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Dragging her eyes away, she watched Grace set down a flower-bedecked teapot in the middle of the heavily scarred table that dominated the kitchen whilst her mother, Carole, fussed over a plate of home-made mince pies. She supposed that, over the years, the table had seen more than its fair share of confidences and its presence had soothed many an aching heart.
A sturdy, cream-enamelled Aga purred away in the corner, piping warmth and comfort into the room along with a delicate aroma of crushed rose petals and homeliness. Alfie, the family’s white Lhasa Apso, snoozed in his basket, one eye cocked for an unexpected titbit. Unlike what had occurred in the woods that morning, nothing bad could happen here.
It was late Wednesday afternoon and under other circumstances they would all have been busy making a start on creating their arboreal masterpieces in the marquee at the Windmill Café instead of waiting for news on how Theo was recovering from his ordeal in the forest.
“Dreadful, just dreadful. Poor Theo,” Carole muttered, shaking her head, her soft features wreathed in bewilderment. “Have you spoken to Matt, Rosie? Are there any more details about how the accident happened?”
Rosie unfolded her arms and took a seat at the table in between Mia and Abbi, accepting a mug of fragrant Earl Grey tea - Carole’s preferred beverage of solace. After all, as the Reverend Roger Coulson’s wife, she was no stranger to hearing regular divulgences tinged with sadness, pain and grief from her visitors.
“Apparently someone stretched a length of wire between two trees. Theo was travelling so fast on his cycle he wouldn’t have seen it until the last minute. Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp enough to force him to swerve and avoid a head-on collision, otherwise… well, at least he’s only looking at twenty or so stiches instead of something much more serious.”
“But who would do such a terrible thing?” asked Grace, her face ivory-pale and her fingers trembling on the handle of her mug.
“No idea,” said Rosie, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Matt half-an-hour earlier. “Matt says the police have cordoned off the area and forensics are conducting a fingertip search.”
“What I really want to know is whether this was some random act of violence. Or did the person responsible target Theo in particular? If so, how did they know he would use that shortcut back to the lodge? They couldn’t have! And if Theo wasn’t the intended victim, who was? Could it have been Matt or Freddie, or Josh even?”
Grace couldn’t continue. Her body crumpled under the strain and she dropped her head into her palms, her blonde curls falling over the back of her hands as her shoulders shook with each racking sob. Rosie’s heart squeezed with sympathy as she watched Carole take her daughter into her arms. Grace was the most exuberant, joyful person Rosie knew, but today there were red rings of distress beneath her eyes as she contemplated the contents of her teacup. This wasn’t how a bride-to-be should be spending the last few days leading up to her wedding, wondering if someone was lurking about in the village waiting for an opportunity to murder her fiancé or their friends.
“Mum, do you think we should cancel the wedding? How can we ask our guests to come to Willerby when there’s a crazy person on the loose?”
“Absolutely not! Don’t worry, darling, the police will catch whoever did this.”
“Carole’s right, Grace. We have to trust them to do their job,” added Abbi, as she topped up her friend’s mug just for something to do with her hands.
“But that could take weeks, or months!”
“Unless—” began Mia, tossing Rosie a surreptitious look from beneath her lashes.
“Mia—”
Grace’s eyes widened with interest as she understood what Mia had been about to suggest.
“Yes! Mia, that’s a great idea! Rosie, you and Matt have already solved two mysteries. Why don’t you join forces again and find out who did this dreadful thing?” she pleaded, drying her eyes with the scrap of lace her mother had produced from the sleeve of her hand-knitted cardigan. “And if the perpetrator is caught quickly the wedding can go ahead as planned without our family and friends looking over their shoulders and feeling as if they’re inadvertent extras in an episode of Midsomer Murders. You will help with the investigation again, won’t you, Rosie? Please?”
“I’m not sure Matt will be as enthusiastic about joining forces with me this time. Things between us have been a bit… well, different recently. You know, after Harry proposed.”
“But you turned him down. Thank God!” countered Mia.
“I turned down his marriage proposal – we’re still discussing the business proposition.”
“You can’t seriously be contemplating leaving us to go back to London, Rosie. You love it here! You’re an important part of the community now, especially after you’ve singlehandedly rejuvenated the Windmill Café. Who will organize our Summer Breeze parties, or our Autumn Leaves celebrations, not to mention our Christmas Carousel competition?”
“Erm, Graham?” suggested Rosie.
“He’d be useless!” declared Mia, reaching out for one of Carole’s iced ginger cookies to dunk in her tea. “Anyway, our esteemed boss is never here! Hasn’t he always found something else more glamorous to do whenever we’re hosting the celebrations?”
Rosie had to agree with Mia. Since she’d arrived in Norfolk the people around the table in the vicarage had become her friends. With their help, she had grappled with her grief over the discovery of Harry’s affair and she was now happy to report that she woke each morning with a smile on her face, confident that she had a better-than-average chance that the struggle to bedtime would be devoid of melancholy. She was a totally different person to the one who had arrived at the café, draped in a mantle of gloom that she’d worn as some sort of protective battle armour - and there was one person who had contributed to that improvement more than any other.
Matt Wilson – Willerby’s answer to Bear Grylls.
She had loved spending time with him as they delved into the backgrounds of the guests at the Windmill lodges to unearth the motives behind the incidents that had threatened the businesses of the café and the outward-bounds centre. Now she was being urged to resume their partnership to save Grace and Josh’s wedding. How could she refuse?
“Please, Rosie,” implored Grace, her face creased with anguish as she pushed back her chair to allow Alfie to jump into her lap. “Please say that you’ll help to find out who did this to Theo.”
“Look, I know things have been a bit awkward between you and Matt these last few weeks,” continued Mia as she finished sending a text and then met Rosie’s eyes to push her agenda. “But, if you want my opinion, he misses you, really misses you. You both just need to talk about what happened with Harry, clear the air and move on. No better time to do that than whilst doing a bit of amateur sleuthing together.”
“And don’t forget you’ve agreed to be Matt’s Plus One at our wedding. It’ll be the first time he’s set foot in St Andrew’s church since the fiasco with Victoria running out on him, so you can’t let him down too!”
Rosie recalled the steamroller tactics Grace had employed to coerce them into agreeing to partner each other at her forthcoming nuptials on Christmas Eve at St Andrew’s Church. It was a day Grace had been planning ever since she’d set eyes on Josh whilst backpacking around Thailand with her best friend, Abbi. Six months later, the two girls had met up with Josh again whilst he was completing a five-hundred-mile cycle ride up the east coast of Vietnam from Hoi An to Halong Bay, during which Abbi had met Dylan who knew Josh through his Extreme Cycling Excursions company.
“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world, Grace. And, of course I don’t mind joining forces with Matt to help investigate what happened to Theo. But I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to devote to searching for clues and deducing theories this time. Not only do I have the guests in the lodges to look after, but I’ve still got the Christmas Carousel competition to organise and supervise, as well as all the catering to sort out for the party on Saturday afternoon after the judging.”
“I knew you’d say something like that,” said Mia, a twinkle appearing in her eye as she slipped her mobile back in her pocket with a grin. “And I think I might just have a solution.”
The vicarage’s doorbell tinkled right on cue.
Chapter 4 (#ue82a92aa-de08-58ca-845a-a043fc3dd486)
“Hello, it’s just me! The door was open. Coco! Coco! Come here!” came a sing-song voice from the vicarage’s hallway before the kitchen door was shoved open by the nose of a honey-haired Lhasa Apso who rushed in to greet them vociferously before claiming the perfect spot in front of the Aga. Clearly Coco had been there before. However, her owner wasn’t so comfortable to be met by a room full of visitors and visibly blanched when she saw the five women sat around the table hugging their matching Portmeirion mugs, all eyes resting on the new arrival. “Oh, hi. I didn’t realise everyone would be congregating here?”
“Hi, Corinne,” smiled Mia, getting up to fetch an extra mug and an empty plate when she saw Corinne was carrying a white confectionery box emblazoned with the Adriano’s Deli logo. “Thanks for coming over. Tea or coffee?”
“Erm, coffee please, black,” said Corinne, nervously flicking the sides of her short bob, the colour of liquid coal, behind her ears as she slipped into the seat next to Rosie and raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in enquiry.
Rosie shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that Mia had asked Corinne to come over, but she had no idea why. She had only met the waitress from Adriano’s Deli once before when she and Matt had popped in to sample a selection of their delicious Italian confectionary. She felt the corners of her lips twist upwards when she recalled their brief conversation. It had turned out that Adriano had chosen to employ a waitress who was not only a committed vegetarian, but was also gluten-intolerant and therefore couldn’t eat anything that was on offer at his deli. However, that didn’t prevent her from enthusing over the myriad of pastries that were on offer, a selection of which Mia was decanting onto a platter adorned with a profusion of the ubiquitous Portmeirion flowers.
“Thanks, Mia. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Corinne took a tentative sip of the coffee Mia had made for her, leaving a perfect imprint of scarlet lipstick on the rim of her mug. A waft of her signature jasmine perfume filled the air and her ruby nose stud glinted under the kitchen’s overhead lights as she glanced around the gathering.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about the cycle accident in the woodland next to Ultimate Adventures?”
“Yes, Adriano told me. Awful, just awful. Wasn’t the victim one of your wedding guests, Grace?”
“Yes, and Theo also supplied our wedding cars. He and his girlfriend, Penny, came down to Norfolk a couple of days early so he could take part in the stag party celebrations. They’re staying at the Windmill lodges – with Sam and Zara, and Abbi and Dylan.”
“What’s the news from the hospital?”
“He’s going to be okay, thank God,” said Rosie, experiencing a sharp kick of discomfort to her abdomen as she contemplated how the outcome could have been so different. “Apparently, if Theo hadn’t been such an accomplished cyclist, he could have been seriously injured. His wound’s been stitched and he’s been advised to stay in hospital for a couple of days, but Matt says he’s adamant about not missing the Christmas Carousel competition – apparently he’s intent on producing a tree worthy of the Rockefeller Plaza!”
“Well, it’s a relief he’s in such good spirits,” sighed Carole, her kindly face relaxing as she selected one of Adriano’s home-baked cannoli stuffed with cream cheese and coated in crushed pistachios. “And that he’s not suggesting the competition is cancelled!”
“Only because he wants his name engraved on the inaugural trophy!” muttered Grace, rolling her eyes.
“But we still need to find out who did this, and why, as soon as possible,” said Mia, leaning forward on her elbows to press her point more forcefully. “Most of the wedding guests have either arrived or are on their way, so whatever you say, Grace, it’s too late to even think about cancelling the wedding.”
“Cancel the wedding? No way!” gasped Corinne, her soft Welsh accent thickening with astonishment at the suggestion.
“Mia, we can’t expect our friends to celebrate such a joyous occasion when there’s a crazy person running amok in the Willerby woods, can we? Right next to where the reception is being held! What if something else happens? And what if it’s Josh who’s being targeted? Oh my God, what if it was Josh who was meant to fall off his bike? What if someone wants us to cancel the wedding?”
Grace’s eyes widened with alarm and Carole gave her daughter’s slender shoulder a squeeze. “Darling, you mustn’t say things like that. I’m sure this whole unfortunate debacle will turn out to be a freak accident, and if not, then I’m sure the police will have the culprit under lock and key before the week is out. Your guests are perfectly safe and you and Josh are certainly not being targeted.”
Rosie’s heart filled with sympathy for Grace and Carole. The Coulson family had endured their fair share of tragedy over the years and certainly did not deserve to find themselves in such a predicament. She knew the absence of Grace’s younger sister, Harriet, who had died of meningitis at the age of seven, would be keenly felt during the celebrations and they could do without the added stress this incident had caused.
“So,” continued Mia, meeting Corinne’s wary silver eyes – she clearly suspected Mia had an ulterior motive for inviting her over for coffee at the vicarage apart from the chance to sample a selection of delicious Italian cream cakes. “Rosie and Matt have kindly agreed to put on their metaphorical deerstalkers again and attempt to unravel the mystery of who in their right mind would stretch a length of twine between two trees that straddle a cycle path! And you, Corinne, could be just the answer to our prayers.”
“Me? Really? How?”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Rosie would have giggled at the almost comedic look of horror on Corinne’s face.
“Well, there’s just so much to do, what with organising the first Christmas tree decorating competition and preparing all the festive food for the party afterwards,” began Mia, running the back of her hand theatrically across her forehead, keeping her mahogany eyes trained on Corinne like a puppy desperate for a chocolate treat. “Not to mention looking after the guests in the lodges. Add to that the investigation of the cycling accident and it all adds up to a lot of work for Rosie. Now, if we could find her a little bit of extra help, it would free up some time for her to resume her role as Matt’s intrepid partner. Oh, I mean crime-fighting partner, of course.”
Rosie missed Mia’s mischievous smirk because she was in the process of demolishing one of Adriano’s Cavallucci pastries, so preoccupied with relishing the flavours of anise, honey, almonds and candied fruit that her reaction to Mia’s suggestion was somewhat delayed.
“Mia, I’m—”
“So, I’ve had an idea.”
Mia ignored Rosie’s frantic gesturing and continued to address Corinne who was busy feeding the final crumbs of one of Carole’s mince pies to Coco. When she realised Mia had paused in her soliloquy, and that all eyes were trained on her, her forehead creased in confusion.
“What?”
“If Adriano can spare you from the deli for a few hours, would you be able to help me and Rosie out with the baking for the Christmas Carousel party? Just until the police have arrested the perpetrator, which could even be as soon as tomorrow? And I’m sure Graham wouldn’t mind you using one of the luxury lodges – complete with heated outdoor spa and Moulton Brown toiletries. Much more sumptuous than your room above the deli,” added Mia, her eyebrows raised encouragingly as she nodded her head in anticipation of Corinne’s agreement. “It’s three days at the most.”
“Well, I’m not sure I—” began Corinne, nervously stroking Coco’s soft fur as she cast around for an excuse to turn down Mia’s offer without appearing to be the curmudgeon who single-handedly prevented the Willerby Wedding of the Year from taking place.
“It’s the perfect solution,” added Grace, her tears dried, her face suffused with renewed enthusiasm. “With Rosie and Matt on the case, this whole thing will be solved in no time and Josh and I can concentrate on having the wedding day we’ve always dreamed of.”
“No pressure there, then,” muttered Rosie.
She glanced across the table at Corinne, intending to offer her a sympathetic smile; after all, she had often been on the receiving end of Mia’s ‘good ideas’ herself. Under the neon glare of the kitchen lights, she noticed for the first time that their visitor’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Are you okay, Corinne?”
“I suppose so. It’s just well you know, this is all very shocking, isn’t it? Nothing like this ever happened where I used to live. I have to admit that I’m a bit scared. What if they’re still out there, the person who did this—lurking in the trees—watching us all? I usually walk Coco in those woods. Is it even safe to go there now?”
Rosie smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay up at the Windmill lodges. Abbi and Dylan are staying in the shepherd’s hut, and there’s Sam and Zara in the lodges. Penny will be there by herself too until Theo is discharged from the hospital which probably won’t be until the end of the week, and I’ll be in my flat above the café. We’ll be fine if we stick together. Anyway, we’re not even sure that Theo was the intended target.”
“What do you mean?”
Rosie wished she’d kept her mouth shut when she saw the look of horror on Corinne’s face. A spasm of guilt sliced through her chest as Mia sent her a withering look.
“All I meant was that the police’s investigation is at such an early stage we don’t know anything for certain. It could have been an attempt at poaching gone wrong.”
“Okay. I’m happy to help you out with the baking, but I think I’ll just stay in the village and come over to the Windmill Café when I’ve finished my shift at the deli, if that’s okay.”
“That would be great, Corinne. Thank you,” smiled Rosie, an upward tick of enthusiasm bursting into her chest. Now that was sorted all she wanted to do was find Matt and get on with the search for the truth.
“Is that a yes, then, Rosie?” asked Grace, the desperation on her face sealing Rosie’s determination. “You and Matt will do it?”
“Hey, what am I getting volunteered for now?” asked the man himself from the doorway.
“Hi, Matt,” smiled Grace. “Is Josh with you?”
“No, he’s volunteered to help Freddie, Sam and Dylan. They’re doing a final sweep of the Ultimate Adventures woodland to make sure there are no more obstacles for the unwary to walk or ride into.”
Matt slumped down at the table, shoving the sleeves of his logoed Ultimate Adventures fleece up his forearms in a gesture of irritation at the selfishness of the person responsible for Theo’s injuries. Exhaling a long, ragged sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair so that it stood up into spiky blond tufts and made him look like he’d just left his surfboard at the back door. Rosie caught a stray whiff of his signature lemony cologne and was rewarded by the pleasurable twist she always experienced whenever she was in Matt’s company, accompanied by the delicious pull of attraction – something that she had missed since he had been avoiding her.
“Any tea left in the pot, Carole? Not had a decent cuppa since six o’clock this morning.”
“Of course. And Matt, now you’re here, would you please reassure Grace that it’s totally unnecessary to talk about cancelling the wedding. I take it the police already have a list of suspects they want to interview? Do they think this was a random attack or was someone in your cycling group targeted?”
“They’re working on the theory that we were targeted. I can categorically state that the wire was not there yesterday. Freddie and I inspected every route through the Ultimate Adventures woodland, including the shortcuts, in preparation for the final sprint of the cycle ride and every one of them was clear, which means whoever did this had to have installed the trap after dark in the full knowledge that the stag party would be passing through the next day. The police have confirmed that if Theo hadn’t been such an experienced cyclist, well—he could have been decapitated!”
Gasps of shock ricocheted around the cosy kitchen.
“Oh, my God!”
“Who would do such a thing?”
A curl of nausea twisted through Rosie’s stomach as she realised that once again they were dealing with a situation that could have been extremely serious. She had thought that when she escaped the London suburbs to make her home in a cute little windmill in the Norfolk countryside she was headed for a calmer, more relaxed way of life where nothing frightening ever happened. How wrong she had been, because since arriving in Willerby she had been involved in investigating a potentially lethal poisoning, an almost fatal shooting and now what? A potential garrotting? Ergh!
“Do the police have any suspects?” asked Mia, her eyes trained on Matt’s as she stroked Alfie’s ears.
“They’ve asked for details of everyone who took part in the cycle ride, and their partners.”
“What? Are they seriously suggesting that one of us had something to do with this?” demanded Abbi, spluttering her tea across the table, and, seeing the look of dismay on Rosie’s face, reaching for the kitchen towel to wipe up the mess. Unfortunately, this gesture wasn’t enough for Rosie and she left the table to go in search of the anti-bacterial spray.
“Well, if Theo was the intended victim, it’s a sensible assumption.”
“Oh my God, how awful!” moaned Grace, shaking her head in distress. “How can Josh and I even contemplate getting married when our guests are being interrogated by the police? It’s not what I had in mind when I said I wanted a quiet country wedding! This is all my fault!”
“It’s okay, love. Come on, haven’t we got a plan to sort out this whole unpleasant business quickly?”
Rosie caught Carole’s eye and saw her nod her head in the direction of Matt, her expression making her intention plain. However, before she could formulate the words to inform him of what Mia had cooked up for them, her friend had leapt into the breach, her enthusiasm sending Alfie from her lap to join Coco next to the Aga.
“We thought you and Rosie could join forces – like you did last time – to get to the bottom of what happened to Theo? Please say yes, Matt. Please say you’ll do this for Grace and Josh.”
Rosie stared at Matt, anxiety gnawing at her nerve endings as he took his time to respond to Mia’s suggestion. For a few seconds she thought he was going to refuse until his lips curled into his habitual grin with a side-order of mischief. In that instance she knew their previous closeness had not been eliminated by Harry’s reappearance in her life, and she knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Another Willerby Whodunnit!” Matt shook his head and Rosie loved the sparkle that had appeared in his eyes. “At least this time I can’t lay the blame at the door of the Windmill Café and its intrepid manager! I’m so sorry this has happened, Grace, and of course I’ll do everything I can to find out who’s responsible. In fact, I’ve already had a preliminary chat with Josh before I came over here.”
“Matt! You can’t honestly be suggesting that my future son-in-law…” began Carole, her jaw sagging at what she perceived to be a slur on Josh’s character.
“Of course not, but he’s the only one who knows all his stag party guests. So, apart from Freddie, Josh and myself, there was Archie from the Drunken Duck, whom I’m also inclined to discount, and then Sam, Dylan and Theo.”
“Well, I really can’t believe Dylan had anything to do with it!” declared Grace, swinging her gaze apologetically to Abbi who was staring at Matt askance. “Or Sam, and I don’t know much about Theo because I only met him for the first time this week, but you can’t seriously be suggesting that he did this to himself!”
