Tapas, Carrot Cake and a Corpse (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 1) (7 page)

He may not agree with Gabe on many things, but he had to agree that it was a beautiful view.

“OK, Mr. Driscoll, if you’d rather not speak to us until your solicitor arrives, that’s your prerogative, although I’m a little puzzled as to why you won’t tell me if you know where your wife’s pills might be,” said Nathan.  “If we can find them, it’ll help your wife and you won’t need to go out of your way to call in at the surgery for another prescription.  From where I’m standing, it’s a perfectly harmless question.” 

“Like I said, I’m not saying anything until my solicitor gets here,” Gabe said firmly, taking off his sunglasses and resting them on top of his head.  “I know how you police have a knack of distorting the truth --- I could tell you that I put my trousers on back to front this morning and before I knew it, I’d be implicated in something or other.”  His grey eyes flashed angrily.  “No, I’m not saying a word.  Now if there’s nothing else, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me in peace.  I’d like to work on my tan before I see Samantha later on.  You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up to show you out, won’t you?” he said scathingly as he put his sunglasses back on and lay back on the lounger.

“I’m quickly changing my opinion of that man,” said PC Farrell as they got back into Nathan’s car.  “I thought he was OK when I first met him, but now, I’m not so sure.  I could understand if he seemed upset because his wife’s sitting in a cell, but on the contrary, he seems to be having the time of his life.”

“Yes, I agree that he seems to be celebrating a little too prematurely.  He must be very confident that his solicitor will get her out,” Nathan pulled smoothly into the traffic, his frustration growing at the lack of any new evidence coming to light.

ººººººº

At precisely 6.15 pm, Samantha Driscoll and her solicitor, Vincent Ramone, entered the interview room.  He pulled out a chair for Samantha before taking the seat at her side and immediately starting to make notes in a spiral-bound pad.  A po-faced legal-eagle from the city, Vincent Ramone had a reputation for being hard-nosed and ruthless, and his success rate for getting clients off the hook was legendary.

At precisely 6.25 pm, he stood up from the table and tightened the knot in his tie.  “I think that just about covers everything, Chief Inspector Costello,” he said, with the briefest of thin smiles.  “As you have not yet charged my client, and you have confirmed that you have nothing with which to charge her, she will be accompanying me when I leave the station in a few minutes.  Mrs. Driscoll appreciates … as do I … that you may need to question her further should new evidence be brought to light, but in the meantime, she will be staying at
The President
… as will I.”

Nathan hid his disappointment as he shook Vincent Ramone’s hand.  He’d known that this would be the outcome from the moment the solicitor arrived – even with all the evidence to suggest that Samantha may have had some involvement in Blake Hamilton’s murder, there wasn’t enough to charge her with anything.

As he watched Samantha leave the room, he resolved to go through every shred of evidence again with the finest of toothcombs.  He knew the clues that would solve this case were right under his nose – he just had to see them.

He called through to his assistant.  “Amanda, bring me every file on the Hamilton murder, please.  Every statement, every interview log, every report - just bring me everything we have.  If I have to work all night to get some results, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Charlotte spent the evening making a carrot cake for Laura, and the soup and sandwiches she’d promised Garrett and his crew. 

She’d made the bread at the café that morning and the smell of it baking had brought customers flocking in.  Bread baking, bacon cooking and freshly ground coffee were three aromas that were guaranteed to fill an empty café in double-quick time.

Stirring the soup, she tested it for seasoning.  Generous chunks of chicken and vegetables bobbed about in the bubbling, golden broth, to which she added a handful of Orzo pasta before turning the pan down to simmer.

Then, she cut three loaves into thick slices and spread them with soft butter.  She filled one loaf with honey-smoked ham and English mustard, one with turkey and cranberry sauce, and one with cheddar cheese and caramelised onion chutney. 

I’ll take all this round to Garrett’s at around 11.30 pm
, she thought. 
That way, the soup will still be hot when they go out at 2.00 am
.  Her thermos flasks kept food hot for around eight hours, so it would still be good when they got round to eating it.

The storm that had been threatening for days looked very much as though it was going to arrive that night.  She hated knowing that Garrett and the boys were out at sea when the weather was rough, but there hadn’t been a storm yet that they hadn’t come home from safely.  Still, it didn’t stop her worrying.

As the soup simmered, she stretched out and watched some TV, making sure she set the alarm on her phone for 11.00 pm in case she fell asleep.  She tested the soup again and when she was happy that the pasta was cooked just right, she turned off the heat and ladled it into the wide-necked thermos flasks.  Then she put the flasks and the sandwiches into a large thermos bag, and they were ready to go.

She took the carrot cake out of the fridge – the cream cheese icing had firmed up nicely, and it took every ounce of willpower not to stick her finger in it for a taste.  Carefully, she lowered the cake into a plastic box and snapped the lid shut. 

She was all set.  It was only 10.45 pm and if she set off now, she’d be at Garrett’s by 11.00 pm.  A little earlier than she’d planned, but it would give her time to have a quick chat with Laura.  She didn’t see her Godmother as much as she’d have liked and she was looking forward to spending some time with her.  She made a mental note to make a firm arrangement to meet up for lunch some time. 

She arrived at the house just after 11.00 pm and parked her bike behind Laura’s car.  The side entrance was usually open, but since the murder, it had been firmly locked from morning till night.  She knocked on the door and Laura opened it within seconds. 

“Charlotte!  It’s so good to see you – come in, love.”  Laura enveloped her in a huge hug before pulling her inside.  Looking down at the thermos bag, she said, “Thanks so much for making all this food for Garrett and the crew – it’s just what they need when there’s bad weather about.  They can be so exhausted by the time they’ve taken the boat through it, all they want to do is sit down and have something ready to eat.” 

“It was no trouble,” Charlotte replied, smiling widely.  “Garrett’s done enough favours for me over the years – it’s the least I can do.  Is he asleep?” 

“Yes,” Laura looked at her watch.  “I’ll wake him at 12.  Now come on, come into the living room and sit down with me for a while.  You can put your bike in the back of the car and I’ll run you home later, OK?”

“OK, that would be great – thanks.  By the way, there’s something in the bag for you too,” Charlotte grinned.

Five minutes later, they were catching up on each other’s news, curled up on the couch with a pot of tea and a generous slice of carrot cake each.  After all the stress of the past few days, Charlotte relaxed for the first time since Saturday morning when she’d found Blake’s body on the boat.

The hour flew by, and Charlotte couldn’t stop the yawn that crept up on her.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, holding her hand over her mouth.  “I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Laura squeezed her hand and jumped off the couch.  “I’m just going to wake up Sleeping Beauty, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Five minutes later, Garrett was running down the stairs, his hair sticking up and his eyes bleary.  “I couldn’t let you go without saying thank you,” he caught Charlotte in a bear hug and kissed the top of her head. 

“You take care, OK?” said Charlotte. 

“Always do, but when there’s a storm brewin’, we’re all extra careful, so don’t you worry about us,” he smiled and ruffled her hair. 

“Right, come on then, let’s get going,” Laura picked up her keys. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Charlotte waved to Garrett, not knowing that she’d be seeing him again much sooner than she’d bargained for.

ººººººº

When Charlotte arrived at the café the next morning, she was approached by a reporter who asked for a comment on the latest development in the murder case. 

“What development?” she asked, as she chained her bike to the railings.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?  Samantha Driscoll was released without charge late yesterday afternoon,” said the reporter, “which means, of course, that there’s still a killer on the loose.”

“What?! “ squeaked Charlotte.  “Oh no!  Are you sure?”

“Positive,” replied the reporter.  “Chief Inspector Costello confirmed it last night – didn’t you see it on the late local news bulletin?” 

“No, I was busy last night.”  She wondered why Laura - who was an avid follower of the local news - hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and then remembered that when the late bulletin had been on, the TV had been off and they’d been chatting over tea and carrot cake. 

“So, do you have any comment?” The reporter shoved her tape recorder under Charlotte’s nose.

“Only that I’m very disappointed that the main suspect has been released, and that I hope the murderer is caught soon.  I’m sure we all feel the same … that’s all I have to say.” 

The reporter scuttled off to the other end of the marina, where she’d spied more unsuspecting residents to pounce on.

“Has she gone?” a voice whispered.

Charlotte almost jumped out of her skin.  Looking up from her bunch of keys, she saw Nathan poking his head around the side of the café. 

“Yes, I think so, but you’d better come inside quick – those newspaper hacks can sniff out a Chief Inspector a mile away,” Charlotte grinned.

Nathan followed her in and pulled the glass doors shut behind him.  He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before making himself comfortable at the bar. 

Charlotte was about to ask him about Samantha when his phone rang.  He strode around the café as he talked, animatedly and with authority, and Charlotte’s eyes never left him as he moved about. 

Having celebrated his 40
th
birthday the month before, Nathan was in great shape.  He ran, cycled and swam at every opportunity, and his lean, muscular physique was testament to the effort he put into keeping fit. 

The injury he’d sustained during his early days as a fire-fighter had spurred him on to keep his body as strong as possible.  When he’d been in the hospital, two doctors had told him that his knee was so badly damaged, it was unlikely that he’d ever walk again without a stick.  Their prognosis had not only scared the living daylights out of him, but it had spurred him on to prove them wrong.  Many months later, he’d walked back into the hospital, unaided, and the doctors had proclaimed him a medical miracle.

That had been a good day.

He finished his call and sat down again.  “Sorry about that – where were we?” he asked.

“I was just about to ask you about Samantha.  I understand she’s been released?” Charlotte put his coffee down in front of him. 

“Yep, ‘fraid so,” he replied.

“I’m really sorry – I know how hard you’re working on this case,” Charlotte put her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. 

“Not as sorry as I am,” said Nathan.  “Um, can I have my hand back?  I need to open this pack of sugar.  Although, I could always use my teeth I suppose.”

“What?  Oh, I’m sorry – yes, of course,” Charlotte giggled self-consciously as she let go of his hand.

“I spent all last night going over the case notes – we’re so close to solving this, I just know we are.  Trouble is, we’re not close enough,” said Nathan as he sipped his coffee.

“At least you managed to identify Blake.  That was a huge breakthrough,” Charlotte said, encouragingly.

“Yeah, but I wish we could give his parents something more.  OK, we’ve got his passport and his clothes, but I’d love to find that wallet too.  Not just because it may help with the investigation, but it would be something really personal of his that we could pass on to them – us men are very attached to our wallets, y’know.”

“What about his pendant?”  asked Charlotte.

“Pendant?  What pendant?”

“The silver pendant he wore around his neck.  He told me that he never took it off - sentimental reasons, I think.  He’d had it for years, apparently.”

  Nathan got out his notebook.  “Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked, scribbling away. 

“Of course I am,” Charlotte replied.  “I asked him about it because it was so unusual, and that’s what he told me.”

“Well,” he said, closing his notebook, “the coroner also mentioned that Blake had a thin red mark around the back of his neck.  Perhaps the pendant had been pulled off him?”

“Well, if it was, it would certainly have left a mark,” said Charlotte.  “It was on a piece of leather cord, and I don’t think it would have broken without a pretty hard tug.  Maybe someone stole it from him?”

“Hmmm, it’s possible, but he looked like he could handle himself and if this pendant was as special to him as he claimed it was, I doubt that he would have let someone take it without a fight.  Thing is, there was no evidence on his body to suggest that he’d been involved in an altercation,” Nathan said, thoughtfully, “so at this stage, I can only assume – as this pendant
and
his wallet have both mysteriously gone missing – that the murderer took them after Blake was dead.”

“Don’t worry - we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough … I’m sure we will,” said Charlotte, hopefully.

Nathan looked at her and grinned.  “There is no “we” Charlotte.  “We” are not working this case,
I
am, so please don’t go getting any of your crazy ideas – OK?  Promise me?”

Charlotte nodded, careful not to commit her promise to words.  She was so desperate for peace to be restored in St. Eves, she was willing to do anything to help get things back to normal.  She’d already decided that if she had a hunch, she was going to act on it.  She was fed up of being scared in her own town – in her own home.  It was time to start taking the initiative. 

Blissfully unaware of her intentions, Nathan finished his coffee.  “Right, I’d better be off – I’ll speak to you soon,” he picked up his jacket and was about to leave, when Garrett came striding across the terrace, carrying a large black bag.

“Hey, Garrett – long time, no see,” he held out his hand and Garrett shook it firmly. 

“Am I glad to see you,” said Charlotte, breathing a sigh of relief.  “The sea was so rough last night, you must have had to work really hard to keep the boat under control?”

“It’s been worse, but yeah, it was pretty bumpy for a while.  I can tell you, once it had calmed down, we were so grateful for that food – it was delicious.  Thanks again.”  Garrett smiled at Charlotte before continuing.  “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, Nathan, because it’s you I wanted to see.  Charlotte, there’s something in this bag I want to show Nathan, but there’s a lot of sand in it, so it’ll make a bit of a mess.  Is that OK?”

“Of course – I’ll just sweep it up,” said Charlotte, keen to see what was in the bag for herself. 

Garrett opened the bag and took out a large piece of rubber, strung with seaweed and covered in sand.  He looked at Nathan and waited for a response.

“Very interesting,” said Nathan.  “What is it?”

  “Good grief, man – it’s a good thing you never became a fisherman!” said Garrett.  “It’s part of an inflatable life boat.  We found it drifting close to the shore when we were bringing the boat back in this morning.”

“Ah, right.”  Nathan scratched his head.  “I’m sorry, but I’m obviously missing something here, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking at.”

“Here, look at this.”  Garrett opened up the piece of rubber to its full width and the letters
NTHA
became visible in large white print. 

“NTHA?”  Nathan said, a puzzled look on his face.  The penny suddenly dropped.  “Oh my God! 
The Lady Samantha
!  This is a piece of the life boat from
The Lady Samantha –
isn’t it?”  His brow furrowed as he thought hard.  “Hang on, though - the life boat isn’t missing from the boat – we checked that already.  Could it be possible that there was a second one?”

“For a boat that size, one is usually sufficient, but yeah, it’s possible,” said Garrett. 

“So, the murderer could have killed Blake and then escaped on the spare life boat …” Nathan’s mind was racing.  “Right, I’m taking this down to the station – I’m not sure the forensics team will be able to get much from it after all the time it’s been in the water, but I know they’ll have a damn good try.  Thanks for bringing this to me, Garrett - if you hadn’t found it, we would never even have known there was a second life boat.”