Chapter 33
Leaning out of his chair, Jamie watched Emma leave. At least it wasn’t only him who’d got an earful. She gave the overgrown hedge a few choice words on her way out too.
“I don’t mean to sound dramatic,” he said, once she was out of sight. “But I think she hates me.”
Cal nodded slowly and persistently. “I think you might be right,” he said before his lips twisted into a mocking smile.
“She doesn’t,” Skye said. “It’s just how she is.”
Jamie snorted. “That’s normal for her?”
“No,” Skye corrected. “It’s how she is with new people.” She looked thoughtful, as though figuring out how to explain the puzzle that was Emma. “She never likes anyone to start with. She assumes the worst of everyone and it takes her a while to warm up.”
“That’s not a very endearing trait,” Jamie said. She’d actually been okay when she’d come over yesterday, though. Maybe there was more going on with her.
“She’s usually just indifferent,” Cal said. “She reserves judgement until she really knows people.”
“If you say so.”
Cal shrugged. “Em might seem feisty and full of herself, but underneath she’s probably more insecure than most. You stepping on her toes at work was never going to go down well. You’re undermining her judgement there, and you can see why that would get her back up.”
“I just don’t think she was very thorough,” Jamie argued. “Of course, it’s embarrassing for her that I’m doing her job for her, but why didn’t she do a better job in the first place?”
“Because she doesn’t have the luxury of having nothing else to do,” Cal said pointedly. “She has a stack of cases and people breathing down her neck to get them wrapped up as quickly as possible. She’s not incompetent, she’s busy.”
Skye nodded. “She is very good at her job.”
With a sigh, Jamie picked up his beer and took a long swig. “I did think about doing some gardening here,” he said after a moment. “But Moira specifically told me not to. I guess I could at least cut the hedge back.”
“I wouldn’t,” Cal said.
“No,” Skye agreed. “I think Moira has specific plans for it.”
“Maybe I should get Moira to tell me what the plans are. Surely it’s something I can manage, especially since I don’t have much else to do.”
Cal and Skye exchanged a look.
“Leave the garden alone,” Cal said eventually.
“Is this to do with Heather Langford complaining about the gardening I did, because—”
“It’s not that,” Skye said, cutting him off. “Moira doesn’t care what the garden looks like, she just always likes to have a project. In case someone turns up.”
Jamie shook his head. “How do you mean?”
“You know she sometimes takes in stray teenagers?” Cal said, amusement flashing in his eyes. “She likes to have a job for them, so they feel less like a charity case. And to give them a sense of purpose for a while.”
Skye beamed. “When I arrived I painted the living room and the hallway.”
“I laid this patio,” Cal said, pointing at the paving slabs beneath them.
“So she’ll just keep the garden overgrown in case some kid turns up in need of a job?”
“In need of a place to stay,” Skye said. “But yeah. That’s about the size of it.”
“What did Emma do?” he asked.
“Restored the table and chairs in the kitchen,” Cal said. “She still boasts about what a great job she did.”
“I assume she knows Moira purposely keeps jobs for teenagers in need. Why was she having a go at me about the garden?”
“She was in a bad mood,” Cal said. “Forget about it. I’m getting another beer. Who wants one?”
He might have had one beer too many. That was Jamie’s first thought when he woke with a groggy head.
Or maybe it wasn’t the alcohol. The argument with Emma weighed heavily on him too.
Especially the part where he’d agreed to back off and stop looking into Marguerite’s death. He wasn’t quite sure he could do that.
Trudging downstairs, he put a mug under the coffee machine and stared out at the empty beach while he waited for the machine to do its thing.
The problem with letting his investigation drop was that he was pretty sure he was on to something. Trisha wanting her sister to buy the house was definitely a motive, and the key gave her access. He just needed proof.
The doorbell rang when he’d only had one sip of coffee. Hopefully it wasn’t Emma with another warning for him. He was far from being caffeinated enough to deal with that.
Oddly, he felt a pang of disappointment when it wasn’t Emma. What was that all about?
“Hi,” he said uncertainly when he found Mr Langford on the doorstep.
“Hello.” He offered a weak smile. “Sorry to disturb you. I hope it’s not too early.”
Jamie checked his watch. Almost ten, so not really early at all, but presumably he looked as though he’d only just crawled out of bed. Instinctively, he ran a hand through his hair.
“It’s not too early,” he said. “What can I help you with?”
“I’d like to have a quick chat if you’ve got five minutes.”
“Oh. Right.” He stood frozen for a moment before his brain kicked into gear. “Yeah, sure. Come in.”
A few minutes later, Jamie put a coffee in front of Mr Langford who was staring at the beach out of the window.
“Thank you,” he said, wrapping his hands around the mug. “This feels like an awkward thing to ask,” he said as Jamie slid into the chair opposite him. “I hope you won’t take it the wrong way.”
Jamie’s eyebrows nipped together as he waited for him to continue.
“One of my neighbours from down the road popped over to see us yesterday evening. She mentioned you’d been asking if she’d seen anything on the morning Marguerite died.”
Jamie rubbed at his chest which felt suddenly tight. “I was trying to be helpful,” he said. “I hope I didn’t cause any upset.”
“That’s the thing,” he said, tilting his head. “It upset Heather. I’m sure you can understand this is a difficult time for us, and what we want now is to find a way to move forwards.”
“I understand,” Jamie said and muttered another apology.
He was tempted to leave it at that, but he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t voice his thoughts.
“If I can just explain though . . . I’m concerned that your wife’s death wasn’t an accident.
And while I can see why you’d want to move on, don’t you also want to know the truth? ”
“The police seem satisfied it was an accident.”
“I know, but something occurred to me. When I arrived at your house on Tuesday, I could see Marguerite, but I couldn’t get in. Trisha rushed off to find the spare key at her place. She couldn’t find it.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” Edward said, missing the point. “A couple of minutes wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“I know that, but yesterday I was at her house and noticed the key was hanging right in her hallway. She lied about not being able to find it, because she was covering up that she’d already been into the house earlier that morning . . .”
Mr Langford started to speak, but Jamie grew louder as he continued.
“She wants the house,” he said. “She’s desperate for her sister to move in and she thought that if something happened to Marguerite, you’d move.
So she sneaked in and tampered with the banister rail.
” Once again he had to speak over Mr Langford’s attempts to interrupt.
“Just think about it. She had access, a motive and she knew that Marguerite relied on the rail to move around.”
Finally, he stopped talking, but it took Mr Langford a moment to speak, presumably waiting to be sure he wouldn’t be interrupted again.
“Trisha came over in the evening on the day Marguerite died,” he began slowly.
“She felt terrible that she hadn’t been able to find the key quickly.
I gave her the spare years ago in case we were ever locked out or something.
She’d shoved it in a drawer and never thought about it again.
So when she needed it, she couldn’t find it.
Afterwards, she searched for it and promised she’d always have it on hand from then on.
” He paused and gave Jamie a pointed look. “Hung on the rack by the door.”
“Oh,” he said weakly, while his thoughts fired haphazardly. “But the thing with the house. When I saw her yesterday she was very interested when I mentioned you were thinking of selling up.”
“That’s true. She came over in quite a tizzy, telling me not to make any rash decisions. I thought it was odd. Eventually she admitted that she was mostly being selfish because she didn’t like the thought of getting new neighbours. I think she’s quite fond of me really.”
“Her sister doesn’t want to buy it?”
“No. She said everything worked out for the best in the end. She recently found herself a lovely place in Dirleton.”
“Right.” Jamie slumped back. That had well and truly taken the wind out of his sails. “I really thought there was something strange going on.”
Mr Langford smiled sympathetically. “I wonder if this is because of the banister. You know we don’t hold you in any way responsible? I’d hate to think you felt guilty.”
“No.” He shook his head, not sure if it was true.
Maybe that was it – he needed to blame someone else, purely to absolve himself.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I’m sorry if I caused more stress. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.”
Jamie felt like an absolute tool. The man had lost his wife and he was causing more upset.
“How are you coping?” he asked sadly.
Mr Langford released a shuddering breath. “I just get up in the mornings and go through the motions. I suppose I should consider myself lucky – we had a great marriage and a wonderful life together. Everything seems a little pointless without her, though.”
He turned his gaze out of the window again as emotions made his eyes glassy. “You only get one true love in life,” he murmured. “Marguerite was mine.”