MURDER AMONG FRIENDS a totally gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  She stood up in readiness for a hug. “Ouch!” Frieda gently touched the stitches on the side of Jane’s head. “That’s worse than I imagined. Have your lot got anyone yet?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Karun and I have been beside ourselves with worry.”

  “Yes. Allie said.” Jane changed the subject. “How’s little Neela?”

  “She’s great, a real little character. She’s with my mum and dad today.” One of the benefits for Frieda and Karun of moving to Lincoln to set up their business had been the eagerness of Frieda’s retired parents to provide occasional childcare for their only grandchild.

  Frieda held out her mobile phone for Jane to see a video of Neela stuffing a banana into her mouth. “Luckily I had my phone on hand to capture the moment.”

  Jane doubted that Frieda’s phone was ever anything but on hand. Updates of Neela’s progress seemed to appear on Facebook by the hour.

  “How lovely. She’s beyond cute.”

  “That police officer, DI Warwick, was here again the other day to let us know she’d seen you at the hospital. She assured us you were recovering well. Do you see much of her when you’re out policing?”

  “I’ve seen her a total of three times. At the murder scene on my first shift, briefly when I bumped into her in the supermarket, and again when she came to the hospital. She’s a detective. I’m a lowly volunteer special. There’s not really much reason why our paths would cross.”

  “Suppose not. She lives near here, I think. I’ve seen her walk past in the mornings. The morning after your assault was the first time she came in here. She seemed impressed with our coffee. Said she’d be back. She’s very intense, isn’t she?”

  “Why do you say that?” Jane had never mentioned to anyone but Allie that her first impressions of DI Stephanie Warwick hadn’t been entirely positive. On the three occasions they’d met, she’d found her offhand, slightly arrogant. Jane supposed they were simply too unalike to get on.

  At the supermarket, Warwick had been chilly, considering Jane had returned her credit card to her, almost as though she begrudged being in her debt. At the hospital, Jane had been too groggy to notice much about her, other than that she’d been displeased that Jane hadn’t thought it important to report her assault. Any excuse to find fault with her, it seemed.

  “It was just my impression. She doesn’t give much away. I also thought she seemed a bit upset that morning, and that she was making an effort not to show it. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. I suppose investigating a murder takes it out of you.” Frieda passed Jane the menu that she’d had tucked under her arm. “To tell you the truth, I felt a bit sorry for her. I know she’s a detective, which means she can probably look out for herself, but she seemed to have an air of vulnerability about her. Brittleness even.”

  This was typical Frieda. She loved to analyse people, but she wasn’t always right. In Jane’s opinion, she was way off the mark regarding DS Up-herself Warwick. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “But if that woman has a vulnerable side, I’ve yet to see it.”

  “You don’t like her?”

  “Not a lot.”

  Frieda looked surprised. “I thought you saw the good in everyone.”

  “Only if it’s there in the first place.”

  A couple of young women who had been hovering outside looking at the A board, made up their minds to come inside. They held the door for a man in a worn leather jacket carrying a violin case. Jane recognised him. He sometimes played pieces by the likes of Bach, Mozart or Corelli in Castle Square or on High Bridge. Jane often threw some loose change in his violin case. He’d taught music at Ollie Granger’s when she started there. The story was that one afternoon he’d walked out on his unruly year nine class and installed himself in the staffroom, where he’d played violin solos until the Head called his wife, who eventually coaxed him out. He’d never returned to the school. Frieda waved to him and called out, “Hi, Mr Kendrick.” To Jane, she said. “I’d better get back to work. Are you having the noodles?”

  “Of course.” Jane grinned. She was fairly predictable in her choices.

  Francesca brought her order over a few minutes later. As she ate, Jane considered what Frieda had said about DI Warwick. The person Frieda described was almost unrecognisable as the one Jane had met. She considered herself a fairly good judge of character. Had she misread Warwick? No, she concluded. Frieda was simply wrong, though she had to admit somewhat grudgingly that Warwick was very good at her job.

  She struggled to visualise her. The first time they’d met it had been dark, the second time had been brief, and the third she’d been a bit out of it. Warwick’s eyes were her most striking feature, green, that rarest of eye colours. Only three per cent of people have green eyes. Jane’s daughter, Norah, was one of them, which was probably why Jane recalled that detail about Warwick.

  In a moment of perfect synchronicity, Jane looked out of the window and saw Warwick crossing the road, heading straight for Veganbites. Their eyes met as soon as she entered the café. Warwick hesitated before acknowledging Jane with a nod. She proceeded to the counter, where she ordered a coffee to take away.

  On her way back to the door, refill cup in hand, she stopped by Jane’s table. “I see you reported your assault at last.”

  “Yes.” Jane had done it the previous day.

  “Has anyone been to see you?”

  “Yes. A young man called Joey. He found the brick they used to hit me over the head under some bushes at the bottom of my garden. He took it away with him.”

  “For forensics to look at.”

  “Yes. Can I have it back? It’s useful for keeping the lid on the bin.” She was irritated to see a glint of amusement in DI Warwick’s eyes. Perhaps it was a slightly weird request. It wasn’t even a whole brick, only a half one, but it was fit for purpose. Jane twirled some noodles around her fork, conveyed them to her mouth, ate, all without looking at DI Warwick.

  “I’ll arrange for it to be returned to you when forensics are finished with it. Have you had any more thoughts about whether someone might have targeted you? Someone you might have clashed with while on duty? I wasn’t sure you were taking in everything I said at the hospital.”

  “I took it in.”

  “So? Anything?”

  Jane considered. It was the perfect opportunity for her to tell DI Warwick about the attack on Ryan Brown, about Mark Ripley’s friends at the gym and the man Kylie had encountered at the Chinese restaurant. For some reason, she held back. “Nothing comes to mind.”

  “Right.” Warwick sounded sceptical, which made Jane glad she hadn’t said anything. The last thing she wanted was Warwick laughing at her theories.

  After she’d gone, Jane finished her meal and shoved her bowl aside.

  “Want me to take that away for you?” Francesca hovered by her side. Where on earth had she materialised from? Jane handed her the bowl. She looked up and saw the music teacher studying her, a sympathetic expression on his face. She half expected him to take out his violin and scrape out a plangent melody.

  Frieda was making her way towards her, her face showing a mixture of concern and undisguised curiosity. “Have they caught him?”

  “Who?”

  “The man who attacked you, of course. Isn’t that what DI Warwick was talking to you about?”

  “No, they haven’t caught the perpetrator. Not likely to either, unless they get something from the brick that was used to clobber me.”

  “Ah! The weapon. Bound to get some good forensic stuff from that.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. It’s likely I surprised a burglar and he panicked, that’s all. Maybe his prints will be on the brick and, if they’re on record, he’ll be identified. I won’t hold my breath.”

  “You’re sure he’s not your pickled onion man?”

  Jane shook her head. “He came back to apologise. He said he doesn’t usually drink that much. His mates had been spiking his drinks. He tried to
give me some vouchers for the Happy Haddock Plaice, his brother-in-law’s fish and chip shop. Of course, I couldn’t accept them.”

  “Karun’s experimenting with a new mock fish pie recipe.”

  “I quite like the old one.”

  “You know Karun. He doesn’t know the meaning of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

  “What do I owe you?” Jane asked.

  “It’s on the house.”

  “No. It’s not. You two will never turn a profit if you keep giving everyone free meals.”

  “We’re doing okay,” Frieda insisted. “By the way, I hired that young woman you put in touch with me, Kylie Bright. She’ll be helping out at Yvonne’s birthday party. She seems like a reliable sort. Thanks for recommending her.”

  “No problem. Pleased I could do you both a good turn. I’m sure she won’t let you down.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jane’s landline rang. It was Allie. She only lived two doors away but she often called if she felt like a chat. This time, the pretext for her call was a reminder about Yvonne’s surprise birthday party that evening at Veganbites. “I hadn’t forgotten,” Jane said.

  “Sorry, Jane, I just thought it might have slipped your mind, what with that blow to your head.”

  “I don’t have amnesia, Allie.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to whatever you’re doing. See you later.”

  Jane immediately regretted being snappy with Allie. The truth was, she was tired of people asking if she was okay. It brought back memories of when she’d lost Sam. Everyone in the village, even people she’d never spoken to before, stopping her in the street or at the local Co-op to offer their condolences. She’d been glad to move house and get away from it all. She’d never enjoyed being the centre of attention.

  She made a cup of tea and settled down to catch up on some marking for her distance-learning students. Thoughts about Mark Ripley’s murder kept intruding.

  At noon, unable to concentrate any longer, she texted Kylie Bright. Kylie called her straight back.

  “I don’t have anything to report. There’s a couple of guys I’ve seen who could be the man who harassed me in the restaurant, but that just kind of proves how hard it is to be certain. He was just too generic.”

  “Okay.” Jane couldn’t disguise her disappointment. Kylie must have picked up on her tone and apologised again.

  “Sorry. I’ll keep trying.”

  “I appreciate that, Kylie. But, please, stay safe.”

  “I will. Hey, you’ll be seeing me this evening!”

  “Frieda told me you got the job at Veganbites.”

  “Yep. Starting this evening.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. See you later.”

  The rest of the day passed slowly. Jane wished she was on duty that evening instead of going to the party for Yvonne. Maybe she should volunteer for an extra shift during the week. Getting ready distracted her for a while. After a shower came the decision about what to wear. Ed Shipley would be there, she knew. Though she was reluctant to admit it to Allie, Jane was attracted to Ed. She found him rather intriguing. He hadn’t always been a blacksmith, but no one seemed to know what he’d done before. He wasn’t Lincolnshire-born either, not a true ‘yellow belly,’ as Allie would say.

  Jane had lived in London for a few years. It was where she’d met Sam. She suspected Ed hailed from the capital, but she wasn’t good enough with London accents to pinpoint where. She suspected his air of mystery was part of the attraction.

  She chose a navy shift dress, then worried that it was a bit too short for a woman of her mature years. Wasn’t the hemline supposed to be just above or on the knee after forty? Or was it fifty? Fifty, surely. Maybe she should wear leggings instead of tights for the sake of modesty? Sod it. It wasn’t all that short. She added a few pieces of silver jewellery, applied a bit more make-up than usual and considered herself ready.

  She locked her door and checked it twice, the second time running back down after she’d already climbed the steps up to the pavement. Maybe the assault had affected her after all. Not a bad thing if it made her more security conscious.

  She knocked on Allie’s door and waited for the barking to start. “Come on in out of the cold,” Peter said from the hallway. He had one hand on Dudgeon’s collar to restrain him from jumping at her. “Allie’s just getting changed.” He rolled his eyes. “Again.”

  Jane made a fuss of Dudge — after all, he’d probably saved her life. Pete presented her with a glass of wine. Allie came downstairs ten minutes later, full of apologies. “I was going to wear that black dress I wore to your birthday meal back in October but when I put it on, I decided it was a bit on the tight side. All that over-indulgence at Christmas has gone straight to my tummy.”

  Jane had thought the dress looked a little tight back in October, but she didn’t say so. Instead she said, “You look gorgeous. As always.” Which was also true.

  “I know. It just takes a bit longer these days.”

  “You can say that again,” Peter muttered.

  It was a ten-minute walk to Veganbites. Allie, stumbling in her heels, took Peter’s arm across the cobblestones on Castle Square. They continued walking along the Bailgate, turning onto Westgate by the remains of the Roman well dug by the Ninth Hispanic Legion. In 2010 the well had received a heritage makeover as part of a restoration project in the Bailgate. It hadn’t been much of a success. A glass panel had been placed over the top to protect it, but no one had foreseen that condensation on the underside of the glass would stop people from seeing the fifteen-metre-deep brick walls underneath. More money was spent on installing a humidity control system. Jane thought it a shame that people could no longer throw a penny in for good luck.

  Despite the many pubs and restaurants lining both sides of the street, Westgate was quiet. Only the Strugglers Inn showed much sign of life. A huddle of smokers gathered on the pavement under its infamous sign showing a prisoner ‘struggling’ against his captors on his way to the gallows. An alternative legend attributed the origin of the pub’s name to the image of the condemned man struggling on the end of the gallows rope. The nineteenth-century inn was now better known for its cask ales.

  The door of Veganbites was closed, the blinds drawn, as they always were after five. Frieda and Karun had ambitions to open their café in the evenings, but not until they had grown the business and could afford to employ more staff. They did occasionally cater for evening functions, but tonight’s party was all about friends.

  A warm glow seeped out from the places where the blinds didn’t quite meet. It hugged them as they stepped inside after doing Karun’s secret knock. Really, it would have been easier to call him on his phone, but everyone humoured him, knowing he enjoyed the intrigue.

  The interior of the café looked magical. Tealights in pretty pink and gold Moroccan tea glasses were arranged at intervals around the room. Silver foil balloons spelling out “Happy Birthday” decorated one wall and a curtain of fairy lights shimmered over another. Rose gold balloons bobbed at ceiling height. Jan, Frieda and Karun had gone to a lot of trouble. It wasn’t a special birthday, but Yvonne was a special person. In the year since her last birthday she had undergone surgery for breast cancer, then endured months of chemo and uncertainty before hearing good news. She’d borne the news of her diagnosis and the treatment with cheery stoicism. This party was everyone’s way of showing how much they admired and loved her.

  “It’s lovely!” Allie said. “Must have taken you ages.”

  Frieda beamed with pleasure. “Francesca helped. She has a real flair for this sort of thing. She and a young student called Kylie are waiting on us this evening, so that Karun and I can relax with you guys.” She glanced at her watch. “Actually, she’s a little late. No doubt she’ll arrive soon. Help yourselves to a glass of champagne.”

  The other guests arrived within minutes, all except Jan and Yvonne. The plan was for Jan to bring Yvonne to the café about tw
enty minutes after everyone else so that they could all surprise her.

  All couples, Jane thought, she and Ed excepted. Frieda would probably sit them next to each other, an unsubtle hint that they should get together. She was convinced Frieda was in on Allie’s plan.

  It was nearly time. At a signal from Karun, Jane placed her glass of champagne on the table. She smiled when she noticed her place marker next to Ed’s, just as she’d predicted. She joined the others behind the door as they waited for Jan and Yvonne to arrive.

  “Surprise!” Their collective shout was a roar. Yvonne was showered with confetti. She wiped it away, eyes shining with tears and what appeared to be genuine surprise. Jan must be good at keeping secrets. Yvonne looked beautiful, Jane thought, sophisticated, with her post-chemo pixie haircut.

  She caught a glimpse of her own, untidy chignon (she had tried for sophistication) in the wide mirror above the table. Its reflection also revealed Ed, watching her from across the room. She looked away quickly, worried he’d see her watching him watching her.

  Jane nipped to the ladies’ and by the time she came out, everyone was seated around the table. She smiled at Ed as she sat down next to him.

  “How’s the head?” So he’d heard.

  “Fine, thanks. I have a thick skull.” She looked at him, expecting to see a smile, but his expression was stern.

  “Was it something to do with your work as a special?”

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t made any enemies as far as I know.”

  Jane looked across the table at Allie and was appalled to see her friend give her a wink. Thank goodness Ed hadn’t noticed — he was busy refilling their glasses.

  “Did you find it difficult, walking away from that young man’s murder, knowing your involvement ended at the very beginning of the investigation? I think that’s what I’d find hard about being a volunteer constable,” Ed said.

  Jane was surprised to hear her own misgivings about the job echoed back at her. “Actually, yes. It can be frustrating.”