Motts rushed around the corner with a package held tightly in her arms. She had her head down and wound up running straight into someone coming in the opposite direction. “Bugger. I’m so sorry.”
Detective Inspector Herceg reached out to grab her by the arms to steady her. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.”
“Kernow Chocolate.” He read the name on the logo covering all four sides of the box. “Are you a fan?”
“The thirty bars inside are definitely proof I’m more than a fan.” She hefted the package up in her arms. “They’ve got a new one—a Cherry Bakewell Tart bar. I’m dying to try it.”
“I’m partial to the Banoffee and Cream Tea.” He frowned at her. “Can I carry the box for you?”
“As long as you don’t run off with my chocolate.” Motts allowed him to take the package out of her arms. “I’m going to have to replace my scooter. It’s a nightmare lugging anything up the hill without it.”
Three days had passed since her accident. Her parents had left for London the day before; they both had to return to work. She was still putting things in the cottage back the way she wanted.
Her mum might mean well, but rearranging furniture and everything else made Motts uneasy. She needed her personal space to be set up for her comfort. Not her parents’. She didn’t think her mum would ever wholly understand.
She’d at least begun to speak to Motts again. It had only taken one near-death experience. They’d gone a long way to repairing their relationship, much to her dad’s relief.
“Why don’t I give you a lift?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing inspectoring-type things?”
“Is ‘inspectoring’ a word?” He placed her package carefully into the back seat of his car and motioned for her to get into the passenger side. “I already had my interview with Innis Walters.”
“Are you arresting him?”
“Not today.”
Motts narrowed her eyes on the detective. She didn’t know if not today meant not at all or not just yet. “Have you questioned Danny Orchard?”
He paused while starting the vehicle to gaze at her. “He’s admitted to dating Rhona briefly. He claimed they weren’t serious.”
“Serious enough to carve their initials into my fence,” Motts pointed out.
“Ah, but we can’t prove who defaced your property.” He eased the car out of the parking space. “Are you investigating for me?”
“No,” she answered sharply. “I wouldn’t.”
“Of course.”
Deciding silence was the safest bet, Motts stared out the window. She waved to Marnie when they passed the bridal shop. Brilliant. She had no doubts local gossip would start spreading rumours about her catching a lift with the detective.
Detective Inspector Herceg seemed content to be quiet all the way until he’d carried her box into the cottage. He set the package on the table. “Constable Stone hasn’t seen anyone around your cottage. He’s eased off his watch. It’s possible the hit-and-run driver thinks you got their message. Whatever it was supposed to be. If you see anyone suspicious, don’t hesitate to call 999 immediately.”
“I’m sure it was an accident,” Motts lied. She thought the killer was trying to send her a message. “I’m not worried.”
Another lie.
“Want help opening your package?”
“No.” Motts grabbed scissors from the coffee table. She’d used them to work on repairing Marnie’s peacock. “Would you like one of the bars? I did order an excessive amount.”
“No such thing.” He placed a hand on the box to keep it steady while she cut the tape. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you.”
“I’m apparently an emotional shopper. And a stress shopper. And a shopper when my mum comes to visit and rearranges my entire house for no reason.” Motts took a deep breath and smiled apologetically at the detective. “I bought a lot of chocolate.”
“Can’t say I blame you. Kernow has the best I’ve tried.” He hesitantly took the bar of Cream Tea Milk Chocolate. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat. “Thank you.”
“Don’t you want it?” Motts had already begun unwrapping one of the six bars of Bakewell Tart Milk Chocolate she’d purchased. It was her favourite. “It’s delicious.”
“I’m going to save it for my knitting group. We always pool our snack resources.” Detective Inspector Herceg shook his head when she went to offer him a chunk of hers. “I couldn’t.”
Motts shrugged. Fair enough. She wasn’t going to force her chocolate on someone. “More for me. Wait. Did you say you had a knitting group?”
He scratched the stubble on his jaw for a second and finally nodded. “I find it relaxing. My baka taught me.”
“Baka?”
“My grandmother. She still lives in Dubrovnik. She didn’t want to move when my parents came. Stubborn.” He sighed. “We used to knit together. Police work isn’t for the fainthearted, particularly cold cases. My small group meets twice a month.”
Motts couldn’t help staring at his hands. The detective was a large man. He had to be at least six-foot-five, with broad shoulders and body to match; his fingers weren’t exactly slender. “You don’t seem like a knitter.”
He eased his phone out of his pocket and after a few seconds turned it around to show a beautiful dark navy-coloured scarf. “My latest project.”
“The knitting detective sounds like one of those cosy mysteries my gran reads.” Motts sat on her arm of the chair, munching on her chocolate bar. “Did you talk to Innis about his running the store with his sister? They apparently argued quite a bit about her lack of interest while having 51 percent ownership.”
“Ms Mottley.”
“Motts,” she interrupted.
“Alright, Motts it is.” He stepped closer to her. His brow creased in what she assumed was worry; she never completely grasped facial expressions. “Why don’t you let me ask the questions and investigate? We don’t want anyone trying to run you over for a second time.”
“Accident.”
“Neither of us believes that,” he said confidently. “I’ll be leaving.”
“Thanks for the lift, Detective.”
“Teo.” He waved off her thanks with a smile. She liked the way his brown eyes twinkled when he grinned. “If anyone bothers you at all, call me.”
“Good luck with your knitting.” Motts carefully folded the wrapper around her half-eaten bar of chocolate. “It’s a fun hobby. I tried once, but the texture of yarn drove me batty within a few minutes.”
And it had. Motts had thrown the entire ball of yarn out the window during a meltdown. Her mum had stopped trying to force new hobbies on her, so the exercise hadn’t been a complete waste of time.
“Stay safe. Make sure you lock up after me.” Teo saw himself out, petting Cactus on the way.
Motts watched the detective leave through the front window. He waved before backing down the path to the road. She bent down to allow Cactus into her arms. “He’s very aesthetically pleasing.”
Meow.
“Yes, he does have a strange hobby for a detective. I like it. Makes him less intimidating.” Motts wandered through the cottage, bending down to stoke the fire. “I’ve no idea how Auntie Daisy managed during the winter. It’s absolutely freezing up on this hill.”
Meow.
“It’s too early for your snack.” She placed him gently on the mound of blankets near the back window. Cactus greatly enjoyed watching all the activity in the garden. “Well, these paper violets aren’t going to make themselves, are they?”