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“GOOD MORNING, YOUNG man,” said the well-dressed elderly woman with the slight stoop and the silver hair, rapping her knuckles on the counter at the police station.
“Morning, madam,” said Fred, with a jovial grin. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me young man. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here with my daughter,” said the woman, nodding to the younger woman beside her. “And my mother always used to say, if you ever need directions, ask a policeman.”
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, your mother was a very sensible woman, because I can direct you to wherever you need to go,” said Fred.
“Ah, well, you see, it’s not so much where, it’s who,” said the old woman, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Fred’s eyebrows met above his befuddled expression. “I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”
“I’m looking for the chap who was on the antiques show? The one with the dish that was stolen when that poor man was bludgeoned to death?”
Fred nodded slowly. “Ah, I see. Can I ask who you are? Are you a friend of his?”
“Not exactly, but I did him a great favour years ago, and I had to come back to Bliss Bay after I saw him on Value My Treasure the other day.”
“Oh, you used to live here, did you?”
“For a while,” said the woman, “until my family moved to Honeymeade just along the coast. But I worked in the second-hand shop while I was here, you see, and it was me who sold the dish to that young man, so I’d love to say hello to him if that’s possible and have my picture taken with him. The girls in the bingo club will be green with envy. It caused quite a stir when we watched the programme—we never miss it, you see. Anyway, it was my daughter who suggested we come back to see if we could find him, and I thought it would be fun. So can you help me track him down?”
“Not only will I help you find him, but I’ll tell you that he’ll love being called a young man just as much as I do,” said Fred, with a chuckle. He came around the desk and offered the woman his arm. “If you and your daughter would like to wait on these chairs over here, I’ll see if I can get in touch with him. Would you like a cuppa while you’re waiting?”
ººººººº
At The Cobbles Café, Martha absentmindedly stirred her coffee, staring out of the window at the hanging baskets swinging in the breeze, their hypnotic back and forth passage holding her in a trance.
Recent events had turned her life upside-down. Her husband had been under the basement for forty-seven years, most of them while she’d been just above him, running the shop. Bruce hadn’t been the best husband, but he’d been her husband, and the shock of his re-appearance, albeit not as she’d imagined it would happen, was palpable.
She lifted her cup to her lips, grimacing when a she swallowed a mouthful of tepid coffee. Turning in her seat, she lifted a hand to beckon Amisha and handed her the cup. “Could I trouble you for another? I’ve been lost in my thoughts for so long, I’ve let this one go cold.” She sighed and sank back into the distractions that had occupied her mind since early that morning.
She was barely aware of the bell above the café door jangling, nor the arrival of another customer at the table.
“Penny for them.”
She looked up to see Megan beside her, laden with shopping bags.
“You look miles away. Will I be interrupting if I sit with you?”
“Oh, no, not at all. Sorry, I’m not with it just now.” Martha scraped her chair across the tiles to make room at the table. “I have so much going around in my head at the moment.”
Megan nodded. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you okay? I don’t even know what to say, apart from I’m so sorry about Bruce.”
Martha looked down at the table with a wry smile and shook her head. “I’ve been keeping a low profile for a while. And there’s not much to say, is there? As the youngsters today are so fond of saying, ‘It is what it is’. Thank you for your condolences, though. I appreciate them."
“I understand if you’d rather not talk about it,” said Megan. “Just tell me to shut up and I will.”
“No, dear, it’s fine. And I’m fine, really. I hadn’t seen Bruce for almost fifty years, remember, so we were virtually strangers. But we were still married, and the shock is still deep.”
Megan covered the older woman’s hand with hers. “Of course it is. I mean, even the shop going up in smoke must have been a shock for you. I know it’s not yours any more but even so, it was part of your life for so long.”
“It was. It was just one horrible blow after another.” Martha rubbed at the deep crevice that appeared above her nose. “Thank goodness no one was injured. Although what with Max’s accident, and then the explosion, I don’t know what to think. It makes me wonder if someone was trying to stop the renovations from going ahead.”
Megan’s eyebrows crept together as she stowed her bags under her chair. “The fire service confirmed it was a gas leak, though, didn’t they? Why would you think it wasn’t?”
Martha paused for a split-second. “Oh, don’t take any notice of me,” she said, with a flap of her hand. “I’m just an old woman with too many memories and too much time on my hands. When my imagination starts running away with me, I start imagining scenarios that are much too far-fetched to actually happen in real life. Of course it was just an accident.”
She smiled up at Amisha when she put her coffee cup on the table. Shaking a sugar sachet before ripping off the end, she lifted her chin at Megan’s shopping bags. “Maybe that’s what I need as a welcome diversion. A bit of retail therapy. You look like you’ve been busy?”
“Table decorations for the wedding. And my shoes. I want to start breaking them in.”
“Wise move,” said Martha. “Nothing worse than being on your feet all day in shoes that are pinching. Or even worse, giving you blisters. Of course, you could always take them off, I suppose, but then your dress might drag on the ground and it’ll end up covered in goodness knows what. Although, if you don’t have a long dress, you won’t have to worry about that, will you? Is it long or short?” She looked at Megan, then let out a little gasp and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry! What am I thinking? Was your dress still at the shop? Has it been burnt to a crisp?”
Megan nodded and gave a little shrug. “Don’t worry, it’s just a dress. I should have picked it up and kept it at Mum and Dad’s place, seeing as it’s just across the road from the shop, but I thought it would be easier if Lydia kept it until the final fitting. Anyway, the dresses for Lizzie, Evie and Petal are at home, so they’re safe, and Jack and his groomsmen are going to hire their suits from a place in Oxeter.”
“But what are you going to wear?” asked Martha.
“I have another dress in my wardrobe that I think will be okay. It’s really not a big deal when you think about what Lydia’s lost.”
“That’s true enough,” said Martha. “I don’t suppose she’s going to be back in business for months. The whole place will have to be rebuilt and there’s all the stock to replace.” She shook her head. “Just when the business was really starting to take off, too. It’s the last thing she needed.”
Megan nodded. “I know. And Alison’s in a terrible state. She was frantic when I saw her.”
“Eddie, too.” Martha cradled her cup in her palms as she sipped from it. “He was even more upset than Lydia. When he found out, he had one of his funny turns, apparently. He must be okay now, though, because I saw him going into the shop on my way here—I expect he’s doing what he can to help Lydia get up and running again as soon as possible. In fact, I think I’ll pop in and give him a little moral support later on.”
“You’re going to the shop?” said Megan. “It’s none of my business, but don’t you think that might be upsetting? You know, seeing as it’s where Bruce was, er...”
“Where he was found?” said Martha, finishing the sentence. “No, it won’t upset me. All there is to see is a hole in the ground. And they may have only recently found Bruce’s body, but his spirit was long gone.”
Megan nodded. “Well, I’d better get going. I need to get all this stuff home, and then I’m meeting my uncle,” she said, gathering her things. “If you ever want to meet up for a coffee and a chat, just give me a call.”
“That’s kind of you, dear,” said Martha, with a smile. “I might just do that one of these days.” As she watched Megan depart with her bags, stopping for a chat with Petal on the way, she sipped her coffee and thought back over the last few weeks.
Gordon’s death.
The explosion, and the devastation of her beloved shop.
Bruce’s discovery.
It really is almost too much to bear, she thought, putting down her cup and suddenly feeling much older than her years.
She sighed and took her purse from her handbag. Maybe stopping by the shop would help her feel a little better—help her lay a ghost to rest, as it were. She paid her bill and wondered if she should take a pastry for Eddie, then decided against it. If he had blood pressure issues, it was probably best not to fill him with sweet treats.
As she pulled on her jacket, she recalled the tablet she’d seen in the dust from the bag of mortar outside the shop, and made a mental note to check that Eddie had remembered to take his medication.
She was about to set off when she gasped and stopped, stock-still. Putting out a hand to steady herself, she dropped back onto the chair.
“Are you okay, Martha?” said Amisha, looking at her from big, brown, anxiety-filled eyes.
“Yes, dear, no need to fuss, I’m fine, thank you. Just a head rush, that’s all. I’ll just sit for a while and then I’ll be on my way.” She closed her eyes and the implications of her thoughts began to take shape.
On the day Bruce went missing, she’d seen sand in the footwell of the car. She thought he must have been to the beach, but now she knew the sand hadn’t come from the beach.
As she stood up again and set off, the comment Lydia had made to the firefighter after the explosion came to the fore of her mind.
All the really important stuff is down in the basement.
And for almost five decades, someone else had known it too.
ººººººº
“I saw Martha a little while ago,” said Megan. “She was in a very reflective mood. Hardly surprising, I suppose.”
“Poor woman. She must really be going through the wringer,” said Des.
“Actually, she was quite upbeat, all things considered. She said that Eddie had been very upset after the explosion, so she was going to pop in to the shop and see him later. He’s been working there, hasn’t he? Maybe it’ll help her to talk to someone who knew Bruce.”
“Maybe,” said Des, impatient to get on to the next conversation. “Anyway, do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think we should go to The Duck, and see if I can remember anything more while I’m there. I thought it might help to jog my memory.”
“Okay. We can do that, But I thought you said you’d wracked your brains after the police spoke to you, but you couldn’t think of anything else?”
“Yes, I did,” said Des. “But being in situ, as it were, might make a difference. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
“Well, it’s worth a try,” said Megan, picking up her bag. “Come on, the apple juice is on me.”
ººººººº
“Right. If you sit where you were sitting that night, we’ll see if anything comes to mind.” Megan stirred her tonic water, the ice cubes clattering against the glass, chilling the drink to perfection before she took a sip of the icy liquid.
“I sat in this chair, and I was facing this way,” said Des, setting the scene. “And Gordon was sitting in that chair, facing me. You can be Gordon.”
“So you had your back to the room?”
Des nodded. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, if that’s the case, you won’t know where anyone else was sitting, will you?”
Des drummed his fingernails on the table and swivelled in his seat. “Well, Martha and William were sitting at the bar when we arrived, but they moved to that table when their meal arrived,” he said, pointing to a table right behind them, “and Alison, Vince, Eddie, Lydia and her boyfriend were sitting at that table in the corner.”
Megan nodded and took another sip of her drink. “Do you think William and Martha would have been close enough to hear Gordon’s call?”
Des shrugged. “Maybe. It was like a madhouse in here that night, what with Fern’s birthday party, so he’d have had to talk quite loudly to make himself heard, I’d have thought.” He tapped his hearing aid. “I might have had trouble hearing him, but others might not have.
“I’d be interested to know if Fern could hear any of the messages Colin recorded for her. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if our voices were drowned out, and she could only see our lips moving.”
Megan put down her glass. “Colin was in here that night recording video messages for Fern?”
Des nodded. “He said you and Jack had already recorded yours. Why?”
“Because...” said Megan, resting her elbows on the table and leaning in, “if Colin was in here recording on his phone that night, there’s a chance he may have inadvertently picked up something that’ll tell us who was within earshot of Gordon when he made his call.”
Des’s face slowly lit up, and he banged his palm on the table. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Megan grinned. “Because you’re too caught up in it, that’s why. You found the body, for heaven’s sake, so that’s muddled your thoughts. Understandable, don’t you think?” She finished her drink and stood up to leave.” Come on, then. Shall we go and see Colin and Fern? Oh, hang on...” She glanced down at her ringing phone. “It’s probably for you—it’s Aunty Sylv. Here.” She handed Des the phone and gathered her things.
“Hello, my little viper. Who? Fred’s with who? Good grief!” After two minutes, he gave the phone back to Megan. “You’ll have to hang up. I don’t know what to do with a phone unless it’s got a long curly lead and a dial.”
“Everything okay?” said Megan.
Des nodded. “You’ll never believe who Fred’s with.” He shook his head and marvelled at the news.
“Well, are you going to tell me?” said Megan.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry, love. Fred’s with the woman who sold me the spoon rest all those years ago. Can you believe it? She saw me on Value My Treasure, and she’s here with her daughter. She went to the police station to see if someone could help her find me.”
“What does she want?”
“She wants to have her picture taken with me,” said Des, blushing a little.
“Well, in that case, you mustn’t keep your fan club waiting,” said Megan with a grin.
“Very funny,” said Des. “You know very well that I’d rather be investigating. Do me a favour and call Fred, will you. Tell him I’ll meet them at The Cobbles. It’s much more comfortable than the police station. You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”
“I could,” said Megan, “but wouldn’t it be better if you go and meet your adoring fan while I go to see Fern and Colin about the video? It’ll save time, won’t it?”
Des rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose so. But if you find out anything, you’ll come straight and let me know, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. And in the meantime, make sure you don’t look too impatient to leave. Come on, I’ll drop you at The Cobbles on the way.”
ººººººº
Twenty minutes after the call from Sylvie, Des sat at a window table at The Cobbles Café with Eileen Roberts and her daughter, Cleo.
“This is so much nicer than the police station,” said Eileen. “What a good idea of yours to meet here. PC Denby very kindly made us a cup of tea, but it was strong enough to stand a spoon in, so I didn’t really enjoy it. This is much more like it.” She beamed across the table and brought a cup of steaming Earl Grey to her lips.
“Oh, yes, this is a very popular local haunt,” said Des. “My wife and I are good friends with Petal and Lionel, the owners—sometimes I even bake my own specialities for the customers. Lovely welcoming atmosphere, don’t you think?”
Eileen and Cleo nodded. “It’s changed a lot since I lived here, mind you,” said Eileen. “Back then, they only had a tap and a kettle, no fancy coffee machine with a steam pipe or any of those speciality teas. In those days, you got your tea poured out of a giant teapot and your coffee was instant. If you’d asked for an Earl Grey or a cappuccino, you’d have been laughed out of the shop.”
“Mum, I’m sure Des doesn’t have all day,” said Cleo, running a hand over the flaming red plaits wound around her head. “Perhaps, if you don’t mind, Des, we can get your photo taken and then you can be on your way?”
“It’s no bother,” said Des. “Unless you need to get away, I’m in no rush. It’s a treat to meet you both, especially you, Eileen. Fancy you remembering me from all those years ago.”
“Well, I might not have had it not been for the dish. When I saw it on TV, it jogged such a memory, I can’t tell you,” she said, with a surprisingly deep chuckle. “And as soon as I recognised the dish, I remembered you, and the day you came rushing in in such a panic because you’d broken your mum’s spoon rest, and were looking for something to replace it with.”
Des nodded. “I remember it well. I couldn’t believe my luck when you said someone had brought in a box of ornaments the previous afternoon, and that dish was in it. It was perfect.”
“I’m glad it did you well,” said Eileen, her wrinkles deepening as she thought of more recent times. “I’m just sorry it didn’t bring that other young man the same happiness. Such an shocking thing to have happened—and right on your doorstep, too.” She shook her head and tutted.
“Yes, it was awful,” said Des. He picked at a freckle on his hand, deep in thought. “I don’t suppose you remember who brought the box of ornaments into the shop, do you?”
“Oh, yes, of course I do. I felt so sorry for the poor thing who came in the following day in such a dreadful pickle, wanting me to give the dish back—probably after realising how valuable it was, and what a mistake they’d made giving it away. I couldn’t oblige, though, because I’d already sold it to you. If I’d known who you were I’d have told the poor soul your name, but I’d only recently moved to the area, and I didn’t know many people.”
“Would you happen to remember anything about the person?” asked Des. “Just out of interest.”
“Not much, because as soon as I said I didn’t have the dish anymore, the poor dear started to wail,” Eileen said, with a chuckle. “I shouldn’t laugh, because it wasn’t funny at the time, but thinking back, it was a comical sight.”
“Comical?” said Des. “What was comical about it?”
And when Eileen told him, another piece of the puzzle instantly fell into place.
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more helpful,” said Eileen. “It’s just an old woman’s recollections, after all.”
“Oh, no, on the contrary,” said Des, his fingers itching to get out his notebook. “You’ve been more helpful than you could ever imagine...”
ººººººº
“We really don’t see enough of each other,” said Fern, leading Megan into the living room. “You must come round one evening. Or we could make a day of it on a Sunday? The four of us?”
“That’d be great,” said Megan. “We’ll definitely have to arrange something. Is Colin here, by any chance?”
Fern shook her head. “He’s working late. He’ll be another couple of hours, at least. Is there anything I can help with?”
“Well, this is going to sound a little strange, but Uncle Des told me that Colin was in The Duck the night of your birthday, recording video messages. I don’t suppose you’ve got them, have you? And if you have, would you mind if I took a quick look?”
“Course I’ve got them.” Fern got to her feet and fetched her phone from the table. “Colin recorded them for me, so they’re all on here. Just give me a minute.” She tapped and swiped and handed the phone to Megan. “Can I ask why you’re interested?”
“You know that Gordon Campbell was killed on my Uncle Des’s front lawn, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know,” said Fern, crossing herself. “When we heard, I said to Colin I wondered how Des and Sylvie must be feeling. Poor things. What a thing to happen.”
“Well, because it was so close to home, Uncle Des is keen to do anything that might help the police find out who was responsible. You know what he’s like—he can’t bear to be doing nothing. He was going to come here with me, but something came up.” Megan swiped through the short videos, watching them with the volume turned down. “We’re hoping there’ll be something here that’ll help the police with their enquiries. You know, something Colin may have caught on video that everyone else has missed.”
Fern nodded. “I hope they help. Terrible, wasn’t it? Poor guy. Has Des’s dish turned up yet, by the way? I’d be climbing the walls if it was mine.”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Megan. “He doubts he’ll see it again, although if you believe what you hear, it was never his to begin with. He thinks the best place for it is with its rightful owner.”
Fern cooed and smiled. “What a charitable sentiment. A lot of people would have been in the finders keepers camp. I was just about to make a coffee, if you’d like one?”
“That’d be nice, thanks.” Megan gave a distracted nod and continued to swipe through the video messages as Fern ventured off to the kitchen. The tables look much further away from each other in these videos than they do when you see them close up, she thought. She yawned, becoming more alert when she saw a video message that showed Gordon in the background, sitting alone at a table with his phone to his ear. She couldn’t hear his conversation, but she was more interested in the person at the bar, coming into view just after Gordon started his call. Despite having been served the drinks they’d ordered, they remained at the bar, just a few feet away from the table, walking away as soon as Gordon ended the call.
Megan went back a few seconds and re-watched what she’d just seen. It can’t be. She peered at the screen again, bringing it closer to her eyes, then put down the phone and shook her head. That can’t be Gordon’s killer. It just can’t be. She looked again, just to be sure. But what if it is? Uncle Des always says it’s the people you least expect who end up being the biggest troublemakers.
She rose from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. “Sorry, Fern. On second thoughts, I won’t have that coffee—I’ve just seen something in one of your messages that I need to tell Uncle Des about.”
Fern’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, my goodness! Well, I’m glad the videos helped.” She held up a hand. “I won’t ask what you saw—the less I know the better—but if you tell me which message it was, I can forward it to you, if you like?”
“Would you? That’d be great, thanks.”
With the video evidence secured, Megan set off to find Des, for the first time feeling optimistic that they might finally be getting somewhere.
