Page 23 of Murder in the Winter Woods (Julia Bird Mysteries #8)
The day was full of surprises. The first surprise was the unexpected presence of Coral Band, coming down the garden path alongside Hester Shepherd to where Julia sat in her car.
Coral always dressed with a certain old-fashioned formality, but today she was in full battle dress, which was to say a pink skirt suit that fitted like upholstery on an armchair, court shoes, a string of maybe-pearls, a full face of make-up and her blonde hair poofed up to its full height and width.
Hester was in her usual attire – a variety of shapeless flowing items, in patterns that looked as if they’d been hand-printed by nursery school children, layered for warmth, accessorised with what looked like homemade beads and baubles. An odd couple indeed.
Hester got briskly into the passenger seat of Julia’s car, while Coral manoeuvred herself more slowly into the back, taking care not to mess her hair, break a heel or split the skirt that seemed to have been bought when Coral was a size or two smaller.
‘Coral knew nothing, poor thing!’ Hester whispered quickly to Julia, as if Hester herself had been in the know all along. ‘I told her what we’d found out about the investment, and invited her to come with us to Anthony Ardmore. The more the better, I thought.’
Julia wasn’t convinced of the logic – more could often be more chaotic and less manageable, in her experience – but time would tell, in this case.
‘Right you are then, all ready,’ Coral said, pulling her seat belt firmly across her body and fastening it with a satisfying click. ‘Let’s go and see what Mr Ardmore has to say for himself, shall we?’
Julia had found Mr Ardmore’s phone number on the emails in Matthew’s inbox.
She’d phoned his office early that morning and found that there was no answer.
She had tried several times since, but the phone just rang and rang.
Despite this, the women had decided that they would just arrive at the office, and insist on a meeting with Mr Ardmore.
Julia asked Coral now, ‘So you don’t know anything about Anthony Ardmore, either? Lewis never talked to you about him?’
‘Not that I can recall. Lewis knows – knew – a lot of people, on account of his job. He liked to tell me about this passenger or the other, but I didn’t always concentrate.
I mean, not on the details. Like the names, or…
He might have mentioned the man. Mr Ardmore might have been a client of Lewis’s, I suppose.
And he did get all sorts of information and tips from his passengers.
Horse-racing tips, weather predictions, where to buy this or that. ’
‘Yes, they could have met that way,’ Julia agreed. ‘Did he ever mention plants or medicines to you?’
‘No. I’ve read about the amazing things that people can achieve with herbal remedies, of course, on Facebook. And I suppose that I can see that if one knew about a new drug developed from a plant, that could be a great opportunity. But I’m worried. It sounds like insider trading to me.’
Julia was glad that she was not the one to raise this, because she had indeed had the same thought, although she had to admit that she wasn’t entirely sure that she understood exactly what it was that insider trading involved.
She had googled the subject quite extensively, and found herself going down a rabbit hole about Martha Stewart, who seemed to have got caught up in something that worryingly involved the FDA and medicinal issues.
When their explanations of what insider training actually involved smashed against the rocks of improbability, flailed in the shallows of ignorance, then petered out entirely on the shores of resignation, Hester sighed and said, ‘We’ll just ask Mr Ardmore to explain why this is all legal.’
They pulled up at the address on the emails, and Julia’s heart sank. Instead of an office development or a shop or even a house, the address was home to what looked like a deserted warehouse. One of the windows was boarded up, and there was no sign of life.
‘I suppose they need somewhere to store the plants,’ said Hester, looking at it.
‘Or maybe they even make the medicines on the premises,’ said Coral, hopefully.
‘Maybe,’ said Julia.
The three women climbed out of the car, and knocked on the large doors of the warehouse.
Nothing happened. Tentatively, Julia tried the handle of the door, and to her surprise, it opened.
The creak of the hinges as she pushed it open echoed around the space, and behind her she could feel Coral and Hester move towards each other.
Julia looked around. The space was, for the most part, empty. The weak winter sun fought its way through the dusty windows, which were set high in the wall. The result was a watery light.
‘There are no plants here,’ said Hester.
‘Nor is there anyone to talk to,’ said Coral.
‘No. But there is that.’ Julia pointed to a small desk in the corner of the room, to the right of the door.
She looked at the wall next to her, and found, as she had hoped, a light switch.
It had to be said that the difference between the light being on and the light being off was barely discernible.
Julia had to wonder why anybody had ever bothered with the light at all.
‘If you’re going to do something, do it properly,’ she muttered under her breath, rather uselessly, as the installer of the lightbulb was most likely long gone, and certainly not in the warehouse at this point.
The small desk was covered in papers, and Julia walked over to have a closer look.
‘This is the right place,’ she said, pointing to a pile of brochures with the words Ardmore Accelerated Investments – grow your future emblazoned across the front.
Next to the brochures was a messy pile of post, many of the envelopes, when Julia sifted through, labelled FINAL DEMAND in official-looking red ink. ‘This doesn’t look good,’ said Julia.
‘Maybe they’re just really bad at admin,’ said Coral. ‘Some people are, you know.’
‘Not the sort of people that you want to be investing money with, though,’ said Hester, who sounded like she might cry.
Julia was still sorting through the pile of post. ‘There must be something here,’ she said.
‘Some clue as to where we can find the elusive Mr Ardmore.’ A moment later, her optimism was rewarded.
‘Got it!’ She waved an envelope at the other two.
‘This is addressed to Anthony Ardmore, not the company. And it’s got another address: Ambleside Way. I bet this is his home!’
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ said Coral.
‘Let’s go,’ said Hester.
Julia glanced around the empty warehouse. She didn’t like the feel of it at all. She would have much preferred to call Hayley, and hand this whole sorry matter over to the police. But she looked at the bright, expectant faces of the two widows, and sighed.
‘Let’s do it, then,’ she said.
Number 4, Ambleside Way was a picturesque cottage. A large Christmas wreath surrounded the knocker on the front door, and there were two small pine trees on either side of the doorstep, decorated in cones. It could not have been more different to the warehouse if it actively tried.
Julia picked up the handle of the ornate knocker, and gave a sharp few raps. Nothing happened.
She waited a few moments, and then tried again.
‘There’s nobody here,’ said Hester.
‘They’re hiding from us,’ said Coral. ‘I’m going to find them.’
Before Julia could stop her, Coral had set off, her walk determined, to peer into every window, her hands cupped around her eyes.
‘I suppose the back door might be open,’ said Julia.
‘Of course it will be,’ said Hester. ‘Why would a person lock their back door? This is the Cotswolds, not…’ Hester paused for a moment, obviously trying to think of the most dangerous place she could – somewhere where the inhabitants would lock and bolt themselves into their homes.
Julia waited with curiosity, wondering which of the world’s trouble spots Hester would choose.
‘Not Bath!’ Hester said, eventually, making both Julia and Coral laugh.
The back door was, however, not only locked, but padlocked.
‘This is very suspicious,’ said Hester, rattling the lock.
‘Maybe they keep the medicines in the house,’ said Coral, once again peering through the window.
‘It’s like they’ve disappeared without a trace,’ said Julia. ‘The warehouse and now this.’
‘Only criminals padlock the back door,’ said Hester. ‘Why would a good citizen need to do that?’
The answer came from behind them, making all three women jump and clutch their chests.
‘It’s the beavers,’ said the voice. A deep, male voice.
Julia, Hester and Coral turned around as if they were one person.
‘The beavers?’ echoed Julia.
‘We have a pair of very inquisitive beavers living near the stream,’ said the man, who was holding a fishing rod.
‘They were reintroduced to the area about twenty years ago, and last year a pair moved onto our property. They come up to the house and push the door open. For a while, we could just close it, but then the ridiculous creatures worked out how the handle works. They would open the door, if you can credit it, and poop all over the kitchen.’ The man smiled.
‘But I’m guessing that you didn’t come here to talk about beaver poop, ladies, did you? ’
Julia stepped forward. ‘I’m Julia Bird, and these are my friends, Coral Band and Hester Shepherd. We’re looking for Anthony Ardmore.’
‘Well,’ said the man. ‘I’m Anthony – you’ve found me. Why don’t you come in, and we can talk about why it is that you’re peering into my home and discussing how I might be a criminal.’
‘Thank you,’ said Julia, trying her very best not to blush. ‘We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.’