Page 15 of Murder in the Winter Woods (Julia Bird Mysteries #8)

Jake looked up eagerly at the clinking of the car keys.

His eyes bored into Julia’s, and she could almost hear the whirring of his brain trying to interpret the signs.

What did this mean? Was it good for the dog?

What larks might be on offer? Was there a morning walk in his future?

Or at least a trip in the car? Or was he to be abandoned? Bereft?

Julia had found, in her online investigation, that Milly’s yoga studio, the one that Poppy frequented, offered a free trial lesson to new students.

She had messaged Milly the previous evening to enquire, and now here she was in tracksuit trousers and a rather shapeless long-sleeved T-shirt, which would have to pass for yoga gear.

Jake put his head on his paws and sighed dejectedly.

Chaplin, who frankly couldn’t give a toss about Julia’s plans for the day, stared fixedly at his bowl.

As long as his tummy was filled, and there was a comfortable and warm spot to sit, he was fine.

Julia put down her bag and car keys, topped up the bowl with fresh biscuits, stroked his head, and went on her way.

At the far end of the Hayfield main road, just past the last of the shops, was Milly’s small yoga studio.

Julia opened the front door and stepped into a little area fitted with shelves for shoes and bags.

She stowed her things and went into the studio itself, a calm and restful place, with pale wooden floors and white walls.

With her characteristic punctuality, Julia had arrived twelve minutes before the scheduled time for the class to begin.

The studio was empty, except for Milly, who was straightening a pile of yoga blocks.

She turned when she heard the door. ‘Julia!’ she said, and reached out to take both Julia’s hands in her own. ‘I was so happy to hear from you, and I’m pleased you are here.’

‘And I’m pleased to be here, finally. I’ve been meaning to come for ages.’

‘You never regret the time and energy you put into your physical and emotional health,’ said Milly, reminding Julia how sweet and earnest she was.

One of those trusting, kindly sort of people.

Which made Julia feel bad about being less than entirely honest with her about the motive behind her sudden interest in yoga.

‘Well, I’m sure you’re right about that. The other day I saw something about your studio on Facebook and I thought, well, that’s a sign! So here I am.’

‘Really? What did you see? I’m not very good at all that online marketing.’

‘It was on someone else’s page. Poppy, her name is. You know how these things mysteriously come up on your screen.’

‘It’s the algorithm,’ Milly said, as if that explained everything.

‘Poppy makes all those nice nut butters. I saw them at one of the markets and I googled them. And the next thing I was on their page and it showed me her profile, and I saw she was somehow connected to you.’

‘Yes, Poppy is a regular here.’ There was a slight reserve in Milly’s voice. ‘In fact, she’ll be here any minute. She lives down the street and she always comes to this class.’

‘Ah, well, that’s nice. She did seem a little stressed in her Facebook posts. Angry, even. I’m sure the yoga helps her relax.’

‘Yes, poor Poppy does struggle with her anger. It’s such a destructive emotion. Poisonous to the body and soul. It comes from a good place, it really does – she cares so much about the animals. She just gets worked up.’

‘She certainly seems very committed.’

‘I’m vegetarian – I have been since childhood. So I understand her position and her passion. But you can’t expect everyone to be where you are. And shouting at them doesn’t generally help them come over to your views.’

‘You catch more bees with honey than with vinegar, as my mum used to say.’

‘That’s so true, Julia. Your mother was a wise woman, by the sound of things. But I wouldn’t be mentioning honey around Poppy. Or bees. She gets very angry about that, too.’

Julia was about to enquire further, when Milly’s phone rang.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, and answered it. A series of short, non-committal comments: ‘Yes…The old Mercedes…? Gosh…That sounds horrible…I hope you’re all right…

Yes…See you soon…Poor you, do try and do some deep breathing, and if you can manage a few stretches… Okay. Bye, Poppy.’

Milly ended the call. ‘Well, it looks like Poppy won’t be here after all. She has to take her car to the panel beater in the next village. She’s getting a dent fixed.’

‘Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good.’ It didn’t sound good for Poppy, thought Julia, especially if she had come by that dent in the way that Julia was thinking.

‘She’s fine, apparently. It was just a bump, and it’s a big, solid old car. It belonged to her gran.’

‘Hello!’ came a call from the door. Two more women came in, followed quickly by another. They were clearly regulars, judging by the chummy way they greeted each other. They welcomed Julia, and took up their positions on the mats.

‘It’s okay, Gill, you can move forward into this space,’ Milly said, indicating a big gap that had been left open in the front centre.

‘What about Poppy? That’s where she likes to stand.’

‘She’s not coming today.’

‘Go on Gilly, it’s safe,’ said one of the others, and they all laughed. The laugh of shared understanding of something ridiculous and annoying – doubtless, in this case, Poppy’s territorial behaviour.

The class was more pleasant and less humiliating than Julia had feared.

She’d done some yoga and Pilates on YouTube, and between what she’d learned, and keeping a close eye on Milly, she managed to approximate most of the poses.

Of course, Milly was small-boned and delicate and deceptively strong, and instead of old tracksuit trousers and T-shirt, wore matching sage green leggings and a crop top, with her shiny black hair plaited and hanging down her back.

She made everything look graceful and effortless, but in a way that was soothing, rather than intimidating.

Julia was surprised to find how well she was able to focus on the instructions and give herself over to the moment. She was determined to wait until the class was finished to think about what she’d heard about Poppy’s car.

She left the class walking on air. ‘I will definitely be back!’ she said to Milly.

‘It was wonderful, thank you!’ She felt great!

Her hamstrings felt soft and pliable. Her stiff neck had eased.

The oxygen was flowing through her veins.

This was the new Julia, a supple, calm and happy yogi! She would definitely keep it up.

Once in her car, she turned her attention to the matter of Poppy’s accident.

There wasn’t much to think about, actually.

She would simply tell Hayley Gibson, and the police would follow it up.

No time like the present, she thought, taking her mobile from her bag.

She phoned Hayley’s number, but the detective didn’t answer.

Knowing how Hayley disliked listening to messages, Julia didn’t leave one, but sent her a text message to call when she could.

With that behind her, she drove home, enjoying the feeling of cruising through the countryside, with the fresh-released endorphins and yoga-oxygenated blood pulsing through her body.

The trees were bare, but beautiful, and today the sky was an icy blue, but clear.

She decided to take a different, slightly longer route home, for a change of scene through a different village.

She kept her wits about her – it was Friday, and the weekend traffic was already building – but enjoyed the views, singing along to the music playing through the sound system.

The traffic slowed suddenly as she entered the next village, and she soon saw why. Traffic cones lined the road to accommodate a crew working on the grassy verge, narrowing the road considerably.

‘That’ll teach me to take a pleasant detour to stop and smell the roses,’ she said to herself, out loud.

It didn’t matter though; she had nothing pressing to get back to.

Julia looked about her as she crawled through the outskirts of the village.

From this approach, at least, it seemed bigger than Berrywick, more modern and less charming.

There was a small industrial strip with a few workshops, a hardware store and a panel beater.

Julia almost slammed on her brakes when she saw it. A car, a big old Mercedes, parked in the panel beater’s yard. And a sticker on the car, a sticker saying: The Butter Nuts . It had to be Poppy’s car.

Julia pulled in behind the Mercedes and got out.

A thin, balding man in blue overalls emerged from the workshop.

‘Can I help you with something?’ he asked, looking at her car.

‘I could fix that up in a jiffy.’ He pointed to a scratch that Julia had made a few months ago, when a shopping trolley had slipped from her grasp in the wind and made a desperate bid for escape.

Every time she looked at it, it annoyed her.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘That would be super. Can you do it while I wait?’

‘If you can wait five or ten minutes, then that would be a yes.’

‘I can definitely wait ten minutes.’

‘Glad to hear it. Everyone seems to be so busy and impatient these days.’

‘Not me,’ she said. ‘I’m taking the slow road home.’

‘That’s the way. I’m Geoff.’

‘Julia. Pleased to meet you.’

Geoff wandered back into the workshop and emerged with a couple of cloths and an aerosol tin of something.

‘Isn’t that Poppy’s car?’ Julia said casually, looking at the Mercedes.

‘It is indeed. She just brought it in for that dent on the bumper. It’ll be here for a couple of days, so it makes no difference if I sort out your scratch first.’

Geoff sprayed a foam onto Julia’s car and set about rubbing it with hard, circular movements.

Julia stepped closer. There was indeed a dent on Poppy’s car’s bumper.

‘It doesn’t look too bad. I wonder what she hit.’

‘Ah, she didn’t say. Poor thing was quite upset, though. Stressed. Some people get like that about their cars. I always say, as long as no one’s hurt, everything else can be fixed. She’s gone to get a sip of water, to settle her nerves.’

Julia squatted down. There was something dark on the bumper. She took a hankie out of her pocket and touched the dark patch gently with the corner. The fabric came back with a tiny, dark red spot on it.

Unless Julia was very much mistaken, it was blood.