The following day, Motts wrapped up her second attempt at the peacock. The scrolled papers hadn’t been damaged severely. She had needed to reframe the artwork; River had driven down to Looe to grab one at an antique shop.
He’d also gone out with her to pick up a new scooter. She’d managed to find an exact replacement for her old one. Why mess with a good thing?
Staring at the scooter, Motts didn’t quite feel up to driving for a second time with the peacock strapped to the back. She decided to struggle down the long, narrow stone steps leading from her street into the village. By the time she arrived at Marnie’s shop, her arms were about ready to fall off.
“Why didn’t you call? My Perry could’ve easily given you a lift. Or had Hughie pick you up in his patrol car.” Marnie held the door open for her. “Are you feeling better, love? Aside from exhausted by the exertion?”
Exhausted exertion exhausts everyone.
Don’t alliterate out loud.
Motts gingerly set down the fixed peacock on the counter in the bridal shop. She shifted awkwardly while Marnie oohed and ahhed over her creation. “I had to use a different frame. Sorry. They couldn’t fix the other one.”
“I’m just glad they could fix you.” Marnie placed the quilled peacock on the wall behind the counter. “How absolutely lovely. You’re so talented.”
She didn’t know how to respond, so she ignored the compliment. “I’ll have the violet bouquets ready by the end of the week for you.”
“No rush, dear. The bride isn’t coming in for her fitting for another month. She’ll adore your paper bouquet. She’d been devastated at not having flowers because of her husband-to-be’s allergies. Your paper treasures are a lifesaver for her.” Marnie came around the counter to give her a warm hug. Motts told herself not to stiffen up; non-autistics always seemed mildly insulted if you cringed at their touch. “Now, why don’t you grab yourself lunch? I’m about to close shop myself for a quick bite to eat.”
Once outside in the bright sunshine, Motts considered her options. She thought about heading down to the sandwich bar or grabbing something from Griffin Brews. But her feet led her down the street towards the Salty Seaman.
“Fish cakes, again?” Innis glanced up when she stepped inside.
“Cod and chips, please.” Motts twisted her wallet around in her hands. She watched him gathering up the chips. “It must be lovely, running a shop with such a rich family history.”
“Lovely.” Innis sniffed.
She gripped her wallet tightly. He didn’t exactly sound as though it was lovely. “Did Rhona enjoy spending time here with you?”
“Bint didn’t want to get her fingers greasy.” He banged the packet of chips on the counter. “Why don’t you keep your nose away before it gets burnt? Hmm?”
Motts winced at the slightly smashed chips shoved at her. “Can I get a battered sausage as well?”
“Fine.” Innis snatched the chips back, tossing them in the rubbish. “I’ll get you fresh ones.”
While Innis gathered her meal up for a second time, Motts tried to find a subtle way to ask another question. She couldn’t shake the feeling he knew more about his sister’s disappearance. Innis banged around in his small kitchen area.
Do you have a controlling interest in the shop?
That sounds ridiculous. He’s not an investor. He didn’t even want to talk about whether she enjoyed the job.
“Did Rhona want to do something else with her life?”
“Sure. She wanted to swan down the runway in Paris.” Innis snorted viciously. “Take your questions and your fish and bugger off.”
“Sorry.” Motts had her money thrown in her face when she offered it. She muttered sorry all the way out of the chip shop. Her hands clutched tightly around the paper packet. “That went brilliantly.”
Her fingers trembled around her lunch. She loathed confrontation. It made her want to hide inside a cupboard for a month.
The stairs up to her cottage seemed to have grown by at least thirty by the time Motts made it home. She rushed inside and leaned heavily against the closed door. Right. Maybe I should leave the questions to the police.
Or find a way to ask them from a distance.
Meow.
She dodged around Cactus to set the food on the table. Her cat hopped up next to it. He poked a paw at the paper. “You can’t have a chip before I do. Rude. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
I’m his mum.
Grabbing ketchup from the fridge, Motts squeezed a generous amount on the chips. She wondered why Innis had been so instantly angry at her question. It had been the least offensive to her mind.
Why was he so testy about the subject?
Meow.
“It was suspicious, Cactus. You read my mind. Good boy.” Motts picked a flake of cod for her finicky feline. “Why would he want to get rid of his sister? For complete control of the business? Do fish and chip shops make that much money?”
Maybe Innis hadn’t appreciated putting in all the effort and having to share the money. Motts knew from watching crime shows that money and sex tended to be the biggest motivators for murder. She’d never understood the latter.
How is sex motivating?
It’s moist. And the sounds are awful. And it takes effort.
Just. No.
Motts shuddered. Cactus sidled up to her, sniffing at the remaining fish. “You’ve had a snack.”
Meow.
“The vet might accuse me of overfeeding you.” She peeled off a few more flakes for Cactus, despite her comment. She couldn’t resist his plaintive meow. “Emotionally manipulative cat.”
Finishing up her lunch, Motts grabbed her laptop from the table and went over to the chair by the living room window. She turned on one of her favourite YouTubers, NerdECrafter. With the video playing in the background, she typed out a few questions in a blank document.
Who had control of the Salty Seaman? Was Innis truly angry with his sister? Did he know about her romance with Danny?
Was there actually a romance with Danny?
And why were the Orchards so interested in changes in the garden? Did they know about the body? Was Danny the one driving the vehicle?
Purr.
“Yes, I have more questions than answers.” Motts shifted to the side to allow Cactus to curl up next to her. “How can I ask Innis if he resorts to shouting and slamming things around?”
When the video finished, Motts saved the file with her questions. She decided to take advantage of the weather and go outside into the garden. Cactus seemed quite content to stay burrowed into his blanket.
The garden had been almost completely stripped bare to grass and dirt in the one section cordoned off for planting. She had a variety of herbs in little compostable pots in the cottage ready to go into the ground when it warmed up a little. There was more to do before that point, though.
For now, Motts wanted to finish laying bricks on the path going through the centre of the yard. Hughie had found them for her. She’d spent a few minutes each day extending it.
Everything in the garden was far less overwhelming when taken a bit at a time. Motts had to limit her exposure to the glorious spring air. She didn’t fancy an allergy attack in the middle of February.
After ten minutes of setting down bricks, Motts moved on to putting up her bird feeder. She’d decided to use a spare fence post. Spade in hand, she went to a corner of the yard to dig a hole deep enough to secure it.
“What in the….” Motts trailed off, confused when a distinctly metallic ting sounded. Her spade had struck something not dirt or stone. She reached hesitantly into the hole and retrieved a small biscuit tin. “Can’t I have one day outside without discovering something bizarre?”
What is this?
She had to use her fingernail to pry the lid off the rusted tin. It contained photos, multiple printed images of Danny and Rhona together, and a collection of jewellery. She found a chunky gold bracelet with an anchor charm underneath them along with a single primrose earring and a necklace.
How odd.
Motts gently untangled the earring from a sterling silver chain that had been broken. “Why would someone bury this in Auntie Daisy’s garden? It’s not exactly a time capsule. These aren’t treasures.”
In the corner of the tin, Motts noticed a collection of crushed flowers. She didn’t recognise them. Should I call Detective Inspector Herceg?
Teo.
He said to call him Teo.
Motts brushed her dirt-covered fingers off on her jeans. She grabbed her mobile phone and contemplated what to do. “I could always text him.”
Texting was safe. She didn’t risk stumbling over her words or getting confused. Calling was harder when she often struggled to process what someone was saying.
One could only ask someone to repeat themselves so many times.
In the end, Motts texted Teo. She sent him an image of the contents of the tin. He told her not to move anything and to wait for Inspector Ash to come and retrieve her find.
He won’t notice if I photograph everything, will he?
Motts quickly used her phone to get photos of all the individual items in the tin. She knew Marnie’s husband wouldn’t take long to arrive. The village wasn’t a large one, after all. “Is Rhona wearing a necklace in that image?”
Jogging quickly into the cottage, Motts grabbed a magnifying glass from a drawer. She grabbed one of the close-ups of Danny and Rhona. She appeared to be wearing a delicate chain around her neck with some sort of locket.
And earrings.
Primrose earrings.
Now, why would someone have buried a tin with Rhona’s jewellery, images of her and Danny, and a bloke’s bracelet?
And where’s the other earring?
They didn’t find it with the body.
“Ms Mottley?”
“In the garden,” Motts called out. She’d continued inspecting the images with her magnifying glass, trying to find any sort of clue. “Sorry to call you out here.”
“Saved me from losing ten quid to Hughie on an ill-advised game of Uno.” He cracked a smile that faded away when he saw her magnifying glass. “Now, I thought you weren’t supposed to be investigating.”
“There’s a strange dried flower or herb in the tin. I was trying to identify it. For botany purposes,” Motts insisted. She resisted the childish urge to cross her fingers behind her back. Lying liars lie lazily. “Forensics might be able to identify it. Think it’s some sort of floral, as its making my nose twinge.”
“Ms Mottley.”
“Motts.”
“Ms Mottley. Please don’t draw attention to yourself by getting involved in this cold case. My Marnie wouldn’t forgive me if you got hurt. She considers you a friend.” Inspector Ash pulled on a pair of gloves and plucked an evidence bag out of his jacket pocket. “Is this everything you found?”
“Everything in the tin. I didn’t think to go deeper in the hole.” Motts tucked her hands into her pockets when the breeze off the sea picked up. “Will you tell me if they identify the flower? I might be able to say if it came from Auntie Daisy’s garden.”
He paused while rooting around in the hole she’d dug. “We’ll see what DI Herceg thinks. Not seeing anything else here. You’re fine to finish up what you were doing.”
“Birdfeeder.” Motts grabbed the fence post and allowed the detective to help her secure it. “Thanks.”
“Storm’s going to blow up.” Inspector Ash got to his feet, brushing off the dirt and pulling off his gloves. He held the bag loosely in his left hand. “You should head inside. It’ll come up fast.”
“Alright.” Motts watched him leave through the garden gate. She filled the bird feeder with seed, then took the bag and her spade to put away into her little shed. “How did Auntie Daisy not notice someone burying things right behind the cottage?”
Stepping inside the shed, Motts moved toward the back. She set the bag of seed on a shelf and stored the spade with the other tools. The door slammed behind her suddenly, scaring her half to death.
Stupid wind.
She used her phone to light the dark space and went to push at the door, only to find it stuck. “Oh, for goodness sake. Could I have one non-dramatic day? I should’ve stayed in London.”
No, I shouldn’t. It’s lovely here. I won’t let a few unexpected, odd moments ruin the loveliness of having a home all to myself.
I will not panic.
I won’t.
Motts threw herself at the door but bounced off the hardwood with a grunt of pain. “Not my smartest move. Oh my god. What if they’ve gone into the cottage? Bugger. I will gut anyone with scissors if they hurt my babies.”
For the second time in a month, Motts had to wait for rescue to come after a 999 call. She wasn’t entirely surprised to find Inspector Ash opening the door a few minutes later. He’d barely had time to make his way down the hill.
“Are you alright?” He watched in consternation as she rushed out of the shed, ignoring him, and went straight into the cottage. “Ms Mottley.”
She collapsed on the couch with a disgruntled Cactus. “I imagined all kinds of terrible things happening. I don’t know how the wind managed to slam the door so I got locked into the shed.”
“It didn’t.” Inspector Ash held up a piece of wood; he once again had gloves on his hand. “I found this blocking the exit.”
“Oh.” Motts blinked away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t understand why someone would lock her in the shed—and how had they gotten by the detective. “Oh.”
He crouched by the sofa, seeming a lot less stoic and scary than when she’d first seen him. “I’m going to call my Marnie. She can bring tea and cakes. I think you might not want to be by yourself for too long.”
“I’m alright.”
“We’re a small village, Motts. We take care of each other. She’ll bring your Griffin twins as well. Troublesome duo that they are.” Inspector Ash stood up and headed toward the door. “I’ll just put this bit of wood in my car.”
Mum and Dad are going to lose their minds if they hear about this.
We’ll leave it out of the weekly family email.
A tiny lie by omission never hurt anyone.