The Slay of the Land (The Heathervale Mysteries Book 1) Page 4

  Julie angrily jammed a spatula beneath each of the pumpkin attempts and transferred them to a cooling rack. She broke one in half and nibbled it as she extended the other piece to Arrina.

  The biscuit was warm and soft in Arrina’s fingers. She held it gingerly, as though it were an ornament she might break.

  ‘And on top of that,’ Julie continued, ‘there was a whole busload of old ladies in here clogging up my tables while they slurped their tea noisily and split one piece of cake between three. And of course, Rochelle is still off sick, so I was the one who had to wash up the cups and scrub off all the frosted-pink lipstick smears.’

  Julie was already starting up another batch of pumpkin biscuits. She talked on and on, not seeming to notice that Arrina failed to make a sound. Arrina was fine to listen. She had been pulled so taught with stress all day that she felt she could snap in two like a biscuit.

  Arrina took slow, spice-scented breaths and looked around the kitchen. It was her favourite place in Heathervale. Just sitting there made her feel like she’d be able to make it to the end of the day without collapsing completely.

  After she’d moved to the village five years earlier, she quickly became friends with Julie and got to know her parents as well. Julie’s family had been outsiders themselves at one point. They’d come over from Manchester, swapping their popular restaurant in Chinatown for this strange and wonderful Sound of Music–themed café. The place was an integral part of the village now, which gave Arrina the hope of one day making the transition from outsider herself.

  As Arrina relaxed into the background chatter of Julie’s voice, she looked at all her favourite details in the kitchen and wondered if she could actually move into this room permanently.

  There were pictures all over one wall, which showed the café staff throughout the years. In the oldest one, there were wavy-haired seventies teens holding up trays of scones ready for display. Julie’s parents stood behind them with broad grins on their faces, proud of achieving their dream. The pair had finally retired a couple of years earlier, though they still gave Julie recipe suggestions and rearranged her cake displays when they thought she wasn’t looking.

  In between the staff photos, there were portraits of lederhosen-clad von Trapps, as though they worked there as well. Above the messy counter, where biscuit ingredients were currently being haphazardly thrown together, was a larger-than-life headshot of Julie Andrews, after whom Arrina’s best friend was named.

  Arrina bit into the pumpkin biscuit she’d been given. It was even more delicious than it smelled. She waited for a break in Julie’s rant about her day to say so.

  ‘As if that wasn’t bad enough,’ Julie said, barely pausing for breath and waving a dripping spatula in the air, ‘this is my one late start a week, but I had to come over at seven to sign for a flour delivery that didn’t even turn up—I swear that delivery man gets worse every week—and on my way over here, I almost got run off the road by Hugo Hayes.’

  Arrina’s mouth suddenly stuck together with biscuit crumbs. Or shock.

  Julie picked up another of her failed pumpkin biscuits and gave it a quick chew and swallow. ‘I should have stayed in bed this morning. Not one thing has gone right since I got up.’

  Arrina’s heart pounded at the thought of Hugo alive that morning. Of course, he had been. She knew it in theory—as Arrina had dashed from the college earlier, she had overheard the medical examiner saying so to Tony. But the fact only then became real in Arrina’s mind as she thought about Julie having seen him.

  ‘And where was Hugo even going at that speed so early in the morning?’ Julie asked, mashing up pumpkins with vigorous beats of a fork. ‘Was there some sort of house-selling emergency at seven am? I thought it was a townie who’d been sent into the wilds by a malfunctioning GPS, but then I saw that Hayes Homes sign on the back as he drove off.’ Julie upended the mashed pumpkin into her dough mix and stirred angrily. ‘Didn’t even stop to apologise for almost crashing into me. I’ve a good mind to—’

  ‘Hugo’s dead,’ Arrina blurted out before her friend could say something she would feel terrible about later.

  Julie turned around to face Arrina. She held a wooden spoon in her hand. A lump of biscuit mix fell off it and plopped to the linoleum at her feet.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Arrina said again, a little more gently this time. ‘His body was found in the college this morning.’

  The spoon clattered to the floor, joining the mess around Julie’s well-worn trainers. ‘What do you mean “found in the college”? What’s happened? Are you OK?’

  Julie dashed across the kitchen to kneel on the floor at Arrina’s feet. She hugged her friend’s legs.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Arrina said, squeezing Julie’s warm shoulders. ‘I’m fine,’ Arrina said again as she slipped off the stool and came to sit on the floor with Julie. She gave her friend a tight hug.

  ‘Chocolate,’ Julie said. ‘Sorry, I forgot, I’m all covered in chocolate.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  Julie’s body was soft and warm. Its generous curves were well fuelled by constant cake and biscuit tasting. Arrina sank into the hug and shut her eyes.

  ‘What happened to Hugo?’ Julie asked, whispering into Arrina’s ear.

  ‘He was murdered,’ Arrina said, barely able to make the words leave her mouth. ‘The police have shut the college down because it’s a crime scene.’

  ‘What about classes next week?’

  ‘No. No new term.’

  Julie squeezed her even tighter. ‘You’ll fix it,’ Julie said. ‘You always do.’ The two women pulled back to sit on their heels. ‘What about Hugo? Who could have killed him?’

  Arrina shook her head. ‘The police don’t know.’ She looked down at her dress, which was now a mess of chocolate smears and icing streaks. Good. She didn’t like the dress anyway—too tight, too dull, just like all her work clothes. ‘I think their best guess at the moment might be me.’

  Julie laughed like it was a joke, but Arrina was not entirely sure. The way Ian had looked at her after he’d noticed the broken CCTV left a lingering worry in the pit of her stomach.

  Arrina wanted to tell Julie about Tony being the one to question her at the college. But she kept her mouth shut. She had resolved several months ago to stop talking to Julie about him. Even though Julie was her friend and just wanted to help, the deep sadness in her eyes whenever they discussed Tony only made Arrina feel worse. Besides, she would never get over Tony if she kept talking about him. And today hadn’t been about Tony. It had been about Hugo and the college. Tony didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

  Julie got up and rifled through a box from the top shelf of the store cupboard. She pulled out a pair of hot pink leggings and a T-shirt with the words Donut Worry on it.

  ‘They’re clean, I promise,’ Julie said. ‘They were left by old members of staff, and we keep them here in case of...’ She waved a hand at Arrina’s ruined dress. ‘Things like this.’

  As Arrina changed, Julie sat down on the stool in the corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Hugo Hayes,’ Julie said softly. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  Arrina, who had been thinking about Tony, not Hugo, didn’t say anything.

  ‘I should call the police,’ Julie said. ‘I should tell them what I saw this morning.’

  Arrina almost reached over to get her phone from her bag. She still had Tony’s number on it—kept meaning to delete it but had not yet quite managed to. She caught herself.

  ‘That would be great,’ Arrina said. ‘Anything to get the investigation moving away from the college would be really helpful.’

  ‘Right,’ Julie said. She wiped her hands on her apron then dug in the pocket of her trousers for her phone. She looked at her screen. ‘Good grief, is that the time? I’ve got to help Phil get the cows through the parlour.’

  Julie scrambled to shove her phone back in her pocket, take off her apron, and put the bowl of biscuit mix in the fridge all at the same t
ime.

  ‘Can’t Danny help?’ Arrina asked. She tried to lay her hands on something useful to do. She took bowls, rolling pins, and mixing spoons to the sink. She lifted the clown-looking pumpkins off the cooling rack and put them into Tupperware.

  ‘Leave that,’ Julie said as she hopped around, trying to change her shoes while simultaneously returning sugar bags to the store cupboard. ‘I’ll come back later to clean up.’ She fumbled a bag of sugar then scrambled and managed to pin it between an elbow and a knee. ‘We had to let Danny go. Milk prices have taken such a hit recently that we’re even thinking of getting rid of the herd. It’s breaking Phil’s heart to consider it. Until we decide, I’m helping out.’

  ‘Let me give you a hand,’ Arrina said. She took the sugar that Julie was juggling and put it away. ‘Not with the cows, I mean, but I can clean up here.’

  ‘No, no. Not after the day you’ve had. You go home and have a wine bath. I mean a bath and wine. Though actually, a wine bath might be better.’ Julie’s phone chirped in her pocket. ‘That’ll be Phil wondering where I’ve got to.’

  ‘Really,’ Arrina said, ‘I could do with something to take my mind off things.’ She took the keys out of Julie’s hand. A large guitar-case keyring clattered against a small metal edelweiss. ‘I’ll drop these through your door when I’m done.’

  Julie looked down to check that her clothes were passably clean before she gave Arrina another tight hug.

  ‘Don’t forget to call the police about seeing...’ Arrina started. ‘About what you saw this morning.’

  ‘I’ll remember.’ Julie squeezed Arrina one more time, and then she was gone.

  Arrina was alone in the chaos of the Do-Re-Mi kitchen. As the silence settled over her, she almost sank down onto the stool in the corner once more, where she could stew about how terrible her day had been. She quickly turned on the taps, filled the sink with soapy water, and plunged her hands in.

  Arrina scrubbed and cleaned, wiped and tidied. She kept her hands busy and distracted her mind with the details of the Do-Re-Mi kitchen. She was sure that at any moment, a solution would pop into her head—some simple fix to the fact that the college was closed down. She needed to have something positive to tell the Board of Governors when she reported on what had happened, and Arrina was putting off calling them until she had it.

  The weather was warm—they could have classes outside. But they would need to spread onto neighbouring farms for the space, and their insurance wouldn’t cover that. Plus, the English weather could not be relied upon. They could run courses online. No, the infrastructure for that sort of thing took months or years to set up. She could announce a delay in the start of term. Though, with January coursework and exams on the horizon, surely the students would be badly affected. And how long would she be delaying the term for? Indefinitely?

  Arrina scrubbed and scrubbed until the kitchen was gleaming. And still she couldn’t think of a good solution. She locked up Do-Re-Mi and walked away, with her mind still swirling.

  It was quiet on the street at that hour. People were inside having their evening meals or putting their feet up after a long day at work. Soon, the area would be busy with locals heading for pints in the Horse and Hound by the green. Arrina was glad of the current quietness as it let her slip away unnoticed.

  Or so she believed.

  7

  Arrina walked down a quiet path to reach her car. Oak leaves, already turning dry and tough as summer’s end drew near, rattled in the wind overhead. Arrina’s heavy hiking boots snapped twigs and kicked rocks underfoot.

  She could fix this. Julie was sure of it, and as Arrina stretched her long steps across the hard, dry earth, she willed herself to believe it as well. A sharp gust of wind pushed her from behind, as though hurrying her home to work on the solution. Yes, she could do it.

  As the wind died down, Arrina realised she could hear another pair of footsteps on the quiet country lane.

  The other steps were short and sharp. They were getting closer very quickly. Arrina’s shoulders curled in towards her chest. She forced them back, stretched her spine to stand taller. Then she spun quickly.

  It was only as she turned, and the world blurred, that she remembered there was a killer in the village.

  She almost stumbled. She almost broke into a run.

  Then she saw who it was—Victor Stones. Not a killer, Arrina was sure.

  But not someone she wanted to see.

  ‘Arrina,’ Victor said. ‘So glad to have finally caught up with you. I did call your name several times when I spotted you on the High Street, but you didn’t turn.’ His clipped, grey moustache gave a twitch. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me.’

  ‘Avoiding you?’ Arrina echoed. ‘Goodness, no.’

  Though in fact, Arrina was often avoiding Victor Stones. He was the chair of the Board of Governors—a retired old doctor from the village, who had more time on his hands than he knew what to do with. Usually, Arrina dashed in the opposite direction whenever she saw him and shouted promises of spreadsheets or future meetings over her shoulder.

  Victor brought his tan loafers neatly together. Then he tugged lightly at the fabric of his trousers until the hem of each settled evenly on the tops of his shoes.

  ‘I was actually going to call you this evening,’ Arrina said. ‘I have some rather unfortunate news.’

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Victor said. ‘The incident with poor Hugo is all over the village by now.’

  Of course, it was.

  News in Heathervale ran through tree roots and along mountain streams. It was carried on the wings of red kites and clung to the underbellies of sheep.

  ‘That’s why I felt compelled to follow you when I saw that you were walking alone into the woods,’ Victor continued. ‘We can’t be too careful, now, can we?’

  She was not walking into the woods. She was on a tree-lined path behind the High Street. But she did not say this. Victor Stones was the type to hold open doors and pull out chairs for women and to rail against PC nonsense, which told men they should do otherwise.

  ‘My car’s just up here,’ Arrina said, pointing to the bend in the path up ahead.

  ‘Let me escort you,’ Victor said, striding over to Arrina and extending his elbow to her. On any other day, Arrina would have smilingly accepted and stored away the detail to tell Julie about later. They often updated each other on the antics of Victorian Victor.

  ‘Actually,’ Arrina said, stepping away to face Victor again. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you.’

  She wished she were dressed more formally right then, but there was nothing she could do about it. She stood up as straight as she could.

  ‘Let’s go over to your car first,’ Victor said. ‘I’d really feel better if we could get you out of these woods, especially...’ He ran his eyes over her tight leggings and skimpy T-shirt, and the look of alarm was clear on his face. ‘Especially given everything that’s happened today.’

  Arrina could picture Victor standing by her silvery-blue car while its engine turned over and over and failed to start. No, she couldn’t have him see that, not after saying what she needed to say next.

  The trees shuddered in a gust of wind overhead, and Arrina heard acorns patter down onto the ground around her.

  She cleared her throat.

  ‘I’ll be calling the other members of the board tonight, but I ought to tell you first. Due to the unfortunate... incident today, the police have temporarily closed down the college.’ She laced her fingers together in front of herself to keep her hands from fidgeting.

  ‘Of course,’ Arrina continued, ‘it is a tragedy about Hugo, but we need to be practical about things. I’ve already drawn up a list of other viable premises in the area that might be able to provide teaching spaces.’ This was not exactly true, but she needed to say something. ‘And of course, we could—’

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Victor interrupted, ‘I did so hope that you’d be sitting down for
this.’

  In the distance, a cow’s plaintive call was taken up by the rest of the herd.

  ‘The Board of Governors called an emergency meeting this evening. Some rather alarming information was discussed there. Is it true, dear, that you failed to report the breakage of the college’s security cameras to the police?’

  Arrina shuffled her feet. Heard small twigs crackle as she moved. ‘The priority from our end was to get the cameras up and running again,’ she said, as though our end could mean anything other than me.

  ‘Then you subsequently sent the building’s only security guard off the premises without arranging cover?’

  A breeze worked its way directly down the neck of Arrina’s borrowed T-shirt. ‘That was...’ she started. ‘That wasn’t connected to Hugo’s death. He died before I even arrived this morning.’

  But then why, Arrina wondered, did Julie see him driving through the village as late as seven am? How did he get back to the college and get killed there in under an hour before Arrina opened up that morning?

  ‘I’m sure you can understand that from the perspective of the board, these look like serious lapses in judgement.’

  Arrina opened her mouth to protest, but Victor held up a hand to stop her.

  ‘I’m certain that you had nothing to do with Hugo’s death at all, but the board’s job is to protect the college, and we feel that the best way to do that at this present moment in time is to suspend you, pending a formal review of the matters that occurred today.’

  Suspended. Arrina could not breathe from the weight of the word on her chest.

  A wood pigeon cooed overhead. The gentle crooning sound nestled in her ear and blocked out most of what Victor Stones said. She caught snatches only, including a promise to have other teachers cover Arrina’s work. This was impossible, she knew, since the small handful who were capable of this were away until the start of term. The college needed her now more than ever.

  Victor’s face was all exaggerated sympathy—the sort of face he must have made many times as he gave people a fatal diagnosis in his medical practice. Arrina didn’t need to know the details. She was suspended. This was her own version of ‘it’s terminal.’