‘All of you have known me and all my family for… like, forever, and you think me capable of stealing from my customers? Worse still, stealing from the very people I care for?’ She stopped abruptly. Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped her eyes. Suddenly all her anger was spent and she stumbled against the table.
A calming hand patted her shoulder, and Julie said, ‘It’s not worth you getting upset about these ridiculous gossips, my darling. Come with me.’
Once in the vicarage kitchen, Julie pulled a chair out. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ She boiled a kettle, and put two cups on the table. ‘I wouldn’t take too much notice of Doris or Elspeth if I were you.’
‘It’s not just them, though, is it? I can’t believe that neighbours, clients, and people I have known most of my life think I had something to do with the burglaries.’ Cassie’s voice broke.
Julie Bennett shrugged. ‘It’s only a few people, and they will soon see sense. Now, drink your tea and go home.’
Cassie drank her tea and stood up. ‘Thanks, Julie, but you are one of the few customers I have left, and I will do my job here as planned.’
After Reverend Bennett left, Cassie poured some of her homemade lemon and vinegar cleaning fluid into a bucket, slipped her gloves on and scrubbed, wiped and polished until the kitchen taps and the sink glistened, the cupboards reflected the sunlight outside and there wasn’t a single stain left on the tiled floor. The vicarage’s bathrooms received the same treatment. Next she dusted and polished the furniture, vacuumed every room, and tackled the windows.
The mindless, repetitive gestures soothed her. Perhaps the burglaries would stop and the whole thing would blow over. But then people might say that she had stopped her criminal activities because she had been afraid of being caught. It was far better if the police arrested the culprit so she could clear her name. This really had to be one of the most horrid weeks of her life. Every day had brought more heartache and bad news.
She went home a couple of hours later. Something puzzled her… How had Fluffy managed to sneak in and out of Bluebell Cottage that morning? As for the cat being covered in lemon-scented oil, she understood how that had happened the moment she opened the front door.
The diffuser bottle she kept on the hall table had smashed to the ground, and a puddle of scented oil slicked the floor, with ginger cat hairs sticking to the tiles… Fluffy must have knocked the bottle over and decided it was a good idea to roll about in the oil. Sighing, she stepped over it and followed the paw prints to the kitchen. They shot across the floor, all the way to the back door…
But the door was locked, she had made sure of that before leaving that morning! Just to make sure, she rattled the handle.
For a moment, she stared at the paw prints, unable to understand how it was possible that they seemed to go right to the door. It wasn’t as if the cat could have gone through it, was it? No, of course not. Someone must have opened the door to let it out.
Her granddad must have called home that day.
She took her phone out of her bag and rang him at the farm.
‘I didn’t go home today, Trifle,’ he said.
‘Did you lend Rachel or Tim your keys by any chance?’
‘Nope. Why do you ask?’
Now wasn’t the moment to worry him about Fluffy or the back door, and even less about the nasty rumours some residents from Red Moss were spreading about her. Tonight was Comedy Night at the Eagle and Child, one of the most important events of the year for her grandfather. Kerry’s and Alastair’s wedding had given him his confidence back.
‘It’s nothing. Forget it. How are you feeling? Are you ready for tonight?’
He sighed. ‘I’m trying to go over my jokes one last time but my knee is playing up and I can’t concentrate.’
It was a good job then that she had copied all the jokes he was planning to perform that evening onto Post-it notes as backup in case his memory failed him.
‘You have your medication, don’t you? Why don’t you take a couple of tablets for the pain?’
‘Good idea. I’ll do it right now.’
There was a knock on the front door. Frowning, she made her way to the front door. What if Doris had come to have another rant about her beloved cat?
‘I have to go. There’s someone at the door. I’ll see you tonight.’
‘See you tonight, Trifle.’
It wasn’t Doris, but two police officers, a man and a woman, who stood on the doorstep.
The policeman smiled. ‘Cassie Bell?’
She nodded.
‘Could we have a word?’
She gasped, and rested her hand on the doorjamb for support. ‘Has something happened to a member of my family? My mum or my step-dad in Tenerife?’
The man shook his head. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.’
She let out a sigh of relief and moved aside. ‘Please come in. I’m sorry for the broken glass and the smell. My neighbour’s cat knocked over a bottle of some essential lemon oil this morning,’ she said as she led them into the kitchen. ‘I’ve only just come back and haven’t had time to mop it up.’
She should stop babbling, or they would think she was nervous… But she was nervous, even though she had no idea why.
‘Please sit down.’ She gestured to the chairs around the table.
‘Nice cottage.’ The policeman smiled.
Cassie smiled back. ‘Thank you.’
The woman took out a notebook and a pen. ‘I understand you live here with your grandfather, Joseph Bell.’
‘That’s right, but he isn’t here at the moment. He is staying at Patterdale Farm with relatives.’
‘And you are a cleaner by trade, aren’t you? That’s your van, parked outside.’
Cassie nodded. ‘All my papers, my road tax and insurance, are in order, and I don’t think I drove through any red lights. Did I?’
She smiled but the policewoman’s face remained stony. ‘Your name was mentioned in connection with a series of burglaries that were committed in and around Red Moss recently.’
‘What?’ Cassie’s ears started buzzing, her body felt cold and clammy at the same time, and a wave of nausea made her heave. She gripped the back of a chair for support. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
The policeman stood up and pulled the chair out for her. ‘Please sit down, Miss Bell. I’ll get you some water.’
He poured some tap water into a glass and handed it to her.
‘Thank you.’ She took the glass with a trembling hand.
‘Better?’ he asked. When she nodded, he carried on. ‘Would you mind telling us where you were on the following days?’ And he listed several recent dates.
Once her head had stopped spinning and her breathing was under control, Cassie pulled her diary out of her handbag and flicked through the pages to find the first date the policewoman had mentioned. ‘I write down all my appointments with clients.’
The policewoman wrote everything down, then snapped her notebook shut and rose to her feet, followed by her colleague.
‘We will check all this with your clients. Thank you for cooperating with us this morning. We’ll be in touch.’