After a quick whizz around the garden to check on his flora and buzzy bees, George had led the walk down the lane to Margo’s. His cousin was already out in her front garden, doing some weeding while Treacle inspected every blade of grass. She’d waved off the invitation for breakfast, though Bumble had wandered over to flop beside his best friend.
“Leave him if you want. I’ll be out here most of the morning.” Margo made them promise to stop by later to give her all the gossip about what had happened. “You might have a chat with Alyssa at the café. Her girlfriend owns the Airbnb where Jimmy and Cara went to hide out.”
Saying their goodbyes, George wasn’t surprised when Bumble eyed them for a second before deciding to stay on the grass. They walked down the lane without their trundling little pug. Murphy stopped near where Valerie’s body had been found.
“Paddy?”
Murphy walked slowly along the right side of the lane. “She wasn’t killed here.”
“Right.” George moved over to stand beside him. He gestured towards where the body had been. “It had to have been dumped. There’d have been blood otherwise.”
“Maybe. They said they didn’t believe she’d been killed here. But what if she was murdered close by? Hit over the head? Maybe she stumbled down the lane before collapsing here.” Murphy scratched at his jaw absently, running his fingers through his beard. “Elwin mentioned Valerie died from blunt force trauma. That could mean anything from a rock to hitting your head on the ground.”
“It also makes me think it wasn’t planned.”
“We’ve both seen how emotionally trigger-happy the Larkins are.” Murphy said what George had been thinking. Both Jimmy and Cara seemed impulsive and volatile. “Why don’t you take this side, and I’ll walk the other? Maybe we’ll see something the police didn’t on our trek into the village.”
Given days had passed, George wasn’t expecting to find anything. The police had searched the area. Though he didn’t know how far down the lane they’d gone.
It made more sense for a fatally injured Valerie to have stumbled down the lane than for her to be randomly dumped out of a vehicle. If the killer had placed her intentionally, wouldn’t they have picked somewhere else? They’d surely have wanted to find a more secluded spot.
Not the middle of the lane.
Had the killer watched until they were certain Valerie wouldn’t get back up?
It was a terrifyingly sad thought. George was about to call out to Murphy, whose longer legs had carried him further down the lane, when he spotted an oddly damaged bit of hedge. He inched closer.
“Paddy?” George crouched down to inspect the hedge. “Does this look as if someone’s fallen on it and rolled around?”
Murphy strode back towards him. He came over to get a closer look. “Something fell on it. Not sure what.”
“There’s stones from the wall a little further up the lane. Maybe the killer grabbed one? Valerie walked in front of them. They might’ve argued.” George stood up. He used his phone to take a few photos, glancing around to see if anything else stood out. “I don’t see a potential murder weapon.”
“Might’ve taken it with them or dumped it when they ran.” Murphy suggested he send the video to Elwin. “Let’s continue on. Maybe we’ll see something the killer threw.”
“It’d be impossible to prove, I suppose. There’s no blood anywhere on the hedge, but I don’t remember it being flat.” George continued on his side of the lane. He didn’t see the “smoking gun” of a bloody rock. It was likely too much to hope for them to have one of those movie mystery moments where the weapon suddenly appeared. “I wonder if Sky and Brannon made breakfast.”
While Murphy messaged the bed and breakfast owners, George continued his inspection along the side of the lane. Elwin had responded to the video, saying the police were aware of the hedge. His text also included a strongly worded request to stop hunting for trouble.
It was a little unfair. George hadn’t been searching for trouble when it had banged on his door multiple times in the past few days. It felt as though it would find him no matter what he tried.
Hiding away in the cottage hadn’t helped. He’d done everything in his power to avoid anyone connected to Valerie Collins. They still appeared to be quite invested in dragging him into the police investigation despite his best intentions.
To his mind, George thought being proactive was better than waiting for the inevitable. Maybe if they unmasked the killer, random strangers would stop invading his peace and quiet. He hoped.
“Sky said to pop on by. They’ve got a full breakfast this morning and no one to enjoy it because their guests are all suspiciously absent.” Murphy pocketed his phone. He crossed the lane to walk beside George. “Anything from Elwin?”
“They were aware of the hedge. He wouldn’t give me anything else aside from telling us to mind our own business.” George kept his eyes on the ground, searching for any signs of the murder. He wondered how far the police had gone in their own investigation. “Think Elwin walked all the way to the village?”
“Probably. Or at least where the lane connects with the next street.” Murphy went back over to the other side to continue looking. “I wonder how far someone could walk after being bashed in the head.”
“No idea—and I’m not searching on Google. I don’t want them thinking I did something.” George didn’t care if he was being overly paranoid. Experience had taught him being innocent didn’t necessarily guarantee anything in a criminal inquiry. “From movies and the telly, they make it seem like someone either collapses immediately or can crawl a small distance.”
“I imagine the truth depends on how hard the person was hit.”
“True.” George didn’t believe they’d find anything. He still kept his gaze firmly on the grass and hedge on his side of the lane. “What if Valerie were struck more than once?”
“Elwin’s not going to tell us. He got in trouble for what he told us last time.” Murphy suddenly stopped, crouching down to inspect something in the grass. “Check this out.”
George jogged across the lane. It took a moment before he spotted the glinting silver almost completely hidden in the grass. “Don’t touch it.”
“Not planning on it. I’ll take a photo and send it to Elwin. So he can yell at me and not you this time.” Murphy had his phone out and snapped a couple of images. “Looks like a heart with a C and V in the centre.”
“Cara and Valerie?” George hazarded a guess. “Chain of the necklace is broken. Think it was snapped?”
“Maybe the killer yanked it off in the process of the murder?” Murphy’s phone buzzed in his hand before George could respond. “Elwin’s on his way. He said not to touch anything. There’s also a quite creative string of swear words. I’m impressed. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
Deciding to continue on down the lane a little, George searched for any other signs of the victim or killing. It would likely be impossible to tell if the flattened grass was from the day of the murder or came after. He didn’t find any blood spatter or a stray rock.
“The killer had to take the weapon with them. Maybe they dumped it elsewhere. But I’m not seeing anything else.” George checked both sides of the lane but didn’t find any other signs of the murder. “Do you think the attack happened on the lane?”
“Maybe. There’s also the possibility of rain having washed away any blood.” Murphy had a good point since they’d gotten a brief storm not long after the murder. “I’m surprised they didn’t find the necklace.”
“Elwin’s going to be thrilled we found it.”
Elwin was, in fact, not thrilled when he arrived ten minutes later. He stomped around like a bear with a wounded paw while taking photos and carefully gathering the evidence. With barely a nod of acknowledgement, he got back in his vehicle and drove off.
“Not sure we’re getting a Christmas card this year.” Murphy winked at George, who chuckled. “All right. We better hurry before Brannon decides we don’t want breakfast. I’d hate to have to raid their kitchen.”
George eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Joke.”
“Correct. I’d greatly enjoy raiding his kitchen.” Murphy stepped back onto the lane. “Might as well keep an eye out.”
While they headed into the village, George’s mind was only partially focused on continuing their hunt for clues. He couldn’t stop thinking about the necklace. His mind went over a variety of scenarios on how it wound up hidden on the side of the lane.
Had it been accidentally ripped off in the struggle and thrown to the side? Or maybe the victim had done it to leave a trail. George hadn’t seen any blood on it, but it had rained.
He turned his mind to their three potential suspects—Polly, Cara, and Jimmy. It was unlikely the killer had been a stranger. All three seemed to have at least some semblance of a motive.
“Shilling for your thoughts?”
“Hmm?” George stumbled over a dip in the lane. He caught himself before he tumbled to the ground. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“You seem deep in thought.”
“Polly, Cara, and Jimmy.”
“Our trifecta of potentially disturbed suspects?” Murphy paused to look at something under a hedge but seemed to dismiss it. “What about them?”
“Who do you think killed Valerie?” George hadn’t made his mind up yet. “I can’t get away from Cara and Jimmy’s behaviour.”
“Maybe they were all involved.” Murphy grabbed George’s arm to pull him back when a car went flying past. “Remind me to text Elwin that his cousin seems to think he’s driving in the Grand Prix.”
“Poor teenager.” George slipped his hand into Murphy’s as they ventured across the lane to the street leading into the village.
It was a beautiful morning. They enjoyed the rest of their walk to Sky and Brannon’s. They hadn’t found anything else incriminating, but the necklace had been provocative enough.
“Hello.” Sky was cleaning the front windows of their bed and breakfast. She gave a cheerful wave as they made their way up the path. “Can you believe they all fled before five in the morning? I made breakfast and went upstairs to wake them up as requested only to find them gone.”
“Who? I thought the Larkins had already left for an Airbnb?” Murphy thankfully took up the conversation. George needed more coffee before he was ready to engage in more than a somewhat polite grunt of greeting. “Did you see any of them the night of the murder?”
Sky stopped scrubbing at a spot on the window. “We went to bed early that night. I couldn’t tell you.”
“How many of the guests did you have staying?”
“We had six of the wedding guests, including Polly.” Sky had an odd tone to her voice that George couldn’t quite decipher. “The still-living bride and her brother fled yesterday after a massive row with her. The rest of the Larkins’ friends and family vanished this morning. No idea where or why. I’m glad we insist on payment in advance.”
“What’s wrong with Polly?” Murphy had obviously picked up on Sky’s tone as well.
“She’s… strange.”
“Strange how?” George asked when no one else spoke. “They’ve all been a little odd. Everyone’s a little odd.”
“I thought at first she was just a shy creature. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But she spent an awful lot of time on the phone since the murder. She had a meeting with some solicitor yesterday as well.” Sky finished cleaning the front door and opened it for them. “The row she had with the Larkins. For a small mouse of a woman, she had quite a roar to her.”
“Did she?” Murphy exchanged a glance with George. Polly Collins clearly had more depth to her than they’d seen. “Did Cara or Jimmy threaten her? She was around our place in the early hours of the morning claiming they wanted to kill her.”
George tried not to grin like a fool at Murphy calling the cottage “our place.” “She was convinced they had plans for her.”
“I never heard a threat.” Sky shrugged. “I didn’t eavesdrop on the entire conversation. They mostly argued about who got Valerie’s money and jewellery. She apparently inherited quite a collection from her grandmother.”
“Jewellery?”
“Yeah, nattered on about masses of jewellery Valerie had inherited from her nan.” Sky nodded towards the little dining room. “Go on. I’ll bring you some coffee and toast to go with your breakfast.”
George followed Murphy into the dining room. He didn’t know what to make of Polly. “Maybe coffee will help this all make sense.”
“It can’t hurt.”