“Ready?” Vina had strong-armed Motts out of her cottage into a car early the next morning. The drive to the church hadn’t taken long; short enough they could’ve walked, but Vina hadn’t wanted to risk ruining her dress. “We’re presentable enough.”
“For what?” Motts tried to pry Vina’s fingers off her arm. “Where’s Marnie?”
“Last-minute appointment with a panicky bride.” Vina steered her through the gate toward the doors. “Hurry. We don’t want to be late. We might miss something important.”
“I can’t do this.” Motts jerked away from Vina and fled around the opposite side of the building. She ducked behind a stone sign when two angry, arguing men blocked her path. “I want to be at home.”
Who argues at a funeral?
“Please don’t make a scene, Jasper. Think about Mum.” The younger of the two men seemed to be trying to calm the other down. They were dressed for the funeral, appearing to be in their twenties. “She won’t want to see her sons arguing while we’re burying Gran.”
“Think about Mum? Bit rich. When the bloody hell has she thought about us? Sod off, Mikey.” Jasper shoved his brother against the wall of the church. “Why don’t you be a good boy and leave me alone?”
“Let’s just get through this circus, and you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” Mikey stomped by his brother, who followed him.
After waiting a few seconds to ensure they’d gone, Motts snuck away from the church. She made her way through the village and climbed wearily up the narrow staircase that led up the hill to her street. Vina knew her well enough to not follow.
“Motts?”
She paused on the last step and contemplated rolling back down the staircase. “No.”
“Miss Mottley?” Detective Inspector Byrne sounded concerned and confused. She didn’t have the energy to glance up at him.
“No.” Motts slipped by him into the cottage and closed the door. She slid to the floor, sitting with her back against the solid wood. “No.”
What did River say about breathing?
Why do I always panic like this?
Right. Breathe in. One, two, three, four, five. Out. One, two, three, four, five. I can do this. I can.
Riding out the intense energy from a meltdown, Motts rubbed her arms roughly, trying to stop the odd sensation of electricity under her skin. Just keep breathing. Cactus sidled up next to her. He curled up in her lap, offering comfort.
Over an hour later, a knock jolted her out of her doze on the floor. Motts got slowly to her feet, trying to ease the kinks out of her legs. She opened the door to find no one on the other side.
“Hello?” She peered around and saw no one, but found a larger paper cup and a cloth-covered basket on her doorstep. “What?”
Taking the lid off the cup, Motts sniffed cautiously and recognised the scent of Nish’s special spiced café mocha. He made it especially for her, usually on days when she’d had a meltdown. How had he known?
Motts carried the basket and coffee into the cottage. She kicked the door shut behind her once Cactus had raced down the hall. “Maybe we’ll find a treat for you as well?”
Meow.
Underneath the cloth napkin, Motts found a note in Nish’s neat handwriting. Had a few words with Vina about pushing you when she knows she shouldn’t. The silver fox of a detective from London came around to see if I could help. He also text messaged Teo. Can you believe it? I’ll come round later with River to check on you. Remember to breathe.
Setting the note to one side, Motts found a selection of what was clearly the café’s baked offerings for the day. She sank down on one of the kitchen chairs, drawing her legs up underneath her. It had been a while since anxiety had gotten the best of her.
She wondered what Teo’s response would be. He’d been a little distant in the past few weeks. She’d decided not to let it worry her; detectives had a lot on their plate.
She had no doubts the exhaustion that always followed a meltdown would kick in soon. Nish knew her well enough to have provided food requiring no effort on her part. She grabbed a curry-spiced chocolate croissant and her coffee, deciding to enjoy the lovely gesture.
Cactus leapt up on the table and inched over to her. He stretched out on his back, staring up at her with curious eyes. Motts dug into the basket to find a cat-friendly treat; she came out triumphantly with a little tuna roll made specifically for him.
“I knew they wouldn’t forget.” She set the treat down for him. “Off you go. Show your prize to Moss.”
Her cat and turtle had a great affinity for each other. Motts was convinced they gossiped together. Cactus certainly spent a massive amount of time beside Moss’s terrarium.
With her coffee and croissant, Motts wandered into the living room. She curled up on the sofa under her weighted blanket. The wind had picked up, so she allowed her mind to settle while watching clouds drift across the blue Cornish sky.
One of the advantages of having moved to Cornwall over living in London was her mother no longer smothered her with care. If Motts had a bad day, she had the time and space to recover. She’d discovered retreating into the solitude of her cottage did wonders.
Motts came out of her daze by late afternoon. She’d ignored the beeping of her phone signalling text messages. If it was a real emergency, they’d call.
They’ll call. I’ll ignore it, but at least I’ll know to check my messages.
Content to continue watching the garden through the window, Motts didn’t move until after the sun had set. She got up when someone knocked on the door. I’m surprised Vina stayed away this long. I suppose I’ll have to deal with the drama now.
“You’re not Vina.” Motts stared at Detective Inspector Teo Herceg. “Much taller, definitely grumpier.”
“I’m not grumpy. Stoic is a better word.”
“Right.”
“I’ve been sent with supper from Leena Griffin. She insisted.” Teo lifted a paper sack. “She reminded me of my own mother. A commanding presence in a petite body.”
“Pretty sure it’s a mum thing.” Motts grabbed the bag and led the inspector into her cottage. “Have you eaten?”
“I could eat.” Teo seemed to be inspecting her while she moved around the kitchen getting plates.
“Inspector inspects intensely,” Motts muttered. She shifted uncomfortably under his concerned gaze. “What is it?”
“You ran away from a funeral. Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” She eased open the multiple containers of food. “Oh, paruppu sadam with potato curry, uttapam, and sambhar.”
“Smells delicious.”
Motts pointed to the paruppu sadam. “That’s spiced rice which goes with the curry. The uttapam is the fried pizza-like dish made of rice and lentils that you dip into the red lentil sambhar.”
It seemed Amma Griffin believed her daughter owed an apology, and food obviously made for the best mea culpa. Motts would have to pay the café a visit in the morning.
Sorting out the Tamil-themed feast onto two plates, Motts led the way into the living room. They got comfortable on the sofa. She put on a jazz playlist on Spotify, one she knew Teo would appreciate.
“I see this wasn’t your first gift of food.” Teo nodded toward the basket from earlier in the day. “Wondered if he actually delivered it.”
“Why did he do this?” Motts nudged Teo with her foot. He reached down to cover it with his hand. “And why did you help him?”
“I get the idea DI Byrne has become emotionally impacted by a series of cold cases connected to Jenny’s. As she was your closest friend, I imagine he’s taken an interest in you.” Teo squeezed her foot gently. “And I helped you. Not him.”
“You two seemed at odds before.” Motts still didn’t quite understand their strange behaviour at the café earlier in the week. She waved her hand to stop him when Teo went to speak. “Doesn’t matter. I think he wants to be friends.”
Teo rubbed his thumb across the top of her foot, then lifted his hand away. “I’m sure he does. What were you doing at the funeral anyway? I wasn’t aware you knew the O’Connells.”
“I don’t.” Motts shredded a piece of the uttapam in her fingers. She plucked a sliver of fried onion from the remnants. “Do you know how she died?”
“Motts.” He stared sternly down at her. “Haven’t you been close enough to the investigation?”
“Only curious.” Motts tossed the onion into her mouth. “We haven’t talked in a while.”
“The chief inspector’s had a push for me to wrap up cases of late.”
“Okay.” Motts grabbed her mug. “Can you rush solving a case?”
“No.”