Murder at the Maples: A Flora Lively Mystery (24 page)

‘How will it affect me?’

‘What Flora’s trying to say is, we’re gonna have to make cutbacks. Until things pick up again.’

‘Didn’t you just land that contract with a big building firm, though?’

Richie, thought Flora, might not seem all there at times, but when it came right down to it he was sharp enough. She said, ‘We did, as a matter of fact, and we had to do a test move for them on Monday. And you were where on Monday, exactly?’

Marshall coughed into his hand, hiding a grin.

But Richie ignored her question and turned to Marshall.

‘How much notice you giving me then?’

Flora felt her face grow hot. She opened her mouth to answer but Marshall got there first.

‘Two weeks. And if you turn up on time every day, Flora here might even write you a decent reference as well.’ Marshall’s voice was uncharacteristically cold. Flora flashed him a half-smile, then turned to Richie again, only to see him strolling out the door. His feet clattered on the metal stairs and a few seconds later they heard the outside door slam shut.

‘He’s pissed,’ said Marshall.

‘For the hundredth time, over here that means drunk. He’s pissed
off
, is what you mean.’

Marshall grinned. ‘Not the only one, by the looks of it.’

‘Well, just marching out like that. And totally blanking me, when I’m supposed to be the one in charge.’

‘Except you’re not, are you?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing.’

Flora fiddled with the hem of her cut-offs. She knew exactly what he meant. But it wasn’t a conversation she felt like having right now.

‘Strange, though.’

‘What? What’s strange?’

‘That Richie knew nothing about the Maples’ contract. I thought those two were pretty thick.’

‘You mean thick as thieves, right? Not stupid?’

‘Dumb? Well, in Richie-boy’s case that too.’

Flora downed the rest of her latte in one go. The caffeine hit was starting to take effect and she felt oddly upbeat. ‘Well, I guess she doesn’t tell him everything. Why would she?’

‘I’ve got a theory.’

Flora groaned. ‘Are we going to get any work done at all today?’

‘What work is there, Flora?’

She waved in the direction of the warehouse below. ‘How about trying to drum up some business?’

‘It’s all in hand, boss. So, back to my theory.’

‘Fine. Whatever,’ she added with a mock-American twang. Marshall grabbed a rubber and threw it at her chest. ‘Hey, watch it.’ She picked it up – it was heart-shaped, pink, off the end of one of her pencils.

‘I’m thinking that the warden hasn’t got a better price at all,’ Marshall said, not taking his eyes off her.

She pulled a face. ‘Crazy theory. Why would she sack us then? We’ve been doing a great job, haven’t we? We’ve moved twelve residents in so far and not had a single complaint.’

‘
We’ve
been doing a great job. But you – well, let’s just say I think you’re holding the bag.’

‘What?’

‘Let’s just say you threw a wrench in the works. You’ve been on the warden like a bird dog, and it’s a clearly a hot button.’

‘Marshall, I am going to ram this rubber down your throat if you don’t stop talking in idioms and just tell me your stupid theory.’

‘I think I’ll take the fifth, ma’am.’ He stood up and pointed to the heart Flora held in her hand. ‘And that’s an eraser. If you were shoving a rubber down my throat you’d be doing something very different indeed.’

She threw it at his head, but he ducked and the rubber bounced off the wall just below Peter Lively’s photo. Her dad looked down on them indulgently. Flora sighed. ‘Despite the riddles, I think you’re dead wrong. Besides, I haven’t been meddling that much. And why would the warden blow us off just because of that? No, I’m sure it’s because Rockfords have undercut us. Your friend David is behind this. What?’

Marshall was smirking at her. He shook his head. ‘You’re just really funny sometimes, that’s all. Anyway, I can tell you for a fact it’s got nothing to do with Rockfords.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just know. But you can ask David yourself, if you like? He’s popping in about eleven.’

Flora’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She looked up at the clock. It was five to. ‘Here? Why? What the hell’s he coming here for?’

‘Business.’

‘What business?’

‘Wait and see.’

She grabbed her tote bag and slung it over her arm. Not likely. David Rockford had never been on her list of people to spend time with, and that was before she actually met him and realised he was drop-dead gorgeous as well as super-rich and slick as an oil spillage on a wet road.

‘Oh, leaving already? What about all that work we’ve got to be getting on with?’

Flora glared. ‘I’ve got an appointment.’

‘At the hairdresser’s?’

‘No. What’s wrong with my … Oh, funny. You’re a funny guy. Have fun with your pal, won’t you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She ran down the steps and raced across the warehouse, emerging into the sunshine, blinking. Still running, she scrabbled around in her bag for her sunglasses. It was the beginning of May, inclemently warm, but the prickling of sweat on her back had a lot more to do with avoiding David Rockford than the sticky weather. She found her glasses, stuck them on, then circumnavigated the car park and made it to safety just as the red sports car swung in. Flora kept her face averted lest David recognise her. Not that he would – he probably didn’t even remember that first meeting.

He certainly wouldn’t remember it in as much detail as Flora.

Heading into town, Flora tried to get rid of the image of David Rockford’s green eyes by thinking about the three websites – there was definitely something strange going on there. She veered into the coffee shop for another shot of caffeine. Maybe it would clear her head. While she waited in the queue she rested her bag against the counter and pulled out her phone.

‘Uncle Max? I need to come and see you again. As soon as possible. Yes, it is important. Really, really important.’

Chapter 15

Flora always enjoyed travelling by train. She loved the sense of movement, of getting somewhere fast. Unlike her fellow passengers, she never read during a journey. In her tote bag Flora carried a paperback novel, but it was only for any serious waiting around. So far, so good. The train to Crewe from Shrewsbury was bang on time and Max had agreed to meet her at Wem station.

If he was surprised to see her again so soon he kept it to himself. She jumped into the Land Rover and tutted at the door, which still wasn’t fixed. But her uncle got off without any serious ribbing. Flora had other things on her mind.

This time, however, she had remembered to bring wellies. She picked her way through the chicken poo and settled in Max’s rustic kitchen, tapping her fingers on the worn oak table while he made coffee.

‘You’ve turned your back on your roots,’ he said, spooning in a measure of instant.

‘Come again?’

‘All this coffee business. Marshall’s rubbing off on you, Flora. There’s nothing wrong with a nice cup of tea, you know. Plenty of caffeine in tea.’

‘You sound like Joy.’ Flora reached for the cup and took a sip. Not brilliant, but not bad either.

‘How is she doing? Any more incidents to report?’

‘May I?’ She put down her coffee and pointed at her uncle’s iPad, which sat on the kitchen worktop surrounded by bits of tractor engine, unwashed mugs and plates and pans, unopened envelopes and piles of coins. Max nodded. Flora quickly opened up three tabs and typed in the web addresses she’d memorised.

‘Look at these. Anything about them strike you as odd?’

Her uncle pulled up a rocking chair with five missing slats. He peered at each screen before tapping on to the next. When he was done he sat back and rubbed his chin.

‘Flora, I thought I told you to stay away from Vasco.’

She said nothing.

‘I promised your dad I’d look out for you, and it hasn’t been a difficult promise to keep. But now … I just don’t understand why you’re getting involved. You’ve always had a talent for trouble, but it’s never been anything too serious.’ He looked at her arm – it was the merest glance, but Flora knew he was remembering when she’d got that particular tattoo, and how devastated her mum had been.

There was no point dwelling on all that right now. She lived with the guilt, and she wasn’t about to let Max rub it in any further.

‘I’m not looking for trouble, Max. And I’m not “involved” in anything. I’m just looking out for a friend. Trying to do what’s right. You can understand that, can’t you?’

He pursed his lips. Flora took that as a Yes and pointed at the iPad. ‘So, does anything jump out at you, looking at those three websites?’

Max’s brow creased as he stared at them again in turn. ‘No. I’m sorry. Obviously I recognise Vasco’s name here – his site looks a bit basic for a hotshot solicitor, perhaps. And this one, isn’t this the retirement home where your friend lives? And the other – what’s that, some kind of charity?’

‘A charitable foundation. Are you absolutely sure you’ve never heard of it?’

When Max shook his head Flora’s shoulders slumped. She’d been convinced her uncle would know something about the charity. In fact, she’d been banking on it. To her eyes, all three websites looked suspiciously similar – the same layout, similar fonts, almost identical menus. The theory she’d developed overnight was that there was some connection between Mr Vasco and the charity. Maybe he’d taken up web design as a sideline and offered to do the Maples’ site too. At the very least, they’d all used the same service. Maybe that was how the three were linked, and there was someone else behind the charity who was using – paying? bribing? – the solicitor to coerce the residents into leaving all their money to Six Wishes.

As theories go it was thin, but to Flora it felt close to being right. She’d spent half the night trying to find the origins of each site, to no avail. And she was no computer whiz. If Richie hadn’t proved himself to be worse than useless she might have asked him – Marshall had said he’d done computer science at the Technology College. She looked at Max and sighed.

‘You know they’re moving Joy up to the third floor tomorrow. She’s in such a state about it, won’t even let me visit her. She’s still paranoid about that Mr Felix fella, and I’m persona non grata because I haven’t somehow managed to magically make him disappear. Meanwhile, I’m so sure that there
is
something weird going on over there that I’ve made things even worse for Shakers, losing the contract because of my meddling is what Marshall thinks, but I think Rockfords are behind it. I know the Captain’s death has got nothing to do with Mr Felix and I’m positive your Mr Vasco is involved, but I don’t know how. And I want to make sure it’s safe for Joy. More than that, Max, I want to be able to
prove
to her that she’s got nothing to fear. Her asthma is really bad – she’s deteriorated so fast recently. It was only a few weeks ago I took her out to the funicular railway and her asthma was fine then. Totally under control, with her medication and her inhaler. But now … I just don’t know what’s going to happen. How can I reassure her that the Maples is a safe place to be when I’m convinced that the Captain’s death – and maybe another death too – wasn’t by natural causes? She’s too ill to stay in her unit alone, but moving up to Special Care might kill her anyway, she’s so stressed about it. And there’s this charity, and the Captain’s will, and is it sick animals or ex-service men, or–’

Max laid his hand on Flora’s arm. ‘Calm down, kid. Take a breath. Never mind Joy, what about your stress levels? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.’

They were both silent for a moment.

‘Sorry, Flora. That was insensitive.’

‘It’s okay, Uncle Max. It’s just a figure of speech, you didn’t mean it to be upsetting. But you know, I do think about dad a lot in all this. You know what he was like, his sense of justice, of doing the right thing. If there was the slightest chance that someone hurt that old man intentionally, dad wouldn’t have wanted them to get away with it.’

‘No one would. I think you can rest assured of that.’ Max sipped his mug of tea and stretched out a booted foot. ‘Look, why don’t you just start at the beginning. Tell me everything. Let’s see what you’ve got.’

Flora started with Joy, going all the way back to the day of their Bridgnorth trip. She even mentioned the bunch of daffodils and the postcard of the Roman goddess. As she spoke, Max listened carefully, interrupting her once or twice with a question, but mostly just taking it all in. When Flora got to the part about the hoodied figure who may or may not have been following her, he tensed and clenched his fists. And when Flora told him about the Six Wishes Foundation, and Ida’s and the Captain’s different ideas of what the charity’s main function was, he sat forward and slammed a fist on the table.

Flora jumped and looked at him in alarm. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘That’s what it was. The lowlife, disgusting … Flora, tell me again about this charity. Everything you know.’

She did, and they looked at the website again on the iPad. Max rubbed his chin, massaging the stubble with grimy hands.

‘Vasco, he had his fingers in lots of pies. Like I told you, he represented all sorts of criminals and most of them got off.’

‘I remember you telling me about the councillor. And then he blackmailed him, right? Do you think Mr Vasco was blackmailing the Captain?’ Flora tried to imagine what the solicitor could have had on an eighty-nine year old man but drew a blank. But then even Joy had her guilty secrets, and they were tearing her apart. Maybe everyone had something hidden in their past. Even someone like the Captain.

But Max was shaking his head. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. I remember a case early in Vasco’s career, before I even got on the council. There was a woman who was charged with running a fake charity scam. It was absolutely disgusting. She netted thousands out of the generosity of innocent people, many of them elderly, and she walked away from it clean. Thanks to Vasco.’

Flora’s ears had pricked up at the mention of a charity scam. If she was honest, that had been bothering her more than anything. It seemed so unlikely that anyone would fake a charity – it was so callous, for one thing – that she had tried to put it out of her mind. But the Six Wishes Foundation … there were just so many things about it that didn’t add up.