Death Shifts Gears, page 1
Death Shifts Gears
Outside the Circle Mystery, Volume 2
Shereen Vedam
Published by Shereen Vedam, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DEATH SHIFTS GEARS
First edition. June 14, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Shereen Vedam.
ISBN: 978-1989036129
Written by Shereen Vedam.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
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Further Reading: Death Smells Disaster
Also By Shereen Vedam
About the Author
This book is dedicated to Hedy Lamarr for inspiring me to never give up.
Chapter One
MATTHEW ROBERT LIVINGSTON, the late Earl of Ashford and Abigail Grimshaw’s new BFF and shadow, leaned on a walking stick as he pointed a ghostly finger across the street. “Isn’t that Constable Denby, Miss Grimshaw?”
“Yes,” Abbie said, as she exited the Chevening Parish Council Chamber doorway on Beaconfields. “Wonder what he’s doing here?”
Ducky Denby, a boy she’d known from secondary school, was stationed in her home village of Chipstead. Head down, he was currently standing on the pavement, reading on his mobile, and eating a taco.
“He is in uniform, so he is not here taking the air on his day off,” Robert added, sounding quite knowledgeable on the subject. Until the night he met Abbie at St. Michael’s graveyard, Robert had never met a “paid” policeman.
Volunteer constables, yes, even a Bow Street runner-for hire. Policemen, ones who were employed to work to solve crimes, had been a startling concept to an earl who had died before such modern practices were introduced in England.
Abbie lost interest in wondering why Ducky was here and searched the street for a sign of her brother Bran. He was due to pick her up here and take her to her kids’ school. She didn’t want to be late.
George Punai, her kids’ uncle, had given Abbie full guardianship of them after a shove from a furious goddess he’d wronged. Then, DCI Callum Radford gave a written endorsement of Abbie’s petition for full parenting rights and the family courts gave their stamp of approval, subject to regular reviews and certain conditions.
As Callum signed the court papers, he had warned Abbie that with his recommendation, there could be no possibility of them having a relationship other than a business one or they’d risk the courts believing he was biased. He’d glanced up with a crooked smile as he spoke, suggesting he was joshing.
She hoped so, for she fancied dating the handsome Scotsman. Each time she was tempted to call him, however, the memory of his quip had stopped her in her tracks.
A car’s roar drew their attention to a red Jaguar that sped down the lane before it slid to a smooth halt before Abbie.
Bran had arrived. He didn’t own expensive cars but he drove them well. This must be another one that belonged to his boss.
Ducky gave the Jaguar’s shiny bonnet an envious glance. Then he tucked his mobile away, tossed the empty taco wrapping into a public bin, and strode away with purpose. Within two steps, he jerked, in immediate danger of smacking into a tree. Flashing them a sheepish grin, he circumvented the trunk and carried on.
Robert glided in through the Jaguar’s rear door, while Abbie opened the low-slung vehicle’s front passenger door and relaxed into its cushy dark leather seat that hugged her bottom in a warm embrace. “Nice.”
“Morning, Abbie-girl,” Bran said in a cheerful tone, his coppery hair glinting under the morning light.
Ignoring that childish nickname, Abbie buckled herself in. A quick backward glance at Robert showed him settled between two children’s car seats. The presence of those seats in her brother’s car instead of hers meant one thing. Her rose-red Renault was not about to exit the shop today. Disaster. How long could it possibly take to do an oil change and checkup? “What’s wrong with Rosie?”
“She needs four new tires and new brake shoes.”
Abbie’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach and her cheeks cooled as blood abandoned her head. She could barely afford the oil change.
His gaze fixed with fascination on his ghostly back-seat passenger, Bran missed Abbie’s stunned reaction at his bad news. Robert did not, and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The gesture said, Buck up.
She took a deep breath and blood slowly returned to warm her cheeks. She would handle this. She needed Rosie so she would find the money to cover this cost. Somehow.
“How long will she need to be in?” she asked.
Robert leaned back as Bran pulled away from the kerb with a rev of his engine. “With my boss away, we’re backed up. I can have her back in two days.” Bran drove at speed toward Chipstead.
Two days to find hundreds of pounds. Her gut quivered. Even if Bran donated his labor, how could she cover the parts? She prayed the grant she’d requested from the Chevening Parish Council to hold first aid courses on weekends would come through or she would be in danger of shorting next month’s mortgage payment to cover the cost of her car repairs.
She couldn’t carry on for long without a car. As it was, Bran was giving her a lift to go pick up Nica and Jimi at school today since Rosie was in the shop.
“How are your kids?” Bran asked.
“Fine,” she replied, though the question startled her. It hadn’t fully sunk in that Jimi and Nica were now her kids until this moment when Bran asked about their welfare. The delightful reminder put her current financial problems into a better perspective.
Her family court custody agreement that allowed her to keep her kids had her next review set for three weeks from today. So, fulfilling their first condition – find full-time employment – had been her top priority for the past few weeks.
She already had a part-time ambulance services EMT job lined up, and yesterday, she had put in an application to work as a clerk at a nearby grocers. Together, those hours would almost equal full-time employment. Her first aid classes would fill in the rest.
All three jobs together would only bring in half the salary she had made while living in London. She gladly took that hit to gain the kids and live at St. Michael’s, her favorite spot. The church, the surrounding graveyard, and the cottage on the grounds were all hers now because her father had gifted her the down payment.
To supplement her income, she’d also applied for child benefits and tax credits, but those requests seemed to be processing at a snail’s pace. She comforted herself with the knowledge that the funding would come, sooner or later.
All in all, she was exactly where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do. She would find a way to make ends meet. Somehow. She breathed deep to release the tightness in her chest and dropped her hunched shoulders.
“Both kids adjusting well?” her brother nudged as he drove as if her “fine” hadn’t been answer enough.
“Jimi’s loving kindergarten,” she elaborated. “His teacher says he’s a fast learner and absorbs new concepts well.”
“And Nica?”
Abbie shrugged. “Not so much. She’s acting up in class, talking back to teachers.”
“That’s unlike her,” Bran said with a frown. “What’s she upset about?”
“Not sure. It could be growing pains to new living conditions. I wish she would talk to me but every time I ask how she is, she closes up.” She gave Bran a worried glance. “Jimi whispered to me the other day that she said I’m not their mother, so they shouldn’t treat me as if I were.”
“Harsh,” Bran said with sympathy. “They lost their whole family this past summer, Abbie-girl. Being older, Nica might have been jarred by the changes more than Jimi.”
“I have spoken to her,” Robert put in. Leaning back with eyes closed, he was enjoying the rush of speed. “No success.”
“How’s everything at your end?” Abbie asked Bran.
He gave her a side glance now as if to see if she wanted to hear the answer.
She had been busy since coming home and forming the Standard Bearers club, a secret society that investigated supernatural crimes that norms, like DCI Radford, never even realized were occurring in his policing neighborhood. It was part of her Grimm legacy.
Bran’s ex, Constable Judith Chan, had turned out to be a supe, a supernatural. In Judith’s case, she was a full-blooded witch from a long line of Chinese witches. She was back in Chipstead now and an essential member of Abbie's Standard Bearers. Could her SB club have made Bran’s life more awkward? “Is it Judith?”
He turned away but not before she saw his pain.
She waited. They were nearing the children’s school. Little time left for a heart-to-heart.
“It’s Yousef,” he finally said. At her questioning glance, he added, “My boss.”
“I know who he is.” Yousef Kanaan had been the Standard Bearer’s prime suspect on their first case this past summer. “What about him?”
“This is hush-hush, Abbie-girl.”
She crossed her heart and mimed sealing her lips.
“He’s been having time lapses.”
“Explain.” Robert leaned forward; his interest caught. His closer proximity brought a chill breeze that fought against her seat’s warmth.
His interest was understandable. He must surely have wondered if he would remain awake forever. Doomed to repeatedly love and lose those whom he chose to befriend as time marched on. Or could there be a means of bending time? To a two-hundred-year-old ghost, talk about the passage of time would be of great interest.
Bran gave his back-seat passenger a nervous over-the-shoulder check before returning his gaze to the road. “Yousef doesn’t recall traveling to places. His doctor’s checking the medical angle. He’s getting an MRI right now.”
“Pray tell, what is an MRI?” Robert asked.
“A scientific way to photograph a person’s brain without opening up the skull,” Abbie explained. Good to cross off physical causes first. “Let me know how that goes.”
Bran nodded but added, “It might be more up your Grimm alleyway than a doctor’s office.”
“Why?” she asked.
Once at the school, Bran pulled up to the car park and turned off the ignition. “The memory lapses only occur when he gets into his sister’s new Toyota Supra. He bought it for her as a birthday present.”
She hadn’t realized Yousef Kanaan could afford such extravagance. His used car dealership and repair shop must be doing well. The front playground was still empty. Abbie absently murmured, “Pricey gift.”
“A local Healthy Habits group gave him a sweet deal for it after a contest they ran fell apart due to internal issues. Layla, his sister, was a member of that club and had entered the contest hoping to win the Supra, the grand prize. When they put the car up for sale instead, Yousef jumped on it despite it being nitro yellow. That’s Layla’s favorite color.”
“Sweet of him.” Abbie waved as her kids rushed out.
Jimi ran toward them, his chestnut-colored arms raised in enthusiasm. Nica followed at a slower pace, dragging her feet. Her frown deepened when she spotted the car seats.
At eight, going on twenty, she believed she no longer needed a car seat. Once Abbie informed her that the law required her to have one until she was over one hundred and thirty-five centimeters, she’d been measuring herself every week to see if she’d passed that goal post. Abbie exited the vehicle to assist them but Nica had herself and her brother strapped in before Abbie could reach either.
She returned to her seat with a resigned sigh, sending Bran a wry side-glance.
“You two have a good day at school?” her brother asked as he put his car into gear and sped away. Nearby parents turned heads and sent him disapproving frowns.
“Yes!” Jimi said. “Mrs. Bailey says I can now count to twenty without her help.”
The Doctor Who theme song suddenly played on Abbie’s mobile. She gave her brother a worried side glance.
Abbie had her phone play that tune whenever her mother texted. Margaret Grimshaw only did that when trouble brewed. Her phone showed a short text message. She read it aloud for everyone’s benefit. “Abbie, why don’t you come home for a visit? We haven’t talked in ages.”
“That can’t be good,” her brother muttered.
Her mother’s cryptic messages usually veered Abbie away from danger. They drove in worried silence, passing under a street sign stretched across two lampposts highlighting a Health & Wellness Fair in town this weekend. Abbie texted her mother back saying all was well and promised to stop by soon. Then she thumbed a note into her phone to remind herself to do so and maybe stop by the fair with the kids. There might be something fun for them to do there.
A roar from their rear alerted them before a yellow vehicle streaked past.
“Abbie!” Nica shouted. “That car didn’t have a driver.”
“How is that possible?” Robert asked.
“Maybe it’s a driverless car,” Abbie suggested, watching the vehicle’s yellow tail speed away, though following her mother’s warning, this didn’t bode well.
“That looks like Yousef’s Supra,” Bran said, sounding as concerned. “Unlikely there’d be two such expensive sports cars that color in this small village and he’s supposed to be getting that medical test in Sevenoaks.”
“We’d better find out where it’s rushing off to then.” Abbie gripped the sides of her seat. “Everyone, hang on. And Bran, could you turn down the music?”
“What music?” he asked, and roared down the road.
“Yes, what music?” Robert asked from the back.
“It’s too loud,” Jimi shouted, covering his ears.
“What are you two talking about?” Nica asked. “There’s no music.”
The car radio was turned off. Abbie double-checked. Yes, the radio was off. Yet, the blaring in her ears was unmistakable. If only she and Jimi could hear it, that meant this was Grimm-related.
Yet again, her mother’s instinct was spot on. Not surprising, since she, too, was a Grimm, though she’d voluntarily given up that occupation once Abbie was born to safeguard her child from supernatural danger.
“Don’t lose sight of that car,” she told her brother and then hung on as he swerved around a corner.
“Looks like we’re headed to Yousef’s place,” Bran said.
She hoped so since the yellow Supra was now out of sight. At least, the music had also appreciably lessened.
Before long, her brother pulled into a wide-open gated pathway. “He would never leave those gates open like that,” Bran said. “His past has made him too security conscious.”
They drove toward a circular drive. Ahead of them, the nitro yellow Supra was parked askew before a three-story house.
“Yousef rents this place from the Earl of Ashford,” Bran said.
“Stay here,” Abbie said to the children and then glanced at Robert.
He nodded understanding of that unspoken request to keep an eye on the little ones.
After Bran put the car in park, Abbie stepped outside with him, cautiously approaching the Supra, one on either side. The vehicle remained silent, without anyone inside, and not a musical note to be heard. The car wasn’t running, the windows were shut tight and both doors were locked. It was as if this was no more than a badly parked car.
She laid a palm over the long front bonnet. Warm to the touch. Ah-ha! It had been this car that passed them.
“I’ll see if Layla’s in.” Bran sprinted to the front door.
Abbie was about to follow when a horn blared. A glance at Bran, who knocked on the door undisturbed suggested only she had heard that musical call. She raised a questioning brow, glancing past the Supra to Bran’s Jaguar. Jimi waved and then pointed toward a fenced area to his right.
Abbie considered her next move and then deliberately took a step away from that fence and toward the front door. The horn let loose an indignant blast. With a triumphant grin, Abbie changed direction and headed toward the fenced yard. The Supra remained quiet the entire time.
The white-painted shoulder-high wooden fence protected a large veg patch sectioned off into four quadrants, each one filled with lush rows of various crops. No one seemed to be about. Shrugging, she turned back to the cars and the horn blared three sharp notes.
Bran came around the house. “No one’s home.”
“I want to check behind the fence.” Abbie rubbed her ringing ears before leading him there. She must have a chat about the Supra’s mode of communication.
Bran followed her through the gate and down the path between two quadrants of carrots and zucchini.
“What are we looking for?” he asked.
Abbie stopped by a section of tall green plants. The bushes had beans growing from them. Odd. These grew taller than she’d expect of bean plants. They came up to her chin. What held her attention most, though, was a pink low-heeled shoe in their midst. She caught Bran’s sleeve and pointed. Walking between two rows, she inched closer and spotted a leg attached to the shoe. “Bran, call 999.”
Her brother nodded and pulled out his phone.
Abbie hurried closer and knelt to check the woman’s pulse and then cringed away. The corpse’s face and torso were flattened. There was no other way to describe it. Bile rose and she covered her mouth to suppress her gag. No need to check for a pulse. Bran was right. No one was home. She waved her brother back. “Are the police coming?”
