Downward Facing Death (28 page)

“I see. Would that be with a certain young police officer?”

Keeley couldn't stop herself from grinning. “Yes, it so happens it would.”

“Well, I'm delighted for you, dear, it's about time you had a bit of luck. And I daresay you'll be much better for him than the Philips girl he was dating before. Never have liked her much.” Annie sniffed in disapproval, not noticing Keeley's look of confusion.

“Do you mean Raquel? I don't think they were ever dating.”

“Oh, they definitely were,” Annie said with a nod, “though it was a while ago now.” Her landlady's expression grew troubled. “I haven't said anything out of turn, have I?”

Keeley shook her head, though her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest. She made her excuses and retreated back into the cottage, shutting the door and leaning her back against its solid frame as though it could lend her strength. Ben had dated Raquel? Although she had thought as much, especially after the way the girl had cozied up to him that day at Mario's, but after Ben's insistence that he didn't even like her, and his obvious disapproval of her relationship with the senior officer, she had decided any relationship between them was purely wishful thinking on Raquel's part. Now she wasn't so sure. From what Annie said, Ben had been a willing participant.

She should have asked Annie how she knew, she thought, because although she didn't think her landlady was one to listen to idle gossip, her sources might not have been totally accurate. If the information had come through Norma or Maggie, for example. In just a few weeks, she had already seen how the Belfrey rumor mill could operate. There had been insinuations about her and Ben before anything had even happened, after all.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that Annie was mistaken, she couldn't stop remembering Raquel's sitting on “Benny's” lap at the Italian restaurant, or the memory of them in Ben's car, their heads close together. She only had Ben's word for it that there was nothing more to it, that Raquel was in fact involved with another officer. What if, she thought with a stab of jealousy that physically pained her, causing her to clutch at her stomach, he had in fact been covering up for her all along?

The door went again, and this time Keeley knew it would be Ben, but now her heart was skipping with dread rather than excited anticipation.

She opened the door and let him in without a word, ignoring the puzzled look on his face. In light-colored chinos and a pale blue shirt, he looked almost unbearably handsome, and she prayed Annie was wrong. Or that she could just forget about it. Ben's past relationships had nothing to do with her at all, really. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't something she could just let go. He would have lied to her, at least by omission, and she had had more than enough of secrets and lies to last her a lifetime.

“Keeley, what is it?” he said with an urgent note to his voice. “Has there been another letter, or worse?”

“No,” she said quickly, “nothing like that. But I do need to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

At once, Keeley felt foolish, wishing she hadn't said anything at all, but it was too late now. She looked directly at him, trying not to notice how piercing his eyes were, or think about the way they had gazed into hers the night before while he had made love to her.

“Have you dated Raquel?”

Ben looked taken aback. Whatever he had thought Keeley wanted to ask, this clearly wasn't it.

“What? Keeley, what is this about? I explained to you what I was discussing with Raquel before. Why would you ask me this now?”

He looked angry, but he also, she noticed, hadn't directly answered her question.

“Because it's apparently common knowledge,” she said, and her voice came out much snappier and more petulant than she had intended.

Ben raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is it, now?” He sounded cold now, his face taking on that closed expression she was familiar with from her return to Belfrey. The very temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a few degrees.

“Well, is it true?” She held her breath for his answer, wincing when it came even though it was by now expected.

“Yes, I did date her. Very briefly. Exactly how is this relevant to anything?”

Keeley's mouth fell open at that piece of barefaced cheek.

“How is it relevant?” Her voice was raised now, and she was too angry to care whether she was being irrational or not. “How is it not relevant? She's got to be the chief suspect, at least for the letters, and she's gone out of her way to be vile to me, and you didn't think this was worth mentioning before you took me to bed?”

A look of hurt crossed Ben's features, to be swiftly replaced with a mask of disdain.

“What I think,” he said slowly, his words cutting her like knives, “is that you are being completely ridiculous.”

Keeley turned away, unable to look at him, not wanting him to see how much he had upset her. “You should go. This was a bad idea.” She deliberately made her tone as cutting as his own. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Ben, felt rather than heard him step toward her, but then he whirled around and was gone, slamming the door after him.

*   *   *

Keeley crumpled. She sagged against the wall, hot tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? She was torn between running outside and calling for him to come back and going upstairs and burning the sheets they had slept on. Made love on. It had been so long since she allowed a man so close, and not just in the physical sense, and she had been wrong. He had lied to her.

A niggling little voice told her she was overreacting, but it was overridden by a fresh wave of anger. Rather than racing upstairs to take her frustrations out on the bed linen, she went into the kitchen and started brewing a pot of herbal tea. The flowers in Annie's vase needed watering. She got on with the mundane tasks, trying to deepen her shallow breath, trying to pretend her hands weren't trembling, but all the while, her senses were on hyper-alert, desperate for Ben to come back through the door and tell her he was sorry, and it was all right, and she hadn't just ruined everything with her irrational jealousy.

If it was irrational. Something told Keeley that Ben was no Brett; he would never intentionally deceive her, and yet, she couldn't allow herself to be certain.

Even so, when the door went she ran to it, suppressing a howl of frustration when once again it wasn't Ben but Annie Rowland.

“Are you all right, dear? I saw young Ben tear off down the hill at some speed, and I thought, that will be because of me and my big mouth.”

“It's not your fault,” Keeley said, opening the door to let her landlady in, though she did half wish that Annie had never said anything. She had always thought of the woman as the epitome of genteel discreetness.

“I take it you had a quarrel, then?”

Keeley nodded, feeling tears sting her eyes again.

“Well, I'm sure you will sort it out, although honestly, I don't think he's quite the young man for you, really.”

Keeley felt puzzled. Did Annie know more about Ben? She held a chair out for her landlady in the kitchen and poured them both a cup of tea from the pot. Annie sipped at hers daintily.

“What makes you say that?” Keeley said. Her phone, which she had left on the kitchen counter, buzzed with a message, and she nearly tripped over herself to get to it, expecting it to be Ben. It was Megan, wishing her good luck on her date. Keeley groaned and sank back into her chair.

“He just seems such a serious young man—he would be married to his job, I would imagine. And I don't think he'll be long for Belfrey.”

“Neither will I, at this rate,” mumbled Keeley; then she waved her hand as if to refute her words when Annie gave her a concerned look. “No, ignore me, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I'm not going anywhere, in fact, I'm really looking forward to the opening.”

Annie didn't smile at her or give any encouragement as she might have expected her to do. Instead she gave Keeley an inscrutable expression that seemed to be hiding a touch of anger. About what? Keeley wondered.

“Honestly, dear, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm surprised you're going ahead with it, given everything that's happened. It sends out the wrong message, don't you think?”

Keeley felt puzzled, and more than a little hurt. Annie had always seemed so supportive, and now even she was turning on her.

“Oh dear, I've said too much.” The usual look of concern was back on the woman's face, and Keeley thought she had just imagined that flash of anger she had seen in them.

“I'll be going,” her landlady said regretfully, picking up her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “I do hope I haven't upset you?”

“No, of course not,” Keeley said, the words automatic, but she was looking at Annie's skirt. Her landlady's jumper had ridden up as she lifted her bag, revealing what should have been a set of two gold buttons at the side. One was missing. The one that remained, however, was a dead ringer for the one upstairs on Keeley's dresser.

 

Chapter Eighteen

Her heart hammering, trying to keep her expression carefully neutral, Keeley smiled at her landlady.

“You don't need to go,” she told her, trying to look anywhere but at her waistband, “you haven't upset me. To be honest, you're probably right.”

The relief on Annie's face was palpable as she sat back down, and for a moment, Keeley told herself not to be so stupid. She was chasing shadows now, seeing murderers in the friendliest of faces. Yet something worried at her, some half memory that wanted to make itself known but that she couldn't quite seem to grasp at. If she was right, she should probably be running screaming for the door, but instead she wanted to speak to Annie further, if only to rule the hitherto kindly woman out. After all, Gerald had said the buttons were commonplace, and lots of people lost buttons, all the time.

“Really? Oh, I am glad. I worry about you, you know, with all this dreadfulness that's been going on. Poor Jack and his dog, and of course, Terry getting killed like that. Awful, isn't it really. One minute here, and the next, bashed around the head and that's it, gone. Such a waste.”

Keeley stared at Annie, a creeping sense of dread pervading her limbs as she digested the woman's words. Bashed around the head … As far as she knew, the exact method of Terry's death wasn't common knowledge. It hadn't been in the papers. Keeley knew only because Ben had told her, that first day, that Terry was hit with a large, blunt object. Keeley swallowed, trying to smile as though nothing were wrong, but her features felt frozen on her face. Annie stared back, and Keeley saw the knowledge dawn in her eyes that she had said something wrong, something out of place.

Keeley wrenched her gaze away from the woman and conjured up a bright smile, hoping it was enough. That Annie hadn't seen the dawning realization on Keeley's own face.

She reached for her phone, her hands clammy, murmuring that she should really text Megan back, then sat back in alarm when Annie reached for her phone and slid it out of Keeley's grasp, then picked it up and placed it in her own handbag.

“What are you doing?” Keeley aimed for a tone of interested bemusement, to keep up the façade, but her voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak. They sat for a few moments in silence, every nerve ending on Keeley's body bristling as she tried to judge the distance between herself and the doors, her stomach roiling when she realized Annie blocked her exits. She stood up and reached for the teacups, and Annie sprang to her feet, almost diametrically opposite her now. Challenging her, her eyes as cold and still as a snake's. It was as though she had been wearing a mask earlier; there was nothing of the kindhearted landlady in the figure now standing before her.

“Give me my phone, Annie, please,” Keeley said firmly, though she could feel her thighs trembling. Annie tipped her head to one side as if considering her request; then her voice, now so unfamiliar, rapped out, “No. I think not.”

Keeley looked her landlady straight in her eyes. She should probably scream now, she thought, but instead a different sound came out of her mouth.

“Why?”

For a moment, she thought Annie wouldn't answer; then a desperately sad look came over the older woman's face.

“I didn't really have a choice, you see. I did it for Donald.”

“Your husband?” When Annie nodded, Keeley went on, “I'm sure you had your reasons, Annie; we're all capable of different things. I'm sure if you explain to Ben—”

Annie's chin snapped up, her eyes flaring with rage, any remorse forgotten. The woman's kindly old lady mask had well and truly come off; the angry sneer she now directed at Keeley would have terrified the hardest of men.

“To Ben? To your fancy man? You're nothing but a little tart, Keeley Carpenter, just like your mother before you.”

Her mother? Ignoring the insult to herself, Keeley shook her head, puzzled. “What does my mother have to do with any of this?”

“Everything,” Annie said. “It was all her fault, even in the beginning. Seducing my Donald, as if she didn't have a husband of her own.”

Keeley felt as though an iron fist had planted itself in her gut. Donald Rowland? That had been the man her mother had an affair with? And Annie had known all this time? Things began to drop into place in her mind, fitting together with a horrible understanding.

“That's why you wanted to burn down the shop. You must have heard my mother was reopening it and thought she was coming back. But I don't understand,” Keeley frowned, aware she was still missing a very big piece of the puzzle, “why it should bother you after all this time? My mother's affair was years ago, why didn't you take it up with her then?” Before, the idea of the gentle Mrs. Rowland facing down Darla would have been laughable, but seeing this version of Annie, Keeley thought her mother might have had something to worry about.