Page 28

28

Wilma and Diane were busy making their morning tea when Julia arrived. Even though she’d told Wilma she would be a little late because of meeting the police, she half expected her to be all ‘school prefect’ about the arrival time, but instead she welcomed Julia warmly.

‘Just in time for tea!’ she said, leading Julia into the little storeroom which also served as kitchen, and getting out a third mug. ‘Poor you, you must be exhausted with all this drama. Take the weight off your feet for a minute and help yourself to a chocolate swirl.’

Wilma shook the biscuit tin in front of Julia, who took a chocolate biscuit as instructed. Diane took the mug and poured Julia’s tea. ‘Here you go. How was the meeting?’

‘Oh, it was fine. They just wanted to know if anyone had any additional thoughts about the two deaths. Anything at all.’

‘I hoped they might have better information. A suspect, for instance,’ said Diane.

‘They’re working on it. Hayley Gibson is a good detective. And with one of the victims being a senior police officer, all the lab technicians and forensic people are working as fast as they can.’

‘You say “one of the victims”. Do they think the two deaths are connected?’

Julia sipped her tea, which was exactly how she liked it. Good and hot, almost too hot, so she had to sip it gently. ‘She did say that they are treating that as a possibility. It does seem likely. I mean, two men murdered within a week in a quiet little Cotswold village…It’s…unusual.’

‘And both of them connected to the South Cotswolds Players,’ said Diane, who was quite sharp.

‘Yes, although it’s hard to imagine how that would be relevant. Now, how are things in the shop?’

‘It’s been quite quiet. One or two shoppers. Someone dropped off clothes. We’ll sort these when we’ve had tea,’ said Wilma, gesturing to a big sack on the floor. ‘Another biscuit before we go?’

Julia hesitated momentarily, but it had already been a rather long morning and she had the day’s work ahead of her, so she allowed herself a second biscuit, and drained her tea. They went out into the shop.

Julia remembered the mixing bowls, and checked the kitchenware section to see what they had in stock. There was rather a nice green and white striped one she thought Nicky might like. ‘If Nicky Moore comes in when I’m not here, please show her this bowl,’ she called to the others. ‘She needs a mixing bowl and she said she’d come by.’

Speak of the devil and he shall appear , Julia’s grandmother used to say. And so it was. Julia had no sooner mentioned the woman than the doorbell tinkled and Nicky appeared, rushing in in a great hurry.

‘Heaven help me, I was nearly run over,’ she said, in a shaking voice. ‘I was crossing the road – my right of way – and this maniac in a little white car swerved and almost hit me! ’

‘Oh my goodness, Nicky, what a fright you must have got.’ It was true; she looked quite shaken.

‘He made it look like he was trying to avoid a pigeon, but I think he was trying to hit me. I think it was a deliberate attempt on my life.’

‘On your life ?’ Diane said, astonished. ‘My goodness.’

‘Don’t you know there are two people dead already? Two people connected to the play? Aren’t you scared, Julia? It’s like one of those Agatha Christie books, where they are locked in a train or something and people are being bumped off left, right and centre. There’s a murderer on the loose! A cold-hearted man who would run a woman down in cold blood! Who cares nothing for the fact that I’m the innocent mother of a young child!’

Poor Nicky seemed to have lost her previous cool and was so shaken that Julia worried her legs might buckle underneath her and she would crash to the ground. Wilma looked somewhere between intrigued and appalled at the drama going on right in the middle of the shop. Julia decided to address both problems at once. ‘Come into the back room and have a sit-down, Nicky. The kettle’s still hot; I’ll make you some tea, and when you’re feeling stronger you can look at the mixing bowl I found for you. I think it might be just what you need.’

‘Yes, I think that would be for the best. I’m in an awful state. Awful.’

Wilma smiled gratefully at Julia and added generously, ‘Please, do have a chocolate swirl.’

Julia led Nicky into the back and closed the door so that any customers who might come in wouldn’t overhear Nicky’s retelling of her dramatic near-death experience. It did indeed sound scary. The car had been close enough to clip the bag slung over Nicky’s shoulder.

They sat quietly for a minute. Julia heard the bell tinkle a couple of times, but was sure that Wilma and Diana could handle matters without her. She had her hands full with Nicky.

The tea and no fewer than three chocolate swirls seemed to settle Nicky. ‘The sugar has helped, thank you, Julia,’ she said. ‘Shall we go and look at the mixing bowl?’

‘We should phone Hayley first. She’ll be able to check the street cameras and run the number plates.’

‘You’re right!’ said Nicky, brushing crumbs from her mouth. ‘I might have important information for the police.’ She rummaged in her bag for her phone and dialled the number the cast had all saved.

Julia listened while Nicky repeated the story she’d told Julia, a bit more calmly this time. After a few minutes, she ended the call and said, ‘DI Gibson was grateful for my information. She’s following up on those cameras as a priority, she says. A priority . I hope to see that maniac behind bars! Terrible man.’

The sight of the mixing bowl went some way to further calming Nicky and improving her day.

‘It’s perfect!’ she said, hugging it to her chest as if it were a long-lost child. ‘It’s almost identical to my grandma’s bowl. The same green stripe. Oh, thank you, Julia.’ Her eyes glistened with tears.

‘You are most welcome, Nicky. It was really just good luck!’

‘Well, I do feel lucky to have such a thoughtful friend.’ She put the bowl down on the counter, hugged Julia, and pulled out her purse. ‘How much is it?’

Julia was overcome with a feeling of generosity and love for poor Nicky, who had had a scary day. ‘Nothing. I’m going to buy it for you. It’s my treat.’

‘Oh, now Julia, you can’t do that…’

‘I can and I will. It’s always best to have a little nice thing after a horrible thing. To cancel it out. ’

Nicky hugged Julia again, carefully put the bowl in her carrier bag, and went off with a spring in her step.

‘I’ll pop the money in the till when we cash up,’ Julia said to Wilma.

‘That’s kind of you, Julia. I’ll give you the staff discount, of course. And a bit extra.’

For the rest of the afternoon, Julia felt the warm flush that comes with doing a small good deed that makes someone else happy. Wilma and Diane seemed likewise infused with goodwill, and the rest of the day passed happily. They sorted the newest donations. Dusted the window display. Sold a nice set of crystal glasses to Mrs Glenn who lived in the manor, and a stupendously ugly china corgi dog to a woman who lived in Wisconsin. Found a pretty silk shift dress for a cash-strapped young woman to wear to a better-off friend’s wedding, and gave her a discount just to be nice. The day passed pleasantly, and in the quiet of the mid-afternoon, Wilma suggested that if Julia had things to do, it would be fine for her to leave.

‘I think I will, if you’re sure you can manage,’ Julia said, glancing over at the shop’s one customer – an old fellow reading a gardening book, seemingly from cover to cover. He’d been there an hour. ‘Oh, let me pay you for the bowl, before I go.’

‘Six pounds,’ said Wilma. ‘Five with the discount.’

Julia handed over the cash.

‘I must say, it’s been a good day,’ Wilma said. ‘The highest turnover we’ve done in a while, even with the discounts.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, more sales than usual, and some expensive items. Those glasses were quite a price, and the china dog, too. We even sold an expensive book. Five pounds.’

‘What second-hand book was worth such a princely sum?’ Julia asked, as she packed up her bag. The shop was the recipient of a great number of books, many boxes of them from clear- outs and downsizing, and death. Supply outstripped demand and the majority sold for a pound at most.

‘Nothing less than the bard himself!’ said Diane, with a laugh. ‘It was a lovely big old edition of The Complete Works of Shakespeare . Someone’s got their work cut out for them if they’re planning to read the whole thing. It’s a whopper, I tell you, and the print is tiny.’

Wilma snorted dismissively. ‘I suspect no one reads those books. Apart from anything else, it weighs a tonne. Can you imagine holding that up when you’re reading in bed?’

‘Or in the bath,’ Diane chimed in. ‘Imagine that.’

‘I reckon the chap that bought it is going to use it as decoration, or perhaps as a doorstop.’

Julia’s brain whirred around the strange coincidence of this book coming into her life twice in a week. It couldn’t be chance.

‘So, who bought it?’ she asked, hoping she sounded casual. Perhaps it was some tourist, she thought suddenly. They did tend to buy strange and pricey souvenirs. They might have got Berrywick confused with Stratford-upon-Avon.

But the answer, when Wilma gave it, was not a misdirected tourist.

The answer was far, far closer to the murder than that.

Hector.