Dead in the Water (Scarlet Cove Seaside Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 12

  Laura suddenly burst into tears and dropped her face into her hands. The priest walked forward and rested a hand on her shoulder as she sobbed in front of the crowd. Liz glanced awkwardly at Nancy, who was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her fingers. Liz pulled out the packet of tissues and offered her friend one; she accepted it with a grateful smile.

  When Laura finished her eulogy, she returned to the front row and sat next to Michael. He wrapped his arm around her, and she melted into his side. Liz could not imagine it was easy for him to hear her confess her love for another man considering their past.

  “Do you think she’s a good actress?” Nancy asked, stuffing the tissue into her pocket. “Because she convinced me.”

  “I don’t know,” Liz replied. “I don’t feel right being here right now. I didn’t know him.”

  “You found his body,” Nancy replied quickly. “And you took in his dog. You’ve got as much right to be here as anyone.”

  Liz considered it for a moment, but she decided she was going to stick to her original plan, which had always been to leave before everyone else so she could question the one person she had been itching to speak to, but had not known how to get alone.

  Liz stirred Paddy and shuffled along the row, whispering her apologies. She walked past the funeral car drivers and out of the church, suddenly feeling like she could not breathe.

  Resting her hands on her knees, she looked down at the ground, her eyes closed. Something about Laura’s speech had transported her back to a time she had tried to forget. Liz suddenly realised it was the first funeral she had attended since Lewis’.

  “Are you okay, love?” one of the drivers asked. “Need a tissue?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Liz said, straightening up and pushing back the tears. “You know what funerals are like.”

  The man nodded his understanding before turning back to the church, leaving her to slip out of the grounds unseen. After dropping Paddy back at the flat and giving him an almost full bag of treats to devour, she set off to the place she had really wanted to visit today.

  Liz pushed through the doors of the Fish and Anchor, stunned by the silence that greeted her. She had not been wrong in assuming the entire town was currently at the church.

  “You’re early if you’re here for the wake,” Shirley, the tough and weathered landlady, said as she polished the bar. “I wish I could have gone to pay my respects, but that’s the life of a landlady. Someone needs to hold the fort.”

  “He’d understand, I’m sure,” Liz said with a smile. “I didn’t know him too well myself, but I heard he liked it in here.”

  “I threw him out more than once, but I knew he didn’t mean any harm by it,” Shirley said firmly. “Aren’t you the one who found Frank’s body?”

  “That was me,” Liz said with an awkward smile. “And Adam’s.”

  “Oh, right,” Shirley said, nodding her recognition. “I thought it was. It’s all such a blur. What are you? Some kind of medium or psychic?”

  “I’m just a painter.”

  “I heard you were a detective,” Shirley said with a sly smirk. “You hear a lot working here.”

  “A retired detective,” Liz corrected her, wondering if she should get it printed on a t-shirt considering how often she was asked the question. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not here early by mistake.”

  “Pull up a stool,” Shirley said. “What can I get you? I never discuss death without a drink. You look like a wine women to me. Can’t stand the stuff personally, but I heard you were from the city.”

  “White wine, please,” Liz said with a smile, deciding she liked Shirley. “Maybe you’re the psychic one.”

  “Comes with the job, love,” Shirley said as she poured a generous helping of wine into a glass. “On the house. Laura put some money behind the bar for everyone to get their first drink.”

  Shirley handed over the glass of wine before pouring herself a pint of bitter. She placed it on the bar to rest before leaning back to stare expectantly at Liz.

  “How well would you say you knew Frank?” Liz asked.

  “I thought you were retired?”

  “I am.”

  “Then what’s with the questions? You sound like the police. Them lot have only just stopped poking around after someone bottled Adam. Not convinced the two things are connected.”

  “You’re not?” Liz asked, pausing to sip the wine. “Why, if I can ask?

  “You can ask all you want, love,” Shirley reached out for her dark pint. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

  “Like I said, I’m not police,” Liz said. “Just a concerned citizen who can’t seem to stop finding bodies.”

  “I like you,” Shirley said after she sipped her pint, licking the foam off her lips. “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to ask for what she wants. Frank and I go way back. We’ve known each other since school. It’s a small place, but when you get to this age, there are fewer people that you’ve known for that long. Most move away, but recently we’ve been dropping like flies. You’d think we were in our eighties, not our fifties, but that’s the way it is. It’s usually cancer, not rat poison, but the end result is the same.”

  “So, you knew each other, but you weren’t friends?”

  “I liked him,” she said. “He was honest, and he didn’t particularly like Mandy. We have that in common. Most useless barmaid I’ve ever hired, but she’s pretty, and that counts for a lot in a fishing town full of old men. Laura had herself a good one there.”

  “I thought they split up before he died?” Liz said, repeating the rumour she had heard from Adam.

  “Split up?” Shirley scoffed, shaking her head before sipping her drink again. “What makes you think that?”

  “Mandy told Adam that she saw them arguing and Laura ran out crying.”

  Shirley rolled her eyes and wiped the foam from her mouth again. She rested the pint on the bar and leaned against the counter with her hands again.

  “Typical Mandy,” Shirley mumbled. “Complete bimbo, if you ask me. Jumps higher for a conclusion than a flea for a cat. I was here when that happened, but he wasn’t breaking up with her.”

  “Why did she run out crying?”

  “There’s more than one thing that your fella can tell you to make you cry,” Shirley said, clenching her jaw. “I probably shouldn’t tell you. I overheard it, and then I spoke to Frank about it after Laura legged it.”

  “If it means anything, they’re probably lowering Frank into the ground as we speak,” Liz said, glancing at the clock behind the bar. “I don’t think a dead man would mind you sharing his secrets.”

  “Let me just say this,” Shirley said, leaning across the bar so that her face was inches from Liz’s face. “Frank was heading for that grave with or without the rat poison.”

  Liz frowned as she let Shirley’s words sink in.

  “He was dying?”

  “Pancreatic cancer,” Shirley said bluntly. “I told you. Cancer usually gets people my age. I’ll be next at this rate. Poor fella was a dead man walking. If someone wanted him dead so much, they should have just waited. He had months, if that. That’s why I think he was suddenly drinking so much. He always liked a drink, but he had taken it to a new level. I think he wanted to go on his own terms, but he didn’t have the guts to do it properly, probably for Laura’s sake.”

  “And he definitely told Laura about this?”

  “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” Shirley snapped, frowning down at Liz’s wine. “Are you deaf?”

  Liz smiled her apologies as she glanced back at the corner of the bar where she had seen Laura crying the day after Frank’s death, and again with Michael on the day Adam died. Was her quick recovery down to her already having accepted Frank’s imminent death?

  “Whoever killed Frank can’t have known about the cancer,” Liz thought aloud. “That rules Laura out entirely. Did Mandy know?”

  “If she did, she’s kept it quiet,” Shirle
y said before pouring the remains of her pint down the drain. “I try not to talk to her much. It’s mainly hot air that comes out of her mouth. I’m sure her ears whistle when the sea breeze hits her right.”

  “Was she working here behind the bar when Adam died?” Liz asked, her mind racing.

  “It was a busy day,” Shirley said, arching a brow. “Football was on. I’m sure she was behind the bar, not that she’s ever any use.”

  “I saw her sneaking out for a cigarette earlier that day,” Liz said. “Did she sneak off again?”

  “I’ve already told the police all of this,” Shirley sighed with a roll of her eyes. “As far as I know, she went out to set the rat traps, and then I didn’t see her leave again until she went out. That’s when she screamed, and I ran out. You know the rest.”

  “And Adam?” Liz asked. “Did he come through the pub, or the back door?”

  “Pub,” Shirley replied abruptly, clearly growing annoyed by the newcomer’s questioning. “He came in shouting the odds, saying he knew what had happened. That farmer boy took him out to the beer garden to calm him down. Farmer came back about thirty seconds later, and that’s all I know.

  “Simon?” Liz asked. “Are you sure? Did Adam mention who he thought killed Frank?”

  “I’ve told you, the football was on,” Shirley snapped. “People were cheering every bloody second. I couldn’t hear myself think. Like I said, that’s all I know. I need to get the food out of the kitchen before people get here. Can you move away from the bar? It’s not a good look for when the funeral party arrives.”

  Liz nodded and slid off the stool, leaving her wine behind. She walked through to the eerily empty beer garden, which contrasted starkly with her first visit. Sitting on one of the benches, she tried to digest the new information she had heard.

  She tried to think of the faces she had seen in the pub on the day of the football match, but half of Scarlet Cove had been there. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples on the side of her head and focussed. A face pushed forward in her mind, a face she had not considered until now, but suddenly felt so obvious. Liz jumped up and looked back into the pub, just as Mandy pushed on the door, followed by Laura. Liz now knew who had killed Frank and Adam, even if she did not have a scrap of evidence.

  14

  “Liz, I’m sorry. I’m really busy,” Simon muttered as he rushed through the pub with a tray of cheese. “Shirley has put all of the cheese with the wrong crackers. I need to sort it out.”

  “But I need to tell you something,” Liz pleaded. “It’s important.”

  “Catch me later, okay?” he mumbled as he rushed towards the food table.

  After grabbing another glass of wine from the bar, which she had to pay for this time, she made her way over to Nancy, who was standing with her father and Jack, who were both playing on the fruit machine.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” Liz asked. “In private?”

  Before Nancy could reply, Liz grabbed her arm and dragged her over to a quiet corner of the busy pub. Thankfully, most of the guests were gathered around the food table while Simon frantically sorted out the cheese.

  “I know who killed Frank and Adam,” she said. “I’ve figured it out.”

  “How?” Nancy responded with a dramatic gasp. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” Liz replied. “It all adds up. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

  “Who is it?”

  Liz leaned in and whispered the name into Nancy’s ear. Just from the confused look on her friend’s face, she knew nobody was going to believe her without evidence.

  “But why –”

  “Think about it,” Liz said. “Really think about it.”

  Nancy grabbed Liz’s wine and gulped down a generous amount of it before tapping her finger on her chin.

  “I mean, I could almost understand Frank, but Adam too?”

  “Adam was in here on the day he died,” Liz said, taking back the wine and finishing it off. “He was shouting about knowing who killed Frank. They heard him and silenced him before he blew their cover in front of everyone.”

  “What are you going to do?” Nancy asked, her hand drifting up to her mouth. “Oh, Liz! Be careful.”

  “I’m going to call an old friend from Manchester,” Liz said, pulling her phone from her handbag. “He’ll know what the right procedure will be.”

  Nancy nodded before returning to her father and boyfriend. Liz scrolled to Miles’ name in her phone, but she did not want to call him in the middle of the wake. She popped out to the beer garden, which was just as full as inside. Not wanting to leave the pub in case she saw the murderer, she slipped through the open door at the side of the bar and crept upstairs.

  Shirley’s flat above the pub was just as classically decorated as the downstairs. Fishing memorabilia lined the walls, and it did not look like it had been decorated in decades. She tiptoed along the creaky hallway towards the first room. It was a simply styled sitting room, which looked out over the market square.

  Liz pressed the call button, pushing the phone against her ear. She realised it was the middle of the day and Miles was probably at work, but she hoped seeing her number was enough to make him pickup.

  “Hello, stranger,” Miles beamed down the phone. “How’s the new life going?”

  “It’s so good to hear your voice,” she sighed, letting the familiarity wash over her. “How’s things?”

  “Oh, you know,” Miles said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. “Busy. Your replacement doesn’t hold a candle to you. Calling to tell me you’ve realised you’ve made a huge mistake?”

  “No, but I’ve called you to tell you that you were right,” she said, walking over to the window, and pulling back the net curtains. “It’s crazy here. Two murders already, and I wasn’t expecting any.”

  “Two?” Miles cried. “Bloody hell, Liz. I thought you were starting a new peaceful life by the sea?”

  “I am.”

  “Sounds like you’ve moved to the Middle East,” he mocked, the shuffling growing louder. “What do you want? I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

  “I need your advice,” she confessed, stepping back from the window to cast her eyes over the trinkets on top of the fireplace. “I think I’ve figured out who the murderer is, but the local police are next to useless. Wouldn’t know how to conduct a murder investigation if the murderer walked into the station covered in blood with a signed confession pinned to their chest.”

  “Sounds about right for those small places,” Miles said, followed by heavy slurping. “We’re up to our eyeballs here, but I’ve always got time for you. What advice do you need?”

  “I have no evidence,” she said. “Nothing concrete. I just have a feeling. I haven’t even told the police yet. I only figured it out today. What do I do, Miles?”

  “With no evidence?” Miles laughed down the phone. “You do nothing, and you leave it alone. You’re retired.”

  “But I have a hunch.”

  “And your hunches are always right, but how would you have liked it if a busy body started sticking their nose into one of your cases.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Liz mumbled, suddenly feeling a little foolish. “But they’ve already killed twice and –”

  The sound of smashing glass broke her off mid-sentence. She held her breath and listened out, sure the noise had been too close to have come from downstairs.

  “Liz?” Miles called down the phone. “Are you still there?”

  “I’ll call you back,” she muttered, before immediately hanging up and dropping the phone back into her bag.

  Liz crept carefully along the sitting room floor, every floorboard squeaking underfoot. She opened the door, its hinges in serious need of oiling. She listened out, hoping something else would smash. When it did not, she wondered if the sound had travelled from the pub after all. She almost headed back downstairs, none the wiser on what she should do, until she heard a women’s mumble
d voice.

  Liz walked to the end of the hall towards a slightly ajar door. She listened for a second, the sound of mumbling growing more irritated by the second. Liz almost knocked, until she heard a man’s voice huff something inaudible.

  Without a second thought, Liz pushed on the door, shocked to see Michael pinning Laura up against the wall, his mouth against hers. Liz almost stepped back again, until she saw Laura’s wide and afraid stare. The two women met each other’s gazes, and Laura’s moans, which Liz realised were cries for help, grew stronger.

  Liz darted forward and dragged Michael off the tiny woman. He fell back onto the bed, his lips bright red.

  “What are you doing?” he cried, his voice gruff. “She’s my wife!”

  “Laura, are you okay?” Liz asked.

  She nodded, but she did not look okay. After wiping her mouth, she panted for breath before she began crying. Michael stood up and put his hand out towards her, but Liz batted it away and stepped between them.

  “Fifteen years in the Greater Manchester Police, pal,” Liz said, her old commanding tone back in an instant. “I’ve fought bigger and scarier, and won, so I suggest you step back if you know what’s good for you.”

  “I said, she’s my wife,” he repeated, his eyes darkening.

  “We’re not together, Michael,” Laura called from behind Liz’s shoulder. “And we never will be. We’re just friends now.”

  “I don’t think you’ll want to be even that, Laura,” Liz said, stepping back, so she had them both in her view. “I’m sorry to say this, but your husband killed Frank and Adam.”

  “W-what?” Laura cried, laughing through her tears. “No, he didn’t.”