I climbed back down and opened it. Then I let out a little shriek. Something had just scurried across my hand. A mouse. A tiny field mouse. I snapped the bag closed and hurried back towards the caravan, examining my new find on the way. There was a tear in the side, but other than that the bag seemed to be in pretty good condition. It was filthy and smelly though, so I couldn’t take it into the caravan. I decided to stash it in the hedge, as Mum probably wouldn’t come across it there. But first I sat down on the grass and opened it up.
Inside were four things: a black wallet, a packet of violin strings, a lipstick and a blue woolly hat. I took the lid off the lipstick. It was a bright red colour, half used. The hat was frayed at the bottom. The packet of violin strings was unopened and the price sticker was still on it – £12.50. I unzipped the wallet. There was just one thing in it – a small piece of paper that looked like it might have been a receipt, but the writing on it was too faded to make out. There were no cards, no photographs, no money. This was disappointing, but even without proof I knew who the bag belonged to. I could hardly believe it. I could hardly believe what I’d found.
Miss Jane had a bag
And a mouse was in it.
She opened the bag;
He was out in a minute.
Chapter 14
You notice different things when you get up early. I noticed how Des Butler locked his front door from the outside and double-checked that his sitting-room window was shut before getting into his van. I noticed that Mary Reynolds arrived at her shop at eight o’clock, even though she didn’t open its doors until nine, and I noticed that Patrick Smyth kissed Brigid on the cheek, at the door of the guesthouse, before getting into his car and driving to work. From my position on the bench in the communal garden I could easily view the morning activities on the main street. I enjoyed observing the world, just watching what everybody was doing, without being part of it. It felt nice to be on the outskirts, to be invisible. I wondered if spirits liked doing that. Being able to go through the world unwatched, nobody knowing they were there. Well, apart from a few. People like Ger. People like me.
I loved the garden. I’d decided it was probably one of my favourite spots in Avarna. I felt a sense of security here that I didn’t get anywhere else. And in the early mornings it seemed there was never anybody there. I could happily stay for ages. Relaxing. Watching.
The river glittered in the sunlight. It was beautiful from a distance but when I walked over and looked more closely I could see that the riverbed was a chaotic mixture of rock and stone, in grimy shades of brown, the outer beauty hiding a dark imperfect base. I picked up a flat stone and skimmed it into the water. It bounced along, sending soft waves rippling across the surface. I repeated this over and over again, then bent down and slid the tips of my fingers through the water. The riverbed seemed closer than it actually was. Just like Jane. Yesterday I had grown so sure that I could help her, but the more I thought about it the more I realized how little I knew. All morning I had been reanalyzing my dreams, reliving the attack and trying to identify any other signs she might have given me. The clues swirled around in my head, occasionally slotting together, but still not making an awful lot of sense.
Then I had an idea. I would write down what I knew so far. I took out my hardback notebook and flicked through the pages of lyrics until I found a blank space. I jotted down the few clues I had.
JANE
Attacked?
Murdered?
Connection with Beth? Murdered by the same person?
Leather bag
Bag contained: violin strings, purse, red lipstick and hat.
Sighted in: the forest
The Cupcake Café
When I wrote the clues down it didn’t look as if there were very many at all. Ger said that there might be a link between the places that Jane appeared, but I couldn’t think of any link between the dark forest and the cute Cupcake Café. I didn’t like how there was no single way to solve this. I was used to problems that had a clear formula, a right and wrong answer. I could work out most maths problems in seconds, but I couldn’t even seem to get started on this one. I had the bag, but it hadn’t really offered me any new information. I was pretty sure the bag was vintage, so that would suggest that Jane was murdered some time ago. But I couldn’t be certain. I don’t know why but I also thought that the same person who killed Beth might have killed Jane too. But I knew from my Internet research, and from talking to Colin, that nobody seemed to know who had killed Beth. Maybe her killer was still in Avarna. Still walking around. That thought scared me a little, but it also gave me hope. If the killer was still here, then I had a better chance of finding them. I wondered what Jane had been like. What she’d looked like, what she’d liked to do. I wondered if she’d ever been in this garden, ever sat on this bench.
The gate creaked, bringing my thoughts back to the present. Colin came into the garden, carrying a bin bag and a rubbish picker. He didn’t notice me sitting there. I watched as he picked up cigarette butts from the water’s edge.
‘Hi,’ I said.
He looked over, surprised to see me. ‘What are you doing up so early?’ he asked, coming over and sitting beside me on the bench.
‘Nothing really.’ I closed my notebook and dropped it into my lap. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I told Mary I’d pick up any rubbish lying around here. She wants it looking spotless for the fête on Sunday. Nick was meant to do it for her, but he’s at home sick. She was already stressing about the broken freezer in her shop so I decided to help her out.’
‘What’s wrong with Nick?’ It hurt to say his name, but I wanted to make sure he was OK.
‘Well, supposedly he has a migraine, but I bet he just fancied a lie-in. He was well able to go to the gig in Sligo with us last night. You should have come – it was deadly.’
‘I had something on… So you’re talking to Nick then? I was worried that maybe I’d caused trouble between you two.’ I hoped that what had happened didn’t come between them.
‘I’m talking to him, but he’s still pretty mad at me for almost breaking his nose with the door. He’ll get over it.’
‘Did he say anything about me?’ I was aware I sounded kind of desperate, but I wanted to know.
‘Em… no, not really.’ Colin looked down at his shoes. He was a terrible liar.
‘So he hates me?’
‘Maybe just give him some space for a while. I know he didn’t do anything to hurt you, but… what got into you anyway?’
‘I just… I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘Ooh, your songs!’ said Colin, seeing ‘Jacki’s Lyrics’ printed on the front of my notebook. He picked it up. ‘Can I read them?’ he asked, having already opened it. To my horror he was looking at my most recent entry.
‘No, give it back.’ I couldn’t let him see it.
I went to grab the notebook, but Colin stood up and stepped backwards, pulling it out of my reach.
‘Colin, please just give it back to me.’
‘What is this?’
‘Nothing just -’
He scanned down the page, his eyes widening. I tried to wrestle it from him, but it was already too late.
‘Jacki, what’s going on? Why do your lyrics look like a detective’s notes?’
‘I can’t tell you. Just please give it back.’
‘Why can’t you tell me?’ said Colin. ‘We’re mates.’