“One more second!”
“If you’re going to talk to me like that then I definitely won’t help. Good-bye!”
Arthur heard the sound of the door handle creak. At the same moment, Ash jumped up and charged back round the desk, collapsing into his seat the second the door swung open.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Graham said as he strode back in. “That was some crazy woman who claimed eight people are stuck on an island off the south coast of Devon and are about to be murdered one by one. She said she knows who the murderer is and wants me to help her prove it.”
Arthur stifled the smile that was threatening to emerge as he recognized the plot fromAnd Then There Were None, an Agatha Christie novel Phyllis had described in detail at a previous book club meeting.
“You wouldn’t believe the number of weirdos I meet in this line of work, conspiracy theorists who want me to investigate the strangest things,” Graham continued. “Thankfully, after ten years in this business, I’ve got pretty good at weeding out the time-wasters early on. Now, you were asking me if—”
“You know what, you’ve given us plenty to think about,” Arthur said. “Ben and I will have a chat about how we’d like to proceed and be back in touch soon.”
He pushed himself up, giving a quick groan for effect, and Ash leaped up too.
“Would you like to discuss my price structure before you leave?”Graham asked. “I’m willing to offer discounts if you use more than one of my services.”
“Thanks, but we can chat about that next time,” Arthur said as he moved toward the door. “We appreciate your time, Mr. Pierce.”
“Okay, well you know where I am if you need me,” Graham said, but Arthur didn’t wait to hear any more as he was out of the door and moving down the stairs as fast as his eighty-one-year-old legs would carry him.
Chapter Seventeen
Phyllis
“Now close your eyes and breathe…that’s it, slowly in and out, in and out…Feel nature’s healing calm fill your body with every loving breath.”
Phyllis gritted her teeth, resisting the temptation to shout at the stupid man to shut up.
It had been Nova’s suggestion that she come to the meditation class. Phyllis had been storming round the community center, berating herself for letting Arthur and Ash go to visit the private investigator without her. What chance did a bumbling old farmer and a mute teenage boy have of getting information out of a member of the elite British Secret Service? Even though Phyllis had played her part by ringing the man and keeping him on the phone so they could investigate the office, she knew the chances of those two managing to find anything was tiny. And without any evidence that Cynthia had hired the PI to help kill Eve or get rid of Michael, there was nothing to stop the woman getting away with her crimes. In her rage, Phyllis had kicked a bucket, sending it skidding down a corridor and almost taking out a toddler. It was at that point that Nova had intervened and suggested Phyllis distract herself with some meditation whilethey waited for Arthur and Ash to return. Not that she was finding any of this nonsense remotely relaxing, or distracting.
“Oh my God, whatisthat smell?”
Phyllis opened her eyes. Several people sitting around her were pinching their noses and looking like they might be sick. Phyllis took a sniff and immediately knew the culprit.
“Is it that damn dog again?” said Neil, the bearded man who was taking the class. “I’m sorry, but I told you, you can only bring him in here if he doesn’t disturb anyone.”
“He’s not disturbing anyone, it’s just some flatulence.”
“I can’t relax with that stench,” said a woman sitting to Phyllis’s right.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to take him out.”
“This is discrimination! You wouldn’t throw out a human for farting, would you?”
“Phyllis, either he goes, or you both do.” Neil’s face was looking distinctly lacking in nature’s healing calm.
“Fine, this was rubbish anyway,” Phyllis said, standing up. “Come on, Craddock, let’s go.”
She grabbed the dog’s lead and marched toward the door. As they reached it, Craddock let out another ripper, and Phyllis smiled.
She knew from experience he’d need to do his business soon, so she led him out into the car park and over to some small bushes at the edge. In his old age, the dog had become rather inefficient at emptying his bowels, so Phyllis looked around for something to keep her occupied while she waited.
There was a game she liked to play sometimes, where she’d pick a random stranger and try to imagine what observations Miss Marple would make about them. There was a youth across the road now, leaning against a low brick wall, smoking a cigarette, and Phyllisstudied him closely. He was dressed in a tracksuit—a fashion item that would no doubt have horrified Jane—and had the hood pulled up to conceal his face. He wasn’t local by the looks of the large rucksack next to him, and his right foot was bouncing up and down on the pavement with nervous energy as he stared at the community center. A car drove in front of him, turning into the community center car park and blocking Phyllis’s view. She leaned sideways to keep the youth in vision, then stopped and turned her attention to the car.
It was a red MINI Cooper, a familiar face sitting behind the wheel as it reversed into a parking space. What the hell was Cynthia Watkins doing here? Phyllis turned her back so the woman wouldn’t recognize her. Craddock had barely begun his business, and by the time he’d finished, Cynthia might be long gone.
“I need to go inside and see what’s going on,” she said, wrapping Craddock’s lead round the nearest fence post. “I’ll be back soon.”
