Crime in the Café

The young woman was busy rummaging in her cloth purse and evidently didn’t hear her. She pulled out a diary, thumbing through the pages, then clicked the top of a pen and peered eagerly at Lacey. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Free for what?” Lacey asked, her confusion growing.

“The renovation,” Suzy said. “Didn’t I…?” She trailed off and her cheeks went bright red. “Shoot. Sorry.” She quickly shoved the pen and diary back into her shoulder bag. “I’m new to all this business stuff. I get things in the wrong order all the time. Let me start at the beginning. So, my plan is to get the B&B furnished in time for the air show and…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Lacey interrupted. “What air show?”

“The air show,” Suzy repeated.

From the frown that had appeared between her eyebrows, Lacey deduced it was her turn to be perplexed.

“Next Saturday?” the young woman continued. “Red Arrows? Castle of Brogain? You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Lacey was stumped. Suzy may as well be talking another language. “You might’ve guessed from my accent, I’m not from around these parts.”

“No, of course.” Suzy blushed again. “Well, air shows are quite common here in the UK. You get shows all across the coast, but the Wilfordshire one is a special gem because of Brogain castle. The Red Arrows do a very exciting formation as they pass over it, and every high schooler studying photography wants to come and get a black-and-white shot of it. The juxtaposition of old war and new war.” She printed the words in the air with her hands and giggled. “I know, because I was one of those high schoolers once.”

All four years ago, Lacey thought.

“There’s also about a zillion professional photographers who come as well,” Suzy continued in a way that made it clear to Lacey she was a nervous rambler. “It’s like a competition, everyone trying to snap THE image, the one that the tourist board will buy. And then, there’s the people who come to show their respects to their ancestors. And all the families who just want to look at planes doing barrel rolls.”

“I guess I need to brush up on my local history a little bit,” Lacey said, feeling woefully ignorant.

“Oh, I’m just a history nerd, that’s all,” Suzy quipped. “I love thinking about how people lived a few generations back. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that people would go and shoot game for their dinner! The Victorians in particular fascinate me.”

“Victorians…” Lacey repeated. “Shooting.” She clicked her fingers. “I have an idea!”

Something about Suzy’s wide-eyed enthusiasm had made the dusty cogs in the abandoned part of Lacey’s interior designer mind grind back to life. She led Suzy into the auction room and along the corridor toward the office.

Suzy watched on with intrigue as Lacey opened up the safe and pulled out the wooden case containing the flintlock rifle, before clicking open the latches, raising the lid, and carefully removing the antique weapon.

Suzy drew in a sharp breath.

“Inspiration for your B&B,” Lacey said. “Victorian hunting lodge.”

“I…” Suzy stammered. “It’s…”

Lacey couldn’t tell if she was appalled or astonished.

“I love it!” Suzy gushed. “It’s a brilliant idea! I can just see it now. Blue tartan. Velvet. Corduroy. An open fire. Wood panels.” Her eyes had gone round with wonder.

“And that’s called inspiration,” Lacey told her.

“How much is it?” Suzy asked eagerly.

Lacey faltered. She had not been intending to sell the gift from Xavier. She’d just meant for it to be a creative springboard.

“It’s not for sale,” she said.

Suzy’s bottom lip stuck out in disappointment.

Lacey then recalled Gina’s accusations over Xavier. If Gina thought the rifle was too much, then what would Tom think when he found out? Maybe it would be better if she did just sell it to Suzy.

“…Yet,” Lacey added, making a snap decision. “I’m waiting on some paperwork.”

Suzy’s face lit up. “So I can reserve it?”

“You can indeed,” Lacey said, returning the smile.

“And you?” Suzy asked, with a giggle. “Can I reserve you, too? As the interior designer? Please!”

Lacey hesitated. She didn’t do interior design anymore. She’d left that part of her back in New York City with Saskia. Her focus was on buying and selling antiques, learning how to auction them and building her business. She didn’t have time to work for Suzy and run her own store. Sure, she could put Gina in charge, but with the increased tourist trade, leaving her to man the shop alone seemed a little unwise.

“I’m not sure,” Lacey said. “I have a lot on my plate here.”

Suzy touched her arm apologetically. “Of course. I understand. How about you just come by and check the place out tomorrow? See whether you’d like to take on the project once you’ve got a better feel for it?”

Lacey found herself nodding. After everything that had happened with Brooke, she thought she’d be more wary of letting new people in. But maybe she’d be able to heal from that whole ordeal after all. Suzy had one of those infectious personalities that was easy to get swept along by. She’d make an excellent businesswoman.

Maybe Carol was right to worry.

“I guess there’s no harm in taking a look, is there?” Lacey said.

This time next week, when Lacey was looking back on this moment with Suzy with hindsight, the idiom famous last words would spring to mind.

CHAPTER THREE

Lacey drove along the seafront in her champagne-colored Volvo, windows cranked, a gentle midday sun warming her. She was on her way to the former retirement home, soon to be Wilfordshire’s newest B&B, with a surprise for Suzy in her passenger seat. Not Chester—her trusty companion had been far too content snoring in a sunbeam to be disturbed, and besides, Lacey was pretty certain Suzy was scared of dogs—but the flintlock rifle.

Lacey wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing by parting with it. When she’d held the rifle, it felt like it belonged to her, as if the universe was telling her she was supposed to take care of it. But Gina had planted a worm in her ear over Xavier and his intentions and she just couldn’t see through the clouds.

“I guess it’s too late now,” Lacey said with a sigh. She’d already promised to sell it to Suzy, and it would look very unprofessional to back out of the sale now because of nothing more than a funny feeling!

Just then, Lacey passed Brooke’s old tearoom. It was all boarded up. The refurbishment she’d done in transforming the old canoe shed into a swanky eatery had all gone to waste.

Thinking of Brooke made Lacey feel on edge, which was really the last thing she needed to add to the disquiet she already felt about parting ways with the rifle.

She pressed her pedal to the ground, speeding up in the hope she could leave those horrible feelings behind her.

Soon, Lacey reached the east side of town, the less populated area untouched by the sprawl of stores that spread from north to south and west to center, the area that, according to Carol, Mayor Fletcher was going to change for the worse.

Just then, Lacey saw the turning that led to the former Sunrise Retirement Home, and took a left turn onto it. The bumpy road sloped upward, and was lined with beech trees so tall they formed a tunnel that cut out the sunlight.

“That’s not ominous at all…” Lacey said sarcastically. “Not in the slightest.”

Luckily, the trees soon thinned out, and daylight reached her once more.

Lacey got her first glimpse of the house nestled into the hillsides. Her interior designer’s mind switched immediately into gear as she assessed the exterior. It was a fairly modern-looking, red-brick, three-story mansion. She guessed it was a 1930s property that had been modernized over the years. The driveway and parking area were made of gray concrete—functional but unsightly. The windows of the manor had thick, plastic white frames—good for keeping out burglars, but a terrible eyesore. It would take more than a few strategically placed shrubs to make the exterior look like a Victorian hunting lodge.