Paper Crafts Club Mystery Box Set Book 1-3

By Emily Selby

A smart girl, a nerdy inspector, a dead body, a crafts tool, and a quirky British town full of suspects - whodunnit?

Paper Crafts Club Mystery is a cozy mystery series and this box set includes books 1 -3:
1 - Filigrees, Fortunes and Foul Play
2 - Dip Pens, Descendants, and Dirty Deals
3 - Glitter, Greed, and Gatecrashers

If you're looking for cozy mysteries full of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the end, relatable characters, and a sprinkle of romance - here is something for you.
Click Buy to see if you can find out who the killer is before Katie and Jack do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Upward Stories
• Release date: Apr 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224405916

Book preview

1

Katie Redford finished sketching the layout of the craft stall for the upcoming church fete and stepped back from the whiteboard. She glanced at her drawing, taking a deep breath. The air vibrated in her lungs. Neat, uncluttered and presenting all items in the best possible way. But would others agree with her? 'I believe, this is the best way to arrange our crafts, given the limited space. What do you think?' She looked attentively at three fellow Sunnyvale Paper Crafts Society members sitting around the table.

The Club president, Miriam Fischer, studied the drawing. 'That's very smart, Katie. You've managed to fit it all on this tabletop, like a big jigsaw puzzle. Thank you.'

Katie released her breath. Miriam could be quite demanding.

Miriam continued. 'The stall is sorted, let's talk through who's doing what before we finish.'

Katie put the whiteboard marker on the table just as her phone rang. She waited, wishing the caller gave up quickly. But whoever was trying to get hold of her must have been determined. After the seventh signal, Miriam said, 'I think you need to answer this, Katie. This person is desperate.'

Her cheeks burning, Katie reached into her handbag, hoping it was someone she could talk to quickly. She didn't have much time left before she had to dash off to her afternoon job. But her heart sank as she read the screen ID.

Oh Lord, can’t she give me a moment’s peace?

Katie hit the 'Answer' button.

'Hello, Mrs Dunbar,' she said cheerfully, keen to keep control of the conversation. 'I haven’t forgotten our appointment. I won’t be late.'

'Hello, Katie, luv. No need to rush.' Mrs Dunbar sounded a little slurred, but anxious. 'I'm calling to ask you to come thirty minutes late. Alright, luv? I've just had an unexpected visitor and need to discuss something urgent with my... eh...' The voice trailed off.

Katie waited a couple of seconds struck by an unusual vibe in her client's voice. But Mrs Dunbar didn't finish her sentence. Then Katie heard a yawn.

'Not a problem, Mrs Dunbar,' Katie said hastily, fully aware of the tense silence in the room and three pairs of eyes burning holes in her t-shirt. She steadied her breath. 'Will you be okay?'

'Of course, luv. There’s plenty of time. You should be able to finish here just before teatime. I really need the house clean for tonight. I have an important visitor, you know.'

She let out another yawn.

Katie stifled a sigh. She needed to finish her work well before teatime or she’d miss the shops.

'I know, Mrs Dunbar. And are you okay? You sound a little ... tired.'

'Ah, yes. I'm fine. Just a bit...' There was another pause and the same sense of hesitation. 'Just a bit in a hurry. So, don't you rush, and I shall see you in forty-seven minutes.'

'Yes, forty-seven minutes exactly, at quarter past three, Mrs Dunbar. Bye.'

Katie disconnected and dropped the phone into her bag.

Miriam broke the brief silence. 'That's our Phyllis, always so precise with her timekeeping and fussing about her schedule, like it was the holiest thing in town. What is it this time?' she asked, her eyes piercing through Katie like a pair of steel drills.

Torn between her frustration at Phyllis Dunbar changing the plans at the last minute and the risk of sharing her emotional state with one of the biggest gossips in Sunnyvale, Katie scrambled for a safe option.

'She wants me to come later this afternoon.'

'But your cleaning day at Phyllis' is normally Thursday, isn't it?' Miriam asked, observing Katie carefully.

Katie bit her upper lip. Miriam Fischer knew a lot, and she never hesitated over calling people's bluff.

'This is an extra gig. She needed help with something... or other.'

Katie waved her hand. The exact reason why Phyllis Dunbar needed extra cleaning was none of her, or anyone else's business.

Miriam's round face twitched.

'Katie, dear, you shouldn't let Phyllis boss you around,' she said. Katie wondered what made Miriam abandon her inquisition.

'She bosses everyone,' Linda McKay, a retired teacher and one of the long-term Club members cut in. 'Did you see that poor nephew of hers? She made the man mow her lawns in the rain the other week!'

Miriam tutted and shook her head. 'Honestly, is she really that incapacitated? I thought she was still in good nick, despite her age.'

'It's the arthritis,' Katie explained. 'She’s quite capable, but her hands aren't as good as they used to be. And it's even worse when it's raining.'

'I suppose they would be,' Linda accepted, looking at Miriam expectantly. 'And it's a big house she has to herself. It must be hard for her to keep on top of things.'

Miriam pressed her lips together.

'Sorry, the last meeting with Phyllis harping on and on about the fantastic William annoyed me,' Miriam said, her voice clipped. 'To be honest, if I hear more about, My-William-this-and-my-William-that, I may stab her with the scissors, or whatever tool I've got handy. Holy William, my left foot.'

'Holy late William.' Linda cut in. 'And please, watch your language, Miriam. But I agree, Phyllis really should stop bragging about his talents. One may think he was another Picasso.'

'Ladies, can we please go back to planning the fete?' Ally Baker, the Club's treasurer-cum-secretary, interrupted. 'I need to collect Baby Ella from the nursery soon, Katie and Miriam have jobs to go to, and we still have two more items left on the agenda.'

Katie wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Thank goodness for Ally Bakers of this world - always well organised and keeping meetings and other people on track.

'Yes!' Katie jumped at the opportunity to push the meeting towards a conclusion. 'Let's focus.'

Phyllis might have given Katie an extra thirty minutes, but it had ruined her afternoon plans. She had to reorganise Julia’s school pick up and - much worse - do the grocery shopping for tonight's dinner, either with the £3.30 she had left in her purse, or with a starving and cranky ten-year-old in tow.

Fortunately, Phyllis Dunbar's obsession for being precise and fussy extended into other areas of her life. She always paid on time and in full. The extra cleaning tonight, was a Godsend. The recent house move had emptied Katie's pocket more than she expected, and she would rather work until midnight than ask her ex-husband for more money.

Once the impromptu meeting of the church fete committee had finished, Katie rushed out of the door.

To her relief, Mrs O'Brian, mum of Julia's best friend, Ines, was happy to help with school pickup and looking after Julia until Katie finished. Katie texted her daughter the revised plan for the afternoon and drove home.

Grocery shopping would have to wait until Mrs Dunbar paid her for the job.

Her kitchen was still cluttered with boxes and bags. Having finally sold their family home following the divorce, Katie and Julia moved to a more affordable, but smaller place three weeks earlier. Katie was determined to make it feel more like home, even if she had to do it one box at a time. She set the alarm for 3.05 pm. and attacked the nearest box, slicing through the tape sealing the top.

She worked methodically through the box, finding new homes for the contents. Once she slotted the last of the cookbooks on the shelf by the sink, her alarm exploded.

Perfect timing.

She grabbed her handbag from the table, zipped up her jacket and hurried from the house into the windy September afternoon.

Katie parked in front of Mrs Dunbar's bungalow. With the stream and the fields behind, this part of Sunnyvale was an ideal spot for family-friendly housing. Developers were building a new estate some five hundred yards away. But this little corner of Meadowbank Road and Stream Drive only housed an old villa, two bungalows, and a dilapidated house that hadn’t been lived in for decades.

Katie climbed from the car and stopped, surprised to hear music. Phyllis' only next-door neighbours, the Peters' family should have been out - at work or at school. Phyllis, although not against singing or dancing as such, was not much of a music lover. Yet, coming from the garden, a male voice belted out a song Katie had never heard before. She couldn't quite identify the genre, but it sounded surprisingly good.

Katie took her cleaning gear from the boot of her car.

The gate to the little front garden opened with its usual screech. She looked around. The front lawn had been mowed recently, but the grass at the side of the house looked untouched. The singing seemed to come from the little shed at the side of the house. A spade, a watering can, and a bag of composting mix stood in a pile outside the shed door.

Now, it made sense. It was Mrs Dunbar's nephew's gardening day.

Katie trudged up the stairs, rang the bell, and waited.

'Mrs Dunbar, it's Katie,' she called out, but received no answer.

Maybe Phyllis Dunbar was still busy with her unexpected visitor. Or maybe she’d popped to the bathroom. Katie waited a couple of minutes, listening for the usual sounds of a bathroom in use. But except for the singing still blasting from the shed, she couldn't hear anything.

She considered phoning, but if Mrs Dunbar couldn't answer the door, would she be able to answer the phone?

Katie waited a little longer. A gust of wind pushed a couple of old yoghurt pots—likely intended for whatever gardening project the acoustic music loving nephew was working on—from behind the shed.

Katie looked around, but the garden was still empty and there was no sign of human presence in the shed.

He’s probably busy in the back garden.

Katie rang the bell again.

'Hello, Mrs Dunbar? Are you there?' She hammered on the door.

Maybe she’s taking a nap?

The old dear did sound tired on the phone.

Strange. Phyllis Dunbar always honoured her arrangements and usually waited by the door. Sometimes Katie wondered if Phyllis waited by the door with a watch in her hand to keep an eye on the visitor's timing.

Katie turned the handle and the door opened.

She looked at her phone to double check if she’d missed a cancellation text, but the message box was empty.

Katie entered the hall. A cold draft hit her face and the spare toilet door slammed. A slinky ginger cat meowed and jumped from under the old, heavy chestnut shoe bench.

Phyllis Dunbar never had pets, and she wouldn't allow any into her house.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

'Mrs Dunbar, it's Katie, are you alright?' Katie put the mop and the bucket with other cleaning stuff by the shoe bench. The cat brushed against her leg. Katie stroked his soft fur and gave him a quick scratch behind the ear. The animal had no collar. It jumped up and padded towards the kitchen. Katie followed.

Phyllis' Dunbar's bungalow had a good-sized kitchen connected with a dining/living space. The old dear often complained about not having a special space to receive visitors, but Katie doubted if Phyllis received many. Nevertheless, if she had a visitor, that room would be where she would normally entertain them.

Katie walked from the empty kitchen into the living area, her steps echoing on the wooden floor. She never liked this space. The walls were covered in aged wood panels, together with Phyllis' favourite heavy chestnut furniture and chocolate upholstery and curtains, creating a dark, heavy atmosphere, exaggerated by the small north-facing windows. A quick tour around the large room confirmed her initial impression—it was empty and had not been used that day.

A muffled rattling came from the back of the house. Katie's heart flipped. She ran to the kitchen window overlooking the back yard. It was empty. She listened for sounds coming from within the house, but all she could hear was the howling wind outside and the music.

'This is stupid,' she mumbled. ''m sure it's the cat or the nephew knocking things over in the shed.'

Katie took a few deep breaths.

She must be in her bedroom, having a nap.

'Mrs Dunbar, it's Katie.'

She tiptoed toward the old woman's bedroom on the other side of the hallway.

But the bedroom was empty. The bed was unmade, unsurprisingly, as it was Katie's job to do it that afternoon, an empty glass on the bedside table, a book and a pair of reading glasses beside it, emphasised the sense of missing human presence. Katie checked the en suite bathroom, but it too, was empty.

'No sign of life.' Katie mumbled and shivered. It was very strange.

The cat meowed loudly somewhere in the house.

'What is it, kitty?' Katie called and followed the sound. She found the cat by the door leading to the spare room. It was Mrs Dunbar’s arts and crafts kingdom, and Katie's favourite room in the house.

The crafts room?

Why would she be here? She wouldn't normally receive a visitor in her crafts room.

The cat cried plaintively.

Katie opened the door and froze.

Mrs Dunbar’s body lay on the floor at the foot of the chest of drawers. Blood pooled around her head, glistening in the light spilling through the open curtains. Her eyes were open, glazed, her skin, waxy and pale.

'Mrs Dunbar!' Katie called out again, but there was no reaction.

Katie stepped forward to check the pulse. There was none.

She covered her mouth and stepped back. The cat sneaked between her legs and approached the body on the floor, sniffing it from a distance.

Katie shuddered.

'Don't touch, kitty,' she said as calmly as she could and picked up the animal.

She rushed outside, fighting the growing nausea. Getting outside was key. Fresh air was good.

Katie closed the main door behind her and let the cat out from under her arm. The animal dashed towards the back of the house. She leant on the doorframe, dizzy and breathing heavily.

Katie pulled out her phone. Her hands shook as she dialled the emergency number. The music in the shed had stopped but the shed still appeared empty. Where was Mrs Dunbar's nephew?

'I need an ambulance... or maybe Police,' she stuttered into the phone before the operator had a chance to finish his first sentence.

"Police or ambulance?'

'I don't know...' Katie felt her voice breaking. The tension took hold and her eyes filled with tears. 'She is dead,' Katie croaked. 'Lying in a pool of blood.'

'What's your name? Where are you calling from, Madam?'

Katie covered her mouth to muffle a sob that shuddered through her body.

'M-Meadowbank Road. N-Number 5. I think the owner, Mrs Dunbar, has been murdered.'

2

Katie stood on top of the steps for a while, looking at the dark screen of her mobile. Her heart was pounding, her head felt full of muddy water sloshing with every move.

Grounding - this was what she needed. A few breaths to make her body feel as though it belonged to her again. She rolled back her shoulders. The world around her was eerie - quiet and calm. Even the wind had died.

She would have run into her car and driven off, but she couldn't move her legs. And if she did, the police would have been after her.

She gulped. Her throat was as dry as a piece of used baking paper.

Katie checked the time and stretched her neck. The street ahead was empty.

It's been only a minute...

How long did it take the Emergency Services to arrive?

The mid-afternoon traffic from the nearby school to her right was hardly audible. To her left, the street bent to follow the stream. Behind the dilapidated eyesore of the house next-door, a row of new-build houses stretched for another six-hundred yards or so, before the first finished properties proudly displayed 'Sold' signs became visible. Sunny Meadows, the place was called. Once she had enough money, she planned to move there with Julia.

But first, she had to start earning properly. More than she was making with the part-time cleaning jobs. So maybe if she took more work...

Well, maybe. Assuming her best clients didn’t keep dropping dead... She shuddered.

A male voice broke through the silence. 'Hello there, you must be the cleaner...?'

Katie jumped and stared down at the tall, well-built man in a white polo shirt and blue overall standing at the corner of the house. His greying hair was combed to the back of his head, his salt-and-pepper beard was tidily trimmed. He looked well in his fifties and was still quite handsome. She'd seen him before. Nice chap, Phyllis' nephew. But at this specific moment, seeing his familiar silhouette was not comforting. On the contrary.

Katie swallowed hard, glancing towards the far end of the street, which was still empty. No flashing lights, no sirens. Just her and... the man who had been around the house all the time.

'Yes. I'm Katie Redford. You must be Roy,' she said as casually as she could, but her voice was a nanometre from breaking into a sob. 'I was supposed to help Mrs Dunbar with the house this afternoon. Is it your gardening day?'

The man crossed his arms and frowned. A dark smudge stained the collar of his shirt. Dirt? Or dry blood?

'I'm helping her with the garden. Potting new flowers. She wants me to plant a new geranium bed this spring,' he said through clenched teeth.

He still spoke of Phyllis in the present tense. Maybe he didn't know his aunt was dead. Should she tell him? Or was he only feigning ignorance?

Katie wrapped her arms around herself.

'Are you alright?' he asked and stepped closer.

Katie jerked back. Her heart was hammering.

'Hey, girl!' the man called and made another step towards her.

'Yes, yes, I'm fine,' she croaked hunching and gluing her back to the wall.

A blue light flashed somewhere near the school.

Katie drew in a long breath. She had to keep him talking. Casually. Like nothing happened. Like she wasn't scared of him, or anyone else.

'I see you've mowed the lawns. Mrs Dunbar often talks about you. She says you have green fingers.'

'Yeah, I like gardening,' he said. His voice sounded a little less tense, but his eyes drilled through her.

'It's a windy day. Difficult to work in the garden, I guess,' she added, squinting to see the flashing lights. It was the ambulance. The siren wailed, and Roy flinched.

'An ambulance? Here?'

A lump in Katie's throat seemed to be growing. If it grew any bigger, she’d choke.

'Yes, it looks like there is an ambulance coming...' Another flashing light emerged from around the corner of the school. This time, she recognised a local police patrol car. The knot in her throat loosened a little.

'And the Police.'

Roy's face paled. His arms slid to his side.

'What's happened?'

Katie opened her mouth and closed it. And then opened it again. Why the hell did it take them so long to get here? The ambulance stopped by the gate, behind her Nissan Micra.

'What's happened?' he asked and bounded to the steps leading to the bungalow. 'Aunt Phyllis, is she alright?'

Katie slid back and leaned against the door. Her knees wobbled as if they were made of jelly. She ran her tongue around her mouth. It felt dry like wood.

'I'm afraid...' she said while two paramedics hurried through the gate.

'Hi, where's the victim? Is it safe to enter?' the first paramedic, a forty-something man with dark hair, called.

'P-police... Right there,' Katie stuttered, pointing to the approaching patrol car.

Roy flinched again. 'Move away. I need to get inside,' he shouted and ran up the steps. 'Aunt Phyllis!'

A wave of heat and sickness flushed over Katie. She leaned harder against the door. The first police officer emerged from the patrol car.

'Police. Move away. Don't enter!'

Katie mustered what little willpower she had left to clear away from the door. She walked towards the two police officers. The first, Chris Fox, was an old friend. The other, younger and female was a new recruit. Katie had never felt so happy seeing cops.

'Katie! What are you doing here?' Chris called out.

As calmly as possible, Katie approached them.

'I think Phyllis Dunbar has been murdered. She's in there - in her spare room.' She pointed to the window.

Chris and his colleague ran to the door.

Katie took a deep breath, and her body started to shake. She sobbed and rubbed her nose until it went numb. It helped keep tears inside.

An unmarked, silver car arrived and parked behind the ambulance. An important looking, young man emerged. His face looked vaguely familiar.

'Where are they?' he asked, indicating the patrol car.

Katie pointed to the entrance with her trembling chin.

The new arrival followed the other officers inside.

Aware she shouldn't leave the site before the police gave her permission and not wanting to re-enter the house, Katie slumped down on a large, concrete planter beside the garden gate.

'Katie, hey, you're alright, lass?'

Katie lifted her head and smiled weakly at Chris.

'She's been murdered, hasn't she?' Katie asked.

'She's dead. We're calling the medical examiner and the crime scene investigators,' Chris replied in a matter-of-fact way. 'But, how are you?'

'Shaken, cold and nauseated. A bit too much for one person to handle. When can I go home?'

'This is why I'm here. The DI wants to talk to you.'

'Who's the DI?'

'Detective Inspector Jack Heaton,' he said, suddenly sounding all formal.

'The young guy in glasses?'

'Yeah, that one.' Chris paused and stooped to whisper into Katie's ear. 'This is the new Mr SmartyPants sent from the city. Serious crime outreach, or whatever they call it. He happened to be at the station when your call came through. Talking to the boss.'

'Ah, that's why he seemed vaguely familiar. Was his photo in last week’s newsletter?'

'Yeah.'

'What’s he like?'

Chris straightened. 'He's ok with us. I don't know what he's like with suspects though...'

Katie's mouth dropped before she could do anything about it.

'Suspects? What do you...? I mean, I haven't done anything... How can you?'

'Kidding.' He winked. 'You'll be okay. Just tell him what you saw.'

Katie exhaled slowly. The nausea intensified at the thought of reliving the scene in the spare room. She badly needed a big piece of duct tape to keep herself from failing to bits, not a piece of advice like that. She pulled her elbows close to her chest and climbed to her feet.

'All right, I'd better do. Where is he?'

'He'll come and talk to you in a minute.'

'Thanks,' she croaked.

She shuffled her feet to hide the fact her legs were starting to tremble. She held the airflow steady. The knot in her throat reached the proportions and tightness of a ball of elastic. A suspect in a murder investigation! In cosy Sunnyvale!

She stayed by the flower planter and Chris returned to the house. A few minutes later, the female officer walked out with Roy. He was sobbing, covering his face with his hands. She helped him climb into the patrol car. If he was so distressed, did it exclude him as a suspect? Where had he been all this time?

Katie tried to think back to the eerie scene in the garden, but the main door opened again. The DI appeared, with a black briefcase under his arm and a paper cup in his hand. He gave her a curt, acknowledging nod.

'Just a second.' The voice was formal, but with a hint of warmth. He walked to the patrol car and handed the cup to Roy.

Nice gesture. Katie's heart fluttered. Good cop, she wondered, or part of the game? He beckoned her to his car, and she obeyed.

He held the passenger door open for her and waited until she climbed in. Her legs were still trembling, and she was relieved to be seated again. It turned out controlling her legs and her breathing at the same time took too much effort.

The DI sat in the driver's seat, busy setting up his notebook and pen. Definitely good-looking: pink skin with a bluish shadow of stubble that went very well with the black, neatly trimmed hair.

'I'm Detective Inspector Jack Heaton,' he said, with the notebook open. A pair of intelligent blue eyes stared at her through the black wide-rimmed glasses. A young-looking face. Maybe a bit too young-looking.

'You are...?

Katie opened her mouth and closed it. This was ridiculous. Here she was, on a murder scene, probably being one of the key witnesses and she was losing her ability to speak. She cleared her throat.

'Katie Redford. I'm a... I was helping Mrs Dunbar with cleaning.'

'You found the body, right?'

Katie flinched and gaged.

'Sorry, I realise this must be difficult for you, but we need to go through the procedure,' he rushed. 'I can get you a cup of water if that'd help.'

A warm, caring glint shone in his eyes, but a second later, he looked all official again, cool, calm and collected. She took a deep breath. She'd love a cup of tea, but even more, she wanted the process to be over. She gulped to keep her stomach in its place.

'No, thank you. I'm fine. How can I help?'

That sounded better, more professional. After all, she worked with the police on a daily basis. No reason to suddenly lose her wits in front of a handsome, if boyishly young, policeman.

'I need to interview all the people linked to this... er ...situation.'

'Was she murdered?'

'At this stage, we are treating it as a sudden, unexpected death of an unknown cause.'

'But there was so much blood...' Katie inhaled sharply fighting another bout of nausea.

'Yes,' he cut in. 'Can you tell me more about what you saw when you entered the room?'

'I saw her immediately. She was lying on the floor across the door, by the big chest of drawers where she kept her crafts materials. There was so much blood...'

'Did you see anything else?'

'There was a cat there. Not her cat. It must live nearby. But other than that, I didn't notice anything else. To be honest, I didn't really look around.'

'Did you hear anything unusual?'

'When I was in the crafts room?'

'Yes, or just before or after.'

Katie paused, trying to think back to that moment.

'I did have a feeling there was something unusual about the whole place. But I can't really put my finger on anything specific. I mean, apart from the cat.'

The inspector stared at her, his eyes glinting in the harsh light.

'Can you specify what you mean by something unusual about the whole place?'

Katie blinked.

'As I said, I can't. I had a feeling, a hunch something was wrong.'

'A hunch, huh?'

Katie shuffled in the chair, uncomfortable under his piercing glare. He didn't really get hunches, did he?

'Yes, a hunch. And then the cat meowed.'

'The cat meowed. Isn't it what cats do?'

Katie felt a flush creeping up her face. He was right. This was a silly thing to mention.

'Er, yes, of course,' she added hastily. But the cat kept bugging her. And where had it disappear to?

'Did you touch anything in the room?'

Did Katie detect a slight tone of condescension in the inspector's voice?

'No. I know one shouldn't touch anything at the... er ... scene of a suspicious death. I work at the police station.'

Now, maybe this would make him treat her a little more seriously.

‘Indeed. Officer Fox mentioned that.'

Was there a warmer hint in his voice again, or was it her wishful thinking?

'I'm an admin person. It's a part-time job.'

'Hello then!' he said and smiled. There was a warmer hint in his voice.

'So, what were you doing in Mrs Dunbar's house?'

'As I said, I came to do some cleaning. It was an extra job. Normally, I work Thursday afternoons, but she is... was expecting a visitor this evening. Oh, by the way, I think we need to let him know, so he doesn't come. Now, there’s no point in him coming, is there?'

'Who doesn't come?'

'The Vice-Chairman of the Parish Council, Mr McBride. Alistair McBride.'

The DI raised his eyebrows.

'Why was he coming? What time?'

'She only told me she had an urgent important meeting at quarter past five this afternoon. That's why she needed my help outside the usual schedule. She is... was a very well organised woman, Mrs Dunbar. A woman of particular habits. She rang me yesterday, quite apologetic, and said she had an urgent meeting and needed help with cleaning. It was going to be a quick job. Just some hoovering and–'

'You don't know what the meeting was about?'

'No idea. She kept it to herself.'

'Did she normally?'

'Yes. I think she liked to... how do I put it? She always struck me as someone who didn't blabber. She didn't like others blabbering, either.'

'Did she keep secrets?'

Katie blinked and watched the Inspector's face for a few seconds. Was it a trap?

'Well, if she did keep any secrets how would I, or anyone else know?'

His face froze. He cleared his throat.

'Good point. Did you know Mrs Dunbar outside this cleaning arrangement?'

Well, at least he can admit to his mistakes. Nice one.

'Yes, a little. We were both members of the Paper Crafts Club in town. That's how she knew of me and offered me the cleaning job.'

'Tell me a little more about your movements this afternoon.'

Katie told him about the originally agreed time, the meeting with Miriam, Linda and Ally at the Paper Crafts Club and the call from Mrs Dunbar earlier that day.

'So, she was expecting someone else today? I thought she had told you about it yesterday.'

Katie chewed on her cheek. It was confusing, and she had to be as clear as possible.

'She was expecting Mr McBride, at quarter past five this afternoon. She told me about it when she called yesterday. I think, something else must have happened either this morning or around lunch time and she had another visitor and then she had to talk to someone urgently. This was what the earlier call was about.'

'Do you know who, or what it was about?'

Katie shook her head. 'No idea. She sounded a little tired on the phone though. Slurring and yawning.'

The Inspector stopped scribbling in his notebook and looked straight into her eyes.

'Did you talk about any of this with Mr Dunbar?'

'Mr Dunbar?' Katie blinked. 'Mr Dunbar is dead.'

'Dead?' The Inspector froze for a second and then his gaze wandered to the patrol car in front.

'Oh, I mean, old Mr Dunbar,' Katie waved her hand. 'Phyllis Dunbar's husband. He's been dead for years. Did you mean Roy Dunbar?'

'Yes. Roy Dunbar.'

'Oh, sorry, no, I didn't manage to tell him. I wasn't sure if...'

'If?'

Katie hesitated again. Should he tell the inspector about her strange feeling? But Roy looked genuinely upset by the death of his aunt. And the inspector didn't seem fond of hunches and feelings. No, she didn't have any evidence, and she didn't want to accuse an innocent man. Everyone deserved to be treated fairly, even suspects.

'I wasn't sure if I was allowed to.'

The inspector nodded looking thoughtful.

'Did you see him around the house when you arrived?' he asked, his eyes piercing her again.

'No, I didn't. In fact, as I told you, I didn't see anyone, except the cat.'

Inspector Heaton closed his eyes, but Katie would swear she could see them rolling behind the lids.

'Did you hear anything suspicious or unusual when approaching the house?'

Katie took a deep, slow breath, trying to recollect the scenes again. The nausea returned. She swallowed hard and kept thinking. It was hard – her mind was fighting back, shutting out the images as soon as she brought them up.

'There was some music coming from the shed. Someone signing, a male voice. I was surprised to hear it, but now I think it must have been Roy.'

'Did you see him?'

'I've already said, I didn't,' Katie said trying to hide her growing irritability. This new guy might have been a smart city boy, but he wasn't very good at interviewing people. First, he wants everything explained, even when it's unexplainable, then - he keeps asking the same questions.

'I didn't see him until he emerged from behind the house. Just before the ambulance arrived.'

Inspector Heaton scrunched his face and bit his upper lip. His pale pink cheeks deepened a tone. 'Right. Did you see or hear him coming?'

'No, but then I was too engrossed in my thoughts. He appeared out of nowhere.'

'Were you aware he was around the house?'

Katie closed her eyes to hide her desire to roll her eyes. 'I was surprised to see him, but only because I usually come on Thursdays, and Roy's here on Tuesdays. So, it is normal for him to be here, but not when I am here. It's also normal for him to be behind the house, in the back garden, or anywhere around or inside the house. If that makes any sense. After all, he's Mrs Dunbar's closest relative.' The last sentence came out sounding more irritated than she intended.

The Inspector seemed to pick up on her annoyance and changed the subject.

'Can anyone confirm your movements for this afternoon between the call from Mrs Dunbar and your call to the emergency services?'

'I left the meeting around 2.40 pm and made a phone call to a friend of mine. You can get the call log and a text message to my daughter from my phone. I was home from about 2.45 to 3.05 pm, maybe my neighbour, Mrs Gerard can verify it. You can also ask the lady from the house opposite, Barbara Cambridge.' Katie pointed to the bungalow across the street, to her right. 'She might have seen my car. Barbara's retired, but sometimes works in the local library. She's quite'–Katie paused to find the right word–'observant. Yes, that's a good word. She is a busy woman, but if she was at home, she might have seen something or someone.'

Inspector Heaton jotted the name in his notebook. 'We'll talk to her.'

'Is there anything else? Or can I go now? I've got a hungry child to pick up.'

'That'll be it for now. But can I take your details? I may need to ask you some more questions later on.'

Katie gave him her full name and address, and her mobile number. She thought about reminding him, he could always talk to her tomorrow morning at the station, but she just wanted to get out of here, collect Julia and, yes, a long, hot bath might be in order.

3

'M um, did you buy any Ziploc bags?'

Katie opened the fridge and looked intently inside. The bottle of milk was definitely half-empty today, but fortunately, there was still some cheese left from last night's macaroni-cheese-bolognese-impromptu dinner. Enough to make Julia a sandwich.

'Mum, did you honestly put Ziploc bags in the fridge?' Julia's voice pulled Katie from her musings.

'Why, on earth would I put any bags in the fridge?'

'Dunno. Because you acted weird last night?'

Julia put her schoolbag on the table and started braiding her long, strawberry blond hair while holding the comb and a hair tie in her mouth.

Katie paused, her head still in the fridge. However much she wanted to, she couldn't really argue with this point. She might indeed have acted weirdly the previous night. After all, it wasn’t every day she discovered a corpse. Katie shivered.

'Cold,' she muttered.

'Ish becaushe you're shtandin in front of dje fridge.'

Katie slammed the fridge door. Ten-year-old girls could be such know-it-alls.

'Don't speak while holding things in your mouth. You might accidently swallow it. Why do you need Ziploc bags?'

'For my hunch.'

'Hunch?'

'Shandwich'

'Your sandwich? What happened with the bag I gave you yesterday?'

Julia shrugged. She swiftly pulled her hair into a ponytail and dropped the comb into the side pocket of her school bag.

'I don't know. I must have lost it. Can I have another bag, please?'

Katie sighed. Why did her daughter lose things? Why couldn't she just be more careful. Certainly, other children...

‘I didn’t buy any Ziploc bags last night, darling. You need to use something else.' Katie picked up the bread and removed it from its paper wrapping. 'Here we go. A lunch bag for you.'

Julia threw out an enormous sigh, one of those yawns comic books marked with a big whatever in a thought bubble and snatched the bag from Katie's hand.

'Will you pick me up from school today, please?'

'Wednesday? Yes. I finish at the station at 12.30 pm. I don't have any cleaning this afternoon.'

'Great. I want to be home quick. I need to practice for the audition of the Halloween play.'

Julia grabbed the sandwich from the cutting board and slid it into the bag.

'I'm ready for departure.'

Katie gulped the remaining coffee and grabbed her handbag.

'Let's go!'

On the drive from school to the police station, Katie reviewed the previous afternoon’s events. What a day! Even the long, hot bath hadn’t been enough to shift the dread and nausea brought on by discovering her former employer, lying dead on the floor. Who could have done it? And why? Certainly, Mrs Dunbar wasn't the most beloved resident of Sunnyvale, but it was hard to imagine she might have had mortal enemies.

When Katie walked into the staff room, she felt all the eyes on her. Well, there were only two other people, and both were aware of the events she’d witnessed. So maybe she was exaggerating.

'Morning,' Katie greeted Chris Fox and his female colleague keeping as chirpy as she could. Her heart was beating fast. Had Chris and his new colleague, what was her name?, already told everybody else Katie was a prime suspect? Or was she being oversensitive?

'Hi, Katie, y'alright, lass?' Chris gave her a look a good five seconds longer than usual. 'Slept well?'

A heavy stone fell into the pit of Katie's stomach. Chris had never asked about the quality of her sleep before.

'Yes, why?' She said crisply, avoiding eye contact to hide the dark circles under her eyes.

'Just asking. 'Cause of what happened yesterday.'

'I couldn't get the picture out of my head.'

The young female officer approached Katie. A smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her nose and a wave of tiredness spread over her.

The woman must have noticed something. 'Would you like a coffee?' she asked.

'I wouldn't mind, thanks.'

Chris walked up to them, holding a steaming mug as well.

'Do you have any idea who could have killed her?' he asked.

Katie inspected his round, freckled face for signs of suspicious intent. Chris was known for being a friendly and straightforward, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. Her quick inspection indicated a genuine question, rather than surreptitious interrogation.

'Are you asking me, Chris? How would I know?'

Chris shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Because you knew the deceased?'

'Did you know her?' the female officer asked, handing Katie a steaming cup.

'Thanks, er- Sorry, I forgot your name. I'm Katie.'

'I know.' The young officer smiled. 'Everyone knows Katie from the back office. I'm Celia. Celia Baxter. Did you know the victim?

So, Phyllis Dunbar was a victim... Katie sipped her coffee. Strong and fresh, it hit the spot and gave her an instant shot of energy. 'Yes, I did know her a little. But I wasn't quite in her circles.'

Celia smiled. Either she was trying to be nice to get Katie to open up, or she was simply a friendly person. Katie wasn't sure which was more likely. She would prefer the second option, of course.

She sipped a little more coffee, trying not to burn her palate. They were her colleagues after all. They couldn't really be all that bad, could they? Maybe the best attitude was simply to ask?

'Chris, am I a suspect?'

He exhaled slowly and then wrinkled his nose. 'Er...'

The office door opened to DI Heaton.

'Well,' Chris said, clearly relieved, 'you may need to ask the lead inspector.'

'Morning everyone,' DI Heaton said in the same warm tone that surprised Katie yesterday. He nodded at her. 'Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to, Ms...'

Katie's heart sank. More interviewing to come?

'Katie will do,' she said through the clenched teeth. 'How can I help, Inspector?'

'I've got a few more questions about yesterday. Can we talk now?'

'The interview room is free,' Chris cut in, not as helpfully as Katie would have hoped.

DI Heaton hesitated. 'We could use the boss's office. It’s more comfortable. What time does he start?'

'He's rarely in before 9 am,' Katie said. 'That is, if you're allowed to use his office.'

'Yes, I'm authorised. Would you like to see the formal email?' he asked, arching his eyebrow. A hint of humour warmed his voice.

Thank goodness, he had a sense of humour.

'No, I guess, I need to trust you.' Katie said and almost choked when pronouncing the last words. Lying to the police was a punishable offence.

The DI took his dark jacket and, after a failed attempt to locate a coat hanger, hung it on the office chair. He placed his tired-looking briefcase carefully beside the desk. A crisp white collared shirt with a dark blue tie, and a pair of black slacks completed the look of a smart city man. Katie thought back to the early days of the few officers who joined the Sunnyvale's police force during her time here. They had started off dressing smartly, but the town's dislike of anything city and too-serious-looking got the better of them quickly. Even Andy Lumley, the boss, had toned down. Katie wondered how long it would take DI Jack Heaton to bow to a more relaxed, local style.

'Since you already have a coffee, I won't offer you one. Unless, of course, you prefer a fresh brew.' The DI showed her to a chair opposite the boss' desk.

'No, I'm fine. But go ahead, get one for yourself.'

'I've already had one, thank you.'

Katie lifted an eyebrow. Getting a morning coffee together with various members of the team was an important bonding ritual in the Sunnyvale police station. This boy was going to have problems making friends...

'I wanted to ask you a few more questions regarding the events yesterday.'

Katie's heart accelerated. 'Am I a suspect?'

DI Heaton rubbed his freshly shaven chin.

'Not at this stage. We've checked your alibi with your neighbour who confirmed some of the timing. I just have a few more questions.'

'Was she murdered?'

DI Heaton took a deep breath. Katie wondered whether he would finally break and admit it. For goodness sake, if you find someone lying in a puddle of blood in their own house, it’s unlikely to be from natural causes.

'We still need a formal report from the autopsy, but there is a suspicion that it was, indeed, murder.'

I knew it!

DI drummed his fingers on the desk. Katie watched him attentively, trying to interpret his body language.

'Well, since it's now in the open, do you have any idea who might have wanted the old lady dead?'

Finally, a question she’d been waiting for. She opened her mouth to share her thoughts, then realised that, despite having spent half the night trying to come up with ideas, she didn’t have a clue.

'Sadly, no idea. I'm baffled by the whole thing.'

'Why are you baffled?'

'It just doesn't make any sense. Fair enough, she wasn't very popular. She was respected, but...' Katie paused, chewing on her lower lip. She didn't want to give a false impression, but then, the DI was bound to find out anyway. Maybe she would just skip this part completely for now.

'But?' DI's blue eyes were intently locked on her face. Katie felt her cheeks flushing.

'But murder? No, not here. Sunnyvale's a quiet, friendly little place. I've worked at the police station for nearly thirteen years and we don't get murders here.'

'I see,' he nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 'I wouldn't exactly call Sunnyvale small, though. After all, there are nearly fifteen thousand residents.'

It was Katie's turn to nod. 'It does feel much smaller. I suppose it’s because we all know one another quite well.'

'Well, if this is indeed the case, solving this crime should be a piece of cake.'

Katie watched the Inspector's deadpan face, unsure how to respond. Torn between giving him the benefit of the doubt of being genuinely hopeful about the ease of solving this case, and her need to test his human qualities, she decided to take the risk.

'One would think so, wouldn't one?' She paused with her eyebrows raised, waiting for his response.

'It seems only logical, doesn't it?' A flicker of humour danced in his blue eyes.

Katie dived in deeper in her risky attempt to create a bond.

'It does, indeed. One may even say: Elementary, my dear Watson.'

DI Heaton made a tip-my-own-hat gesture and smiled.

Katie smiled back, relieved the serious crime outreach inspector wasn't a complete jerk.

With the thought in mind, Katie returned to her own situation. She was still unsure how to proceed.

'What do you want me to say? I honestly have no idea who could have killed Mrs Dunbar. One thing I'm certain of, it wasn't me. I assume you've interviewed the nephew?'

'Yes, we have interview Roy Dunbar. He was apparently in the shed repotting geraniums and doing other bits and pieces outside the house. He was the one singing. He says he didn't enter the house until after we arrived.'

'What about the person, the secret visitor or whoever she was going to talk to after she rang me. Have you found out whom and what it was about?'

'I can't comment on this,' he said, his face blank.

She hunched. Of course, he wouldn't' share it with her. This was a stupid question. She'd have to find it out herself, through her own channels.

'Did you know she had a will?' he asked her.

The look on his face sent a chill down Katie's spine.

'Yes, I suppose so. Phyllis liked to hint at her wealth and talked about heirlooms and heritage.'

The DI raised his eyebrows. 'Heritage?'

'You need to talk to her solicitor about it, and maybe closer friends and family. The late Mr Dunbar was a carpenter and something of an artist. As far as I know he painted and sculpted in wood. He gifted a number of his artworks to the local church. I think this is what Phyllis meant by heritage. But from what I've seen in her house, she was hardly a wealthy woman.'

Heaton looked away, drumming his fingers on the desk again.

'Are you aware of the contents of her will?'

'Of course not. Why would I be? I was just a cleaning lady and an acquaintance from the hobby club.'

'Yes, indeed. Just a cleaning lady and an acquaintance...' Heaton seemed to admire the office decor for a while. The silence made Katie uncomfortable. Desperate to shift the feeling, she tried a lighter tone. 'Maybe her death was about money? Are there any suspicious beneficiaries in the will? Anyone beyond the usual family, friends and charities?

'Yes, there is one beneficiary who comes as something of a surprise.' The DI's drumming became a tone louder.

'Who is it?'

'You.'

Katie's heart flipped. Her head spun. She grabbed the edge of the desk.

'Need some water?'

Without waiting for her reply, Heaton jumped up and hurried to the water cooler in the corner of the office. He poured a glass and put it in front of her.

Katie licked her lips, her head still spinning, and her heart beating fast.

'This must be a mistake? Why would she leave me anything?'

'I hoped you could tell me.' DI dropped back into the chair. He looked a little deflated.

Katie gulped the water.

'I swear, I didn't kill her.'

'We've checked your moves with your neighbours. Also, someone saw you driving along the street on the day. So, you're not a suspect at this stage. But to be fair, it looks strange. You had the opportunity, you knew the victim, you also had a motive. Potentially that is.'

'But I didn't know she'd left me anything in the will... What did she leave me?'

'You need to talk to her solicitor.'

Katie shivered. She had seen people accused of crimes, but not this serious. She had seen people cry and swear their innocence. And, to be honest, since it usually turned out that they did steal the car or drive drunk - there was hard evidence in form of CCTV footage and breathalyser readings, Katie never trusted those declarations of innocence. Now, she found herself in a situation where she knew she did not commit a crime, she had an alibi, yet –she still felt guilty.

She cleared her throat. There was only thing she could think of to shake off this feeling.

'Is there anything I can do to help the investigation? I mean, to clear my name?'

'Tell the truth,' said the Inspector, as if it was the key to end all evil.

'I have.'

'And let me know if you remember, see or hear anything else that may be useful.'

Was he asking her to be an informant? Okay, as long as this could help... But she had to remember- no hunches. Concrete evidence only.

'I will.'

'Here is my number.' He handed her his business card. "I'll be a frequent visitor here for a while. So, you can always try to catch me here at the station.'

'I will,' Katie said, her