Someone let out a little scream. Jack whistled low under his breath. Next to her, Keeley felt Ben go stiff. When one of her regular customers retched on her omelet, Keeley pushed her way through the crowd and faced Suzy, who was standing next to her painting, her arms outstretched around it as she presented it to the onlookers, a look of triumph on her face.
“What are you doing?” Keeley said, reaching for the fabric in Suzy’s hands. “Cover it back up!”
Suzy put her hands—and the fabric—behind her back, glaring at Keeley.
“It’s art,” she said loudly. Behind Keeley, a few of the tourists murmured in agreement.
“It’s completely inappropriate,” Keeley said, angry now. How could Suzy be so insensitive as to unveil such a thing just a week after the mayor’s death, in his hometown and in front of people who had both known and liked him? Who had elected him mayor? “And I don’t want it in my café.”
No wonder Suzy had been so adamant that no one could see what she was working on.
Right now, Suzy looked as if she could cheerfully punch Keeley. “You’re ruining my exhibition,” she said, a touch of hysteria in her voice.
“You’ve done that yourself,” Keeley said firmly. “Cover it up, or get it out.”
“No,” said Suzy, a petulant look on her face, the silk still behind her back. Keeley half expected her to stamp her foot.
“Then I’ll take it out. I won’t have this in here, Suzy.” Keeley stepped to the painting and put her arms around one side.
“Ben? Can you give me a hand, please?” She said over her shoulder. Ben started to move toward her, a grim look on his face, and once again the onlookers moved out of the way.
Suzy lunged. She rushed at Keeley, trying to push her away from the painting.
“Get off my work!” she screamed. Her eyes were wide, and her lips curled back from her teeth, giving her such an eerie appearance that it made Keeley lean away from her, still holding on to the painting, just as Suzy grabbed the other end. Keeley stumbled, her knees giving way underneath her as the painting tipped, its full weight leaning on her body.
Then a large, soft body crashed into her and the painting was torn from Keeley’s hands. She felt herself fall.
Straight into Ben’s arms. She looked up as he caught her, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of him and the sensation of his arms around her. For a moment she forgot about the painting, and Suzy, and the café, and the small crowd of people watching them. Her whole world dwindled down to her and Ben, and the fact that he was holding her again.
Then he let her go and turned to the chaos in front of them. The world came crashing back in to her consciousness, and the first thing she was aware of was a dreadful snarling sound. The painting had fallen to the floor, and Bambi was on top of it, ripping at it with his teeth, his lips curling. Keeley had never seen the dog react violently to anything. Her customers were milling around, one old lady ineffectively striking at Bambi’s back with her umbrella. Suzy was tearing at her hair and wailing.
“My work!” she shrieked. “He’s destroying my work!”
“Jack. Call off your dog,” Ben said. Keeley thought she detected a hint of amusement in his voice.
Jack made his way over to Bambi, laying his hand on the dog’s back. “Bambi. Leave it.” He spoke in a voice so quiet it was barely audible, but the dog stopped and raised its head, dropping the canvas, which was now badly ripped. Suzy sank to her knees, sobbing. Bambi looked around, saw Keeley and loped over to her, licking her hand and turning large, expectant eyes to her.
“Reckon he was trying to protect you,” Jack said amiably. “it must have looked to his dopey brain that the painting was attacking you.”
Keeley ruffled the fur around Bambi’s ears. He sat at her feet, panting and wagging his tail. Keeley looked around the café. A few of the regulars were leaving, while those who had come from outside to see Suzy’s exhibition had either gathered around the biggest table, talking excitedly, or were thronging around Suzy, trying to comfort her. Darla sat next to the till, observing the scene with her usual personal blend of detachment and contempt.
“We had better tidy this up,” Keeley said, hoping people would get the message and start to leave.
“Not yet,” Ben said. There was an edge to his voice, and Keeley frowned as he crossed over to Suzy and helped her to her feet. Although she looked at him gratefully, there was no sympathy in Ben’s face.
“Interesting subject,” he said in a dry tone. Keeley gave a sharp intake of breath as she understood what was coming. “I have to say, it looks very much like the crime scene. I wonder exactly where you did get your inspiration?”
Suzy went pale under her already chalky makeup. An expectant hush settled across the café.
“I don’t understand,” Suzy said, although Keeley thought she understood very well.
“Could you come down to the station? I’d like to ask you a few questions.” It was phrased as a request, but Keeley knew that tone. This was Detective Constable Taylor, not Ben. And he thoroughly expected his requests to be complied with.
Suzy’s mouth fell open. “Are you arresting me?”
“No,” Ben said, and the Not yet seemed to hang, unspoken but still somehow heard, in the now hushed atmosphere of the café. “I just want to ask you a few questions.” He held an arm out to Suzy. Suzy stared at it, then took it, leaning on him as if he was the only thing holding her up. Ben led her out of the café. Keeley watched, blinking against the surreality of it all.
She looked around at the café. “I really need to clear this up,” she said in a loud voice. “So unless anyone is ordering food or drink, the exhibition is over.” The café snapped back to life as people began to get up and leave. The two women who had been crouching next to Suzy began to pick up the remnants of the offending painting.
“We’re her friends. We’ll look after it,” one of them said, glaring at Keeley as though she was personally responsible for its destruction. Which she supposed she partially was, she thought as she glanced over at Bambi, now lying placidly at Jack’s feet.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and started to clear tables. She waited until the café was clear before sitting at the counter with her mother and Jack.
“Well, well, well,” Jack said, then. “Have you got any more of that tart?”
“I’ll get you some,” Darla said, motioning for Keeley to follow her into the kitchen. Once inside, she turned to her daughter with wide eyes.
“What on earth just happened?”
“You know as much as I do, Mum,” said Keeley.
“Well, she’s your friend.” Keeley went to respond that she would hardly classify Suzy as a friend, but Darla continued. “I don’t think those are the sort of people you should be having in the café. And you certainly shouldn’t be displaying atrocities like that … thing she unveiled.”
Keeley felt stung. “That’s hardly fair, Mum,” she said, wincing as she heard herself revert back to about thirteen years old, “how was I supposed to know she had painted Gerald’s death?”
“You should have demanded to know what it was or you wouldn’t have unveiled it. Is this your business or not? Take some control, Keeley. That’s what I would have done.”
“But I’m not you, Mum,” Keeley said quietly, then physically flinched at the scathing look her mother gave her.
“I’m well aware of that, dear,” she snapped, and went to walk back into the café. Keeley felt a wave of shame and resentment. Still, after all these years, her mother could make her feel worthless with a look. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reminding herself she was okay, she was safe, and she was not the image that her mother projected onto her. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see Darla had paused at the door and half turned to look back at her daughter, an expression on her face that looked like remorse.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said. The words sounded new and untested in her mouth. “I didn’t mean that, dear. You’ve done a wonderful job with the café and I’m very proud of you.” Then she went quickly into the café before a stunned Keeley could formulate a response. She had thought her mother was acting oddly, but this was beyond bizarre. She blinked back sudden tears, a reaction to hearing her mother express any pride in her daughter, something Keeley had wanted her entire life but had resigned herself to never receiving.
There was definitely something wrong, and she wondered again what it was that her mother wanted to talk to her about. The debacle with Suzy had perhaps opened up a new avenue of suspicion for Gerald’s murder, but Keeley hadn’t ruled Darla out as a suspect. Perhaps her impending confession had prompted this sudden softness.
Keeley composed herself and joined her mother in the café, where Jack was shrugging on his coat.
“I’ve got to go walk this old fella,” he said, motioning to Bambi, whose ears pricked up at the sound of his favorite word. The great dog looked so harmless, Keeley could hardly believe that just a few moments ago she had seen him ripping Suzy’s painting apart like a wild animal. “Reckon I’ll pop back in later.”
“That would be great,” Keeley said, smiling with genuine affection at the old man. When she had first returned to Belfrey, Keeley had been unsure how to take the old man, whose gruffness could easily come across as rudeness, but she had become very fond of him over the last few months. Even her mother seemed to like him.
Did Jack know about Darla and Gerald? It had been him who had confirmed Edna’s tale of infidelity in her family back in April, though he had refused to give her the details, telling her instead to ask her mother. Jack knew a great deal more about most people than he let on, but getting any information from him was like pulling teeth. Even so, Keeley realized he may be the perfect person to find out if her mother had any past motives for a grudge against Gerald or Edna.
Hopefully she would never have to ask him, she thought. Suzy would turn out to be the perpetrator, Ben would arrest her and the whole mess would be over. And maybe, just maybe, she could get Ben to talk about their relationship. She was sure she hadn’t imagined the look on his face when she had fallen into his arms earlier. Maybe there was still a chance. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hasty in throwing Megan’s herbal concoction away.
Right on cue, Megan walked through the door, accompanied by David, the sculpting druid, again dressed in some kind of long tunic with loose trousers, but this time in black, and covered in clay.
“What’s happened?” Megan said, enveloping Keeley in a hug. “You look as white as ghost.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already heard. The whole of Belfrey will be talking about it.” This year’s art festival would certainly be remembered.
She told Megan and her companion what had happened while Darla made drinks. Megan was suitably shocked, unlike David, who had closed his eyes and sat cross-legged on a chair. Keeley wondered if he ever actually spoke.
“Is he meditating?” Keeley mouthed to Megan, who nodded. “He’s absorbing the energies of the café.”
“Well, I don’t think they’ll be very positive today,” Keeley said, trying to ignore Darla’s loud snort of amusement behind them.
“I knew she was working on something odd, but I never suspected it would be anything like that. She has such a dark energy about her, that girl. I know you don’t believe in it, Keeley, but you should really let me perform a cleansing ritual on this place.”
“Maybe I will,” Keeley murmured, then got up to serve as an elderly couple came in. After she had dished up two plates of salad and Halloumi, Keeley sat back down. The druid had opened his eyes now, although they looked unfocused and otherworldly.
“You think she did it?” Megan said. Keeley shrugged, her palms up.
“Maybe. Who knows? Where’s the motive?”
Megan looked excited. “Maybe,” she said, leaning over the table and speaking in a tone that Keeley thought was meant to be a whisper, but was in fact so loud half the High Street could probably hear her, “Suzy is the long-lost daughter? She could be around the right age?”
Keeley shook her head. “No.” She glanced at the druid, who was now looking at her with interest. “I’ll explain later,” she said, “but it’s definitely not that.” There could be a connection, though, she thought. She was beginning to think she had been looking at this case all wrong. There was something she was missing, but she just couldn’t pinpoint what that something was.
“Well, let’s hope Ben gets it all sorted out,” Megan said.
Customers began to trickle back into the café, many of whom had heard about Suzy and her painting and were full of questions. Feeling a headache coming on, Keeley retreated to the kitchen to take care of the cooking and left Darla to man the counter. She was busy making an omelet when she heard stilettos clicking on the floor behind her.
“Have you heard?” Raquel said. “Suzy’s been released.”
“She wasn’t actually arrested,” Keeley pointed out. “I think Ben just wanted to ask her a few questions.”
Raquel gave a snort of derision. “Well, we all know what that means,” she said darkly. “Ben took me in for questioning, and the whole of Belfrey thought I was a murderess. Now it can be Suzy’s turn. At least someone finally found out something. You weren’t much help,” she said dismissively. Keeley bit her lip to keep from retorting, taking a deep breath before saying, “I did what I could, Raquel, but until now there’s been nothing to find out.” She wasn’t about to tell Raquel about Lydia; somehow the fact that the girl was dead seemed too personal and private a matter to confide to someone as unsympathetic to other people’s plights as Raquel. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell her that she thought her own mother might be in the frame.
“Well, with a bit of luck Suzy will confess. I don’t know why no one realized it was her before, it’s quite obvious she’s crazy.”
“We don’t even know if she had anything to do with it.” Keeley finished dishing up the omelet and took the plate out to the customer who had ordered it, Raquel following her into the café. Jack was coming in, Bambi close behind. He nodded at Keeley.
“Looks like the young artist is off the hook. Just seen her going in to your diner,” he added to Raquel.
“That’s unfair,” she protested. “Ben kept me at the station for hours.”
“Like I said, she must be off the hook,” Jack said. Raquel glared at him.
“Meaning I’m not? Thanks to you,” she snapped at Keeley before stalking out of the café. Keeley shook her head; she had had enough for one day.
After the remaining customers had left, apart from Jack who seemed to have ensconced himself permanently at the counter, Keeley changed the sign on the door to CLOSED and began to clear away. As she did so she watched her mother, wondering what it was she had to tell her, and if she even wanted to hear it. Perhaps not knowing things wasn’t so bad, Keeley thought. Darla seemed aware of her daughter’s appraisal, avoiding Keeley’s eyes as she helped her tidy up. When Keeley went into the kitchen to wash up, Darla followed her and busied herself wiping down and disinfecting the sides.
Keeley had just put the last plate away when Darla laid a hand on her arm, breaking the loaded silence that had been gathering between them.
“I think it’s time for that talk, Keeley.”
Keeley looked at her, surprised to see that her mother was clearly very nervous. So much so in fact that she was fidgeting and playing with her hair, ruining the perfect lines of her cut. Keeley felt her stomach sink, her suspicions against her mother returning.
“Okay,” she said. She leaned back against the sink, taking a long, slow breath. The agitation was coming off her mother in waves.
“I’m not sure how to tell you this.” Darla actually wrung her hands together. Unable to keep her calm, Keeley blurted it out.
“Is this about the affair you had with Gerald Buxby?”
Darla’s face drained of color.
PASCHIMOTTANASANA—SEATED FORWARD BEND
Method
• Sit on the floor with your buttocks supported on a folded blanket and your legs straight in front of you. Press through your heels. Rock slightly onto your left buttock, and pull your right sitting bone away from the heel with your right hand. Repeat on the other side. Turn the top thighs in slightly and press them down into the floor. Press through your palms or finger tips on the floor beside your hips and lift the top of the sternum toward the ceiling as the top thighs descend.
• Draw the inner groins deep into the pelvis. Inhale and, keeping the front torso long, lean forward from the hip joints, not the waist. Lengthen the tail bone away from the back of your pelvis. If possible take the sides of the feet with your hands, thumbs on the soles, elbows fully extended; if this isn’t possible, loop a strap around the foot soles, and hold the strap firmly. Be sure your elbows are straight, not bent.
• When you are ready to go further, don’t forcefully pull yourself into the forward bend, whether your hands are on the feet or holding the strap. Always lengthen the front torso into the pose, keeping your head raised. If you are holding the feet, bend the elbows out to the sides and lift them away from the floor; if holding the strap, lighten your grip and walk the hands forward, keeping the arms long. The lower belly should touch the thighs first, then the upper belly, then the ribs, and the head last.
• With each inhalation, lift and lengthen the front torso just slightly; with each exhalation release a little more fully into the forward bend. Stay in the pose anywhere from one to three minutes. To come up, first lift the torso away from the thighs and straighten the elbows again if they are bent. Then inhale and lift the torso up by pulling the tail bone down and into the pelvis.
Benefits
Benefits of this pose include relief of stress and low mood (however, it is not recommended for those with moderate to severe depression) and stimulation of the internal organs. Stretches and tones the hamstrings, can improve digestion and soothe anxiety, and provide relief from headaches and menstrual cramps.
Contraindications
Asthma and diarrhea. Consult your physician if you have ever suffered from a back, shoulder, or spinal injury.