The Name of the Rose Water Spritzer Read online

  "That's just the decoration. Making rose water takes some time and I didn't want to risk spoiling it. In the future, I hope to make at least some of my ingredients myself."

  "As long as you don't run a moonshining factory on the premises," Josephine muttered before turning away and heading for the door to her flat.

  "I wouldn't dare," Heather replied. "Not with a policeman popping in unexpectedly at all times of the day and evening."

  James Matthews, a semi-retired detective who moved back home from Leeds had been a frequent visitor at the café. Always with the more or less clear excuse, such as walking his dog or popping in to see their kitty or to say hello or whatever reason he could come up with. Heather didn't mind it at all. She was hoping quietly, that one day his main purpose would be to just have a chat with her.

  "By the way," Josephine said and glanced at Heather. "Is he coming?"

  "He's not invited. Have you forgotten? It's a 'girls only' party," Heather said deliberately making it sound a little bit dramatic. She sensed the tension in Josephine and felt uncomfortable with it.

  "I remember. By the way, I have invited Frances Doyle. We need to talk about her new venture. Didn't you say it was a good idea?"

  Ah, yes! That was the uncomfortable part.

  "I still think it's a good idea," Heather replied, emphasizing the word still, "but I'm not sure if today is a good day to talk to Frida about it."

  "Why not?" Josephine asked.

  Heather chewed on her cheek. Was it a good idea to share her observations from this morning's trip to Paper Plus?

  No, Josephine would certainly dismiss it as Heather being oversensitive. Heather might need to play it by ear and use her journalistic skills to sound out Frida's mood early.

  "I'm not sure," Heather said slowly. "By the way, have you seen the new huts?"

  "Not yet. But I heard them being dumped on the beach yesterday morning."

  Heather took a deep breath. Josephine seemed in a grumpy mood this morning. Apparently, there was no safe topic.

  "I didn't hear anything. It's probably the window in your bedroom. Don't worry, the window fitters are coming tomorrow. I'm really happy with getting it fixed. I hate to think someone might break in again."

  "Yeah, that's good. We'll have to find a different way to let the kitty in and out though," Josephine replied.

  A headache started to burn at the back of her eyes. It was all her fault. She should have just found a way to avoid starting the conversation.

  "A cat flap..." Heather said expelling a little bit more air than necessary while pronouncing the words. "I'll have someone install one this week. But, enough chatting. Let's get on with the party preparations."

  The party was a partial success. At least, that's what Heather kept thinking to herself while helping Josephine shift the content of the tables back inside when it started to rain.

  "We often have those brief showers," Chrissy said to Heather carrying a large plate of pigs-in-blankets — a fancy name for sausages in bread – and mini quiches that Josephine prepared earlier. "Don't worry."

  Heather wasn't sure if Chrissy's "don't worry" was a way of cheering her up that the party didn't work out, or an encouragement to stay outside.

  "I think everything will get soaked if we leave it out there," Heather replied. They sneaked into the main café and placed the plates on the tables.

  All the guests were gathered inside, chatting and laughing. Josephine handed out paper towels. Even though she didn't say anything, from the way she hunched and shuffled around the room, Heather could sense the upcoming arrival of a big fat, "I told you so!"

  The last thing that was left outside was her cocktail shaker with still some of the excellent rose water spritzer left. Enough for another round of drinks.

  Heather stood in the doorway. The very moment heavens opened and a sheet of water came down with such force, the noise from the rain hitting the wooden deck and the café roof drowned out everything else.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Chrissy Lumberton said, standing beside Heather. Droplets of water glistened on her flawless golden-brown skin. Her black hair curled behind the ears. The red flower, hibiscus if Heather was correct, was hanging low, slipping out from behind her ear loaded with water.

  "I was honestly hoping for a lovely garden party," Heather said and let out a long sigh.

  "It is still a lovely party, only now it’s inside," Chrissy replied. She touched Heather shoulder. "Let's get back to your guests and close the door. That rain is deafening."

  Heather did as Chrissy advised. After all, her guests were still there. Keen to party. Helen Archer from Beach Paradise B&B next door had brought a lovely Pavlova.

  If Heather retrieved the mixer now, it shouldn't be too diluted. She grabbed an umbrella from the bucket by the door and ventured outside. She ran carefully, placing her feet cautiously on the slippery floorboards. The air was filled with the smell of the sea, even though she couldn't see it from behind the curtain of water falling from the layer of thick, grey clouds. She grabbed the mixer and raced back inside.

  Surprisingly, as soon as her foot touched the steps to the raised, sheltered terrace, a gap in the thick layer of clouds appeared. The sun pierced through it, and the heavy rain ended as abruptly as it started.

  Apparently, it was something very typical of the local weather.

  From her current vantage point she could just about see the roofs of the new colorful beach huts at the end of the sandy stretch leading towards the sea. Heather paused to study them again. She might have been uncertain about the joint business project with Frida, but she sure admired the beauty of those little wooden structures.

  Pretty little things to brighten people's day, likely to help lift the mood and hopefully bring more business to the town.

  "Don't even think to move us outside again," Josephine yelled at her from the doorway.

  She didn't need to yell, as the world quieted down once the rain stopped. But obviously, Josephine had a point to make, and Heather didn't want to get into yet another, "I told you so," conversation.

  "I'm coming," Heather replied and trotted back into the café.

  More chatter followed. The guests praised not only Josephine's baking but, fortunately, Heather's cocktails also. She opted for a low alcohol version of the spritzer to keep the conversation going rather than to send people into oblivion. And it turned out to be a good choice.

  They discussed Josephine's close encounter with death a month earlier, and they also asked Heather about her previous life in New York. There was a lot of talk about Frida's new painting course, which was due to start on Monday. Interestingly, it seemed that each and every one of the guests had a topic or two they wanted to avoid.

  Strangely enough, for Frida it seemed to be the course.

  "The huts are beautiful," Heather said approaching Frida, who smiled in response. "Did you choose the design yourself?"

  Frida continued to smile, but her eyes grew cautious.

  "It was a team effort," she said. "We had a few designs submitted to the board and the board decided.

  "The board?"

  "Yes, we have a board. I run a limited company, which owns the huts and is the main organizer of the courses," Frida explained. A vertical line appeared on her pale forehead, above her carefully made-up eyebrows.

  "An incorporated business, that's great. It means it's growing, right?" Heather asked, enthusiastically.

  Strangely enough, Frida frowned. "We have been growing, indeed. When I first started organizing the holiday retreats for artists it was only during the summer. Then, we added winter retreats for all those coming from cold places. Now. We're getting bookings even on weekends," Frida said looking away.

  Growing and having an increasing steady flow of customers was good for business, so why wasn't Frida Doyle happy about it? Hers must have been the only business in Dolphin Cove doing well.

  "Is that the reason why you invested in the huts? To have more room to accommodat
e your clients?" Heather asked. She had another explanation for that, which had something to do with her quarrelsome yoga-loving woman in hideous pink spandex.

  "At this stage, we have the huts fitted for daytime occupation only. It means, we'll be able to paint in them, but it's too cold in the night yet for an overnight stay. Have you seen inside them?"

  "No, I've only had a look from the outside," Heather admitted. "But I'd love to check them out fully."

  "I can show you around when you've got a minute."

  "That would be lovely, thanks. So, were you thinking of doing their breakfast service once you've got guests staying overnight?" Heather jumped right into the business questions. If Frida's discomfort around the huts was anything to do with Heather's café, she'd rather have it addressed earlier on.

  "That's exactly what I had in mind," Frida replied. "But it won’t be until summertime. Our first 'Painting on the beach' course doesn't start until the third week in November. We'll have people staying from Sunday night until Friday evening, and separate courses for the weekend. So far, we only have the first weekend course booked up. We've arranged with the restaurant in town to go out there for dinner. But for the five-day long ones, we'd love to have a dinner also catered, if you can provide them."

  "We'll have to think about it," Heather replied carefully. She had no idea about running a café or, in fact, any other business, but hoped Josephine would help. Chrissy had shown some great insights into the business side of things, and Heather was planning to get her involved as well.

  "When are you reopening?" Frida asked.

  "We'd like to have the windows fixed first," Heather replied, clearing her throat. Frida had discovered Heather's thorny topic to avoid tonight. "I am also going through some cash flow planning and other investments."

  "What about the license? Judging by the response tonight, it looks as though your mixers are likely to be a hit, particularly with the beach crowd in the evening."

  Heather gave a sharp laugh. "That's exactly my plan. The council is waiting for locals to present their views. Have you heard anything through the grapevine?"

  "We don't have a café serving alcoholic drinks in town yet, so yours will be the first. Which means, it may be more complicated. On the other hand, it also means that the local council cannot say we have too many."

  Now, it was Frida who laughed, and Heather joined in. It felt a little forced, but from her previous life, Heather knew that laughing together created a bond, and she needed all the bonds she could generate right now.

  Something scratched at door on the outside. And then again. Heather set her drink on a table and crossed the floor to the back door. She let in their little black cat.

  "What a cutie!" Frida cooed. "Is he yours? Did you bring him from the States?"

  "No, he’s a local. Been around for a while. He's feral, but I've taken him to the vets, and he’s had all his vaccinations and everything, except the chip. For that we need a name."

  "Why don't you give him a name?" Frida asked.

  Heather smiled. She glanced at Josephine. She would have loved to drag her roommate into the conversation, or rather dump the conversation onto her.

  "I've offered that privilege to Josephine. She's thinking of naming the kitty Kea, after the café," Heather added, cunningly.

  When would wishful thinking become attempts at installing false memories into other people's minds? If she kept telling everyone it was Josephine's idea to name the cat Kea, maybe at some point the woman would believe it, too.

  And then she could shift the strategy toward changing the café's name...

  Slowly, the afternoon progressed into the evening, and the guests started to leave.

  "That was a nice party," Heather said, carrying a tray loaded with dishes to the kitchen.

  Josephine raised her plucked eyebrows. She put a striped apron over her pastel yellow cardigan and top set. She uttered no words. Not even a sigh.

  "I know, you told me so," Heather said, adding a grin. "And I'm glad you mentioned that backup option of doing in inside."

  "You’re welcome," Josephine replied and started loading the dishwasher.

  "I'll see if there's anything left outside. I'll leave the tables out there. We'll collect them tomorrow, okay?" Heather offered, grabbing a flashlight from the shelf above the stove. The sky was still painted with the colors of the sunset, but the sun had already sunk below the horizon. It would be dark under the trees.

  "Yes, no need to drag them in now. They'll be soaking wet."

  Heather crossed the deck carefully, heading for the group of trees, behind the parking lot, where they'd originally held the party. A light flickered in the distance, on the beach, where the new huts were located.

  Hadn't Frida gone that way?

  Heather swept the light over the tables. But apart from puddles of water they were empty.

  She shivered and turned, aiming to head back when another distant flicker of light caught her eye. Was it the huts again, or something on the water?

  "Just noticed a flickering light on the water. Would that be a boat? Shouldn't they all be in the harbor by now?" she asked Josephine once back inside.

  "Not if there is someone night fishing. But they usually have the light on all the time," Josephine replied, turning the dishwasher on. "Nothing left outside?" she asked, eyeing Heather's hands.

  "No," Heather replied. "Do you think the drug smugglers are back again?"

  The murder mystery Heather and Josephine helped solve a few weeks earlier uncovered an ongoing smuggling issue in town.

  "Already? I thought busting the other gang leaders would have been a good deterrent for new ones, even more as your fancy inspector lives nearby."

  Heather blushed.

  "James is not mine. But I agree. Having a local detective would be enough a deterrent," she added, changing the subject. "I'll have a look through the binoculars upstairs."

  Heather ran to her little first floor apartment. One of the bedroom windows gave onto the bay, the other - overlooked the beach, where the new huts were situated. Heather grabbed the binoculars and scanned the horizon, dimly lit by the darkening sky.

  "And?" Josephine asked, suddenly appearing at Heather's side.

  "I think there is someone by the huts," Heather replied, passing the binoculars to Josephine. "Take a look."

  Josephine peered through the instrument for a while.

  "Looks like Frida," she said. "Tall and slim. Yeah... She went down that way, didn't she?"

  "She wanted to look at the sunset and check on the huts, I think. I couldn't see the light though. Can you?"

  "Hang on," Josephine said, slowly moving the binoculars, scanning the landscape. "Oh!" she gasped and froze.

  "What?" heather asked, and her heart flipped.

  Josephine's face tensed, her lips parted.

  "What is it, Josephine?"

  Her roommate pulled the binocular away from her face. Her eyes had darkened.

  "Nothing. Just some awful people night fishing, I guess," she said coldly and handed the binocular back to Heather. "I've put the food away. I'm going to bed now. Do you need anything from me?" Josephine asked, heading for the door.

  "No, I'm fine. And thank you for all your help," Heather called after her.

  Once the hunched back disappeared from her sight, Heather grabbed the binoculars and scanned the horizon again.

  But the silhouette around the hut had gone and was nowhere to be seen. No more flickering lights pierced the darkness either.

  Or awful people night fishing.

  Heather shrugged. It was probably nothing important.

  3

  Heather woke. Something weighed heavily on her chest. The weight was shifting from left to right.

  Her face tingled.

  She opened her eyes. The room was still dark, the outside light being blocked by her new curtains. But she could sense a presence.

  And one very close to her face.

  She opened her mouth
to scream, but a timid "meow" stopped her.

  "Kitty, what are you doing here?" she asked reaching out into the darkness to where she thought the little furry ball might be.

  The cat meowed again, and Heather's hand landed on his back. She stroked the cat and gave him a scratch behind what she thought was his ears.

  "What time is it? And what are you doing here?" she whispered pulling herself up in bed.

  Her watch showed the time at 3:15 in the morning.

  "You hungry, kitty?" she asked picking the fluffy body from the covers. She heaved herself out of bed, cradling the animal gently.

  She lowered the cat to the floor and it trotted away, toward the door.

  It was a good thing she didn't close all the doors at night or the kitten couldn't have entered the house. It must have been starving.

  But why was he starving? He should have plenty of food left downstairs.

  The cat stopped and meowed again, glancing at her.

  "I'm coming, I'm coming," Heather whispered.

  Clearly, he needed to tell or show her something, but she had to keep quiet. Josephine was still asleep.

  Heather crept from her bedroom and padded down the stairs. The cat had been spending most of his time outdoors only coming inside if he was hungry. He hadn’t been inside when they closed the café after the party, so Josephine must have had her window open again.

  Maybe she’d let the cat in.

  The kitchen and the hall were quiet but not as dark as her bedroom. Heather and Josephine decided to wait to have the new windows fitted before ordering new curtains and blinds for the downstairs windows. The moon must have been full or close to full, as quite a lot of light showed through the windows.

  Heather tiptoed to the corner where they kept cat's bowls. She lifted them one by one to check the contents.

  "Look," she whispered to the cat, who was standing by her side looking at Heather expectantly. "You still have some dry food. You know that you don't get wet food until the morning."

  The cat just tilted his head looking at her in a "don't–be–ridiculous" kind of way.