And The Earth Moved: Romantic Comedy Cozy Mystery (Amber Reed CCIA Mystery Book 1) (2 page)

I nod. “OK, I’ll do it.”

Making my way back to my car, I feel numb, my mind going over and over what’s just happened. The earlier spring sunshine has disappeared and a cool breeze tugs at my ponytail.

Joel is dead.

I still can’t believe it. A noise makes me spin round, almost falling over. All this murder and investigation business has put me on edge.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,” Bert says, walking towards me.

Bert is the caretaker at Ennis’ place. He keeps an eye on the house whilst Ennis is away filming for months at a time. He also deals with all the repairs and maintenance side of things and looks after the grounds which stretch to about an acre in total.

I try to get my breathing under control. “Hi, Bert. How’re things?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all, thanks. I’ve got my daughter Tina staying with me for a few weeks. The ex-wife sent her over. Said she’d been up to no good, hanging out with dodgy types at home. She’s been no trouble here though.”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking bemused before continuing, “Reckon it’s doing her some good living here in the middle of nowhere, calmed her down a bit. Tina would never have agreed to stay though if I didn’t work for Ennis. Desperate to meet him she was. Completely start-struck when I took her up to the house the other day.”

He pauses for breath and nods across the parking area. “What’s with the police car that was here earlier? I saw it go past the gatehouse and was worried something had cracked off but I didn’t want to put my nose in where it’s not wanted.”

I link an arm through Bert’s turning him away from the house and across the nearest expanse of lawn. “Best stay out of the way a little while longer I think. Look, there’s no easy way to say it so I’ll just come right out. The police were here because Joel is dead. Found up at the quarry. Nobody knows what happened.”

Bert releases my arm and steps away from me looking stunned. “Dead? Joel?”

I nod. “Yes. Did you get much chance to meet him? He only arrived here a couple of days ago didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I met him. He was in the kitchen when I took Tina in to meet Ennis. She loved it. Meeting them both. Took some of those selfie things with each of them she did on her fancy phone. She’ll be devastated about Joel.” He nodded towards the house. “How’s Ennis taken the news?”

“I think he’s still in shock at the moment. He’s asked for some specialist undercover operations guy to be brought in to investigate what happened. Ennis, naturally, wants to keep things out of the papers as much as possible.”

Bert nods. “Of course. The secret is totally safe with me. I’ll just tell Tina that Joel’s left instead. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Good question. “I don’t know.”

Joel is dead, in suspicious circumstances.

Some special agent spy-type guy called Charlie is on his way to solve the case.

I’ve got the task of keeping an eye on him throughout the investigation, possibly without him getting suspicious about what I’m up to.

And the locals, the world’s media and Ennis’ army of adoring fans cannot, absolutely cannot, get a whiff about any of this.

My phone rings and I check caller ID. It’s my mum. I take a deep breath and click the answer button.

And so the lying begins…

Chapter Two

I have a numb bum from spending two hours sitting in my car on the lane overlooking the village. From up here I can see Charlie chatting to various locals, starting his undercover investigation.

He’s been into the butcher, the baker, we don’t have a candlestick maker but he has been in the newsagents to see Mr Patel. It’s now approaching noon and he still hasn’t been to the quarry to talk to the guys up there yet.

The official story is that there has been an attempted break in at Ennis’ place. Because of who he is and the likelihood of crazed stalkers (or equally-crazed paparazzi guys) trying to get at him, he’s requested a specialist investigator to do some discreet snooping. The news of Joel’s demise is still very much under wraps.

For now. Though the clock is ticking loudly on the time the police have given Ennis before they release news of Joel’s death.

Ennis told me he’d asked Charlie about working with me. Apparently he’d replied that he only worked with fellow CCIA agents or the police. He’d assured Ennis he would conduct the investigation with the utmost discretion and that anything he found out would be completely safe with him.

So we’re on Plan B.

I’m following Charlie without his knowing.

Charlie Huxton definitely isn’t how I’d pictured him.

I had two possible scenarios in my head. The first was a man in his fifties, the typical TV detective type, living off coffee and doughnuts and looking harassed. The second was an army guy with a shaved head and a
don’t-mess-with-me
look about him.

Charlie Huxton fits neither of those categories. If he’s reached his thirtieth birthday then it can only have been this year. He’s tall, lean but muscular. He’s got short dark hair and a smile which I’d lay bets on being his weapon of choice. He could get all sorts of things with that smile. Even from this distance I felt sure I saw Mrs Hastings knees go a bit weak when he smiled at her on the High Street whilst he had ‘a casual chat’ with her. You’d never peg him for some kind of secret agent. I guess that’s what makes him so good at his job. He looks normal.

I only work part-time at the newspaper (and part-time at the local pub The Quarryman) so thankfully I had a few hours free this morning to follow Charlie. I’m about to get out of my car and walk up and down on the roadside to get some feeling back into my nether regions when I spot Charlie finally climbing into his non-police car. It’s one of those chunky 4x4s. I wonder if, hidden away inside, he has one of those red flashing lights they used to pull out and stick on the roof of the red car on the Starsky & Hutch TV show.

They did say CCIA is supposed to be the discreet side of the investigations though, so maybe he hasn’t got a flashing anything (so to speak) or even a siren.

His car makes its way out of the village, turning up the lane where I’m parked. The lane which leads to the quarry. At last.

I duck down out of sight, throwing the top half of my body onto the passenger seat and feel a little tingle of excitement, pretending I’m in one of those cops and robbers movies. As I straighten up I pull a cast-aside sweet wrapper from my cheek and start the car. I really must get around to having a good clean and sort out in here soon. Checking down the lane I wait for Charlie’s car to reach the end and turn right towards the quarry, out of sight, before I pull away to follow him.

I’ve seen enough of the crime-busting TV programmes. Isn’t that the number one rule when it comes to tailing people? Leave a big enough distance between your car and theirs but not so big you lose complete sight of them.

Ten minutes into the journey to the quarry I’m priding myself on having tailed CCIA Charlie quite so well. He has no idea I’m following him and he’s just turned down the narrow track which leads towards the quarry entrance.

Soon I’ll be pulling up next to him at the quarry offices, claiming I just happen to be there to get a quote on stone for a garden makeover or something and I’ll be able to accidentally overhear his little chat with the Turston brothers who run the place.

SUGAR.

I slam on the brakes and try to stop my car ploughing into Charlie’s which is now blocking the track up ahead. Charlie is standing in front of it, hands on hips and an un-amused expression on his face.

I notice he doesn’t even flinch as my car screeches to a halt only a foot or so in front of him.

Chapter Three

Collapsing back in my seat and trying to catch my breath I barely register Charlie opening the door of my car.

“Are you crazy?” I gasp. “Why did you stop in the middle of the bloody road?”

“Why are you following me?” he demands.

“Following? Er…” I stammer. “Er, I’m not. I’m going to the quarry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everywhere I’ve been this morning, you’ve been around too or sitting in your car watching me. Why?” he asks, still standing with arms folded, looking determined. “What’s so interesting about following me around?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I fluster.

He’s still standing in front of me, looking as though he’s going nowhere until he gets a satisfactory answer.

I’m going to have to tell him the truth, aren’t I? Otherwise we could still be stuck on this lane when it gets dark. I get the feeling Charlie Huxton isn’t the type of guy who gives up on things.

“OK.” I sigh. “I know who you are.”

He frowns and shifts his tough guy stance slightly. “And who am I exactly?”

“Charlie Huxton. CCIA,” I mumble. “Ennis asked for you to work this case about Joel.”

He looks around him as though he’s checking there’s nobody listening, no locals lurking in the bushes or hedges. “Pull your car off the road and come and get in mine.”

“Sorry? What?”

He gestures towards my little red car. “Move your car so it isn’t blocking the road and then come and get in my car. We need to talk.”

I close the door of my car and select reverse, then a thought pops into my head. I shout through the open window at Charlie as he strolls back to his car. “Hey! How do I know this isn’t a trick and you’re going to jump in your car and drive off anyway?”

Charlie raises his arms in a shrug. “You don’t,” he shouts back and then smiles.
That
smile.

Now, I must confess reversing isn’t my favourite way of spending time in a car. No, don’t go asking me what my favourite way of spending time in a vehicle is, please. I failed my driving test five times before finally gaining a pass certificate. I was single-handedly blamed for how quickly Mr Wright from the local driving test centre’s hair turned grey. My three point turns are legendary around these parts as they’re much closer to thirty point turns.

I count to five, breathing deeply, channelling calm thoughts. It will take ages to reverse up the narrow lane to the pull in. Plus, what if I come bumper to bumper with some huge truck trying to get up to the quarry?

I look at Charlie, climbing into his car, all denim-clad long legs. He pulls the driver’s door shut behind him. Is he going to drive off to the quarry once I’ve tentatively reversed my way down the track? I can’t make up my mind if I can trust him or not.

I wait.

Is he talking on the phone? Is he calling somebody to verify my story?

Maybe he isn’t going to drive off after all.

I select reverse and begin to manoeuvre. Feeling hot and bothered with concentration I risk a glance towards Charlie’s car.

He’s driving off!

I try to switch from reverse to first gear but crunch the gearbox loudly. I’m tempted to hit the horn but don’t want to draw attention to us even more. Ahead of me the brake lights come on at the back of Charlie’s 4x4 and he hops out and runs towards me.

“What the hell are you doing to that car?”

“Trying to reverse. I thought that would be obvious even to a CCIA investigator.”

“Get out,” Charlie instructs.

“You were going to drive off,” I protest. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“I was just winding you up. Go and get in my car and I’ll park this one, otherwise we’ll be here all day.”

Feeling affronted I huff, “And I suppose, being a man, you can naturally drive and park much better than me.”

“Gender has got nothing to do with it,” he replies, trying to fit into the driver’s seat and ending up with his knees somewhere around his nose.

He tuts and feels around for the release catch to adjust the seat’s position, sliding it back as far as it will go to give him enough room to fit his legs into the car properly.

I watch in reluctant admiration as he reverses the car at top speed and slings it into the pull-in fifty yards down the lane in what seems like little more than a few seconds. OK. Show-off. So he’s a better driver than me. Truth be told even Noddy in his little red cartoon car is probably a better driver than me too, so the bar isn’t set very high to start with, but CCIA Charlie certainly knows how to handle a vehicle.

He sprints towards me and throws the car keys into my hands as he makes for the driver’s door of his 4x4. “Get in.”

He has such a nice way with words.

I clamber in next to him and reach for a seatbelt. “You mean you’re not letting me drive?” I ask, in mock disappointment.

He glances at me and a smile creases his face. “Maybe some other time huh?” he replies as he slips the car into gear. “When I’m feeling brave.”

A little further down the lane he pulls into a proper lay-by and switches off the engine before turning towards me.

“So, you’re Amber. I was wondering when we’d get to meet.”

He knows who I am. Of course he does. “Ennis asked me to keep an eye on you. So here I am.”

“Here you are indeed.” He looks me up and down with eyes that take in every detail. “Even though I told him no when he asked if you could shadow me on this case because he doesn’t trust me.”

“It’s not that…” I say.
Thinking, well, actually it is that, but I don’t want to admit it.

He quirks an eyebrow at me questioningly. “It doesn’t sound like it.”

“He’s worried about all of this,” I try to explain. “About what happened to his brother and whether anyone else might be in danger.”

He fixes me with a firm stare. “Does he have something going on he doesn’t want me to know about?”

I shake my head. “No.”
Well, I don’t think so…

“Good. Then he’s got nothing to worry about has he? Maybe you should just go home and let me get on with my job.”

“I promised him I’d do this,” I say in a quiet voice.

“Promised?” he asks and then rubs a hand across his face in an impatient gesture
.
“
So how do you know Ennis McKarthy anyway?”

“We’re old friends. Ennis is a great guy. He hasn’t coped very well with being famous though. He loves his work but isn’t so fond of all the media attention, as I’m sure he’s already told you.”

He nods. “Yeah, he told me.”

“Why won’t you let me shadow you on this case?  I won’t get in the way. I really want to do this, for Ennis.”

His expression softens. “I’m sure you do but the CCIA doesn’t go for that kind of thing.”

I fidget in my seat. “Who are you anyway? I mean I know what you do and what CCIA stands for but who actually are you? The police?”

“No but we do work in conjunction with them on most, but not all, cases. We have, let’s say, a wider jurisdiction.”

“Meaning you can pull rank on the police?”

He nods. “Yes, if necessary.”

“So you’re in charge of the Joel investigation?”

“Yes but we don’t get heavy about it unless it’s unavoidable. We prefer to co-operate where possible.” Suddenly he changes the topic of conversation. “So, I heard you work at the local paper?”

He heard?

“Yes, that’s right,” I shrug trying to appear cool, calm and collected. “I’m at the Palstone Courier. I do part-time admin, help out with the classified advertising, make up the horoscopes.”

He looks mock horrified. “You
make up
the horoscopes? Do people know about this scandal?”

“No.” I stifle a giggle at his comment. Looks like, along with the tough guy persona, he also has a sense of humour. “I go by another name for the paper stuff.”

He leans forward, twisting in his seat to face me full on, one elbow leaning on the top of the steering wheel, a mischievous look on his face. “Tell me.”

“I don’t think I want to…” I say in a pretend sulky tone.

He nudges my knee in what I’m amazed appears to be a playful gesture. How did this happen? Are we, just a little, flirting? Maybe this is one of those ‘lull people into a false sense of security to get answers out of them’ tactics. Like that smile of his. If it is, then he doesn’t play fair.

“Come on,” he coaxes.

“I go by the name Madam Zamber,” I reluctantly admit.

I stare at my knees but out of the corner of my eyes I can see him lift a hand to his mouth, presumably to hide a smirk.

“Madam Zamber eh?” He twists back into his seat. “Nah, doesn’t suit you at all.”

“And why not?” I ask, feeling a little indignant.

He shrugs. “Too boho for you.”

“I can do boho!” I protest.

He starts up the car. “I get the feeling you can do whatever you want to.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning from what I’ve seen so far you come across as a pretty determined kind of person.”

I stare at him. He’s all confident, capable and sure of himself.

“Scorpio,” I say.

He pauses in checking the rear-view mirror. “What?”

“Madam Zamber is using her horoscope knowledge to guess you’re a Scorpio zodiac sign.”

He looks at me. He has the deepest blue eyes. “Oh yeah? Based on what?”

“Your attitude.”

“Really? Just from that?”

“So is Madam Zamber correct?”

A grin flickers temptingly around the edges of his mouth. “That would be telling wouldn’t it?”

I am right!

“Surely revealing your zodiac sign doesn’t contravene some undercover oath does it? Come on, tell me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a laugh.

“Ah ha! I knew it. See, you don’t spend years writing the horoscopes and not learn a thing or two about star signs and how they affect personalities.”

“I guess not.” He bows his head slightly. “I defer to Madam Zamber’s wisdom on this subject.”

We’re way off topic here but I can’t resist. “So what am I then?”

He looks over at me. “What besides a pain in the ass you mean?”

Charming.

Before I know what I’m doing I reach over and hit him on the thigh. A very muscular thigh. What
is
going on here? It feels remarkably like we’re flirting in his car parked on the side of the road in the middle of a potential murder investigation. I remind myself it’s probably all just part of some ploy to get me off guard and distracted from what Ennis asked me to do.

“I wouldn’t have a clue,” he shrugs.

“Want to take a guess?” I venture.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Oh, come on,” I tease. “One little guess.”

He sighs and shakes his head despairingly. “Gemini.”

How on earth did he know that? A lucky guess surely? It had to be. Typical. He had twelve zodiac signs to choose from and he lucks out on the first attempt. I shift uncomfortably in my seat feeling more than a little miffed he’s right.

When I look over he’s staring at me with knowing eyes.

“Yes?” he asks.

I could lie but I’m useless at telling fibs, especially to someone’s face.

I nod. “Yes.”

He lets out a little chuckle and I glare at him. “How did you do that?”

“I grew up with an older sister who was into all this astrology stuff.  Guess some of the things she went on about must have stuck in my head over the years,” he confesses.

I’m amazed that we seem to be getting along quite nicely. Does this bode well for him changing his mind about letting me shadow him whilst he finds out what happened to Joel?

“So where do we go from here?” he asks, reading my mind. “What do we do next? There’s no point in you following me around all over the place and trying to pretend you’re not. That would just be embarrassing for both of us. If Ennis wants you to keep an eye on me, then OK, I’ll agree to it. I figure we may as well do these visits and chats with people together. Plus I think your local knowledge could come in handy anyway and you work at the paper so you might be able to help us out with some inside info on the media side of things.”

“You do?” I say, struggling to keep the shock out of my voice. What changed his mind? “You’ll let me tag along?”

“Have you got a boyfriend?” he asks, catching me off guard again.

“Excuse me?” Is that why he’s done an about-turn on letting me get involved with the investigation? Because he fancies me?

Now is
so
not the time to ask me out.

I mean, yeah, I might be interested, in different circumstances, but even so.

“Why?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

“I’m thinking it could be useful if you introduced me around town. Like I say, provide some local knowledge on an informal basis. You could say we met at Ennis’ place when I arrived to do this potential break-in investigation. That we just started seeing each other. It would give me a great reason to suddenly be around all the time, hanging about in the village, in the pub. People are more likely to talk that way, they’re more relaxed. Makes perfect sense. What do you think? Want to be my girlfriend?”