Chapter 14
The High Tide Café was at the end of the high street.
It was slightly bigger than the other café Jamie had been in, and the blue and white interior was decorated with a charming marine life theme.
Paintings of shells and sea creatures hung on the walls and strings of sea glass dangled from driftwood overhead.
Cal greeted a thirty-something woman in a floral apron and introduced her as Fiona, the owner.
“The little workaholic is waiting for you,” she said, pointing at Skye bent over her laptop at a table in the corner. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Black coffees would be great,” Cal said and gave her arm an affectionate pat.
“Did you order for me?” Jamie asked, confused. “I take milk,” he added, but Cal was already striding over to sit with Skye and didn’t seem to hear.
“Hey,” she said, closing her laptop. “Why was it horrible?”
“What?” Jamie asked, when the pair of them looked at him.
Skye drummed her fingers on the table. “When you got in the car you said it was horrible, or it had gone horribly or something . . . with the neighbour.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t referring to that. As I was leaving, that grumpy detective showed up and wasn’t very happy with me.”
“Which grumpy detective?” Skye asked.
“I met her yesterday. She asked me questions about what happened.”
“Does he mean Emma?” Skye asked Cal.
“Maybe.” Cal narrowed his eyes. “What was this detective’s name?”
“MacLeod.”
Both Cal and Skye laughed.
“That’s Emma,” Cal said. “Our friend in the police force.”
“You’re friends with Detective MacLeod?” Jamie couldn’t quite fathom it. “Why are you friends with her? She’s mean.”
The way they both glared at him made him wonder if this was the end of their acquaintance.
“She’s not mean,” Skye said quietly.
“That might be the wrong word.” He swallowed hard as Cal continued to glare at him. “She was a little cold.”
It took a moment for Cal’s features to relax. “That’s a fair assessment. She’s definitely cold. Like an iceberg.”
“Now you’re being mean!” Skye grumbled. “She’s not cold.”
“She is,” Cal said. “With new people she’s definitely cold.”
“A bit,” Skye said thoughtfully. “I always think of her as being kind of like olives. The way it takes a while to like them. You eat one and don’t see what the big deal is, but it’s not terrible so you persevere and then one day you realise they’re actually amazing and you’re not sure why you didn’t think so all along. ”
“That’s very sweet,” Fiona said, apparently overhearing as she put drinks in front of Jamie and Cal. “Give me a shout if you want anything else,” she said before wandering away.
“So you’re a fan of this detective?” Jamie asked Skye.
She shrugged. “You’ll like her eventually.”
“She can’t stand me,” he said.
“That makes sense,” Cal said with a smirk. “She’s a good judge of character.”
“Ha ha,” Jamie said dryly, then took a sip of his coffee. He winced as the dark liquid burned his lips. “I take milk,” he muttered, looking around for Fiona. “Why did you order for me?”
“Milk in yer coffee?” Cal said, seemingly disgusted by the concept. “Come on, pal, you’re in Scotland now. Real men don’t put milk in their coffee.”
Jamie stared at him, but Cal’s stony features remained fixed.
“He’s messing with you,” Skye said, rolling her eyes. “You’ll get used to his sense of humour at some point. Or maybe not.”
Cal’s features broke into a smile. “Try drinking it black, though. Trust me, it’s better that way.”
“It’s too hot,” Jamie said, then heard how pathetic he sounded.
“Bloody hell,” Cal muttered. “Why are English men so soft?”
“I’m Scottish,” Jamie insisted.
Cal frowned deeply. “You are not!”
“I am.” A smile pulled at his lips at how outraged Cal looked. “I was born in Edinburgh. Both my parents were Scottish.”
“How long did you live in Edinburgh for?” Skye asked, leaning on the table.
“Not long. Mum and I moved to London when I was three. This is the first time I’ve been back to Scotland since. So maybe I’m not as Scottish as people who’ve lived here their whole lives but—”
“No,” Cal said, cutting him off. He tilted his head. “You’re Scottish. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Jamie felt a swell of pride. “Right. Yeah. I won’t.”
“Now prove it and drink your coffee black!” Cal said, the harshness of his words negated by the laughter in his eyes.
“I can get you milk if you want,” Skye said, then pressed her lips together. “Not much sense trying to look manly, anyway. Not when you’re driving Moira’s van around.”
Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Moira never mentioned the business name to me!”
While Skye laughed, Cal slapped Jamie on the shoulder consolingly.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist over it, lass.”
Skye laughed even more and Jamie finally gave in and smiled at the pair of them.
“It’s not that funny,” he insisted, then took a hesitant sip of his coffee.
“So what did Emma say to you?” Skye asked, getting the conversation back on track.
“That I shouldn’t be around the Langfords’ house.”
“I thought she might be around,” Cal said. “That’s why I parked a bit away. Hopefully she didn’t see me or I’ll get an earful later.”
Jamie set his coffee down. Black wasn’t so bad really. “Are you and she . . .?”
Cal’s eyes bulged. “Bloody hell, no.” He shuddered dramatically.
Skye snorted a laugh, then her features turned serious. “Did you manage to get anything out of the neighbour?”
“Yes. I was actually really good at getting her to talk.” After being initially hesitant, he was pleased he’d gone to talk to her.
“What did she say?” Cal asked.
“That she doesn’t want me to do any work for her, because she heard from Heather that I botched both the garden and the banister. I get the feeling she’ll mention that to everyone she sees in the next few days.”
“That’s not great,” Cal said.
“No, but she told me some interesting stuff about her neighbours. Specifically that there was an issue with the Langfords’ cleaner stealing from them.
Which made me remember that the cleaner turned up there on Monday afternoon, causing a fuss and demanding money.
I didn’t think much about it at the time. ”
Skye rubbed her hands together. “We have another suspect.”
“Heather told me they hadn’t told anyone about the stealing since they had no proof,” Jamie said. “But the neighbour claims Marguerite was telling everyone she saw.”
“So the cleaner was angry with the family,” Cal mused. “And she was at the house the day before Mrs Langford’s fall. That sounds to me like she had both the motive and the opportunity.”
Jamie frowned. “You think the cleaner removed the banister screws without anyone noticing?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“We should talk to her,” Skye said.
“Agreed.” Cal looked at Jamie. “What’s her name?”
“Petra,” Jamie replied. “The neighbour said she works for some guest houses too.”
“Can’t be too difficult to track down.” Cal swivelled on his chair and waved Fiona over to ask if she knew her.
“I think I know who you mean,” Fiona replied. “She works for the Petersons, cleaning their B&B.”
“We need to get in touch with her,” Cal said, flashing Fiona a sweet smile.
She rolled her eyes. “Give me five minutes. I’ll see what I can do.”
“There was something else,” Jamie said when Fiona had walked away.
“Trisha told me she’d heard shouting at the house on Monday evening while the physiotherapist was there.
Which is a bit weird because I saw the physio at the house on Monday morning.
She thought she had a session with Marguerite, but she’d got the day wrong.
She stayed and had a cuppa with Marguerite.
Why would she come back again in the evening? ”
“And why would she be arguing?” Skye added.
Jamie shrugged. “Trisha thought she was arguing with Marguerite’s daughter. Mr Langford was out for the evening.” He fell silent as Fiona returned with a phone number for them.
“You’re the best!” Cal said, taking the slip of paper from her. “We have another question . . . do you know the physio who’d been working with Marguerite . . .” He looked at Jamie. “What’s her name?”
He screwed his features up as he tried to remember. “Anita, maybe?”
“Amira?” Fiona ventured.
“Yes.” He nodded vigorously. “That’s it.”
“She’s lovely,” Fiona said. “I had some sessions with her when I sprained my ankle a while back. Such a sweet young thing, and she makes the most delicious cardamon biscuits. She always seemed to have some homemade bakes. I even asked if she’d supply me with some for the café, but she said she was keeping the baking as a hobby. ”
“Do you know where we’d find her?” Cal asked.
“The physiotherapy practice is on Church Road. I think they do a lot of house calls too, but I always went there. Nice place.”
Cal grinned at her. “Thank you.”
“I won’t even ask what you’re up to.” She shook her head and left them alone again.
Five minutes later, Cal ended a call with Petra in which he told her he was interested in employing her as a cleaner.
“There were a lot of lies in that conversation,” Jamie pointed out.
“Were there?”
“You don’t actually need a cleaner, do you?”
“Not a thieving one, no. But if it turns out that’s not true, who knows. Anyway, I said we’d meet her over at West Beach in fifteen minutes.”
“Why there?” Skye asked.
“She’s off out walking her dog. I said I’m keen to meet soon. It sounds as though she’s desperate for work so she was equally as keen.”
“I suppose she would be if she’s losing work because people are gossiping about her stealing,” Jamie mused.
Skye pursed her lips. “If she’d actually been stealing, she probably wouldn’t be that desperate for work.”
“Let’s drink up and go and find out,” Cal said.
“Okay,” Jamie said, oddly excited by the prospect of questioning the cleaner. “After that we need to put up missing cat posters.”
“That’s a good idea,” Skye said, nodding.
“You can guarantee Misty will come back before you’ve even finished putting them up,” Cal said. “No way she’ll stay away for long.”
“I’m worried about her,” Jamie said. “I’m also wondering about telling Moira.”
Skye shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“No.” Cal leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t either. She’s on the other side of the world. All she can do is worry. But right now there’s nothing to worry about. Misty’s probably just off on an adventure.”
“You might be right,” Jamie said. “But what should I say if she calls?”
“Tell her Misty’s fine,” Cal said. “It’s probably true.”
“Right.” It felt deceitful, but they were right that telling her Misty was missing would only cause her a lot of worry.
There was nothing she could do about it from New Zealand.
“The other thing I’ve been wondering is what to tell her about the Langfords.
Should I tell her Marguerite is dead? I’m supposed to email her once a week and let her know what jobs I’ve done so she can send out invoices, but I’m thinking she probably shouldn’t send the Langfords an invoice. ”
“You could charge them for the gardening,” Skye said. “Not sure how appropriate it would be to bill them for fixing the banister.”
Cal attempted to cover his laugh with a cough but his bright smile was a giveaway.
“Sorry,” he said. “Skye’s right, though. I wouldn’t charge them for that.”
“I was never going to,” Jamie said, glaring at Cal.
“It only took me a few minutes, so I already said there’d be no charge.
” He thought back to that conversation. “Mr Langford didn’t even want me to do it,” he muttered.
“He made some comment about what it would cost so I said I wouldn’t charge for it. ”
“Why didn’t he want you to do it?” Skye asked.
“It doesn’t sound as though they’re short of cash if they can afford a cleaner and a gardener.
The golf course fees aren’t cheap either, so they clearly aren’t struggling.
Why would he quibble over the price of fixing the rail?
Especially given that it’s a safety issue. ”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe because he could do it himself.”
“You could say the same about cleaning the house and doing the garden work,” Cal said.
“That’s a bit more time-consuming,” Jamie argued. “I tell you what else is weird. Apparently, Heather was upset about me cutting back the honeysuckle because it had been her mum’s favourite, but Marguerite was there when I was cutting it and didn’t say a thing. She was joking around with me.”
“Telling you her daughter wants her dead?” Cal said.
“That’s so strange,” Skye whispered.
“Yeah, but she clearly wasn’t concerned about the gardening work, so I don’t know why Heather was upset about it.”
“Maybe because her mum just died,” Skye suggested. “Perhaps she wasn’t being entirely rational.”
Jamie conceded her point with a shrug, then took a swig of coffee.
Cal checked his watch. “Let’s go and meet the cleaner.”
“What about the physiotherapist?” Jamie asked.
“You’ve changed your tune,” Cal said with a small smile. “Earlier I had to drag you out to talk to the neighbour, now you’re in full detective mode.”
“I was really good at questioning Trisha. She totally opened up to me. Also, I’d really like to know what happened to Marguerite. She seemed like a good person.”
“We can talk to the physio too.” Cal sighed. “Probably not much point, though. Fiona only had good things to say about her and I trust Fi’s judgement.”
Jamie cocked his head. “She was only basing her opinion on a few physio sessions.”
Without responding, Cal finished his coffee and stood. Jamie did the same.
“I wish I could come,” Skye said, glancing at the counter where Fiona was taking the order of the woman at the front of a small queue. “I better get back to work, though.”
“I’ll call you later and fill you in,” Cal promised, then gave her a tenner and asked her to sort their bill out.