Murder at the Maples: A Flora Lively Mystery (21 page)

Elizabeth was still sitting behind the reception desk. Flora leaned on the counter and smiled her most engaging smile.

‘You know, I think I’m a bit of a scatterbrain.’

The receptionist grinned. ‘You’re not the only one! I’ve had to retype this letter three times already – my mind keeps drifting. I’ve got a date tonight,’ she added, sotto voice.

‘Really? Well, good on you. Is he gorgeous?’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘Met him at the gym. He’s really fit. And I don’t mean in the literal sense.’

Flora joined in her raucous laughter, although she wasn’t entirely sure what they were laughing about.

‘Well, I’m in a dizzy daydream today too. That man I was talking about earlier – I think I got his name totally wrong. In fact, I can’t remember what it was now at all.’

The receptionist’s laughter faded. ‘I can’t give you information out of the visitor book, Flora. Cynthia will kill me. I’m not kidding.’

‘Oh, of course! I don’t want you to tell me anything confidential, far from it.’ Flora smiled and gave a little shrug. ‘Joy thinks she knows who this man is, that’s all. She thinks he’s an old friend. And of course, with her being so upset now the Captain’s gone, I’m just trying to help her out.’

Elizabeth was nodding, but still looked wary. Flora made her expression vague.

‘So, what I was thinking was, if I just describe what he looks like, you can tell me if you’ve seen him around. Not when, or who he was visiting, or anything like that. Just if he’s been here. That’s not confidential, is it?’

‘No. I guess not.’ Elizabeth looked at her nails, then back up at Flora. ‘Okay, shoot. What does this old friend of Joy’s look like?’

Flora began to describe Mr Vasco in graphic detail, but she’d only got as far as the beard and the hollow cheeks when Elizabeth began to nod vigorously. ‘Oh yes. Of course I’ve seen him. He’s been here a few times. Odd fella, but not unpleasant. Always says good morning.’

‘So you’ve spoken to him?’

‘Well, not really. In fact, no. I haven’t.’

‘But you signed him in? He must have said his name?’

The receptionist shook her head. ‘He’s got a pass. Signed by the warden herself. Comes and goes as he likes, doesn’t need to sign in.’ She smiled at Flora. ‘So you got the right person, but the wrong name. Happens to me all the time.’

‘How do you know I’ve got the wrong name? If you’ve never signed him in, I mean?’

‘Well, because Cynthia said she didn’t know who he was, didn’t she? And she must know him if she’s given him a pass.’ Elizabeth pulled a face at Flora and made a “duh” sound. Flora forced a smile and nodded.

‘I’m not the sharpest tool in the box today, am I?’

‘I guess you’re just worried about your friend. But Joy will be fine, you’ll see. All the residents love it up there once they’ve settled in. All their meals cooked for them, room service twenty-four hours a day. I’d love it!’

Flora doubted that very much, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she said thanks and turned to walk away. Elizabeth called her back.

‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any change on you? I’m collecting for the Six Wishes Foundation and I’ve only got a ten pound note. I suppose it’s a bit mean of me, but I gave last time. I only wanted to put in a fiver.’

Flora dug out her purse. ‘I’ve only got loose change, sorry.’

Elizabeth sighed. ‘It’s for a good cause, I guess.’

‘I’ve heard that name before. Six Wishes – is it some kind of charity?’

‘It was a favourite of one of our residents, Ida Smith. Did you know her? She left her entire estate to the foundation. It’s coming up to what would have been her birthday so we’re having another whip round.’

‘Sweet.’

‘Expensive!’ Elizabeth gave her girlish laugh. ‘But she was a lovely lady. Heart of gold. I don’t mind, really.’

‘Good luck with your date tonight,’ Flora said, winking.

She left the receptionist staring into space and headed back into town, dodging the midday shoppers who barged past with their elbows out, never bothering to say sorry. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she snapped at a fat man with a baseball cap and about thirty carrier bags hanging off his arms. He didn’t even register her existence.

There was no putting it off any longer – Marshall would have to be told about Shakers losing the Maples’ contract. So much for Rockfords not being a threat. But Flora was almost looking forward to wiping the smug smile off Marshall’s face. Getting pally with the enemy might be the transatlantic way of doing things, but it looked like Marshall had a lot to learn about doing business over here.

Chapter 13

‘Hello? Earth calling Flora Lively. I could do with some navigating here.’

‘Sorry.’ Flora shook herself and looked down at the directions Marshall had given her. ‘I can barely read your writing. You write like a five-year-old.’

‘Know many five-year-olds, do you?’

‘Sitting next to one right now.’

‘So funny. It’s down here somewhere, I’m sure of it. Check where it says Tern Hill roundabout.’

‘Reads. It reads Tern Hill roundabout, it doesn’t say it. Directions can’t speak, can they?’

‘I wish they could, Flora, because they’d make a lot more sense than you. Will you ditch the attitude and just read the directions?’

Flora smiled to herself and held the piece of paper up to hide her face. ‘Okay, at Tern Hill take the third exit – I think it’s a three, it might be an eight – and then go about two kilometres. We kind of work in miles over here, Marshall.’

‘Well so do we, miss clever ass. I just wrote what they told me. I thought it was another of your Britishisms, like “roundabout”. What’s wrong with traffic island, anyway?’

‘Well, you go round it. It’s a roundabout.’

‘Ha. Quaint.’

‘I’ve no idea how far two kilometres is, you know.’

Marshall glanced across the cab in astonishment. ‘Really? No idea at all?’

‘Nope. Is it the same as two miles?’

‘You’re just yanking my chain, right? No one’s that dumb.’

A sharp retort died on her lips as Flora spotted the sign for the new housing development. ‘There it is – Cherry Tree Heights.’

‘And that’s another thing,’ Marshall said, steering the pantechnicon into a lay-by, ‘these crazy tree names you give everything. Cherry Tree Heights, the Maples – you Brits are obsessed with nature.’

‘Why have we stopped?’

Marshall tapped the clock on the dashboard. ‘Not supposed to turn up until contracts are completed. It’s only five of eleven.’

‘Five to eleven,’ Flora corrected. Marshall grinned.

‘You still sore that I got us this new contract?’

She was, but she had no intention of admitting it. Marshall’s reaction to the news that Cynthia was pulling the plug on the Maples’ removals had been far from what she’d expected. He’d shrugged and said, ‘No worries. It was a depressing gig anyway.’

Turned out he had his own news – he’d landed Shakers a deal with massive local builders Spearhead Homes, to offer removal packages to new homeowners.

‘We’re doing a trial this morning,’ he’d told her, holding open the office door to shepherd her out. ‘They were let down by their existing firm. It’s a no-brainer for them. We do a good job and we’re in.’

Flora’s feelings were mixed. She was relieved, and not a little impressed, but also mightily pissed off. Marshall always came up smelling of roses, no matter what. Mind you, there was still the Rockfords’ situation to be resolved. She wasn’t letting that go without a fight.

‘I wish you’d tell me what you and David Rockford were discussing on Saturday.’

Marshall smirked. ‘I know you do.’

‘I saw you shaking hands with him. That’s not normal behaviour with our biggest competitor. That’s not how
we
do things over here.’

‘Now, what confuses me is this – you say you saw me shaking the guy’s hand, but I saw you walking into the car park after he’d driven away. Which makes me think you were spying on me, Miss Lively. Is that the way it was?’

Flora huffed. ‘No, that’s not how it was. If you must know, I was waiting for him to go.’

Marshall waited for her to go on, eyebrows raised.

‘Okay, I didn’t know who he was, but I had seen him before. He … I was spooked one day, walking in from town. He was there, he seemed nice, concerned.’ She stopped when she saw the look on Marshall’s face. ‘Oh, don’t act the innocent with me. You were rubber-necking down at us. And you must have known who he was even then. He’d obviously been to see you.’

She got nothing but another infuriating grin.

‘Will you tell me what you two were talking about?’

‘Nope.’

‘Was it me?’

The minute the words were out of her mouth, Flora could have kicked herself. Marshall was as sharp as one of Elizabeth’s nails, and she’d just given far too much away. She searched around for a change of subject.

‘I wonder why Rockfords didn’t pitch for the Spearhead Homes deal?’

‘Don’t guess they knew about it. I’ve been developing my contact there for a while now.’

‘“Developing your contact”? Is that code for dating the secretary?’

‘Ha, good one. Speaking about dating, how you getting on with your little librarian?’

Flora whipped her head up. ‘How do you know about Heston?’

‘Heston, is it? Real manly name, that. What car does he drive? One of those super-minis, I guess.’

Flora was saved by an incoming text. ‘It’s the Roberts. They’re on their way. Let’s go.’

Marshall fired up the van and pulled out, still smirking. She read out the directions and they arrived at the new development in ten minutes flat.

‘Characterful place,’ Marshall commented wryly.

Flora ignored him and jumped down from the cab. He could scoff all he wanted – there was nothing wrong with new estates. Well-planned, dinky little houses with their own integral garages and postage-stamp-sized gardens. Not that Flora would actually want to live in one herself. She’d be stuck for transport, for one thing. Unless she finally passed her driving test, which was unlikely with her record.

Which reminded her. ‘Where’s Richie today?’

Marshall joined her at the back of the van and began unstrapping the doors. ‘He’s busy doing other stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

‘Have you only just noticed he’s not here? You’re losing it, Flora. I’ve been driving all morning and you’ve only just realised that our driver isn’t actually driving.’ He laughed and slapped her on the back. Flora winced, but she wasn’t fooled.

‘He’s skiving again, isn’t he? And you don’t want to admit it. You were purposely changing the subject the whole way here to keep me from asking. Well, come on – what was it this time?’

‘How’s that little dog of yours? Tonto, isn’t it? Getting on okay?’

‘Otto. And don’t think you’re getting away with it so easily, Marshall. Next time there’s any hiring to do, I’m all over it. You’ve proved yourself rubbish at judging someone’s character.’

Marshall jumped into the van, clearing the four-foot gap like an athlete. ‘We might as well let him go now, anyway. Steve can come in as and when, and it’s not like we need to worry about keeping the Maples’ warden happy, right? Not now you’ve lost us the contract.’

‘I didn’t lose it, it just–’

‘But I tell you what,’ Marshall said, grinning. ‘Now you’re back in charge of hiring and firing, you can give Richie the good news.’

Fuming, Flora stalked towards the black car that had just pulled up outside Plot 21. The young couple inside looked exhausted, but radiantly happy. They stepped out and held hands, gazing up adoringly at their little slice of suburbia. Flora’s anger dissolved instantly.

‘Congratulations on your new home. You’d better tell us where you want everything to go.’

The woman smiled and shook Flora’s hand, then promptly sneezed all over it. ‘Sorry. Hay fever. Better grab some tissues.’ She disappeared back inside the car. The man fished out a set of keys, attached to a Spearhead Homes key ring.

‘Lead the way,’ said Flora, wiping her hand on her jeans. She looked back and saw Marshall leaning against the side of the van, watching her. He smiled and stuck out his tongue. Flora’s face creased into a grin. Sometimes she just didn’t know whether to hit him or hug him.

***

‘What are we doing here again?’

Flora whispered in Marshall’s ear. ‘You know perfectly well. Now shut up and look like you’ve got every right to be here.’

They were hovering outside Mr Vasco’s offices in School Gardens. Yesterday, after they’d unloaded the Roberts’ furniture and about a hundred boxes, Flora had told Marshall about the reading of the Captain’s will. He’d pointed out, quite reasonably, that Flora still didn’t know for certain whether Mr Vasco had actually been the Captain’s solicitor, but Flora brushed his objections aside. Somehow, she just knew. The funeral was at two o’clock, and she planned to be outside Vasco’s office by at least two thirty. If she was wrong, she’d be happy to have wasted her time. But if she was right, she wanted to make sure the once-dodgy solicitor had definitely left his shady past behind him.

When Marshall offered to go with her she was stunned into accepting. But afterwards she figured it might be good to have him along for the ride. Marshall was good with people. Not her, of course, but he could turn it on when he wanted to.

For once, he’d dressed up for the occasion: stone-coloured cords, soft at the knees, and a chambray shirt looked the height of elegance compared to Marshall’s usual attire. Flora had swapped her patched jeans for the pair of black linen trousers she’d last worn at her dad’s funeral. This, and the fact that they were now so loose on her, she tried to put out of her mind.

‘What are you doing?’

Marshall was digging inside a carrier bag. He pulled out what looked like a handful of brightly coloured hair and an old man’s tweed cap.

‘Disguises!’ He held out the hair for Flora to take, shaking it at her when she refused. ‘Go on. It’s a brilliant idea. Just in case he recognises you from the Maples.’

Flora took the wig and inspected it. ‘He barely saw me, Marshall. And I am not wearing this. It looks like it’s got fleas.’

‘I resent that. It happens to belong to my mom. That wig was her pride and joy when she was younger.’