The Little Black Book Killer, page 12
Despite its size, she found it already crammed with uneaten sandwiches, quiches and pies.
‘Today’s cricket tea,’ Grant explained, sidling to a window to peer out across the drive towards the village green like a sniper, possibly on the lookout for more casual callers. ‘Shame to waste it, we thought, so I fetched it back here.’
Juno was surprised. ‘And the police were okay with that?’
‘Why wouldn’t they be?’
‘No reason. Stupid of me.’ Closing the fridge door, Juno put her platters on the island.
Phoebe was right, she realised. The police must think Rich’s death was self-inflicted if they weren’t treating the cricket pavilion as a crime scene.
‘Debs hates waste,’ Grant went on with a sniff, coming to investigate. ‘Some of it might even do for the wake if we’re lucky, she says. This too.’ He prised open a lid to peer in one tub. ‘She told me you like your grub.’ Looking up, he smiled in the rictus way that didn’t reach his eyes, as though pulling a face in the mirror checking his teeth for spinach.
It was impossible not to stare at those teeth, ultra bleached white with the longest canines she’d ever seen, like a hippo. His hair was a strange shape and texture too, as though he had a fluffy seventies loo mat glued to his head.
Juno heard a mournful wail from further in the house. ‘Is Debra still with the…?’
‘Police, yeah. They want her to go with them to identify the body.’ He helped himself to a beignet. ‘Just routine, but Debs has a thing about hospitals.’
‘She must be so upset,’ Juno sympathised. ‘It’s such a tragedy.’
‘Mmm.’ He spoke with his mouth full, crumbs dropping into his beard. ‘You make these cheese puffs?’
‘Beignets. They’re from the village deli.’
‘Bit dry.’ He squeaked round on his sliders to spit it out in the sink. ‘Won’t last for a funeral buffet if there’s a hold-up.’
‘Might there be a delay?’
‘Hope not.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve said I’ll organise everything. I’m an old hand. Buried both parents in recent years.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Juno found she couldn’t shake the image of Grant in a JCB, digging a massive hole. Debra had told her enough times last night that he was a builder, after all. She’d also insisted Juno and Grant would be a perfect match.
Her perfect match was eyeing her closely now. Feeling distinctly uneasy, Juno wished she hadn’t come.
‘Debs told me all about you.’ Grant stepped closer, licking his lips. ‘She tells me you’re looking for a new—’
‘Such an enormous loss!’ she interrupted, terrified he was about to say a new man. Her eyes darted along the photographs propped on the sideboard, noticing several missing. Amongst those remaining was one of Debra and Rich grinning alongside a younger, clean-shaven likeness of this man, with less hair and duller hippo teeth.
‘We’re all in shock,’ she rattled on. ‘Rich was full of life last night – they both were. They’re always a fiery duo, aren’t they?’
‘Yeah, but Debs says you’re in the market for a—’
‘It was my friend Phoebe who found his body! She’s a very clever crime writer. Brilliant detective too, on the down low. Just in case there are any unanswered questions.’
‘Oh, yes?’ He helped himself to a whipped feta filo basket.
‘Although Phoebe told me Rich’s death looked like a terrible accident,’ she hurried on reassuringly, not wanting to cause alarm.
‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said as he chomped the filo basket, cheeks bulging. He stepped closer, voice teasing and intimate. ‘Thing is, Debs let me in on your little secret.’
‘Yes?’ There was no avoiding it, she realised. His timing was awful.
The teeth were out again, gleaming and filo-flecked. ‘That you want a thatch!’
It was such an unexpected thing to say, Juno was struck dumb for a moment.
‘I have a super little development near Dunford,’ Grant went on. ‘Heritage-inspired, with some choice three-beds available off-plan. There’s a deal to be made if you’re quick.’
Still Juno stared at him in shock. His brother-in-law had just died horrifically; his sister was sobbing close by, and…
‘Are you trying to sell me a house?’
‘Debs says you’re in the market for one?’
Astonished, Juno felt her detective itch take hold once more. There had to be more to this. Fascinated where this would go, she urged him to continue.
As Grant set about pitching the artisan, water-reed-roofed eco-credentials of his latest development in an intense south London monotone, sliders squeaking on the tiled floor, Juno realised he just wanted to sell her a house.
Looking around the immaculate kitchen, she felt another great wave of compassion for Debra. Her eyes crept back to the pictures lined up along the side beam, searching for clues. It didn’t take long to light upon a familiar face amongst a group of men in suits, with Rich at its centre. One was a former PM, hair wild, shirt hanging out and thumbs up. Another was the face – and peppery mullet – she’d seen in an obituary in the paper earlier and ripped out for safekeeping. It was currently burning a hole in her pocket. Bingo!
Wayne Baxendale. And who was the man beside them with the squished nose and gummy grin?
Grant was still droning on with his sales spiel. ‘A Newbuild Heritage Eco Thatch isn’t just a house, it’s a way of life, offering a unique blend of timeless design and cutting-edge technology…’
Juno edged towards the photo to examine it more closely, tempted to try to sneak a phone camera shot of the balding man with the flat nose and cold smile standing alongside Rich, Wayne and the ex-PM. Her shameful hangover was kicking in again, her mouth parched, belly foaming. She was desperately dehydrated, but didn’t feel she could ask for a cup of tea, nor did it seem possible to interrupt Grant’s droning sales spiel, not even to make her excuses and leave. Phoebe was right, it was far too soon to have come here, foolish even.
Then she started as Grant snatched the framed picture she was studying from the shelf.
‘Rich and his bent little syndicate made a bomb from lockdown PPE,’ he sneered at it. ‘Always flashing his cash, throwing money at madcap schemes, but not so much for an honest craftsman like me, his own brother-in-law. Never got a penny from his little cabal.’
‘That must be hard when it’s family,’ sympathised Juno, who knew Debra boasted to anyone willing to listen that her husband had been a key player in Wexshire’s own Dragons’ Den, and Wayne Baxendale’s obituary had named the investment syndicate. Bethany even claimed it had funded Dapper and Discreet. She asked casually, ‘What madcap schemes were those?’
‘Debs and Rich have been very generous to me, don’t get me wrong.’ Grant flashed his strange teeth, perhaps sensing he’d been too snappy given the tragedy they were facing. He put the photograph back carefully and patted the top of the frame, his eyes lingering on the four men. ‘Never been a fan of suits. Only wear one at funerals.’
He looked up as a shrill call echoed along a corridor beyond the hallway.
‘Grant? Grant! Who are you talking to?’
Bullet skittered off to greet his mistress, who came through the doorway clinging onto the arm of a uniformed WPC.
Seeing Juno, Debra burst into noisy racks of tears. ‘Juno, babes! You’re here! Ohmygod, can you believe what’s happened, can you? My Rich. Dead! Oh, oh, oh!’ She threw herself into Juno’s arms and sobbed against her shoulder. ‘I’m so glad you came. And you’ve met Grant! You will both come with me, won’t you?’
‘Where to?’
‘To identify the body. I need a friend, Joo. You can do that, can’t you, Juno babes? You’ll come? Please say yes.’
Stomach churning yet more and mouth full of ashes, Juno had no choice.
‘It would be an honour.’
12
PHOEBE
Having anticipated spending the afternoon playing cricket, Felix and Mil were only too happy to swap the crease for the riverside, where their pub garden partnership was an enduring one, batting trivia and opinions back and forth, over huge plates of roast meat, washed down with craft ale.
Loud, robust female laughter punctuated the meal as Bethany swished her blonde dreadlocks from side to side and showed her appreciation.
Out of loyalty to Juno, Phoebe wanted to find a host of reasons that Bethany was all wrong for Mil, but she liked her outspoken, brash sparkiness. A typical Welch siren, Bethany was a younger, hipper version of her sister Zadie and cousin Cheryl.
She clearly loved nothing more than to chat.
‘There’s a lot of folk round here bad-mouth us Welches,’ she told Phoebe, ‘’specially the outsiders, but you won’t find a closer family. We look out for each other, and know who our friends are, you feel me? Take the Winterbourne boys.’ She nodded in Mil’s direction. ‘We all grew up together, were part of the same crew.’
It was clear she adored Mil. Having witnessed Juno’s emotional exit, Bethany had obviously decided she needed an ally, annexing Phoebe to confide, ‘Mil went out with my big sister Zadie in secondary school, and they both had my back. I was a few years below and a bit of a weirdo if I’m honest. Got picked on something rotten on the school bus. Never had a big brother of my own, and Dad had pushed off by then, so Mil was the next best thing. He looks after folk. I’m bringing up my boy Joseph – Seph – to be like that. I’m proud he looks out for his friends, and for me. You need that when you’re a single mum, you get me?’
Nodding, Phoebe only wished Juno had somebody looking out for her. Her son Eric, so like his father, was a bit of a nomad.
‘I had Seph when I was seventeen,’ Bethany told her. ‘Me and my ex married when Seph was two, but we was too young. He wasn’t a great dad, I’ll be honest. He only stuck around so long for a roof over his head and food in his belly.
‘He walked out when Seph was nine, again when he was twelve and for good when he was fifteen,’ Bethany went on, lifting her blonde dreadlocks to rub the other hand over the three stars tattooed on the back of her neck. ‘Cheryl was the one who said I’d be better off divorced. We’d been living apart a few years by then, so it was easy. Easier than Cheryl, that’s for sure. Her, Zadie and me all got divorced last year. We call ourselves the Three Decrees. Cheryl kept her nice house, Zadie kept her looks, I just about kept my head, and we’ve all changed our names back to Welch. It’s tough on the kids, though. Ours are about the same age and they’ve always stuck up for each other, thank Christ. Stinky Inks unite! Isn’t that right, Mil?’ she called across.
Breaking off from laughing about something with Felix, Mil leant in. ‘That’s what the other school kids called us. Still do. “Stinkbury”. Bloody cheek! This village has been in The Times Best Places to Live every year for a decade.’
‘But ink rhymes with stink,’ Felix pointed out.
‘Fair point.’
They were soon engaged in a placename-rhyming duel.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. Bethany smiled at her.
‘Same old bus, same old bullies. You grow up round here?’
‘Not far away.’
‘Where d’you go to school? Not Marlbury High?’
‘It wasn’t local.’ Phoebe stifled a yawn, all the drama catching up with her.
‘You board?’ she scoffed.
‘Not bored at all. I want to hear more about the Three Decrees.’ She was hoping to steer Bethany onto the subject of the dating app Rich had invested in.
Bethany prodded her teasingly. ‘I meant did you go to boarding school?’
‘I hated it.’
‘Like Autumn from the deli. She was at the same year at village primary as Seph and his cousin River. Lovely kid but lost the plot when she went to that posh ladies’ college. They’s all mates again now, mind you.’
‘Yes, I met River and his friend with Autumn at the deli. He’s Cheryl’s son, isn’t he?’
‘It’s River’s fault my place got taken over last night.’ She sniffed. ‘Seph says his cousin’s too loved up to party now he’s with Xanthe. They got it together at uni.’
‘Not on an app like his mum?’
‘As if!’ Bethany sneered. ‘We all thought Cheryl was mad at first, but she’s got her head screwed on. She gets a commission from introducing new female members, more if they meet up with a date. Now she signs everyone up – we’re all on it.’
So that’s how it worked, Phoebe realised. ‘You use it?’
‘On and off. Zadie can’t be doing with it, but I’ve made a few matches on it for jokes; bit of flirting, posh night out. They were all ROMs. Rich, old, married. Most of the men on Dapper and Discreet are. The clue’s in the name.’
Phoebe felt a fool for not guessing sooner that it was a hook-up app for extra-marital affairs. Hence the anonymising avatars, selective membership and monetised messages.
‘Cheryl’s new bloke, Rodney, has a wife and three kids near Cirencester,’ Bethany told her. ‘We looked her up on Facebook. She’s big into horses. Looks like one too!’
‘A veritable ROM-com,’ Phoebe muttered darkly. And she could think of one rich, old married man whose name chimed all too closely. ‘How does Rich Bass fit in?’
Bethany’s smile vanished. ‘He and his local business mob bunged the developer some dosh to launch it. When it took off, they all made a packet selling it to big tech. Dirty work, but someone’s gotta do it. Married men will always want affairs. The app helps us girls find the wealthy ones and set the pace.’
The flinty side-eye Bethany was giving Phoebe was a sharp reminder that her trust in the opposite sex had been swiped aside long before she advertised herself in a three-line bio. She came from the school of hard knocks.
‘I like a man who spoils and pampers me,’ she revealed now, ‘makes me feel special.’
Phoebe glanced instinctively at Mil, who was whooping with Felix about something.
Catching her, Bethany laughed. ‘Way too soft. I told you Mil’s like a big brother.’ She smirked, leaning forward to whisper. ‘FYI, I slept on the couch last night.’
‘NOMB,’ Phoebe dismissed quietly.
‘Mil’s practically family,’ she pressed the point. ‘Besides, he’s into someone else and I’m not looking for commitment right now. Situationships suit me fine. My latest has a band, and I’m not talking music.’
‘As in he’s married?’ Phoebe guessed flatly.
Bethany shrugged, lower lip pouting.
‘Don’t you feel guilty?’ Phoebe asked, appalled.
‘They’re generous, they’re grateful, and I can hand them back. That’s the beauty of digital dating. The wife never needs to know, not like the crap that’s gone down in this village when affairs come to light. Take Autumn’s dad.’
‘Cosmo Lovat?’ Phoebe leant closer, remembering Cosmo’s heated argument with Rich at Juno’s party. She also now recalled, ‘You said last night that there was a story to be told there.’
‘And there is. Nasty bastard, Cosmo. Like I said, our kids were close at primary. Then he told Autumn she couldn’t have anything to do with Seph and his cousins, although we all reckoned it had more to do with Holly.’
‘Holly?’ Phoebe wished Juno was still here, her knowledge of Inkbury’s rollcall far better. And Juno loved nothing more than a good gossip. She might even like Bethany.
‘Holly Lovat-Dixon was Cosmo’s second wife,’ Bethany explained, ‘although she wasn’t back then. She was Holly Dixon, whose daughter was in the year below Seph. She and Cosmo met on the PTA and started having an affair. It was my Seph who found out their secret cos he saw them practically shagging in the kitchens at the Halloween disco when he was in Year 6. Cosmo was dressed as Dracula and the poor lad thought he was trying to kill her. Autumn’s mum’s a mate of Cheryl’s, so we told her what he’d seen. Cosmo had moved out of the marital home by the Nativity play, and she’d filed for divorce by spring term. Her solicitors took him to the cleaners.’
‘The fourth decree?’
‘Nice one! But this was a few years before us lot, although Cheryl used the same divorce lawyer and made a killing. First decree murder!’ She laughed heartily at her own joke. ‘Cosmo’s hated my Seph ever since. Blames him for bringing the affair out in the open.’
‘But Cosmo and Holly must have got together afterwards if they married?’
‘They never should have, if you ask me,’ Bethany scorned. ‘Holly was a piece of work. She and her first hubby tried for a reconciliation at first, but the affair never stopped. He had enough in the end, and she and Cosmo went public after that. It was all very nasty and messy. Those poor kids.’
‘How long was this before Holly died?’
‘You know about that?’ Bethany looked disappointed, lower lip pouting out, as though Phoebe had given away the punchline. ‘Six, seven years maybe? She and Cosmo had been wed a while by then. They had one of those beach ceremonies, Tahiti or somewhere. Then they built that swanky cottage of theirs. It happened the day after they threw a big party there for her fortieth. No surprise I wasn’t invited. Big shock when she crashed her new sportscar like that. I’d just been teaching a class in the Coronation Hall and heard it from the car park. Everyone thought her brakes must have failed, speed she was going, but she was on the phone, they say. Cosmo was at home, heard the noise too and came out and found her. Imagine that.’ She shuddered.
Phoebe wished she couldn’t, but the devastating picture was stuck in her head. She also knew Juno was convinced there was more to it, that Holly’s death was somehow connected to both Wayne’s and now Rich’s too.
‘Suicide, I reckon,’ Bethany announced.
Phoebe reeled back in surprise. ‘Why would she want to kill herself?’
‘Remember what they say.’ She pulled a knowing face. ‘When a man marries his mistress, there’s a vacancy.’
‘Do you think Cosmo was having another affair?’
Bethany said nothing, but the knowing face had bedded in.
