Page 15 of Death on the Rocks (Lily Larkin Mysteries #1)

Chapter Fifteen

The events of the past twenty-four hours had kept Lily's thoughts firmly away from the reason for her trip to St. Mary’s. Something which seemed like quite the feat considering how much the photograph of the ice cream shop had consumed her in the past months.

It only came back to her when she passed the solicitor’s office while wandering back through Hugh Town after leaving the police station.

Without a lot of thought, she pressed the doorbell and was surprised by a loud buzzing sound a moment later.

The door opened with a click when she pushed it.

Stepping inside, she glanced around the barren hallway with bright white walls.

A door to her left opened and a tall, wiry man appeared and squinted over his reading glasses.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a blank look.

“Maybe. I’m not sure. Are you Paul Greaves?”

“Yes.”

“The solicitor?”

He eyed her warily. “Yes. You’re not local, are you?”

“No.” She shifted her weight. “I wondered if I could ask you a few questions about the property near Porthcressa Beach that was once an ice cream shop.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Did Kit Treneary send you? Because I can only tell you what I’ve told him many times – it’s not for sale.”

“I don’t want to buy it,” she said quickly. “I’m only interested in…” Her brain stuttered. What was she interested in? Why had she got so obsessed with an old photo and a flicker of a memory?

“I’m just interested in knowing more about the building and the owner,” she finally said, with a surge of confidence that came from knowing that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she found out everything she could.

Eagerly, she dived into her bag and took out the photograph.

“I remember visiting the ice cream shop when I was young,” she told Mr Greaves.

“I recently found this photo and spent quite some time tracking the place down. If you could spare five minutes to talk to me, I’d appreciate it. ”

He blew out a breath and retreated into the room, leaving the door open in what Lily assumed was as an invitation to follow.

“Thank you so much,” she said trailing after him. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

The room contained a large desk and a leather office chair.

Two more chairs were placed at the other side of the desk, and a sideboard held tea and coffee making equipment.

Taking a seat opposite Mr Greaves, Lily’s eyes roamed the wall of bookcases behind him before settling on his expectant features.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much I can tell you about the building,” he said. “It closed down around twenty years ago.”

“Because of a fire?” Lily asked.

He removed his glasses. “There was a fire, but it was only minor. As far as I’m aware it wasn’t the reason for the closing.”

“What was the reason?”

“The owner moved back to the mainland.”

“Just out of the blue?” She frowned. “Why would they move away and not do anything with the building? Given its location, I assume it’s worth something, and I know there’s a demand for the property because Kit told me he’d been trying to buy it.”

“So you do know Kit?”

“Not really. I bumped into him and we got chatting about the ice cream shop. Anyway, why didn’t the owner sell it when they left the island?”

He shrugged. “I suppose they wanted to hang onto it.”

“ They as in owners plural? Or did you mean they in the non-binary sense, or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

“The latter,” he said dryly.

“It’s a woman though, right? The owner is the same person who owned and ran the shop twenty years ago?” In Lily’s memory it had been a woman who’d shown her the ice cream machines, and she was convinced she’d been the owner.

He nodded slowly.

“So the owner is a she. Why has she never sold the place?”

“Because she wanted to keep it, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” she asked, exasperated by his lack of openness.

He shrugged again. “I don’t ask a lot of questions. That’s not part of my job.”

“What is your job?”

“Legal advice for the owner.” He hesitated. “I also have power of attorney over the building.”

“Does that mean you could sell it?”

“No.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t make decisions like that. If there’s any kind of tax issue, or local council concerns… something of that nature, I’m authorised to deal with it.”

“Council concerns?” Lily asked.

“Complaints about the building being an eyesore, that sort of thing…”

“Have people complained?”

“There was some discussion around it,” he said blithely. “Around the same time Kit Treneary set his eye on the place, though he swears the complaint didn’t come from him.”

Lily shook her head, realising they’d got off topic. “How long was it an ice cream shop before it closed down?”

His lips pinched together. “I think it would have been around two or three years.”

“Not long then,” she mused. “Was it profitable?”

The question seemed to take him by surprise and his eyebrows dipped.

“If it wasn’t, that would at least explain it closing. It still doesn’t shed any light on why the building wasn’t sold.”

Mr Greaves leaned on the desk, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. “Is there a reason for all your questions?”

“I don’t actually know,” she said truthfully.

“I found the photograph and got intrigued.” She stared at the photo in her hands, annoyed with herself for getting so attached to the idea of tracking down the shop.

“It’s daft,” she murmured. “But my parents died shortly after the photo was taken. I only discovered the picture recently and it stirred some memories.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, pushing aside the voice in her head that insisted she was looking for some connection that didn’t exist. “I had a feeling that my parents knew the owner… that they were friends, maybe. I’m not sure, but would it be possible for you to put me in touch with her so I could ask?

” Given that he’d seemed not to even want to reveal the gender of the owner, it seemed unlikely he’d hand over their contact details, but she had to at least ask.

Paul’s features softened a little. “I’m sorry.

I can’t give out the details of my clients, but I can tell you this – the owner of the ice cream shop was friendly and well-liked back when she lived here.

There’s every chance your memory has mistaken friendly professionalism for a personal connection which didn’t exist. I hardly imagine they would remember holidaymakers who visited the shop twenty years ago. ”

Lily sighed. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he said, standing to put an end to their meeting.

“Thank you anyway,” she said. “If you speak to the owner, maybe you could mention my name and my parents’ names… just ask if they knew my parents.”

“I really don’t think…”

Clinging to the idea, Lily reached across the desk for the notepad and a pen. “I can jot the names down, and my number.” She scribbled away. “I’ll be on the island until Friday. Over at the Miller’s bed and breakfast. After that, I’ll be back home in Truro.”

She winced at the mention of home. After her uncle had died she’d impulsively returned to her place of birth and rented an apartment.

Truro had seemed like a convenient base to conduct her search from.

She wasn’t quite convinced her pokey flat with her few belongings was worthy of the title ‘home’, but never mind.

“You can call me anytime,” she told Mr Greaves.

“You’re staying at the Miller’s?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Terrible business yesterday, with the guy on the rocks. You didn’t know him, did you?”

“No. I met him, but I didn’t know him.”

“It’s just awful,” Mr Greaves said. “Poor fella.” He shook his head as he moved to the door. “This could well be the final nail in Rodney’s coffin, too.”

“How do you mean?” Lily asked.

“Sorry.” He let out a humourless laugh. “That was a poor choice of words. I was only thinking that Rodney keeps saying his wife is only one good reason away from carting him off to live on the mainland. The death of a guest seems like all the argument she needs to get her way.”

“I heard she wants to be close to her grandchildren.”

Mr Greaves opened the door and gave a small smile. “I suspect she might get her wish now.”