The evening hadn’t been completely spoilt by the Larkins screaming themselves hoarse in the lane. Murphy lay awake, contemplating the murder mystery while George and Bumble snored in unison beside him. He had the former resting against his side while the latter had curled up between their pillows.
It was an adorable chorus of gentle snores. But Murphy couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up a few hours after going to bed and now couldn’t get his mind off the squabbling siblings.
Why was Cara Larkin so hyper-focused on George? The detectives had repeatedly told her of his innocence. They’d even gone so far as to show her the video from Margo’s cottage.
There was no way George could be involved in the murder. So why couldn’t the woman let it go? There had to be something they were missing. On the other hand, Jimmy Larkin did seem to grasp George’s innocence.
The argument in front of the cottage had consisted mainly of Jimmy telling his sister to let it go and Cara insisting they had to prove what happened to Valerie. It hadn’t offered much insight to Murphy. But he couldn’t get one thing out of his mind. When Murphy had stepped outside, Jimmy had been admonishing her to wait it out.
Wait it out?
Wait what out?
The phrase plagued him so much he couldn’t sleep. What had Jimmy wanted her to wait out? The murder inquiry? Or the will? He hadn’t heard what Cara responded; it was one of the few moments when she hadn’t been exercising the full range of her vocal ability.
A sudden bark from Bumble caught his attention. The pug had jolted up and rushed to the edge of the bed. He went around in a circle and then pawed at it repeatedly.
Bumble rarely barked. Very rarely. Murphy sat up, setting the pug on the floor. He got out of bed and dragged on the T-shirt that he’d tossed on a chair before going to sleep.
“Come on, old man. Let’s see what spooked you.” Murphy followed Bumble out of the bedroom. He’d expected the pug to want into the back garden; instead, he went towards the front door. “What’s—”
A barely audible tap caught his attention. Murphy frowned. Had someone knocked on the door?
Pausing for a moment to listen before continuing, Murphy inched towards the door. He tried to keep Bumble behind him, but the recalcitrant pug didn’t want to listen. The tapping became full-out knocking.
“It is just after five in the morning.” Murphy yanked the door open, fully expecting to see one of the Larkins. “Polly?”
“I think they’re trying to kill me.” Polly stumbled forward into his arms.
Murphy had to lunge forward to grasp her. He managed to keep her on her feet and dragged her into the cottage. “Who’s trying to kill you?”
“They’re trying to kill me to get the money.” Polly shook uncontrollably. She dropped onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. “They’re trying to kill me.”
While Polly kept repeating herself, Murphy grabbed his phone. He sent a text message to both Elwin and Sarah. If he had to speak with another hysterical person, so did they.
They were paid to contend with the families of murder victims. He wasn’t. It was too early in the morning to deal with her.
“I’ll make you some tea.” Murphy raised an eyebrow at her teary-sounding “Okay” but went to turn on the kettle. He hadn’t actually seen any moisture in her eyes. Bumble bumped his head into his leg to get his attention. “Are you wanting a little walk in the garden?”
With Bumble in the garden, Murphy went into the kitchen to make good on his promise of tea. George joined him a few minutes later. His long hair was an absolute mess, and he had the duvet wrapped around him like fabric armour.
“Why is she here?” George kept his voice down.
“She thinks Cara and Jimmy want to kill her.” Murphy opened the cupboard to retrieve multiple mugs. He had no doubts Elwin and maybe Sarah would be joining them as well. “It’s all she kept saying when I opened the door.”
“I have heard and even comprehended the words coming out of your mouth. But I still don’t actually understand. Why is she here? What are we supposed to do?” George shuffled closer to him, stumbling a little over the edge of the duvet. “We’re not the police or armed or anything likely to be useful if someone is trying to do her in.”
“You’re not wrong.” Murphy kept an eye on Polly, who continued to tremble and quietly sob into her hands. “Maybe she decided we were on her side?”
“We’ve seen her a grand total of one time.” George dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you texted Elwin or Sarah?”
“I have.”
“Brilliant. Did you call Evan?” George stretched his arm out and grabbed his noise-cancelling earbuds from the kitchen counter. “He’ll be cross if we don’t keep him updated on what’s happening.”
“We’ll wait until it’s not a completely ridiculous hour.”
“Is she getting snot and tears on my pillow?” George peered into the living room. He blinked blearily at Murphy, who couldn’t help a quiet chuckle. “What?”
“Not sure I actually saw tears.” Murphy grabbed his phone off the counter when it buzzed. “Elwin’s on his way. He decided not to send constables. Sarah’s threatened to throw both of us in jail for an indeterminate amount of time for waking her up.”
“Let’s not mention the threat to Evan. She is joking, right?”
“Probably.” Murphy patted George’s shoulder and adjusted his duvet for him. “Why don’t you go back to sleep?”
“And miss the story behind this?” George gestured to the sniffling woman in the living room. “Can we stop whispering?”
“Only if you want to stop talking about her.” Murphy grabbed his collection of tea strainers and the tin of loose-leaf tea. “It’s strange that she came all the way here from the village. Not a massive drive or even a walk, but she’s staying at the bed and breakfast. Why not ask Sky or Brannon to call the police?”
“Or call them herself?”
“Why make the journey all the way out to your cottage?” Murphy lowered his voice even further when they heard her make an extra noisy sniffle. George shuddered. “I’ll take her some tissue.”
“And tea.”
“Tea and tissues.” Murphy grinned when George rolled his eyes. “Bumble appears to be done in the garden.”
“I’ll grab him and go put on something other than shorts and a duvet.”
After brushing a kiss to George’s lips, Murphy grabbed the kettle when it finally finished boiling. He poured water into each mug, amusing himself with the multiple bobbing Loch Ness monsters. The tea strainers were his favourite out of his boyfriend’s large collection.
Everyone always seemed to buy him new ones. He had an entire drawer in the kitchen to house them. They all got used, but the Loch Ness monster strainers tended to be everyone’s favourite.
Once a few minutes had passed, Murphy carried one of the mugs into the living room. He set it on the coffee table in front of Polly. She sniffled repeatedly before finally uncurling herself enough to reach for it.
“Thank you.”
Murphy grabbed his own cup and sat on the arm of the sofa. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“You won’t know until you try. You haven’t really said much. I can’t say whether or not I believe you. Why don’t you tell me what’s happened?” Murphy knew the detective inspectors would be annoyed, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What makes you think they want to kill you?”
“They moved out of the bed and breakfast.”
“Right.” Murphy schooled his features not to show absolute disbelief. “Are they headed back home, then?”
“No, they’ve rented an Airbnb outside your village.” Polly clutched the mug in both of her hands as if trying to warm herself. “I heard them whispering about dumping me.”
“Dumping you?” Murphy didn’t think it necessarily meant they were trying to kill her. Maybe in context with how her cousin Valerie had died and been left in the lane, it might be enough to make a person with a nervous disposition more suspicious. “Did they say anything else?”
“I couldn’t hear.” Polly had kept her gaze on the mug the entire time. He tried not to judge since she’d experienced a traumatic event, and a lack of eye contact didn’t really mean anything. “They keep telling me that we should all head home together.”
“Okay.” Murphy didn’t want to be dismissive; she might stop talking to him. “Did you drive to Dufftown together?”
“Well, yes.” Polly shifted. She flinched when George returned. He’d gone for comfortable clothing—jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. “What did you see?”
“Pardon?” George paused in his attempt to straighten out one of his sleeves. “What did I see when?”
“When you found poor Val.”
“Ah. Not much.” George shrugged. He yanked on his sleeve a few more times. “Once I realised what Bumble had stumbled on and knew she was beyond my help, I kept my distance.”
“But did you see them? Did you see Jimmy and Cara? I know they did this. I know it.” Polly had shifted her gaze directly on George, who Murphy could see was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fervour in her voice. “What did you see?”
The uncomfortable moment was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Murphy wasn’t surprised when George bolted to answer it. Polly’s questions had clearly unnerved him.
“Detective Inspector Smith.” Murphy nodded to Elwin, who’d thankfully arrived fairly promptly. He lifted his mug of tea. “Fancy a cuppa?”
“No.” Elwin gave a resigned sigh. “Ms Collins? Why don’t you come with me?”
“They’re going to kill me.”
Elwin glanced from Polly over to Murphy, who shrugged. “I’m Detective Inspector Smith. We’ve met. I’m not sure if you remember. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Why don’t you come back to the station with me? We can talk about why you think someone is trying to kill you.”
His calm approach did wonders with Polly. She finally nodded and set her mug of tea down. Elwin sent a withering glare at Murphy before guiding her out of the cottage.
“Right.” Murphy scrubbed his hands over his face. He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, but it was almost six. “Not much point in going back to sleep. Why don’t we walk into the village for breakfast? Café opens around six. We could pop by to see if Margo wants to join us.”
George lounged on the sofa, blinking tiredly at Murphy. “I’m trying to figure out what on earth she thought we could do to help.”
“Not sure I even want to make a guess.” Murphy slumped down onto the couch beside him. George immediately leaned into him with a tired sigh. “We could skip breakfast.”
“Most important meal of the day—or so Mum drilled into me for the entirety of my childhood. A walk and coffee might perk me up for the rest of the day.” George stared down at his sleeve. “I think I put my shirt on inside out.”
Murphy reached over to touch the stitching visible along the seam. “You definitely put your shirt on inside out.”
“It was weird, right?”
“What? Your shirt?”
“No.” George swatted him lightly on the chest. He sat up and ripped off his shirt before putting it on the right way. “Her questions for me. The way she kept asking if I’d seen anything. It was odd. It felt… odd.”
“It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to wonder if you’d seen the killer or killers.”
“True.” George didn’t sound convinced. “There’s something not quite right about her.”
“I think there’s something not quite right about everyone connected to this murder.” Murphy yawned widely. He ran his fingers through his beard. “Let’s head into the village for breakfast. I’m eager to see if there’s any gossip.”
“Fine.”
“And George? It’s not just you. Something’s definitely odd about all of them—including Polly.” Murphy pushed himself to his feet. He glanced down at his bare feet. “I should probably get fully dressed first.”