Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

FRIDAY 15TH DECEMBER

Leah was helping local taxi driver, Joe Taylor, choose a book for his wife, Ceri, whose birthday it was that day. He'd been the first customer through the door just as the bookshop opened, apologising for rushing in and explaining how he'd forgotten all about the significance of the day until their four-year-old daughter had run into their bedroom bright and early, wishing her mummy a happy birthday. With his wife being an avid reader of cosy mystery books, and a regular at The Happy Hartes Bookshop, he thought he'd be able to redeem himself by stocking up on a few novels by her favourite authors, though he was struggling to remember what books she'd read. After pulling an "oops!" face, Leah had volunteered to help and had accompanied him to the relevant aisle.

Florrie was holding out the card reader to a customer when PC Nixon's square-shouldered frame stepped through the doorway of the bookshop. Her stomach clenched as anxiety took a hold of her. She knew the reason he was here and the reminder wasn't at all welcome, especially when she'd been distracted by what Jenna had told her yesterday. Talk about life being like a roller coaster!

The police officer hung back until Florrie's customer had gone, the bell above the door chiming noisily. ‘Good morning.' He stepped forward, giving her a friendly smile.

‘Good morning, PC Nixon. I'm guessing you're not here to buy a book?' She gave a small laugh, attempting to make light of the situation while the turmoil inside her was escalating.

‘Not today.' He smiled kindly.

‘Can you just keep an eye on things for a few minutes?' Florrie asked quietly as she passed Leah on the way to the reading room with the police officer.

Leah nodded, throwing Florrie a concerned smile.

Florrie closed the door softly behind them. ‘Is there any news?' she asked, her stomach in knots. She wished Ed were here with her, he'd remember everything that was said. She was feeling so nervous, she was sure her brain would struggle to hang on to a single word of what PC Nixon was about to share with her. ‘Ed's just had to pop back home for a minute. He shouldn't be too long.' Actually, he's been more than a minute, he must've been gone well over an hour. He'd made some excuse about heading back home before the bookshop had opened which she'd thought odd at the time, setting a fresh flurry of worries rushing around her stomach. His lack of communication was frustrating at times. She swallowed the ball of nerves that was clogging her throat. Park that for now, Florrie, you can wonder what he's been up to after you've heard what PC Nixon has to say.

‘That's okay, if you don't mind me telling you on your own?'

‘No, that's fine. Please, have a seat.' She pulled out the wooden chair opposite and dropped into it, hoping her jitteriness wasn't obvious to the police officer, willing the news he was about to deliver to be nothing horrendous.

He sat down, removing his hat and placing it on the table in front of him, smoothing his closely cropped dark hair with his hand. ‘Right, well, I can tell you that the couple you pointed out in the video footage and the photos were Dillon Swales and his mother, Patricia. She's sister-in-law to none other than Micklewick Bay's very own Dick Swales, probably better known as Dodgy Dick.'

‘Oh, right.' Florrie's shoulders slumped with disappointment. ‘Unfortunately, the woman who gave my dad and Jack the run-around wasn't called Patricia Swales. She told them her name was Sylvia Hicksworthy.'

‘Ah, well, interestingly, Patricia was a Hicksworthy before she married Dick's brother, Ron, thirty odd years ago. I expect she was using Sylvia instead of her real name, because she knew her little cherub of a son was planning on getting up to no good here. And I suspect she fabricated the story about having her name on a waiting list.'

‘That's what we thought.'

‘But there's no doubting it's her in the photograph and video footage, my colleagues back at the station have confirmed that. And as for that daft lad of hers, I knew he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you'd think if he was planning on getting up to no good, he'd at least have the sense to hide his face.'

‘Lucky for us he didn't, though,' said Florrie. ‘Or his mum, come to think of it.'

‘Aye, he obviously gets his lack of sense from her. Anyroad, useful as it was in pointing us in the right direction, it turns out we didn't actually need the video proof of Dillon Swales's presence in your shop since his fingerprints were found in the kitchen here, on the jug as well as on the handles of the back door and yard door. Thankfully for us – but a fundamental mistake for him – he didn't think to wear gloves.'

‘At least we know who did it,' Florrie said, the news offering some relief at least.

‘And from my further investigations, it would seem his Uncle Dick has been training him up – not doing a very good job of it by all accounts. But apparently, he's taken Dillon under his wing while the lad's father's in prison. Dillon and his mother live over in Lingthorpe which is probably why you didn't recognise them.' He rested back in his seat. ‘As for motive, we reckon it's all part of Dick Swales's bid to buy up as much of the property in town as possible, as cheaply as possible.'

That sounds about right. ‘So, what happens now?' Florrie didn't want to ask what Dodgy Dick's brother was in prison for, she'd rather not know.

‘Well, there's nothing we can do about Patricia Swales, as, while she might have been a nuisance, she didn't actually break the law, but we've charged Dillon with criminal damage. It's set the wind up him as he was already on conditional bail for burglary, so I doubt he'll be giving you any more trouble.'

When PC Nixon had left, Florrie couldn't decide whether she should be relieved or worried about what he'd imparted. On the one hand, it was a relief to know the culprit had been identified. But on the other, she was more than a little concerned at how Dodgy Dick would take the news that his nephew had been arrested and charged.

It hadn't helped that Ed had seemed preoccupied when he'd returned, only half-listening as she recounted what PC Nixon had said. That, together with getting her head around Dillon Swales, had put her in a prickly frame of mind, which wasn't what she wanted on a Friday, especially when she was meeting her friends for their usual get-together later at the Jolly.