Chapter 17

After a restless night, I wake and remember Baxter’s message. I phone him, hoping the issue seems minor this morning after looming large at 2am.

“Thanks for calling, Tiggy. I slept better after I messaged you.”

“That’s good. What’s up?”

“It’s about Fletch’s photo. When I asked him and Morgana about inviting you to our Spectrum meeting, I reminded them how I came up with the theme Reflect. After you said you needed a theme that would send your character to a bog on Dartmoor to take photos of a rare bird. Fletch asked what kind of bird and I told him the Dunlin, that it’s found in Merton Mire, but you’d be creating a fictional bog. I forgot about it until I got into bed last night. I got up and checked our shared messages. Then I looked online for photos of a Dunlin.”

“You think Fletch went to Merton Mire and photographed a Dunlin to show at the club last night. When I was there.”

“I don’t like coincidences, Tiggy.”

“And Fletch asked if I was going to paint word-pictures of people’s images.”

“I was so shocked when he spoke. He never does that. I thought he’d walk over hot coals first.”

“It sounds like your hunch could be right. He took a photo he knew I’d want, got me to promise I wouldn’t describe any photos, then offered to sell it to me.”

“It feels like a trick. To make money.”

“He saw a need and filled it. It’s called commerce. It would have been more honest to offer me the image and tell me how he came to take it but you said he’s too shy to do that. And I don’t have to buy it.”

“But if you don’t buy it, what happens if you describe it in your book after you promised not to? Could he take you to court or something?”

Baxter wants to protect me.

“Too expensive to be worth it. And probably too trivial for a court to bother with. I’m sure Fletch just wants me to buy it. I haven’t looked at his contract yet. If his price is too high, Sim won’t go for it.”

At Baxter’s silence, I realise there’s another issue.

“I don’t trust him anymore, Tiggy. And I can’t even talk to him about it. The club was his idea so I can’t ask him to leave. And that would be too hard anyway. I’ll … have to leave.” His voice catches.

But he loves the club and it’s good for him in so many ways.

“Isn’t he in the pen-friend group too?” I ask.

“That’s where I met him.”

This means there are few people he can talk to about this and I don’t think his step-father Jack will handle it very well.

“We need to put this in perspective. Let’s see what we can figure out. Not on the phone. Jump on the bus and come over to the cottage. And on the way, write down five things you like about Fletch.”

“That’ll be hard.”

“Push yourself. You know the phrase, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bath water?’”

“I’m not sure. But babies are very precious.”

Baxter has helped care for his twin brothers since they were born.

“It means don’t get rid of something good when you’re trying to eliminate something bad.”

“I get it,” he says. “Fletch did something bad but does that mean everything he does is bad?”

“Exactly. Make the list.”

Raider has heard Baxter’s name and gone to the door. When I tell him his friend will be here in an hour, he goes back to the rug and falls asleep. Sometimes I envy his simple life.

I have a quick look at Fletch’s contract before firing it off to Sim. I’m glad it’s Sim’s job to handle it.

While I wait for Baxter, I return to the email from Tremayne Templeton. He included a number of links to cases where the death appeared to have one cause, then became a different one. He has a good memory for cases.

The first one is Pippa Pemberton, the three-year-old in Helena’s flash drive file. Pippa appeared to have wandered off while her grandmother dozed, until an exhaustive search turned up the pink sandal. So Tremayne was working on that case with Helena and wasn’t bothered about sending it to me.

He must work in London these days but where was he based when he and Helena were seeing each other? She’s been based in Exeter. London is only about three hours away – not far by Australian standards – but a journey of that length would hamper regular liaisons.

A quick search brings up his bio. He worked in Devon about twenty years ago.

The next case is a bathtub death that looked accidental. The police jumped to conclusions that the woman had fallen asleep and drowned. They destroyed much of the evidence trying to revive her. But a new insurance policy on her life turned up and some ‘loose ends’ in the evidence were enough to convict her husband of her murder. No mention of Helena by name but it sounds like one of hers.

When I open the next one, I cry out and Raider jumps up in shock. It’s the abduction and murder of Alex Loxton. Did Tremayne mean to send me this one or were all these cases in one file and he forgot this was there? If Helena was his lover, how could it be ethical for him to be involved in her nephew’s case?

But I’m jumping to the wrong conclusions. Get a grip, Tiggy. Tremayne wouldn’t have defended the accused. And Helena wouldn’t have been doing the forensics on her own nephew.

Talk about ‘lose the plot’. But I might be able to use this private gaffe in Death by Deception when Piper makes a similar error but doesn’t recognise her mistake. With what consequences? Mystery writing is all about putting your main character into a challenging situation and watching how they claw their way out of it. But I’d need to do more research into British law.

Raider is at the door with his tail in windscreen-wiper mode. I close my laptop and get up to let Baxter in.

“Tiggy, Tiggy I’ve made a list!”

“Great. Let’s get Raider’s lead and you can elaborate as we walk.”

“Elaborate,” he says into his phone.

“To explain something in more detail,” his phone says.

“Good word choice, Tiggy. I’ve got elaborations about Fletch rolling off my tongue like bathwater without a baby.”

I laugh. “Ask her what a mixed metaphor is.”

He does and she tells him. “When two different idiomatic phrases are jumbled together.”

“Id-i-o-matic.”

“An idiom is a phrase everyone uses,” I say, “like calling something ‘a dog’s breakfast’, meaning a mess.”

“So ‘rolling off the tongue’ and ‘throwing the baby out with the bathwater’ are idioms.”

“Yes. They don’t usually go together but it sounds like you’re feeling better about Fletch.”

As Raider retrieves sticks at the park, Baxter shares his list, ticking them off his fingers. “One. Fletch is artistic. He makes great flip books and puts them on YouTube. Two. He’s a twin! When I told him about my little brothers, he said he’s a twin too. Three. He has good ideas. The camera club was his idea! Four. He’s quiet. He lets me talk! Five. He’s independent. He doesn’t live with his parents and he has to earn his own money.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“Fletch should have told Morgana and me about the Dunlin photo but I understand why he didn’t. He probably doesn’t think he did the wrong thing. He’s looking for ways to make money from his art and I respect that.”

“Are you going to say anything to him?”

“I’m thinking about that. I see him at the pen-friends’ group and he always sits next to me but Zaylee always sits on the other side so it’s not a place to talk privately. And he’s not good at talking anyway.”

“Zaylee?”

“She took the photo she called Reflect-shone. Of the mirrors through the bay window. She’s in the pen-friends’ group too. I think … she likes me.”

And suddenly Baxter’s superpower for talking leaves him lost for words.