Tapas, Carrot Cake and a Corpse (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

“But …” said Charlotte, “the fact that you found it all torn up and floating in the sea doesn’t bode well for whoever was on it, does it?  I mean, maybe they went into the rocks – you know how treacherous they can be – and got ripped to pieces.”  She shivered at the thought. 

“No.  This material hasn’t been shredded by the waves or the rocks,” said Garrett.  “It’s been cut with a knife – a jagged fisherman’s knife like this.”  He took a knife from the pocket of his jacket and showed it to Nathan. 

“So, the last person to use this life boat deliberately destroyed it afterwards?” asked Nathan.

“Looks that way,” said Garrett.  “And that’s not all.”  He took something out of his other pocket and handed it to Nathan.  “This was caught up with it, bunched up inside a lump of seaweed.”

It was battered almost beyond recognition, misshapen and soaked with seawater, but there was no doubt that what Nathan was holding in his hand was Blake Hamilton’s missing wallet.

“Well, there was still money in the wallet,” said Nathan, “and his licence and all his credit cards, so whoever killed him wasn’t interested in robbing him.” 

“What about fingerprints?” asked Charlotte.

“No, no fingerprints at all.  There
was
something in the front pocket – looks like it could have been a business card - but it got so wet, there’s no way of knowing because it’s turned to mush.  All we can make out is something blue and green in the top corner.  Otherwise, there was nothing … absolutely zilch.”

“That’s weird.  Why take someone’s wallet from them, but leave the money in it?  I don’t get it,” said Charlotte.

“Search me,” said Nathan.  “Look, I’ve got a briefing to get to.  I’ll catch up with you later, OK?  Bye.”

Charlotte pressed the ‘End Call’ button on her phone and locked the doors to the café.  All day long, she’d been distracted by Garrett’s visit and the questions it had raised.  Not for the first time, she wished she could have spoken to Jess about things, but knew that she couldn’t.

As hard as she tried to put the fact that there was still a killer on the loose to the back of her mind, it had proved rather difficult that day as Ava, Harriett and Betty had spent the entire afternoon at the café, debating the murder at length with Leo and Harry.  They’d seen Samantha and Gabe in the town that morning, surrounded by reporters, and had rushed back to tell Charlotte that the couple had said to expect them for lunch on Sunday at 2.00 pm. 

“And Gabe asked if you could chill a couple of cases of pink champagne,” Ava had told her.

“Yes, evidently, they’re going to celebrate Samantha’s release in style,” Harriett had reported, excitedly, “and we’re all invited.”

“Oooh, if the champagne’s going to be flowing, I think we’d better have our lunch early.  What d’you say, ladies?” Betty had suggested.

“Suits us,” Ava and Harriett had replied in unison. 

“Right, you’d better put us down for three roast beef lunches at 12.30 pm,” Betty had said.  “Oh, I do love a party!”

As Charlotte cycled up the marina front, she saw Cody and his friends sitting in
The Bottle of Beer
, a music bar popular with other surfers, and which, as the name suggested, only served bottles of beer.  They waved when they saw her and she stopped the bike outside the bar.

“Hi guys.  How was the surf today?”

“Fantastic!  We, like, caught the tail end of last night’s storm and the waves have been, like, freakin’ awesome.”  As was usually the case, Cody did all the talking, the others happy to just sit back and drink their beers.

He was explaining a complicated surfing technique to Charlotte in some detail, when she saw something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  Around Cody’s neck, on a silver chain, was a pendant exactly like the one Blake had worn.  It wasn’t on a leather cord, but it looked exactly the same. 

Surely Cody can’t be the killer? 

She cast her mind back to the day she’d met Blake.  Cody and his friends had been in the café that day, and Blake had spent some time chatting with them. 
Perhaps Cody had taken a liking to the pendant, followed him onto The Lady Samantha the following day, murdered him and then snatched it for himself? 

A thousand thoughts were racing through her mind as she reasoned with herself
.  No, that’s just too far-fetched to be true.  And anyway, I can’t imagine Cody putting the time aside on his holiday to buy weed killer, let alone get hold of muscle relaxants and a syringe.  No, it can’t be him.  I’m just going to ask him where he got the pendant from – there’s bound to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.  If he
is
guilty of anything, there are enough people around that he’s not going to do anything to me here.  I can always call Nathan if I feel threatened.

“So, yeah … there was like, this much air between like, the board and the wave,” he said, spreading his hands wide apart.  “Freakin’ awesome!” Cody repeated and put his hand in the air for Charlotte to high-five him. 

“Oh, yeah … um, awesome,” she said, distractedly, smacking her hand against his.  “Um, Cody … that pendant you’re wearing.  Where did you get it?”

“Huh?  Oh this.  I found it on the beach this morning.  Reckon it was washed up during the storm.  It had a piece of leather tied to it, but that was, like, broken, so I just put it on my chain.  Cool, huh?”

In an instant, Charlotte’s heart-rate slowed, and all her concerns disappeared.  Unless he was an amazing actor, there was no way that Cody was the murderer. 
He’s not a cold-blooded killer,
she thought
.  I just know it. 
  

“Look, Cody,” she said.  “I think that pendant may have belonged to Blake – the guy who was found on
The Lady Samantha
last week – and I think the police may need it as evidence.  Who knows, it may not be his, in which case, they may even let you have it back … you know, finders keepers, and all that.”

Cody listened intently to what Charlotte was telling him, all the time, his fingers stroking the pendant proprietarily.  When she’d finished speaking, he simply shrugged his shoulders, took the pendant off his chain and handed it her.

“Bummer,” he said.  “Like, I had no clue that this belonged to a dead dude.  Man, it makes me go, like, cold,” he frowned as Charlotte took the pendant from him. 

“You want
me
to give it to the police?” she asked.

“Yeah, d’you mind?  We’ve only got, like, two days of our vacation left and I don’t want to spend it in some stuffy police station.  If they need to, like, speak to me, then yeah, I’ll go and see them, but if they don’t …” he trailed off. 

“OK, I’ll give this to Chief Inspector Costello, and if he needs to speak to you, he’ll let you know,” said Charlotte.  “Thanks, Cody – this could really help the investigation.”  She squeezed his arm lightly and he blushed beet red. 

“Hey, like, no worries … s’the least I could do.”

“Right, I’m off – I’ll see you some time,” Charlotte hoisted herself back on her saddle and cycled off. 

As soon as she got round the corner, she called Nathan, but went straight through to his answering service. 
He must still be in his briefing. 
A shrill beep signalled for her to leave a message.  “Hi, it’s me.  Listen, I was on my way home when I ran into Cody - you know, the American surfer guy.  I’m pretty sure he’s got nothing to do with the murder, but he was wearing Blake’s pendant around his neck - he said he found it washed up on the beach this morning.  I told him that I thought it might be Blake’s and could be evidence, and he gave it to me.  He’s only got two days of his holiday left, so he asked if I’d give it to you.  He’s quite willing to come down to the station if you need to speak to him, which I suppose you will, but in the meantime, I wanted to let you know that I’ll hold onto the pendant until I see you.  Unless you want me to bring it down to the station myself?  Either way, just let me know.  Speak to you soon.”

At home, she kicked off her shoes and put the kettle on.  She took the pendant out of her pocket and grabbed a piece of kitchen paper to wrap it in.   Like the wallet, it was unlikely that there’d be any trace of fingerprints on it after being tossed around in the sea, but as she wrapped it carefully, she was hopeful that it might yield some clues.  She was just remembering how good it had looked around Blake’s neck when it slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor. 

“Damn it!” she said, as on first glance, the pendant appeared to have broken in two.  However, on closer inspection, she realised that it was hinged and the impact had opened it. 

As she bent to pick it up, her breath caught in her throat.  “Oh my God!” she said, as she peered closely at the pendant, the inside of which held a small photograph. 

For the second time that day, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she jumped as her phone rang loudly. 

“Hi - I just got your message.  Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful for the information, but how many times do I have to tell you not to get involved in police business?  You should have called me straight away and I’d have come down to speak to Cody.  You don’t
know
that he’s not the killer – not for sure – and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.  Anyway, I’m sending a couple of officers down to speak to him now, and I’ll come round and get that pendant if you’re going to be home for a while?” Nathan’s deep voice was reassuring in her ear.  “Charlotte?  You there?”  

“Nathan, oh my gosh – you need to get here right away.  You are not going to
believe
what I’m looking at!”

Charlotte lay awake, her head spinning with everything that had happened over the past few days. 

The emergence of the life boat, the wallet and the pendant had shed new light on the investigation, that was for sure, but now she was more confused than ever as to who the killer could be.  In any case, even if it was Samantha, Nathan still didn’t have enough evidence to charge her.

As she tossed and turned, she thought back to the day she’d found Blake’s body, and suddenly, something that Nathan had said came into her mind, as clear as day -
“
Often, it’s the smallest details that leave the biggest clues”. 

With a gasp, she sat bolt upright.  “I’m brilliant!” she said out loud, before jumping out of bed.  She ran to the bathroom before pulling on her clothes from the night before.  Then she ran downstairs and rummaged through the cupboard under the kitchen sink, vowing for the umpteenth time to clear it out when she had time. 

Five minutes later, she was cycling carefully off into the pitch-black night, thankful to have found the torch she’d been looking for. 

At a little after 1.00 am, she arrived at Tom’s cottage.  Leaning her bike up against the wall, she crept into the front garden as quietly as she could, praying that Pippin wouldn’t start barking.  Looking around, she spied a large terracotta plant pot and with huge effort, carried it over to stand, upturned, under Tom’s largest hanging basket. 

I’m sorry Tom, but duty calls
, she thought, as she carefully put her hand into the basket, its wonderfully-fat, ready-to-burst-open buds on the verge of revealing their glorious flora.  She felt around in the soil, but found nothing except a couple of wood lice who were probably most aggrieved at being disturbed at that hour of the morning.

Undeterred, she moved the flowerpot to stand under the next basket.  “Good grief, this thing weighs a ton!” she puffed under her breath. 

Standing carefully on the upturned pot, she dipped her hand into the basket and began to feel around in the cool earth.  She was just about to move on to the next basket, when her fingers touched a hard object.  Pulling gently until it was out of the soil, she looked at it in the dim glow of the flashlight and saw that it was a plastic food bag. 

Bingo! 
She could barely contain her excitement when she saw the contents.  She carried the plant pot back to where she’d found it and, putting the bag carefully into the basket on her bike, cycled off as fast as her legs would pedal.

As soon as she got home, she called Nathan.  For a split-second, she wondered whether to wait until the morning, but then decided that this was far too important to leave until then.  He answered the phone after two rings.

“Yes, Charlotte?” 

Although his voice was stern, she could tell that he was smiling as he spoke.  He was obviously becoming accustomed to her late night calls.  “Hi, did I wake you?” she asked.

“No, you didn’t – I was going over some paperwork.  What’s up?”

“Um, look … I know you told me to mind my own business, but you’re going to be
really
pleased with me this time.  I’ve just found some evidence that I’m pretty sure will prove who the killer is - can I come over?”

“Charlotte, please tell me that you haven’t been out in the middle of the night looking for clues?”  She could tell from Nathan’s voice that he definitely was
not
smiling now.

“Oh, Nathan - don’t be cross with me – I didn’t have time to think, I just went.  Anyway, I’m back now, and I’m safe, so there’s nothing to worry about.  Anyway, can I come over?” she persisted.

She heard Nathan sigh heavily.  “No, you can’t.  I’ll come over to you – I don’t want you cycling anywhere at this time of night again.  Give me five minutes.  Bye.” 

She put down the phone and waited impatiently.  She couldn’t wait to show Nathan what she’d found. 

True to his word, Nathan was on her doorstep five minutes later.  “So, what’s so urgent that you’re riding round the neighbourhood in the dead of night?”

“Come in, come into the kitchen,” Charlotte grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside.

“Look!” she passed the bag to him and held her breath as he looked inside. 

“Oh my God!” he said.  “Charlotte, where did you find this?”

Charlotte quickly filled Nathan in on her late-night revelation, and how it had led her to find the clue that he now held in his hand.

“Actually, I have you to thank for it – if I hadn’t remembered what you’d said about the smallest details leaving the biggest clues, I’d never have found it.  It should be quite useful as evidence, don’t you think?” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

“Useful?  My God, Charlotte, if this is what I think it is, it’ll be covered in fingerprints.  Right, I’m taking it down to the station right now.”

“So, will this prove who the murderer is, once and for all?” Charlotte kept her fingers crossed – it was high time that things got back to normal in St. Eves.

“Well, it’s pretty incriminating evidence, so yes, I’d say so,” said Nathan as he strode towards the front door.  As he opened it, he turned back.  “And Charlotte,”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

ººººººº

All day on Friday, Charlotte was like a cat on hot bricks.  Every time her phone rang, she jumped at it, hoping it was Nathan with some news, but she heard nothing from him.  At 2.00 pm she couldn’t bear it any longer, so she called and left him a message, but he didn’t get back to her.   

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Jess had asked, after the sound of Charlotte’s phone ringing for the fifth time had sent her friend into an almost frenzied state. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine – well, actually, I’m not, but I just can’t say why.  I’m sorry, Jess – I hate it when people say there’s something wrong, but then they won’t tell you what it is – but I really can’t.  I wish I could, but I can’t.  I hope I’ll be able to tell you everything soon, though.” 

“You’re not ill, are you?” Jess asked, anxiously.  “If you are, you have to tell me, because you can’t go through it alone.  Are you ill?”

“Oh, Jess, no - it’s nothing like that, but thank you,” Charlotte gave her a big hug.  “It’s nothing to worry about – it’s just me getting myself into a state.  Just try not to pay attention to me and I’ll try to calm down a bit.”

“Well, as long as you’re OK, then it’s all good,” Jess beamed.  “I can wait until you’re ready to tell me whatever it is.  Now, where’s that BLT and chicken and avocado salad for table six?”

ººººººº

Charlotte didn’t hear from Nathan until 11.45 pm on Saturday, when he called round just as she was getting ready for bed. 

Standing on the front step, his face was totally impassive, so she had no idea whether he had good or bad news. 

“Well?”

“I’ve just had the results back,” he said.

“Nathan, for God’s sake, don’t make me wait!  And what did they say?!” Charlotte could barely contain herself.

His face broke into a broad grin.  “There were fingerprints all over that evidence you found – just one set of prints, so we’re in no doubt now as to the killer’s identity.  It’s almost over, Charlotte - the killer will be charged tomorrow.” He punched the air triumphantly.

“Oh, Nathan – that’s fantastic!” Charlotte grabbed his hands.  “Is it who I thought it was?”

He nodded. “It is.”

“Look - you know that Gabe and Samantha are having a ‘release celebration’ at the café tomorrow, don’t you?” said Charlotte.  “They’ve invited quite a few people, so everyone will be together, all in the same place.  I’m only mentioning it because I thought it’d make it easier if you know where the killer’s going to be when you come looking.”

Nathan rubbed his chin.  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.  I tell you what, this is what I’m going to do …..”