Chapter 11
After spending the afternoon out searching for Misty, Jamie was famished.
The scent of fish and chips which wafted in with Cal and Skye made his mouth water.
They at least rang the doorbell this time, but Jamie was slightly disconcerted by the way they sauntered into the kitchen and set the table as though they owned the place.
“I brought beers,” Cal said, popping the top off one and handing it to Jamie before getting one for himself. Skye opted for water and got herself a glass from the cupboard.
“You’ve been trying the teas!” she said, eyes on his scoring paper as she filled the glass at the sink. “And rating them like us.”
“It’s kind of fun to rate them,” he said, hovering beside the table as Cal opened up fish and chip wrappers.
“The vanilla one is my favourite,” Skye said, then frowned at his paper. “Why did you only give it a six?”
“Because he was feeling generous, I assume,” Cal said dryly. “That stuff is sweet and horrible and shouldn’t be allowed to be called tea.”
“Just because you only like Earl Grey,” she snarled at him.
Cal popped a chip in his mouth. “Normal tea, or Earl Grey. There’s no need for any other kind of tea to exist.”
When Skye took a seat, Jamie followed her lead.
“This is amazing,” he said after his first mouthful.
“I bet you don’t get fish supper like this where you’re from,” Cal remarked. “London, is it?”
He nodded. “We get decent fish and chips there too, but this is especially good.”
“I’m starving,” Skye said, tucking in.
“No sign of Misty yet?” Cal asked when the intruder cat wandered into the kitchen.
“No.” Jamie’s stomach dropped and his pleasure in the food was slightly diminished. “I was out looking for her all afternoon. I don’t know what to do.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Cal said. “She’ll turn up.”
She’d better do, preferably soon so Jamie wouldn’t have to tell Moira he’d lost her.
“How do you know Moira?” he asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.
They exchanged an amused look, then Skye focused on her plate.
“We lived with her for a while,” Cal said.
The way he referred to them as a unit made Jamie wonder about the nature of their relationship. “Are you a couple?” he asked.
Skye slapped a hand over her mouth, then moved it to her throat as she appeared to choke on her food.
“All right,” Cal said, glaring at her. “No need to be dramatic. A simple no would have sufficed.”
She gagged loudly. “So gross.”
“Of course we’re not a couple,” Cal said, casting a frosty look Jamie’s way. “She’s a child.”
“No,” Skye said cockily. “You just think I’m a child because you’re an old man!”
He pulled a face at her, then switched his attention to Jamie. “She’s twenty. I’m thirty-one. Why would you think we’re a couple?” He pulled his fish apart with his hands. “Sicko.”
“You said we lived here, as though you lived here together. I just didn’t know what you meant.”
“We lived here at different times,” Cal said blithely. “I lived here a long time ago. Skye lived here more recently.”
“Why?” Jamie asked, puzzled.
“Moira rents out her guest rooms sometimes,” Cal said.
“So you just saw an advert for a room to rent?”
“Not exactly, no.” Cal’s eyebrow quirked as he looked at Skye, amusement lifting his lips.
Skye rolled her eyes at him, then sighed loudly. “Moira found me on the beach one night.”
Jamie squeezed his eyes closed, trying to puzzle that one out. “You make it sound as though you washed up or something.”
“No.” Skye chuckled. “I was having a bad day and I wanted to get out of the city. So I hopped on a train to spend a day at the beach. I lost track of time. Moira saw me sitting out on the beach in the evening and came to check if I was okay. I missed the last train, so I ended up staying here for the night . . . and then I stayed a bit longer.”
Jamie had the feeling there was more to the story, but since she didn’t offer any more he turned to Cal. “How about you? How did you end up living here?”
“Similar story,” he said, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. “Moira found me on the beach.”
Jamie almost missed the slight twitch of Cal’s lips, otherwise he wouldn’t have been sure it was a joke.
“You’re messing with me,” he said.
“Yeah. I was eighteen and low on money. I needed a place to stay and I heard that she rented rooms out cheaply so I went and asked.”
“And she does that a lot?” Jamie pondered his conversation with the neighbour. “She takes in teenagers?”
“Now and again.” Cal rubbed his beard. “Weren’t we going to talk about Mrs Langford?”
“Yes!” Skye said excitedly.
“Wait,” Jamie said, intrigued by the two people who’d invited themselves to have dinner with him. After being initially hesitant he found he quite enjoyed their company. And having some noise in the house was a pleasant change. “Are you from this area?” he asked, keen to know more about them.
“I am,” Cal said.
Skye was staring at her plate when Jamie looked at her.
“I was living in Edinburgh before,” she said quietly.
“I’ve lived here for two years. I just stayed with Moira for a while when I first moved here.
” She lifted her chin and caught Jamie’s eye.
“Now I live in a shared house up by the train station. It’s about a ten-minute walk from here. ”
“Where do you live?” he asked Cal.
“At the caravan site, up past East Beach. It’s also not far.”
“You live in a caravan park?”
“He owns it,” Skye said, a hint of pride in her voice. “It’s really nice. Upmarket, not seedy.”
“Cool.” Jamie took a swig of his beer. “Do you live in a caravan, or do you have a house on the site?”
“There’s a house, but it needs renovating and I never have the time. So I stay in a van for now. It’s nice, though.”
“It is,” Skye added. “Even has a deck that looks out over the sea. It’s really fancy for a caravan site.”
“So that’s your job too?” Jamie asked. “Running the caravan park?”
“Aye. There’s nothing happening at this time of year, but in the summer it keeps me pretty busy.”
“What do you do?” Jamie asked Skye.
“I work part-time in a café, and part-time at the golf club.”
“She’s studying too,” Cal said with his mouth full. “A brainy one, she is!”
“What about you?” Skye asked. “Don’t you have a job in London?”
“I was on a career break when I saw the advert for house-sitting.”
“What were you doing before?” Cal asked.
“I worked in IT.”
Skye dunked a chip in ketchup. “Can we talk about Mrs Langford now?”
“Yeah.” Cal nodded. “We need to make a plan. We should have a list of suspects and then eliminate them one by one.”
“It’s fun working on a real-life case,” Skye said, resting an elbow on the table.
“What does that mean?” Jamie asked, surprised that he felt so at ease with the two strangers at the table.
“Emma sometimes gives us scenarios from work. Cold cases,” Skye added quickly. “Not any ongoing investigations or anything. I don’t think she’s allowed to talk about those. But with the old cases she tells us about them and sometimes we try and guess the outcomes.”
“Your police officer friend?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a pretty weird way to entertain yourselves.”
“Maybe.” Cal lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Moira used to do the same.”
“She was a police officer?” Jamie asked. The neighbour had mentioned that too.
“Yeah. Long time ago,” Cal said. “Before I met her. Anyway, it’s like a real-life true crime podcast . . . our very own live version.”
“So we’re doing the same now with Marguerite?” Jamie asked. “Pick apart her death, even though it was probably an accident?”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Cal said confidently.
“How do you know?”
“I’m mostly hoping. Because if it was an accident, it was your fault.”
Jamie frowned. “I already told you I fixed the rail.”
“You did say that,” Cal said. “Are you sure it was sturdy? It couldn’t have given way, even if she fell hard against it?”
“No.” Jamie shook his head. “I’m sure of it.”
“Who are the suspects then?” Skye said, bouncing slightly on her seat.
“The husband,” Cal said. “Pretty much always the number-one suspect.”
“Maybe he’d be top of the list,” Skye said smugly. “If she didn’t have a stepdaughter!”
“How do you know that?” Cal asked.
“Everyone was talking about it at in the clubhouse this afternoon. Mr Langford was there this morning. He’s a regular at the golf club and lots of the staff know him. I got all the gossip. My money is firmly on the stepdaughter.”
“Heather?” Jamie said. “She didn’t mention Marguerite was her stepmum. She called her Mum.”
“She’s her stepmother,” Skye said. “Definitely.”
“Heather’s nice,” Jamie mused. “And she seemed close to her mum – or stepmum. Plus, she was the one who was desperate to get the banister fixed.”
“Maybe just so no one would suspect her,” Skye said.
“Why would she want her mum dead?” Jamie asked.
Skye popped a chip in her mouth. “Because her mum was an evil stepmother, I assume.”
Pushing his plate away, Jamie sighed. “Did either of you know Marguerite?”
“I didn’t,” Skye said.
“Me neither,” Cal said. “I used to see Heather at the gym sometimes, but I haven’t seen her there for a while.”
“Marguerite was really nice,” Jamie said, rubbing at his forehead. “I didn’t speak to her much but she seemed like a good person. It’s surreal. Yesterday I was chatting to her and today she’s dead.”
“Sorry,” Skye murmured. “I didn’t mean to make light of it.”
Jamie shrugged. “I really don’t think her family would have done anything to hurt her. I can’t imagine anyone did. It’ll have been an accident.”
“Unfortunately the police aren’t as confident as you are about that,” Cal said, plucking the last chip from his plate. “And since you’re one of their main suspects, it would be good if you helped us figure out who else it might have been.”
Jamie paused. “Heather and Marguerite seemed to get on well,” he said. “And Marguerite’s husband seemed like a nice bloke too. There was something weird, though. I told the police, and then I felt bad for telling them because I think it was a joke.”
“What was?” Cal asked forcefully.
“Marguerite told me she sometimes thought her daughter might kill her for her inheritance.”
“That’s a really weird thing to joke about,” Skye pointed out.
“Yeah. It felt weird at the time, but she laughed it off. Heather said she’d always been a little eccentric.”
Cal snorted a laugh. “Sounds like more than a little to me.”
“If anyone did something to hurt her,” Jamie said, “I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of it.”
“We can’t approach the family,” Cal said, ignoring Jamie and fixing his attention on Skye. “You could ask more questions at the golf club. Discreetly, of course.”
“Yeah. I could do that. Maybe we could also speak to the neighbours. We’d just need some kind of excuse.”
“I met the neighbour today,” Jamie said idly. “Trisha. She was there when I spotted Marguerite on the floor. She went to find a spare key, and she also called the ambulance.”
“Seems plausible that you might pay her a visit to check how she is,” Cal said.
“She also asked me about doing some work on her garden.”
“Perfect!” Cal beamed. “That’s your angle. And if you’re working at her house, you’ll have plenty of time to subtly quiz her about her neighbours.”
“I don’t know,” Jamie said.
“You have to,” Skye said, then took a sip of her drink. “It’s Moira’s business, and Moira would never turn down work.”
“That’s true,” Cal said.
“I’ll do the gardening.” Jamie reached for his beer and picked at the label. “It’s the questioning her I’m not fully on board with.”
“Play it by ear,” Cal said. “See what naturally comes up. People tend to like to talk after something like this.”
“After finding their neighbour dead?” Jamie asked flatly.
“Aye.” Cal grinned. “Exactly.”