Chapter 15 #2
“Every time he suggests going to … I don’t know, break into someone’s house to find evidence, you suggest maybe a nice walk instead to carefully plan it all out.”
I scoffed. Break into someone’s house, me? Never.
“And what do I do if that doesn’t work?”
“We’ll come up with some other plans to, sort of, fill his days.”
“I was hoping you’d have more suggestions,” I said.
“This isn’t exactly my forte. And I don’t see you having any ideas.”
“Well—” Oh. Actually. Maybe I did have one?
The next morning, I woke up bright and early and felt mildly better. Seeing friends, leaving the house, and long walks with Kenny. Maybe that was the key.
So, when Simon knocked on the door at around 9 a.m. I was ready for him.
In he walked without even waiting to say hello and began talking ten to the dozen about an idea he’d had.
“Okay, so how often do terrible things happen in Lilbury? Answer – not often.”
I gave him a look.
“So … semi-not often,” he said and walked around my kitchen fixing himself breakfast, while Kenny followed him. “Coffee?”
“That cupboard.”
“So, my idea was … well, several very bad things have happened here recently, right?”
“Like …”
“The Guy thing. And your article.”
“I’m not involved in this.”
“You are a little bit. Do you only have oat milk?” His head was in my fridge.
“I get bloated from cow’s milk.”
He sighed. “It’ll do, I suppose. Do you want some of this crumble, by the way? Someone brought it and it’s really good. I don’t suppose you have any cream?”
I shook my head as he cut me a slice of Mrs Bliss’ crumble. “There might be vanilla ice cream in the freezer.”
His eyes lit up like a kid’s. “I’m going to be the size of a house from all this,” he told me. I sat at the breakfast bar, trying to look calm as he foisted food on me and acted like a man possessed.
“As I was saying, what if all these bad things were connected?”
I blinked. Well, I can’t deny that I’d had that thought myself. But I didn’t believe it.
“One small problem. Riz wasn’t killed in Lilbury.”
“Yes, but he was a politician. As was Guy.”
“But I’m not a politician.”
He ate his crumble. “It’s a theory. I think there’s a link.”
I ate more crumble. Mrs Bliss was a talented woman.
“Need to ask Mum who dropped this off and see if we can get more,” Simon said, licking his spoon. I definitely didn’t watch that with my beady little eyes. He was wearing a tan T-shirt today in a muscle fit and a pair of light blue skinny jeans that were so old and faded they were almost white.
And they clung. God, they clung.
“I do have an idea of what we could do …” I said, stirring my ice cream around the bowl so it’d melt faster.
Not that it needed much help. I swear it was getting hotter every day.
And the dust. The ground was bone dry after so long with no rain.
England was a different colour. My runs with Kenny saw me coming back so covered in dust that I was worried I was going to get accosted for doing blackface.
I watched as Simon cocked his head at me like Kenny did when he wanted food. He lifted his arm, and even the sweat stain on his armpit was doing things for me today.
“Tell me.”
I stuttered. “Nigella went to see JedRev yesterday. He’s up for visitors. We should go. It’d be good to get out of the village, and he’s your friend.”
“But he’s not involved.”
“No, maybe not.”
His eyes went wide. “You think he could’ve been a target. Holy hell. I suppose he was known to be mates with Guy. And there are other connections …”
I was about to ask what he meant when the sound of a car nearby set Kenny off barking.
“Now you’re a guard dog?” I asked him as he shot off to the front door and woofed himself stupid at it.
“Hush now, hush!” I told the mad mutt as I followed him to the door. I clapped for Simon’s attention – he’d been staring into space. “Can you?” I gestured to Kenny.
“Yup.” Simon loped over and took Kenny in his arms like he weighed nothing and carried him to the living room.
I opened the door in time to see a car pull up outside. My heart sank. Oh, no, what did they want?
“Good morning, Mr Forrest,” called Neuberger as he surveyed my overgrown garden.
Simon closed the living room door with Kenny inside and came to stand beside me, but I tried to push him back in.
“Morning, detective,” I called and then out the corner of my mouth: “Go upstairs or something. Hide.”
“Why?” asked Simon.
“Do you want them to know you’re here?”
Simon rolled his eyes but sank back into the living room. “You alone?” Neuberger called. “Can we come in?
“Please, do,” I said, ignoring the first question. I scrambled to move Simon’s bowl as they entered a few seconds later. “Sorry, haven’t done the dishes. Place is a tip, do forgive me.”
Neuberger came in and couldn’t hide his disdain. Maslin followed him, looking a bit less displeased.
The DI went towards the living room door, already snooping.
“Oh, my dog is in there, please don’t let him out with the front door open.
” Maslin had the good sense to close that door.
“He’s not good with strangers; it’ll be a racket if he’s out here.
” Neuberger narrowed his eyes, still poised for the living room.
As if on cue, Kenny started barking loudly. Neuberger grimaced and turned away.
“Your garden is looking very overgrown,” he said. “Even in this weather, it needs a mow.”
“I’ve been meaning to put up a sign in the village to hire someone to look after it.”
“Not keen on getting your hands dirty yourself?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Why would I?”
“It’s cheaper to do it yourself.”
“I’m rich,” I said.
They both stared at me and then gave each other a look.
“How can I help you two gents?” Play nice, play nice.
“Just routine, Mr Forrest. We had a few loose ends to clean up.”
I smiled as best I could.
“We were hoping you might be able to tell us more about your previous interactions with Mr Patel?”
I cocked my head. Trying not to let the panic get to me.
I was sweating now. My armpits wouldn’t be as interesting to me as Simon’s.
Did I have a new fetish for men’s armpits?
Oh no, this was going to involve having to look at some very weird porn sites to find out if it was a thing I was into. I didn’t have the time.
“Mr Forrest?” Maslin asked.
“Sorry, right. Um, I first met him a week or two ago at a hustings. Only for a minute. After that, I think … at the vigil for Jed Fulford. I never spoke to him, just saw him. Er, I think it was that night at Honningtons that I spoke to him again.”
Neuberger looked at me. “And no other interaction?”
I smiled sweetly. “Such as?”
“Never came across him on a dating app?” Neuberger checked his notepad. “Mr Patel had accounts with several. And several subscriptions to websites that made for interesting viewing for one of our constables.”
The smile was still in place. “I don’t use any of the dating apps, I’m afraid. I’ve no stomach for it.” Smile sweetly, Arden.
“I see. You’re sure your interactions with Mr Patel were that limited? You are friends with his fiancé, aren’t you? We understand you visited him the other day.”
“Not really, I barely know him. The fiancé that is.”
Neuberger pursed his lips at this. “So, you and Mr Anson aren’t friends?”
Were they back on the Simon-did-it bandwagon? “We know each other, obviously, but we’re not close.”
“Right,” said Neuberger. “And, you couldn’t give us an insight into his temperament?”
Was that not what I did in the car the other day? I gave Maslin a look. He looked back as if butter wouldn’t melt. “I only really know him in a professional sense. As in, he worked for me a few months back. Reliable, punctual. Hard worker. People in the village assure me he’s a nice guy.”
“Assure you?” Neuberger asked. “Because you barely socialise, is that correct? It’s what you told my colleague the other day.” He gestured to Maslin, who was staring at me. His vast body took up a large chunk of my dining room.
Sweat was running down my back. Simon was three metres away, and I was acting as if I’d barely met him. “We know each other,” I corrected myself. “But we’re hardly bosom buddies, is all.” Saying too much again. First, they ask if I’m hooking up with Riz, now they want me to dob Simon in.
Kennedy started barking again. I could hear him whining against the door and scratching.
Maslin turned around. “That dog okay? Seems agitated.”
“He’s fine, I need to take him for a run.”
There was the sound of a crash from the living room and a human voice saying “Fuck” very distinctly.
Neuberger narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you were alone.”
I kept my gaze steady. “No. I didn’t.”
Neuberger got up and went to the door at the same time Simon opened it, and Kennedy took flight at being let out again. Rather a lot of Alsatian/Dobermann met middle-aged detective at full speed, and Neuberger became well acquainted with my floor.
Pandemonium ensued as Neuberger screamed blue murder while Simon and Maslin tried to sort out the kerfuffle.
“Kenny, bad dog. No, get off him. Very bad dog,” I said, blithely checking my nails.
Simon pulled Kenny off the detective before he licked him to death.
“Do you want a cloth? You’ve got dog slobber all over your gilet,” I asked.
Maslin helped his boss up and then stood back, trying – I swear – not to laugh.
Neuberger patted himself down. He was bright red and seeking to remain calm. Simon held on to Kenny’s collar with a firm grip.
Kenny panted loudly and strained at the bit, his tongue all the way out, clearly thinking he was playing a fun new game. “Mr Anson, how nice to see you. What an interesting place to find you. Mr Forrest’s company must be such a balm in your time of need.”
Great. Now he thought we were shagging.
“I hope you’re okay?” he continued, though his expression informed us all he couldn’t give a toss about Simon’s well-being. “Rest assured; we’re doing everything we can to find your fiancé’s killer.” He gave me a look.
Seriously? He thought I did it?