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

  “Do you have any other family?”

  She shook her head. “No, there’s just me and Nell. And Charlie of course” rubbing the little dog’s head, as he lay panting next to her on the shingle.

  “So tell me about your job. You work at the local school, don’t you?”

  They talked companionably about Beth’s job, her voluntary work in the charity shop and involvement in church and local affairs until the sun sank over the island and Beth shivered slightly.

  “Are you ready to go?” Tom unfolded his long length to stand up and put a hand down to help Beth up. Thanking him, she brushed her jeans down and called to Charlie. Crossing the main road, he smiled down at her. “Same time tomorrow? Nicer than walking alone. Or do you prefer to do that?”

  “No, it’s fine. We’re happy to meet up, if poor Tess can put up with Charlie.”

  Tom and Tess walked down the driveway, waved goodbye, while Beth crossed the road to her house, Charlie trotting alongside. The sun had set and Beth shivered as she walked down the path in the shade. She was so used to walking Charlie alone, peace and quiet after busy days, but it had been nice walking along with Tom, chatting easily. Nice too to have new people to get to know in the little town.

  She unlocked the door, nudging Charlie ahead of her, yawned.

  “Come on boy, we’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Supper and bed.”

  Chapter 4

  The weather continued warm and sunny and Beth spent every morning the following week outdoors; the teacher she assisted keen to take sessions outside to make the most of the fine days. She had also got into the habit of walking along the beach with Tom and Tess in the evening; spending an hour or so strolling along the water’s edge while Charlie ran in and out of the waves and Tess padded along contentedly behind Tom. Chat was easy; Tom talking mainly about his work at the university, the flat he had lived in, his family; one sister in Norfolk, a niece in London and a nephew in Kent. He didn’t ask many questions, for which Beth was grateful, except those regarding the local area; shops, train times, dentists and doctors, all the information needed but unknown when moving to a new area. In return, Beth told him more about her job as nursery nurse and about Nell, her love of plants that had led to her career in horticulture, the shared interest they had in history and visiting old towns and cities, their love of the sea and the sea shore. Tom talked about his love of books, music, also of historical buildings. He had a dry sense of humour and was easy to talk to and Beth found herself relaxing more and more in his company as they strolled along the beach, Tom deliberately slowing down as his long legs covered the beach far more quickly than hers, both content to chat or be silent, enjoying the warm evenings and the sun setting over the island.

  The fine weather had a mellow effect on the whole town and people strolled along the beach path, chatted outside shops, queued for ice creams and generally enjoyed the warm sunshine. The police were no further on with their investigations into the burglaries but general opinion was that it had been youths, or opportunists, or even gangs from London. But it was in the past and people stopped talking about them and began to plan for the summer instead; the school fete, an auction of promises at church, Cowes Week.

  That is until the third burglary.

  Beth heard about it when she went into work on the Friday morning. Helen looked up as she walked into the nursery classroom. “Hi Beth. Isn’t it awful about Mandy?”

  Beth was confused for a moment. “Mandy? You mean our Mandy? Dinner lady Mandy? Why, what’s happened?”

  Helen put down the paintings she had been hanging on a string across the classroom and perched on the edge of a tiny table.

  “She went home yesterday after shopping with a friend, and they’d been burgled. She got in literally five minutes before Ella got home from school. The house was wrecked. Luckily her neighbour was in and Ella went round there so she didn’t see the mess but Mandy was distraught. She kept saying what if Ella had got home first and seen the mess? Or even disturbed the burglars? And Paul is furious. Ranting and raving.”

  Beth felt sick. “Oh Helen that’s awful. I thought the other two were one offs, but to happen again. How did they break in?”

  “Smashed a window at the back. Usual stuff taken, jewellery, iPads, laptops and so on. Even the kids’ video computer games. Small stuff they could carry easily.”

  The children started to arrive and put an end to the conversation, though Helen and Beth were aware of the parents discussing it as they dropped their children off. Three burglaries in two weeks. What was going on? Who was doing this? And why hadn’t they been caught? Beth walked slowly home that afternoon, wondering if she should have a burglar alarm fitted. Everyone knew her house was empty every morning; most afternoons too come to that. And she always walked Charlie at around seven in the evenings. She was a creature of habit. It would be easy for anyone to work out when her house would be empty and break in. But she didn’t have anything worth stealing, did she? But then, would that make a difference? The three houses broken into were all very different. Admittedly Fran and Russell Dean had a beautiful home, plenty of money, expensive belongings. But Bill and Mary were an ordinary couple in a modest bungalow and Mandy and Paul lived in an ex council house with a young daughter and a teenage son and not much money. There was no pattern to these break ins. Everyone was vulnerable. Beth shivered. Of course she had Charlie but he was more likely to welcome an intruder with a wet tongue and a wagging tail than deter them. Perhaps she would have some more locks fitted? But then they said burglars could get into any house if they were determined enough. Oh dear. It was so hard to know what to do. Perhaps she would talk to Ken about it. She would go back to Carol’s after flower arranging and talk to him when he got back from work.

  Saturday afternoon. Beth tidied away her lunch dishes and put the cheeses and chutney back in the fridge. The fridge looked alarmingly bare, certainly not enough milk or yoghurt to last until Monday, and the salad tray contained a single tomato and some wilted celery. A supermarket visit was needed this afternoon; it didn’t open on Sunday and Beth wasn’t keen on the choice or prices in the corner shop that would be the only option the next day.

  “Come on Charlie, another walk, you lucky boy!” They would stroll along the sea front; have a cup of tea at the Cake Stand, then walk home along the High Street, stopping at the greengrocers and Co-op on the way.

  She glanced in the hall mirror before leaving the house, pulling a brush through her thick wavy hair and sliding on a peachy lip gloss, noticing to her surprise her arms and face had developed a pale golden tan over the past couple of weeks and the blonde streaks in her hair were more pronounced, her hair looking more blonde than the usual mix of blonde ad light brown. Maybe the new top accentuated her skin and hair? Gina had picked out some smart cotton T shirts for her that bore no resemblance to the T shirts she would have chosen herself, being well tailored in stretchy, quality cotton with pretty detail around their vee necks. Beth usually went for high round necks but she could see how the vee neck flattered her more, lengthening her body and showing off her soft curves to advantage. Her stomach and hips may be too rounded, she reflected, but her breasts were still high and firm, thanks to nature and not just the new lacy bra she was wearing. She had selected one T shirt in a mid-blue and one in mint green, two colours she felt comfortable wearing, but Gina had also added one in a coral pinky colour. The warm tones certainly lifted her skin, she realised, and her green eyes were clear and bright against her tanned face. Her hair needed a trim but was falling better in layers now it was slightly longer, almost to her shoulders, so maybe she would hold off making an appointment for now. The peachy pink top toned well with taupe linen trousers that must have a magic ingredient combined as they didn’t crease; she usually steered clear of linen clothes, knowing while Gina, and Melissa too she was certain, could wear linen and look immaculate, hers would be creased and scruffy as soon as she put them on. Strappy sandals in deep coral leather, no more
nubuck for her, with low comfortable heels, completed the outfit. Some matching jewellery would be nice, Beth caught herself thinking, then almost laughed aloud at the thought that someone so uninterested in fashion and style was now thinking about necklaces and bracelets. The most she ever wore was a pair of earrings, and her choice of those was increasingly limited as she seemed to frequently go to work with two earrings, but come home with one. Maybe she could wear her hair over one ear and tucked behind the other, like Melissa? Then she would only ever need one earring. She smiled to herself at the thought.

  “Afternoon Beth, you’re looking very cheerful”.

  With a start Beth realised she was approaching the parade of shops and there was June Jacobs sitting at a table outside The Cake Stand tea rooms.

  “June! Sorry, I’m miles away. Are you on your own?”

  The older woman shook her head, grey curls sticking rigidly to her head. “Rose is inside, ordering our tea. Sit down,” gesturing to a metal chair.

  “I’ll just go and order.”Beth joined the queue and ordered her drink then followed Rose back outside.

  “Phew it’s warm.” Rose fanned herself with her newspaper. “So how are you, Beth? How’s Nell?” Beth filled the two women in on Nell’s news and in return heard about their children and grandchildren. Conversation turned naturally to the burglaries. Mary and Bill Wren earned sympathy from June and Rose, their age making them vulnerable and deserving of concern. Anyone who had served in the Second World War automatically earned their respect and what was the world coming to, when decent people like the Wrens were the targets of crime? Mandy and Paul Davis were also discussed with shock and dismay, Rose recalling how hard Mandy had worked when she had done a spell of cleaning with them at a local care home. “She was a good worker” grudgingly from Rose. Neither she nor June liked to give much credit. “And she keeps her house spotless. And those children. Well brought up they are, always polite, never any trouble on that estate.” Beth was amused. She made the estate sound like a troubled inner city slum, rather than a small estate of tidy little houses further along the main road from Beth’s. But neither woman was so sympathetic towards Fran and Russell Dean. “Just asking for trouble, those Dean people.” June pursed her lips. “Those huge windows in that great big house and no nets, anyone can look in and see all their belongings and see they’ve got money. And who needs a house that size, anyway? ”

  “But they don’t deserve to be burgled!” exclaimed Beth.

  “I’m not saying that, just that they could have taken more care. If you have so many valuables on display, well, it’s too tempting for some people. Apparently the alarm wasn’t even on! I mean, why have an alarm if you don’t set it?”

  There was no answer to that. A change of subject was needed.

  Beth started to talk about the forthcoming school summer fete, knowing both women had grandchildren at the school, but Rose got there first.

  “And of course you know who the police suspect?” Her face loomed closer to Beth’s, watery blue eyes magnified by thick lenses. “James Lamb, that’s who.”

  Beth’s first impulse was to laugh. Rose looked affronted.

  “Oh yes! Whose building firm has done work on all three houses? His!” Rose sat back and folded her arms, satisfaction all over her thin, lined face. “He altered the bathroom at Mary’s house, when they decided not to move. Then he knocked down the wall between the dining room and kitchen at Mandy’s to make one big room.” A sniff expressed her opinion of open plan kitchen/diners. “And apparently he did some work at the Dean’s house. Though what could possibly have needed doing there, I have no idea.”

  Beth looked at the complacent face of the woman sitting opposite her with a sick feeling in her stomach. How could people be so gleeful when discussing traumatic events?

  “It’s true.” June patted Beth’s hand. “He’s the common denominator, they called it. Becky told my Sandra, in floods of tears she was. Of course no one suspects James, but those lads he has working for him? What do we know about them? They go round all these houses, see how secure they are, lay their plans. Or some of Joe’s mates? You have to admit, Joe Lamb mixes with some, well, questionable characters. Meets them down the pubs after work every night. And I have heard James himself mixed with a rough lot when he was a lad.” She gave a sniff, wiped her nose.

  Beth looked from one face to the other and felt a wave of revulsion. James Lamb had worked so hard to build up his firm and had a reputation for reliability and high quality work. He had faced bankruptcy twice, once when a developer had failed to pay him and again when a spell of bad health had prevented him working for a year. He didn’t deserve this gossip.

  She had to get away.

  “Well, I must get on with my shopping.” She couldn’t bear to look at them, their faces smug at someone else’s misfortune, and bent down to pat Charlie before leading him away, hardly hearing their good byes.

  She managed a few steps and stopped to look in the window of Pebbles Art Gallery and Pottery to compose herself. Julian had changed the window. Two containers of flowers; tulips, freesias and lisianthus were flanked by three paintings, each one reproducing the flowers in the vases. It took Beth a minute to realise she recognised the style of paintings. They were Melissa’s. She tied Charlie’s lead to the hook outside the shop and went in, greeting Julian and his young Saturday assistant.

  “You admiring my new artist?” Julian nodded towards the window. “Stunning, aren’t they? There were five but I sold two straight away.”

  “They’re beautiful. I was at her house last Wednesday; she was showing her work to me and Gina.”

  “I shall take as much as she wants to sell. Nice to have a new artist locally.”

  Beth stayed chatting for a few more minutes but was still unsettled by the news about James. Anxious also in case Julian brought up the subject with similar glee, though she didn’t think he would; Julian was generous, always giving people the benefit of the doubt. Long legged, broad shoulders and floppy dark brown curls, Julian was as good looking as he was charming and extrovert. Even so, she didn’t want to discuss it.

  Fortunately she completed her shopping with no further encounters. At least weekend shopping meant young Saturday staff and not the usual chatty workers. But church tomorrow would be a hurdle. Maybe she would miss for once and go to Winchester to see Nell?

  In the event Nell had plans for the day so Beth went to church but offered to help serve teas and coffees, to avoid the chat. Though if Reverend Mark or Maggie heard any gossip, they would soon stamp on it. Thank goodness. Maybe the new week would bring more developments and James would be eliminated from enquiries? Goodness, television crime series had a lot to answer for, everyone knew the jargon, Beth thought ruefully. She hurried home after, pleading a busy afternoon; the reality of which was half an hour’s gardening and two hours on the swing seat with a magazine. And a doze.

  There had been no Tom to walk with that weekend. He hadn’t said he wouldn’t be around, or had he? Now she thought of it, he had mentioned his sister in Norfolk was visiting his nephew in Kent. Maybe he had gone to see them? Oh well, another weekend had come and gone. Not a great one really, she just hoped the week ahead would be better.

  No, it wasn’t.

  The weather continued to be good but the sole topic of conversation at school, at Tea and Chat and in the local shops was the sudden crime wave of burglaries and who could be responsible. Few people were brazen enough to come out and say they suspected James Lamb or his companions; but speculation and discussion were rife. Popping into the butcher’s on Tuesday afternoon, Beth had been served by Barbara, her usual sparkle markedly lacking as she weighed and counted Beth’s order. Beth was determined not to gossip but found herself asking how Barbara was, suspecting the answer would involve Matthew, then James Lamb. Sure enough it did.

  “Oh Beth.” Barbara rubbed her hand over her forehead, ruffling her blonde curls. “The rows, you wouldn’t believe. Robert has banned Matthew fr
om working at James’s; Matthew says he has to as he has already promised, then he gets on his high horse that James and Joe can’t possibly have anything to do with the burglaries and Robert says, how does he know? Is he working part time for the police as well as the building firm as well as here? Then Matthew says he doesn’t want to work here, he’s made to, but as soon as he can he’ll leave school and get an apprenticeship and work full time with James. Honestly, I can’t stand it. Nor can Hannah, she spends all her time at Amy’s these days.”

  Beth put her parcels away and patted Barbara’s hand. “It will settle down, we all know James and Joe had nothing to do with it. I suppose the police have to investigate all sorts of avenues, to eliminate people. As for Matthew...” She hesitated, wanting to say he had to make his own career choices but unwilling to upset Barbara further.

  “I tell Robert Matthew has to do what he wants, not what we tell him to do. Robert wanted to follow his father into the business but if Matthew doesn’t, we can’t make him.” Barbara’s blue eyes were swimming with tears as she looked up at Beth. Beth felt so sorry for the woman. What a dilemma, and she would be caught in the middle. Robert could be a difficult man. Beth was well aware locals preferred to be served by the cheerful Barbara rather than her quiet, moody husband. He was also very stubborn. Matthew took after his father in looks as well as temperament and Beth was unsure who would win a battle of wills between the father and son. Fourteen year old Hannah was so like her mother; blonde, bubbly, extrovert. Beth remembered her from her primary school days when Hannah and her best friend Amy, a dark haired version of Hannah, had been known by the school staff as the “giggly girls.” But she was equally stubborn. She just had such charm that she almost always gained her own way through that rather than through confrontation.