Crime in the Café

Lacey parked her car in the concrete parking lot, then headed up the steps that ran alongside a large, unsightly wheelchair ramp. The disabled access to the property—and presumably, within it—would be a huge plus. Neither Carol’s B&B nor the Coach House Inn were suitable for guests with disabilities, neither having external access from the cobbled streets, and having narrow internal stairs with no elevator inside.

At the top of the steps, Lacey reached a large glass conservatory-style porch. It was so ’90s it reminded her of a leisure center.

The doors swished open, and she went inside, where her eyes were assaulted by a huge expanse of linoleum, harsh strip lights overhead, and tacky waiting-room blinds hanging in each of the windows. A water cooler went glug glug glug in the corner beside an array of buzzing vending machines.

So Suzy had been understating just how much work there was to do.

“Lacey! Hey!” came the young woman’s chipper voice.

Lacey peered around and saw her pop up from behind the reception desk—a huge, fake wood monstrosity that appeared to have been molded out of the very fabric of the building.

“I was just checking out the power socket situation back here,” Suzy explained. “Greg, the events planner, needs to know how many electricity points are available. He’s a total dragon, seriously. If I had more time, I’d hire someone else. But beggars can’t be choosers. So Grumpy Greg it is.” She grinned.

“What do you need an events planner for?” Lacey asked.

“The launch party, of course,” Suzy said.

Before Lacey had a chance to ask her any more about that, Suzy came out from around the big desk and embraced her. It took her by surprise. But in spite of the fact they barely knew one another, Lacey found it felt quite natural. It was as if the young woman was an old friend, even though they’d only first met less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Suzy asked. Then she blushed. “Sorry, you’re American. You’ll want coffee instead, right?”

Lacey chuckled. “I’ve gotten a taste for tea since moving here, actually. But I’m good, thanks.” She was careful not to let her gaze trail over to the vending machine, and the watery, substandard tea it would presumably make. “Shall we do the tour?”

“Wasting no time, I like that,” Suzy said. “Okay, well obviously this is the reception area.” She opened her arms wide and grinned enthusiastically. “As you can probably tell, it’s basically a conservatory they added on in the nineties. Beyond ripping the whole thing down, I’ve no idea how to make this look like a Victorian lodge, but I guess that’s what your expertise is for. I mean, if you do decide to work for me.” She giggled and gestured toward the set of internal double doors. “This way.”

They entered a long, dimly lit hallway. A set of shiny plastic signs were screwed into the wall giving directions to the “TV room,” “dining room,” “garden,” and “nurses’ station.” There was a very distinct smell about the place, like talcum powder.

Lacey wrinkled her nose. The reality of just how much of an undertaking this would be was becoming evident, and Lacey felt a creeping sense that it would just be too much to take on.

She followed Suzy into the TV room. It was a humongous space, sparsely furnished, and with the same fake wood linoleum on the floor. The walls were covered in textured paper.

“I’m thinking we’ll turn this room into the drawing room,” Suzy began, waltzing through the room, her patterned gypsy skirt flowing behind her. “I want an open fireplace. I think there’s one boarded up behind this alcove. And we can put some nice rustic antique stuff over in this corner.” She gestured vaguely with her arms. “Or that one. Whichever you prefer.”

Lacey felt increasingly uncertain. The work Suzy wanted her to do was more than simple interior design! She didn’t even have the layout down. But she seemed to be a dreamer, which Lacey couldn’t help but admire. Throwing oneself into a task without any prior experience was how Lacey rolled, after all, and that risk had paid off for her. But the other side of the coin was that Lacey hadn’t had anyone around to be the voice of reason. Other than her mom and Naomi—who’d been an entire ocean and five-hour time difference away—there had been no one there to tell her she was being crazy. But to actually be that person, watching someone dive into an almost impossible task headfirst … Lacey just wasn’t sure she could do it. She didn’t have the heart to bring someone down to earth with a bump and dash their dreams, but she also wasn’t the type to stand back and watch as the ship sank.

“The dining room can be accessed through here,” Suzy was saying, in an easy-breezy manner. She quickly led Lacey through to the next room. “We’ll keep this room as the dining room because it has access to the kitchen through there.” She pointed at a swing door to her right. “And it has the best view of the sea here, and the lawns.”

Lacey couldn’t help but notice that Suzy was already talking as if she was going to take the job. She bit down on her lip with trepidation and paced over to the sliding glass doors that took up the entirety of the far wall. The garden, though several acres, only contained grass and a few sporadically placed benches facing toward the ocean view in the distance.

“Gina would love this,” Lacey said over her shoulder, searching for a positive.

“Gina?” Suzy asked.

“The lady who works at my store with me. Frizzy hair. Red glasses. Wellington boots. She’s an amazing gardener. This would be like a blank canvas for her.” She looked back at Suzy. “She tried to teach me how to garden but I think I’m still way too New York City for plant life.”

Suzy laughed. “Well, when it’s time to do the garden, I’ll give Gina a call.”

Suzy continued the speedy tour—through the kitchen, back out to the corridor, along to the elevator and up to one of the bedrooms.

“They’re very well sized,” Suzy told her, as she gestured Lacey inside.

“I’ll say,” Lacey replied, calculating just how much furniture would be required to furnish them appropriately.

They’d need more than just the usual B&B room bed, closet, and bedside tables that most rooms had. They were big enough for a separate couch and armchair area, with coffee table, and for a dressing area with a vanity stool. Lacey could picture it, but it was going to take a heck of a lot of coordination to get it all done in time for Saturday’s air show.

“And how many rooms did you say there were?” she asked, peering nervously back out the door and along the dark corridor, which was lined either side with doors. She didn’t want to make it quite so obvious to Suzy just how much work would need to be done to get this place up to scratch, so as she ducked back into the room, she rearranged her features into something altogether more receptive.

“There’s four hundred square meters of accommodation in total,” Suzy explained. “Six bedrooms and a bridal suite. But we don’t have to do everything all at once. Just the drawing room, dining room, and a few of the bedrooms. Two or three would do to begin with, I think.”

She sounded so relaxed about the whole thing, despite not actually knowing the exact amount of bedrooms she wanted furnished!

“And you need that all done in time for the air show on Saturday?” Lacey asked, as if seeking extra clarification would somehow make it make sense.

“Actually, Friday,” Suzy corrected. “That’s when I’m holding the launch party.”

Lacey remembered Suzy mentioning Grumpy Greg the events planner, and the launch party, her question about when that was going to be had gotten lost in the moment when Suzy had hugged her by surprise.

“Friday…” Lacey repeated hypnotically, as she followed Suzy back out of the room and into the elevator.

The doors closed softly behind them and Suzy turned her eager eyes to Lacey. “So? What do you think?”

The elevator started its descent, making Lacey’s stomach flip.

“You have quite a gem here,” Lacey said, choosing her words carefully. “But the turnaround time is tight. You do know that, right?”

“That’s what Grumpy Greg said,” Suzy replied, her lips twisting, her tone becoming more morose. “He said organizing a full fireworks display in time for Friday would be nearly impossible.”

Lacey held her tongue, although what she really wanted to say was that sourcing a bunch of fireworks was significantly less difficult than turning a four-hundred-square-meter care home into a Victorian hunting lodge with period furniture. If the events planner thought the turnaround was tight, then where did that leave her?

The elevator doors pinged open and they stepped out together into the main corridor, with its linoleum floor and myriad of signage and medical posters drilled into the walls.

Lacey caught Suzy peering at them, as if she’d only just seen them. As if it had only now occurred to her just how much work was needed to transform this place. For the first time, she looked a little overwhelmed. Worry began to shine in her eyes.

“Do you think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew?” she asked, as they headed back into the foyer.

Lacey’s instincts to not disappoint her kicked in.

“I’m not going to lie,” she said carefully. “It will be a lot of hard work. But I do think it’s possible. I already have quite a lot of stock that would be appropriate for the theme. But there’s some really big things you need to prioritize before any decorating can begin.”

“Like what?” Suzy asked, grabbing a piece of scrap paper, as if hanging on Lacey’s every word of expertise.

“The floors,” Lacey began, pacing through the room. “This linoleum has got to go. The walls need to be stripped of that horrible textured paper. The artex ceiling. Opening up the fireplace alone will take a whole team…”

“So basically, gut the place and start again?” Suzy interrupted, looking up from her notes.

“Pretty much. And don’t take shortcuts. When it comes to interiors, it’s all about the small details. You need to create a fantasy. No fake wallpaper made to look like wood paneling. If you’re going to go for paneling, make it real. Fake looks cheap. So sourcing that is an absolute priority.”

Suzy went back to scribbling, nodding the whole time Lacey spoke. “Do you know a good handyman?”

“Suzy, you need ten handymen,” Lacey told her. “At least! And a whole soccer team’s worth of decorators. Have you even got the budget for all of this?”

Suzy looked up. “Yes. Pretty much. I mean, I won’t be able to pay anyone until the hotel starts bringing in money, which might make it harder to find people to agree to do the work…”

Her voice trailed away, as she flashed Lacey a hopeful, puppy-dog look.

Lacey felt even less certain than she had before. Not being paid in advance would be risky, since she’d have to source a bunch of merchandise that would run into the tens of thousands of pounds. And taking on such a big project when the turnaround time was so tight, and when she had her own business to think about, may be unwise. But on the other hand, she’d really enjoyed the tour, and could picture how the place would look filled up with antique pieces. She’d also enjoyed accessing her old expertise over interior design, and combining it with her new talents for antiquing. Suzy was presenting her with a unique opportunity, and the B&B was absolutely certain to turn a profit very quickly, indeed. Yes, it would be a huge financial risk, and a massive drain of her time and energy, but when would Lacey get a chance like this again?

Not quite ready to give Suzy a definitive answer, Lacey said, “Hold that thought.”

She went out to her car and fetched the flintlock in its case and carried it back into the estate.

“The rifle!” Suzy beamed, grinning at the sight of it. She looked just as thrilled to see it as she had the first time Lacey had shown it to her yesterday at the store. “You brought it? For me?”

“Yup,” Lacey told her.

She placed it on the reception desk and clicked open the latches.

Suzy reached in and took it out, running her fingers over the barrel lovingly. “Can I pick it up?”

“Sure,” Lacey said.

Suzy lifted it and adopted a shooting stance. She looked like something of a pro, so much so that Lacey was about to ask her if she’d ever been hunting herself. But before she got the chance, there came the sound of the automatic foyer doors swishing open behind them.

Lacey turned to see a man in a dark suit striding in through the doors. Following behind him was a woman in a presidential-looking dark crimson skirt-suit. Lacey recognized the woman from town meetings. It was Councilor Muir, their local MP.

Suzy swirled too, rifle still in hand.

At the sight of it, the man in the suit barreled into Councilor Muir protectively.

“Suzy!” Lacey squealed. “Put the rifle down!”

“Oh!” Suzy said, her cheeks flaming red.

“It’s just an antique!” Lacey told the security man, who was still protectively huddling his arms around Councilor Muir.

Finally, a little hesitantly, he released her.

The councilwoman straightened out her suit and patted down her hair. “Thank you, Benson,” she said stiffly to the aide who’d been about to take a bullet for her. She looked embarrassed more than anything.

“Sorry, Joanie,” Suzy said. “For pointing a gun in your face.”

Joanie? Lacey thought. That was a very familiar way to address the woman. Did the two know one another on a personal level?

Councilor Muir said nothing. Her gaze flicked to Lacey. “Who’s this?”

“This is my friend Lacey,” Suzy said. “She’s going to decorate the B&B. Hopefully.”

Lacey stepped forward and proffered her hand to the councilor. She’d never actually seen her up close, just speaking from the town hall’s podium, or on the occasional flyer that was posted through the store’s letterbox. She was in her fifties, older than in her PR photo; the lines around her eyes gave her away. She looked tired and stressed, and didn’t take Lacey’s outstretched hand, since her arms were full cradling a thick manila envelope.

“Is that my business license?” Suzy squealed with excitement as she noticed it.

“Yes,” Councilor Muir said hurriedly, shoving it toward her. “I was just coming by to drop it off.”

“Joanie sorted this all out for me so quickly,” Suzy said to Lacey. “What’s the word? You expediated it?”

“Expedited,” one of the aides piped up, earning himself a sharp glare from Councilor Muir.

Lacey frowned. It was highly unusual for a councilor to be hand delivering business licenses. When Lacey had applied for her own, it had involved lots of online form-filling and sitting around in dingy council buildings waiting for the number on her ticket to be called, as if she were in the queue at the butcher’s. She wondered why Suzy would get the red carpet treatment. And why were they already on first-name terms?

“Do you two know each other from somewhere?” Lacey asked, venturing to find out what the deal was here.

Suzy chuckled. “Joan’s my aunt.”

“Ah,” Lacey said.

That made perfect sense. Councilor Muir had approved the rush job of switching a retirement home into a B&B because she had a family connection to Suzy. Carol had been right. There was a lot of nepotism at play here.

“Ex-aunt,” Councilor Muir corrected, defensively. “And not by blood. Suzy is my ex-husband’s niece. And that didn’t play any part in the decision to grant the license. It’s just about high time Wilfordshire got a decent-sized B&B. Tourism is going up year on year, and our current facilities just can’t keep up with demand.”

It was evident to Lacey that Councilor Muir was attempting to divert the conversation away from the obvious preferential treatment Suzy had been given. But it really wasn’t necessary. It didn’t change Lacey’s opinion of Suzy, since it wasn’t her fault she was well connected, and as far as Lacey was concerned, it showed good character that she was using her connections to do something rather than just rest on her laurels. If anyone came off looking bad, it was Councilor Muir herself, and not because she’d used her influential position to grant a huge favor to her ex-husband’s niece, but because she was being so shady and evasive about it. No wonder the Carols of Wilfordshire were so opposed to the eastern regeneration project!

The crimson-clad councilor was still spouting her excuses. “The town actually has enough demand for two B&Bs this size, especially when you factor in all the extra trade we’ll get from luring back the old shooting club.”

Lacey was immediately interested. She thought of Xavier’s note and his suggestion that her father came to Wilfordshire in the summers to shoot.

“The old shooting club?” she asked.

“Yes, the one up at Penrose Manor,” Councilor Muir explained, gesturing with her arm in a general westerly direction where the estate was nestled on the other side of the valley.

“There was a forest there once, right?” Suzy chimed in. “I heard Henry the Eighth had the hunting lodge built so he could come and hunt wild boar!”

“That’s right,” the councilor said with a businesslike nod. “But the forest was eventually cut down. As with many English estates, the nobles took up shooting game birds once guns were invented, and that turned into the industry as we know it now. These days breeders rear mallards, partridges, and pheasants just for shooting.”

“What about rabbits and pigeons?” Lacey offered, recalling the contents of Xavier’s letter.

“They can be shot all year round,” Councilor Muir confirmed. “The Wilfordshire shooting club taught amateurs during the off-season, and they practiced on pigeons and rabbits. Not exactly glamorous, but you have to start somewhere.”

Lacey let the information percolate in her mind. It corresponded so accurately with what Xavier had said in the letter, she couldn’t help but believe that her father really had come to Wilfordshire in the summers to shoot at Penrose Manor. Coupling that with the photo she’d seen of her father and Iris Archer, the former owner, and it seemed even more likely.

Was that why the gun had felt so familiar to her, because somewhere in the back of her mind she had memories she’d not been able to access?

“I never knew there was a hunting lodge at Penrose Manor,” she said. “When did the shooting club stop operating there?”

“About a decade ago,” Councilor Muir replied. She had a weary tone, like she would prefer not to be having this conversation. “They ceased operations because of …” She paused, evidently searching for the most diplomatic words. “…Financial mismanagement.”

Lacey couldn’t be certain, but there seemed to be an air of melancholy about the councilor, as if she had some kind of personal connection to the shooting club and its demise a decade earlier. Lacey wanted to ask more, to find out whether there may be more clues that led back to her father, but the conversation had swiftly moved on, with Suzy’s enthusiastic, “So you see how much untapped potential there is here, and why you should totally get on board with the project!”

The councilor nodded in her stiff manner. “If you’re being given a chance to get involved in the easterly regeneration of Wilfordshire,” she said, “I would most certainly take it. The B&B is just the beginning. Mayor Fletcher has some very big plans for this town. If you make a name for yourself, you’ll be at the top of everyone’s contacts when it comes to future projects.”

Lacey certainly was becoming more and more intrigued by the job offer. Not just for the huge potential to get her name out there—potentially earning a handsome profit while she was at it—but because of how connected it made her feel with Wilfordshire, and her father in turn. She wondered whether her father had seen all the potential in the town back in the days when he’d visited. Perhaps that was why he’d come here in the first place, because he saw a business opportunity and wanted to invest?

Or because he wanted to run away from his marriage and family and settle down in a place more suited to him, Lacey thought.

“Now, I must be going,” Councilwoman Muir said, beckoning her entourage. They leapt immediately to attention. “I have a surgery to attend. The locals are furious about the proposed pedestrianization of the high street. Honestly, you’d think I’d approved to have lava poured into the roads the way they’re acting.” She gave Suzy a quick, efficient nod, then left.

As soon as she was gone, Suzy turned to Lacey with an eager look on her face, the manila envelope containing her business license now clutched in her hands.

“So?” she asked. “What do you say? Want in?”

“Can I have a bit of time to make up my mind?”

“Sure.” Suzy chuckled. “We open in a week. Take up as much of that time deciding as you want.”

Lacey opened the door to the antiques store. Boudica and Chester came bounding over to greet her. She ruffled their heads in turn.

“You’re back,” Gina said, looking up from the gardening magazine she’d been perusing. “How did it go with wunderkind?”

“It was interesting,” Lacey said. She came over and took a stool at the desk beside her. “It’s an amazing place, with a lot of potential. And the councilwoman seems to think so as well.”

Gina folded her gardening magazine closed. “Councilwoman?”

“Yes, Councilor Muir,” Lacey told her. “She’s Suzy’s aunt. This whole B&B thing seems to be part of Mayor Fletcher’s plans to regenerate east Wilfordshire. Not that that’s Suzy’s fault, per se, but it does make her seem even more out of her depth. Who knows what her actual business plan looks like, or if it was just approved because of her aunt.”

Gina tapped her chin. “Hmm. So Carol was onto something after all.”

“In a way.”

“But putting all that political stuff aside,” Gina added, swiveling in her stool so she was directly facing Lacey. “What would it mean for you to get involved?”

Lacey paused. A small flicker of excitement ignited in her stomach. If she put all the nagging doubts to one side, it really was an amazing opportunity.

“It means I’d have responsibility for furnishing a four-hundred-square-meter property with period pieces. For an antique lover, that’s basically heaven.”

“And the money?” Gina asked.

“Oh, it’d bring in a lot of dollars. We’re talking thousands of pounds of inventory. A whole dining room. A foyer. A bar. Six bedrooms and a bridal suite. It’s a massive undertaking. Add to that the potential for more work in the future by getting my name out there, and the fact that having a B&B for special occasions like the air show will have a positive knock-on effect for the rest of the town…”

Gina was starting to smile. “It sounds to me like you’ve talked yourself into it.”

Lacey gave a noncommittal nod. “Maybe I have. But wouldn’t it be crazy? I mean, she wants it done in time for the air show. Which is on Saturday!”

“And since when did working hard scare you?” Gina asked sassily. She gestured with her arms to the antiques store. “Look at everything you’ve already achieved from working hard.”

Lacey was too modest to take the compliment, but the sentiment she could get behind. She’d become a risk taker. If she’d not quit her job in New York City and gotten the first flight to England, she’d never have built this wonderful life for herself. She’d be a miserable divorcee, still fetching coffee for Saskia like an intern rather than an assistant with fourteen years’ experience. Taking on this work with Suzy was the sort of thing Saskia would fight tooth and manicured nail for. That alone was reason to do it.

“I think you know what to do,” Gina said. She picked up the telephone and plonked it in front of Lacey. “Give Suzy a call and tell her you’re on board.”

Lacey stared at the phone, biting her bottom lip. “But what about all the costs?” she said. “That much inventory in such a short space of time will be a massive outgoing all at once. Way more than I’d ever usually spend on stock.”

“You’ll get paid for it, though?” Gina said.

“Only after the B&B starts making money.”

“Which is a given, isn’t it? So you’re set to profit in time.” Gina nudged the telephone toward Lacey. “I think you’re looking for excuses.”

She was right, but that didn’t stop Lacey from finding another.

“What about you?” she said. “You’d have to mind the shop for a whole week? I won’t have time to do anything else.”