ILLUMINATION BOOK CHAPTERS (UPDATED LIST OF CHAPTERS HERE).. ROMANTIC COMEDY — QUIRKY ROMP — CO-STARS MOOCHER THE DOG

‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ — Chapter Seven

Would Liz’s waiting game reveal the criminal in their midst?

Liz shut the fridge door with more force than perhaps was necessary and stood there, still gripping the handle, the blood thundering in her ears like a train going through a tunnel.

Some time later, she realised two things. One, she needed to breathe in soon; two, her fist had seized up around the door handle. She took in a huge noisy breath and the black spots disappeared from in front of her staring eyes. That was when she discovered that they needed to blink, which they did with some effort, happily lubricating her eyeballs. She then used her left hand to lever the fingers of her right from the handle of the fridge. She stood there some more, vigorously flexing her hands, trying to restore some feeling to them.

Whoever had put a finger in her fridge had probably been whoever it was who’d left it just enough ajar to cause Lydia to ring her up at seven in the morning. Liz couldn’t decide which was worse — a severed finger in her fridge or Lydia ringing her at such a Godforsaken hour. And Liz still didn’t have her grapefruit juice. But then again, perhaps she didn’t want it any more.

Her fridge was one of the sort that didn’t shut on its own — it needed a no-nonsense push. So, whoever put the finger in the fridge was obviously unfamiliar with it. That let Melanie and Simon off. Well, it let Melanie off. Simon quite often forgot to shut the fridge properly, but the worst thing he’d ever left in the fridge was some of that bait-stuff for fishing which was pretty revolting, but not in quite the same league as a severed human finger. Nah, it couldn’t be him.

That left the new lodgers. If Liz waited, surely one of them would give themselves away. She sat down at the table.

Melanie came downstairs first, in a blindingly bright and embarrassingly short nightie. Liz leapt up and got the milk for her from the fridge. Or she thought she had. In fact, she picked up a bottle of home-made ketchup and Melanie didn’t fancy that in her tea so Liz had to try again. This time she looked at what she was doing and succeeded in getting the milk.

Melanie thanked her, but put the width of the table between them and proceeded to shoot strange glances at her. Anyone would think Liz never did anything for her lodgers. Melanie even went so far as to enquire, in a kindly tone, after her health.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Liz answered. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” Liz said. She was glad she was fine.

They ran out of conversation. She wasn’t a morning person at the best of times and, this morning, Liz was only interested in her fridge.

She got the milk on her first attempt for Simon. Liz could do it with her eyes shut by then. He also gave her a strange, hunted, look. “Have I done something? Are you still angry with me for letting Moocher out into the road?”

“No, don’t be daft!” Liz took another glance at him. He looked rough. He looked like he’d been up all night. “You all right, Simon?” He seemed more nervous than usual this morning, his head twisting around at any sound, his hands jittering in silent, jerky dance.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m just worried about what Stella’s up to…”

“Stella?”

“Yes, you know, my ex.”

“Of course I do. Sorry, Simon, my mind’s on other things at the moment. You’ve heard from Stella?”

“Yes. Another message…”

And then Liz heard it. She heard the firm tread of manly footsteps descending the stairs. “Sorry, Simon. Later…” He sat down at the table.

Tony smiled at them as he passed. He went out into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Simon and Melanie looked at her expectantly. Liz smiled at them reassuringly. It must have come out more like a pinched grimace, because it prompted Simon to whisper, “Do you want me to get the milk for him?”

“No!” Liz yelled in a whisper. Yelling in a whisper makes your throat sore she discovered. Liz held Simon’s arm down on the table. “No,” she said in a more reasonable, less damaging whisper.

Liz decided he must still be upset about Stella because he shook her hand off and went out into the garden, probably for a smoke or five.

Tony came into the breakfast room with his coffee and sat down.

Liz looked at him hopefully. “You don’t take milk?” She hadn’t noticed yesterday. She must start being more observant now she knew she lived in a world riddled with crime.

“No.”

Rats!

And then Liz heard more footsteps on the stairs. This time they were delicate, hesitant and timid. A monster arose within her and bared its teeth at her conscience. Liz could not let such a young, sweet and innocent girl see that finger. Could she? It might be her doing, that finger, mightn’t it? Liz didn’t know who, or what, she was dealing with here. She had to let her get on with it. Liz had set her trap and whoever fell in it was ‘it’. Anyway, Julie had to boil the kettle and get the doings first which would give Liz a bit more time to fight this damned inconvenient voice in her head.

Julie didn’t bother with the kettle. Oh, no — not a bit of it. She went straight to the fridge, pulled open the door, screamed so loudly it was impossible to believe it came from her tiny frame and keeled over backwards.

She hadn’t even given Liz a chance to stop her, even if she’d wanted to. Fancy her moving that fast! On her way down she narrowly missed bashing her head in on the table but, of course, Tony’s timing was perfect. He caught her in his strong arms and crushed her to his hairy chest. No, no, not exactly. To be fair, it was more like he caught a falling sack of coal and cradled it in his arms because what else could he do with it? Yeah, it was more like that.

He sat down and settled Julie comfortably on his lap as though he was used to dealing with unconscious maidens and glared at Liz.

Why her?

“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.

“I wish I knew,” Liz yelled, jumping to her feet in frustration. It would seem she needed practice at this. She’d cocked up what she thought would be a straightforward and revealing incident. Instead of which, she knew no more now than when she first saw the finger. The only person to see it was Julie. She was out cold but not necessarily because she knew anything about it. It could have been simply because she didn’t expect to see such a thing in the fridge. To be fair, there wasn’t usually a finger in the fridge. In fact, Liz couldn’t remember there ever having been one in there before.

Tony still watched her expectantly.

“There’s a severed finger in the fridge. Is it yours?” Liz demanded of him thinking she’d take him by surprise. She registered a sharp, “Oh!” from Melanie, but Liz was more interested in Tony’s reaction.

“I have all mine,” he snapped.

“Is it your doing then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous — why would I put a spare finger in the fridge? In case I forget one?”

“Very bloody funny. Not!”

“I’m not even sure I believe you,” he said frowning at her as though Liz was in the habit of making up stories about fingers in the fridge just to amuse her lodgers first thing in the morning.

Liz didn’t care whether he believed her or not. She was annoyed at the failure of her bit of detective work. Especially as she’d realised that if any of them had put it there then of course they wouldn’t go to the fridge. Or would they?

Julie by now was recovering and removed herself from Tony’s lap. She was sitting, unaided, on a chair at the table, emitting little squeaks whenever her eyes crept fridge-wards. How very feminine. Liz noticed Tony still had a hand of his over a hand of hers. Hmm, was that the way the wind blew? Not that their love life was her business, of course, but it was a bit quick. Mind you, the way Melanie was hanging off his every word, she seemed to think she was in with a chance so maybe he was still fair game.

Her mind was wandering. Liz snagged it and brought it sharply back to attention.

The telephone rang. Melanie answered it, spoke briefly and put it down. “Lydia says someone’s left the fridge door open,” she said and turned to give the obligatory wave through the window. She went through to the kitchen and Liz heard the tap run and the click of the kettle being switched on. Good idea.

She was at a loss. What to do next? What to do… She supposed the only thing was to call the police and they might be able to fingerprint the finger, or perhaps someone may have reported a missing digit.

Liz supposed one should call the police anyway if one finds a finger in one’s fridge.

Okay, she’d call the police.

Chapter Six of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ is here!

Chapter Eight of ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ is here!

All ‘White Lies and Custard Creams’ chapters to read are here.

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