A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery Read online

  So they did.

  The church had been full; surprising Beth who had imagined just a handful of local people. Of course, she had chided herself; Melissa had had a life before Bride’s Bay, friends and family she knew nothing about.

  Beth had gone home after work, to grab a sandwich and change. Tom had arranged to pick her up at half past one, then Frances. Beth dressed in the outfit she had chosen the night before; a simple dark green skirt that hugged her stomach and hips then swirled slightly over her knees, made of some man made material that fell beautifully and didn’t crease. It was the skirt she wore to parent’s evenings and committee meetings. With it she wore a simple cream top with a vee neck, embroidery detail around it. Simple pearl studs and low taupe patent court shoes. She looked at herself critically in the long mirror inside her wardrobe door. Her hair had been trimmed but still fell in soft waves around her face, from a side parting, golden blonde streaks now outnumbering the darker blonde. Her skin was a light golden brown and her eyes a clear green. Her eyes travelled down, past her sloping shoulders to her chest, golden brown cleavage just visible and the swell of her breasts beneath the cream top. Gazing lower, she frowned. The skirt clung a little too snugly to her tummy. She sucked it in, a bit better. Some Marks and Spencer’s industrial knickers to hold it all in were in her underwear drawer, but Beth hated the feeling of confinement and never wore them. Why on earth was she fussing like this anyway? It was Melissa’s funeral; she just needed to look smart out of respect. With that thought she picked up her bag and went downstairs, transferring phone, wallet, comb and tissues from her everyday bag to the patent one that matched the shoes. She had bought the matching set for a wedding two years ago. They were fast becoming her hatch, match and despatch set; she mused, then picked up her keys, patted Charlie and went out of the front door to wait for Tom.

  He was punctual, jumping out to open the door for her and she slid into the front seat, gathering the folds of skirt around her. Three minutes later he repeated the process for Frances, the other woman dressed in a black skirt, black shoes and white blouse. No one spoke as they drove the short distance to the church, Beth uncomfortable aware of the long leg and muscular thigh close to hers and his capable looking hands on the steering wheel, golden hairs showing against the snowy white of his shirt cuffs. His suit was charcoal grey, good quality wool. No black tie but a pewter coloured silk with abstract black markings on it.

  They parked and he ushered the two women ahead of him into the church, a steady stream of people following them. Beth led the way to a pew on the left, twisting along to the end seat, Frances following then Tom. Beth reached across Frances, whispering to keep two seats for Gina and Ken and he nodded, placing his order of service across them.

  Ken followed shortly with Gina and they whispered greetings, Ken doing thumbs up to Beth in response to her mouthing Carol’s name.

  The organ was playing quietly and the flowers looked magnificent. Grace had continued with the pink and lemon theme in arrangements either side of the altar; one pedestal being mainly white with splashes of pearly pink and the other white with a delicate pale lemon. Gina’s arrangement at the side glowed in the gloom of the old church.

  Mark took his place on the altar, assisted by two servers and motioned for the congregation to stand.

  The service began.

  Three hours later it was all over and Beth was home, changed back into cotton trousers and a T shirt.

  It had gone well.

  Grace had been composed; remaining in control during the service and giving a eulogy that managed to be uplifting and joyful, a celebration of Melissa’s vibrant life rather than a tragic sudden goodbye. She introduced Bride’s Bay residents to Melissa’s cousins, the only family present apart from Grace herself, to close friends from childhood, adolescence, college and working days, to her colleagues in the art world and to acquaintances who had travelled to say their farewells, and she gave a short speech before people began to leave, thanking everyone for attending. Beth had been amazed and impressed at her calmness and strength. Melissa’s ex-partner had been there; a shortish man of average build, with cropped dark hair streaked with grey and frameless glasses. But he exuded a power and charisma and Beth could understand his attraction for the lively, colourful Melissa. Grace had caught Gina as she, Tom, Frances and Beth were about to make their farewells and Gina followed her back into the church, signalling to Beth she would be back.

  “What was that about?” she queried, when Gina reappeared.

  “Just thanking me again for the flowers. She took a photo of them. You know she’s a photographer?”

  Beth didn’t but mumbled agreement.

  “She usually photographs people, she’s quite well known apparently. You know, when someone wants a special studio portrait done. Anyway, she took a picture, while they are at their best.”

  Tom dropped Frances home first. He got out at Beth’s and opened the car door for her. Beth was all for equality but it was nice to have doors held open, an arm shepherding you through a doorway or across the road. Nothing to do with equality really; just consideration and good manners. She looked up at him to thank him for the lifts; her throat catching. Why did men look so good in suits? Especially this one, she thought unhappily; the well-cut suit fitting his tall, broad frame perfectly and his white shirt taut across his muscular chest.

  “Well, funeral or no funeral, dogs still need walking” he sighed. “Shall we take them somewhere else this evening, for a change?”

  “The country park? There are some nice trails, though we’d have to keep them on leads.”

  “Tess is fine with that but I can’t imagine Charlie being happy.”

  “No” Beth pondered. “What about Monkton Common? I can let him off the lead there.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll pick you up at seven” walking round the car and easing himself into the driver’s seat.

  Charlie enjoyed the change of scenery, the common having new scents and places to explore, including rabbit holes. By silent consent they avoided talking about the funeral, or the burglaries. Tom chatted about Grace’s work, being familiar with it from an exhibition in Reading, and about places he had enjoyed photographing, discovering he and Beth had visited the same places in Scotland and Wales.

  “Have you been to Edinburgh?” Beth asked.

  “Yes…and before you ask, yes I did go on a Rebus trail, looking up his haunts.” Tom grinned at her.

  She smiled back. “I’ve been to the borders, Jedburgh and Moffatt, and the Isle of Arran. But one day I’d like to go to Edinburgh and look at all the places I’ve read about. And the Highlands.”

  “Well. Just remember your midge repellent. And waterproofs.”

  “No umbrella?”

  “It would get blown inside out. But you should go, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. Though this is pretty good too” he added, looking out to sea as they walked back to the car.

  Beth showered as soon as she got back in, then went to bed early with a mug of tea and her Kindle. It had been an emotional day but not as hard as she had expected. Tomorrow she would visit Carol.

  Carol was sitting in a cane chair in the conservatory, surrounded by magazines and knitting. Beth dropped a kiss on her cheek and sat down next to her. Ken was in the kitchen making them both a cup of tea.

  “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Fine, honestly, I’m fine. A bit tired still from the anaesthetic and I’m not supposed to lift anything. I’m just glad it’s over. Now the wait” grimacing. “But Mr Williams said it all looked alright, apparently they can tell quite a lot by appearances. So fingers crossed and prayers.”

  Beth had been expecting to fill her friend in on the funeral but Ken had already done so. Carol made no mention of Tom either, so Gina obviously hadn’t said anything. Not that she would, reflected Beth. Gina was a private person herself and respected other’s privacy. Gina and Carol were the only people who knew about Beth’s past and althou
gh Carol enjoyed a gossip, Beth knew the woman would never, ever divulge what she had been told in confidence. They chatted instead about Grace. Maggie had visited Carol that morning and had told her the sister planned to stay in Bride’s Bay for a while, taking over Melissa’s rental agreement. She intended having a break while she considered her future. She was tiring of apartment living in London and could work from anywhere.

  “She’s a nice woman” Carol was saying. “Quieter than Melissa but witty and very intelligent. I hope she stays.”

  “She won’t stay in that house though, not after Melissa... Beth’s voice trailed off.

  “No, no” shaking her head “and who knows? A few weeks here and she might be desperate for bright lights and theatres and Cafe Nero!”

  Beth walked home, satisfied her friend was alright. It was beginning to rain and she quickened her steps. By the time she reached her front door it was pouring down heavily and was still raining two hours later. No walk tonight, Charlie, she patted him as he curled around her legs. But he was easily consoled with a few dog biscuits.

  It rained all the next day but stopped at tea time and by seven o’clock a watery sun was shining on the rain drenched plants and scattering silver sparkles on the sea.

  Tom knocked on her door and they made their way over the road and onto the beach, walking the length then turning back as the shingle was too damp to sit on. He was going to London by train the next day, to meet up with a retired colleague, and entertained Beth with tales of his colleague’s eccentricity as they strolled along, Tess plodding slowly by his side and Charlie having twice the exercise by running ahead then back the length of the beach.

  “So, you see, economics lecturers are not all dry and dusty individuals” he teased, echoing Carol’s character assessment, as they walked back along the beach. “What about you? You didn’t go to university?”

  “No” Beth shook her head. “I didn’t have the opportunity. That’s why I was determined Nell would go, if she wanted to.”

  “And she seems to love her work, she’s full of it” commented Tom, as they reached the footpath that led to the corner of Beth’s road.

  “She does” Beth smiled “and Winchester. And her flat. And she’s made some good friends” thinking in particular of Will but keeping quiet about him, unsure how public the relationship was.

  “You’ve done a great job raising her.”

  They had reached Beth’s house and Tom walked up the path with her, as she fumbled for her keys and unlocked the front door.

  “She’s a lovely girl and I’m all she’s got. I just want her to be happy.”

  “She is” Tom looked down at her, her dark blonde head just reaching his shoulder. “And she’s an adult now, responsible for her own happiness.”

  Beth looked up at him, smiling wryly. “I know, but I’ll always worry about her.”

  “And what about you?” Tom was standing very close, Beth could see a tangle of gold curly hairs above his polo shirt buttons and his thick neck. She could smell his skin, slightly musky and tangy.

  “You deserve to be happy too, Beth. Don’t neglect yourself.”

  “I don’t.” Beth was struggling to breathe normally, her senses reeling. She fixed her gaze on the polo shirt buttons, dark blue with black thread, apart from one with grey; it must have fallen off and been sewn back on. She felt warm fingers stroking her cheek, soft but firm. Then his face came closer, blotting out the sun. Warm lips brushed the corner of her mouth, firm and soft at the same time. Then they pressed against hers, gently, warm and comforting.

  Beth froze, her chest pounding and her lungs struggling for air. She pushed against his chest and gasped as air entered her lungs and the sun shone once again in her eyes. Tom stepped back, frowning.

  “Beth? Beth, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

  He didn’t get to say what he hadn’t meant. Beth flapped her arms at him, gabbling an apology.

  “Sorry, sorry, it’s just been a difficult week. I’m a bit overwrought. Ignore me.

  And I don’t really like people getting so close, physically I mean. I like my own space” a wobbly smile, attempting a laugh.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realise.” Tom stood a couple of steps away, frowning down at her, concern in his warm hazel eyes.

  “Why should you?” Beth had regained some control. “I’m sorry, I overreacted. Just forget it.”

  She stepped indoors and turned to face him.

  “Still friends?” Tom’s voice was deep, hesitating.

  “Of course.” A huge effort to make her voice normal. “Have a good day tomorrow. See you at church.”

  She couldn’t manage any more small talk, turning away to close the door and Tom walked slowly back down the path.

  Chapter 10

  She was safe the next day. Tom wasn’t due back until late evening and Frances had offered to walk Tess for him. But her stomach sank at the thought of seeing him at church or on the beach in the evening, any evening, come to that. Then she chided herself. She couldn’t avoid him for ever. And he had seemed to accept her explanation of liking her own space, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She would greet him as though nothing had happened and sweep it under the carpet. She was good at that.

  In the event it was easy. Tom greeted her after church as though Friday evening had never happened. Then walking on the beach he recounted his day with his old friend, making her laugh aloud at the old man’s antics in the restaurant. She went indoors happily after the walk; it was going to be alright after all. He was obviously content to be friends and not going to act the rejected suitor. And that was all they could ever be. She put the kettle on and stamped down on the pain the thought caused her.

  Carol continued to make good progress but the same could not be said of the police enquiries. The studio had yielded no clues, no DNA, nothing. No new evidence had come to light and investigations continued. The gossip and speculation diminished as life continued and people expressed their certainty the burglars had been from further afield, maybe Portsmouth or Southampton, London even, and poor Melissa had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She must have returned home, disturbed them. Then been attacked. Maybe they had only meant to knock her out? It had obviously been a burglary gone wrong, a tragedy, but not intended. Ali still walked around the town like a ghost and the gallery was more often closed than open, Julian rarely seen. Robert Salmon served his customers in the butcher’s with an even more grim expression than usual on his swarthy face; Barbara had lost weight and her bouncy curls were flat and needed trimming. Matthew was still causing rows, according to Sue in the charity shop, who was friendly with Roberta, mother of Hannah Salmon’s best friend Amy. It was stalemate; Robert still determined his son would follow him into the business; Matthew equally determined not to. James Lamb was busy; the initial shock that he could be involved with the burglaries had worn off and he and Joe were still doing estimates and taking on work. April’s son Phil often drank with Joe Lamb and he confirmed the firm was handling as much work as they could and yes, Matthew was as stubborn as his father and Barbara and Robert would end up losing their son, if Robert didn’t start listening to the lad. Investigations into Ken’s estate agency had also reached a dead end. Ken’s solicitor had been forceful and no malpractice had come to light, as everyone had known. Ken had run his agency for over thirty years and had a reputation for integrity, honesty and efficiency. The only cloud hanging over the couple was the wait for the biopsy results.

  On the Thursday morning, Tom accompanied Gina into Portsmouth for the day. He had expressed a desire to go up the Spinnaker tower and on hearing at Tea and Chat that she planned to go to Waterstones to collect a book she had ordered, he asked if he could keep her company, being a sucker for book shops. They parked at the ferry terminal in Gosport and caught the foot passenger ferry across to Gunwharf Quays, Tom gazing out at the large ferries sailing backwards and forward to the island, and even further.

  “Do you want to
go up the tower now, or after shopping?” asked Gina.

  “Now?” suggested Tom. “I’m likely to buy a few books then I won’t have to carry them up the tower.”

  Gina laughed. “You won’t have to anyway; there is a lift you know.”

  The queue was short as the school holidays hadn’t yet started and Gina and Tom were whisked up to the viewing platform. She laughed at him as he took his shoes off to walk on the glass platform, gazing at the ground far below. They walked up the stairs to the top viewing platform and stood gazing at the Solent, the Historic Dockyard below them to one side, the island ahead and the coast down to the Wittering’s and Bognor Regis to the east. “That’s the Mary Rose, in that grey cocoon” Gina pointed to the ground below, then pointed ahead. “ If you can’t see all three forts because of cloud, you can come back free another day. But no need for that today.” The day was warm and sunny, the sky and sea a clear pale blue.

  Tom sighed contentedly. “This is good. Now, a few new books to enjoy, a good lunch, my idea of a great day.”

  “Mine too” Gina smiled and turned to begin the descent. “Coffee here, or in town?” she asked, pausing at the level containing the cafe.

  “In town? Then we can go to Waterstones, then maybe come back to the Quays for lunch?”

  They walked along to Commercial Road and had a coffee in Costa before spending a contented hour in the book shop, each coming out with a heavy bag of books. Tom insisted on carrying them as they made their way back to the Quays and entered an Italian restaurant that Gina recommended.

  Tom had chosen spaghetti with meatballs and jalapeno peppers; Gina penne pasta with pesto and chicken. They agreed to meet in the middle with the wine colour, sharing a bottle of rose.

  “So” Gina regarded Tom with amusement, as he sipped his wine and looked around. “I assume you’re adjusting quite well to this retirement lark?”