A cat, a turtle, and a stranger face off in the garden. The stranger blinks first. Right. The joke still needs some work.
“Do you always let your turtle and cat out in the garden together?”
“They’re friends. They like to gossip.” Motts set her trowel to one side and got to her feet. She dusted the grass and dirt off her knees. “They both need fresh air and sun in moderation. Are you lost?”
The man didn’t seem lost despite having popped up beside the back fence around her garden. He looked like a police officer. Though not quite as broad-shouldered, he stood as tall as Teo Herceg, the detective inspector she’d met in April and had been dating for over a month.
“I’m hoping to speak with Pineapple Mottley.” He sounded like a policeman. His suit, while nice, appeared rumpled from driving; his short grey hair, however, was gelled and styled perfectly. “I’m Detective Inspector Dempsey Byrne with the Metropolitan Police’s cold case unit.”
“Cold case?” Motts’s heart stuttered in her chest. She rubbed her fingers together nervously. “Jenny. You’re here about Jenny.”
Jenny Cleverly had been her lone best friend through her early childhood. Motts had stumbled across Jenny’s lifeless body on her way home from primary school while walking through a park, hidden behind a hedge. She still had nightmares about finding her.
The unsolved crime had haunted Motts. She’d developed an obsessive curiosity about cold cases as a result. And at least once a year, she searched online to see if anyone had been arrested for Jenny’s murder.
“Ms Mottley?”
“Motts.” She had a sudden sense of déjà vu; she’d had a similar conversation with Teo in April. He’d been investigating the murder of a Rhona Walters, who’d been buried in the garden behind her cottage. It had been an auspicious start to her life in Polperro. “Cactus.”
Her beloved Sphynx cat had leapt onto the fence and then over to the detective’s shoulder. Detective Inspector Byrne didn’t bat an eyelid. He simply reached up to pat Cactus on his head.
Well, he certainly approves of the random strange man intruding on our afternoon.
Intruding inspector intrudes introspectively.
Introspectively?
Not my best alliteration.
“I don’t often see a flowerless garden.” He glanced slowly around at her rows of fruits and herbs. “None at all?”
“My allergies try to drown me if I’m around them for too long.” Motts kept flowers far away from her cottage. Real ones, in any case. She made and sold origami and quilled floral arrangements as part of her small business, Hollyhock Folded Blooms. “Why don’t you come in for tea? Cold case curiosities can converse comfortably.”
Don’t frighten the fancy London detective with your peculiarities.
The judgmental voice in her head sounded suspiciously like her mum, who meant well but couldn’t always relate to Motts’s more unique traits. She didn’t understand her wayward autistic and asexual daughter. Motts had given up trying to fit into neurotypical moulds.
I am who I am.
Alliterations and all.
Oh, fun accidental alliterations are the best.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Motts stared blankly at the man, unable to decide if he was being polite or not. “You drove from London. At least a five-hour drive on a good day. Tea isn’t imposing. Sleeping in my garden and trampling the herbs would be.”
Lifting Moss, her box turtle, up from where she’d been wandering around the garden, Motts headed toward the back door. She had no doubts Cactus would guide the detective inspector. Her cat had obviously claimed the man.
Why is my cat obsessed with brooding police types?
Is he trying to tell me something?
Do detectives smell like catnip?
Motts placed Moss into the terrarium, which took up most of the space in front of the large window facing the garden. It offered her turtle sufficient sunlight. “How do you take your tea?”
“In a mug.”
Motts stared blankly at him. She barely managed to decipher when her friends were teasing her, never mind a stone-faced detective. “I mostly use mugs. Teacups are too delicate.”
“Just a dash of milk,” he said kindly.
Motts grabbed the green beanie that River, her younger cousin, had bought for her a few weeks ago. It had become a fast favourite, her preferred colour and soft enough it didn’t bother her fingers. She pulled the hat over her head to keep her shoulder-length brown hair out of her eyes. “You were joking.”
Her cousin had recently moved to Polperro from Looe, where he’d lived with his parents and next door to their grandparents, into a flat with his boyfriend, Nish, one of Motts’s best friends and the brother of her ex-girlfriend. They all hung out several times a week. She’d appreciated their support over the past few months.
The change from the hustle and bustle of London into a quiet cottage above the village had been a relief.
But still strange.
“I know. I don’t seem the type.” He took her confusion in stride, which she appreciated. “Does your cat usually wear a T-shirt in the summer?”
“And a cardigan in winter.” Motts finished doling out snacks for both of her pets. She set Cactus’s treat by the terrarium. The two loved to eat their afternoon snacks together. “He’s delicate when it comes to sunlight and temperature.”
He followed her into the kitchen, stepping back when she frowned at him. “You keep checking your watch. Am I holding you up?”
“I usually walk down to the village before tea.” Motts kept to her routine religiously. It helped ease her anxiety.
“A walk through the village is a little public for what I’d like to ask you.” Detective Inspector Byrne peered through the living room toward the window and out into the garden. “Doesn’t the coastal path run along the side of your property? Why don’t we hike for a bit?”
Motts’s breath caught sharply in her throat. She hadn’t dared stray too far down the path running alongside her fence. “I’m not sure if police gossip like villagers. A few months ago, I had a run-in with a murderer. They cornered me down by the lighthouse, and I almost tumbled off the cliff into the sea. I haven’t managed to force myself out that way ever since.”
“Fear’s only going to amplify the longer you let it fester.” He leaned against the side of her little kitchen table. “Three years ago, I chased a suspect on foot across a busy street. A car sent me flying. It took me well over twelve months to recover fully from all of my injuries. And even longer to escape the fear of being struck again. I flinched at car horns and screeching tires for the longest time.”
“Face the fear?”
“Again and again through gritted teeth until you beat the bastard.” Detective Inspector Byrne offered a gentle smile that reminded her of her uncle Tom in how much it put her at ease. “I’m an officer of the law. Why don’t I walk you down the garden path?”
“You read a lot of fiction, don’t you?” Motts gripped the kitchen counter, staring down at the box of tea she’d pulled out of the cupboard. “You sound like you swallowed an entire collection of literature.”
He barked out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. “Your dad warned me to expect the unexpected with you.”
“Did he?” Motts waved him off when he went to reply. “Right. If I stand here much longer, I’ll throw off my routine. Let’s walk. It’s a mild enough summer day.”
And if I don’t move, I’ll never get myself out of the cottage and down the path.
“You might want to exhale,” he commented when they reached the garden gate.
Motts had held her breath while locking up the cottage and engaging the security system Teo had installed for her. She forced herself to breathe in deeply, enjoying the mild breeze coming off the sea. It smelled like heaven to her. “I did.”
A few steps away from her garden gate, Motts considered the wisdom in going for a walk with a stranger. He hadn’t even shown her any form of identification. She watched him out of the corner of her eye in silence for a few minutes.
“How do I know you’re actually a detective?”
He reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, flipping it open to show his identification. “Maybe ask before you wander away from the safety of your cottage?”
Motts shoved her hands into her hoodie. She’d grabbed her favourite on the way out of the cottage; even in the summer, the breeze off the sea could get chilly. “Tell me about Jenny’s case.”
Anything to distract me from the irrational fear gnawing at my belly.
Is it irrational when I did almost plunge to my death?
“Our cold case unit was given twelve specific cases to focus on for the year. Hers was assigned to me. I’ve read up on the file. We’ve sent her clothing out to the lab. Forensics has come a long way since they were last tested.” He paused to wait for her to catch up with his long strides. “I hope to re-interview all of the potential witnesses and those close to Ms Cleverly.”
“My memory’s spotty on the day itself. I remember flashes. Jenny hadn’t been at school. I thought maybe her parents had kept her home. They sometimes did. We always walked through the park to get home. I remember seeing her coat. Bright blue. Under one of the bushes.” Motts wrapped her arms around herself. “I was the only person in the park as far as I know.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Boys were gross at that stage.”
“Any trouble with her parents?”
Motts rubbed her arms, trying to focus on the question and not the lighthouse in the distance. “Maybe? We never talked about it. I don’t always notice things other people might. We weren’t at her house very often. Her father scared me.”
The further down the path they went, the worse and yet also better Motts felt. She thought her heart might leap out of her chest when they reached the steps leading down to Spy House Point. It took all of her strength and courage to make her way down the stairs toward the safety railing.
A brisk summer breeze kicked up. Motts forced herself to peer down towards the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. She glanced over at something being carried along by the sea.
What the… what is that?
“There’s a body.” Motts grabbed onto the railing when her knees buckled.
Detective Inspector Byrne rushed over to stand beside her and offered his arm for support. He stared down toward the rocky coastline. “What?”
“A body. There’s a body in the sea.”