
“Maybe. But as I said, Raquel does have an alibi. But in light of the recent message, I will double-check it. And you have to promise me not to mention this to her until I do.”
Keeley nodded with some reluctance, knowing she would have liked nothing better than to reveal to Raquel that she knew she was being blackmailed—if that was indeed the case.
“Scout’s honor.”
Ben laughed. “I was in the Scouts, you know. It was good preparation for the police force, in a way.”
Keeley remembered Ben as he had been at school. He had belonged to all the clubs that the popular kids belonged to. Football, athletics, and the youth forum. She could well imagine him as a Scout. He had never seemed to have much time for girls, something that had given some slim comfort to a besotted Keeley. She hadn’t been the only one to moon over Ben Taylor to no avail.
“I was never really the outdoorsy type,” she said, remembering all the times she had been picked last for the hockey and netball teams, or been forced to run races on Sports Day that she had inevitably come last in. Plump and uncoordinated, her body had been a mystery to her, whereas Ben had displayed the same unconscious, masculine grace that was so evident in him now, even at an age when most boys were gangly and awkward.
“I remember you were always in your books. Cooked up a storm in Home Ec, though.”
Keeley blinked at him, surprised. “You remember that? I never thought you took much notice of me, to be honest.” She winced, wondering if her comment sounded as needy to him as it had felt to her, but Ben looked surprised himself. In fact, his cheeks were a little red.
“I did. It was third year we shared Home Ec class. I had the biggest crush on you.”
“You had what?” Keeley blurted, shocked. When Ben looked offended, even hurt, she hastened to add, “I honestly had no idea.” He must just be humoring her, she thought, trying to be nice.
“Well, I was a bit shy with girls back then. I made up for it in college,” he said cheerfully, not noticing Keeley wince, then wince again as she remembered Raquel’s comment at Mario’s. She was beginning to think about the woman far too much. In fact, she couldn’t help almost hoping she was behind it all, if only to get her away from Ben. Then she immediately felt awful for thinking such uncharitable thoughts.
“There’s no significant someone in your life now?” she said, more to turn the conversation away from his college conquests than anything else, though as soon as she asked the question, she knew how much she wanted to know the answer. Part of her was still reeling from his revelation. He had had a crush on her? By the time they had reached third year and Home Ec class, her own crush had abated somewhat and he became just another popular boy to avoid, in case he too took up the sporadic teasing of her.
“No. I came out of a serious relationship about ten months ago. She got fed up with me working so much. You?”
“It’s been a couple of years,” Keeley admitted. “I’ve been busy with work too, I suppose. I was engaged once, after college,” she said before even realizing she was about to. It wasn’t something she liked talking about. Unfortunately, Ben looked very interested.
“Really? What happened?” When Keeley looked down, he touched her arm. It was the briefest of touches, yet felt searing through her cardigan. “Sorry, that was nosy. I get too used to asking people questions all day long.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “He cheated on me.” Embarrassed, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes and blinked rapidly to cover them, looking away. I’m over it, what’s wrong with me? She admonished herself fiercely. To her surprise, Ben nodded in sympathy.
“That happened to me too, about five years ago. I suppose I should have expected it, it was a long-distance thing. Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But it was a long time ago now.” Ben’s confession had chased away her tears at least. It seemed ludicrous, that a woman would cheat on Ben, but logically, she knew she wasn’t the only one to go through it, and even that it was no fault of her own. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it as an innate truth were very different modes of perception. Keeley had spent many an evening meditating on forgiveness after a particularly intense and purifying yoga sequence, but it seemed she was still more affected by it than she had thought. Or there was something about Ben’s presence that seemed to bring her emotions much closer to the surface, leaving her feeling raw, as if her skin had been turned inside out.
Raw wasn’t good. Raw meant getting hurt again.
Keeley stood up and looked pointedly at the clock.
“I’d better get ready for bed. It’s been a long day.”
Ben looked disappointed; then that blank, professional expression came over his face and he stood up as well, picking up the plastic Baggie containing the letter. Keeley looked at it. Talking to Ben, she had almost forgotten all about it.
“Don’t worry,” Ben said, noticing the direction of her gaze. “I’m going to get a patrol car doing the rounds this end of town, and keeping a close eye around Bakers Hill, in particular. Try to get some sleep, but make sure your phone is on and within reach. If you need anything, just call.”
He was all professional concern again, and as Keeley opened the door to let him out, she opened her mouth to thank him, then closed it again in surprise as he bent down and kissed her swiftly on the cheek.
“Take care,” he said in a tone that was almost tender, and then he was gone.
As Keeley bolted the door behind him, she noticed her hands were shaking a little, and didn’t think she could put it entirely down to fear. One thing she was certain of, that her thoughts that night wouldn’t be solely focused on Terry Smith or Raquel or even her plans for her business. No, they would be dominated by something else entirely. Something that gave her a tumbling feeling of both disbelief and pleasure low in her tummy.
Ben Taylor had had a crush on her.