A Nosey Parker Cozy Mystery. Fiona Leitch

      ‘Hmm,’ I said non-committally, sipping at my drink.

      ‘You don’t like my wife-to-be much, do you?’ he said.

      ‘I hardly know her.’ I was painfully aware that was the exact thing I’d said to Mel. He laughed.

      ‘That’s not a no, is it?’ He stared out of the window for a moment then turned back to me. ‘I know Cheryl can be a bit…’ What? A bit of a fricking nightmare? ‘A bit high maintenance. But she’s not had an easy life.’

      I thought about the things I’d gone through over the last few years.

      ‘Lots of us have had a hard life—’ I started.

      ‘She lost her parents when she was fifteen.’ Oh crap. ‘That’s how she ended up with her uncle. I don’t know what her parents were like – they didn’t live round here – but her uncle and his lot…’ Tony shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘They’re not very nice people. So cut her some slack, yeah?’ He touched me gently on the arm. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Jodie. I’d really like you and Cheryl to be friends. Will you try?’

      ‘Of course,’ I said. And I meant it, for him.

      I finished my drink and left the bar. Should I go up and talk to Cheryl? Part of me wanted nothing more than to just go home and relieve my mum of her babysitting duties – Daisy liked to think she was a grown-up, but she was still only twelve – but the concerned (or nosey) part of me thought that maybe I should pop up and check on her.

      I stood outside her room, hesitating. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb her if she wanted an early night. But I could hear movement – a lot of movement – from the other side of the door. So I knocked.

      There was silence. To my mind it was a guilty silence – like someone had been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Don’t ask me how a silence can be guilty, but it can. I just have this instinct…

      Just as I was becoming convinced she wouldn’t answer the door, she did, opening it a crack. She had a smile on her face which dropped as soon as she saw me.

      ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.

      ‘Just checking that you’re all right after that little incident earlier,’ I said sweetly. I can do sweet.

      ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Through the crack in the door I could see a suitcase on the bed with a mess of clothes half in and half out.

      ‘Getting everything ready for your big day?’ I said. ‘Packing for the honeymoon?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said, attempting to close the door a little tighter. I had a horrible feeling that packing wasn’t what she was doing.

      ‘Look, we may have got off on the wrong foot,’ I said. ‘If you want to talk—’

      ‘Not really.’

      ‘Okay.’ I was relieved. ‘Tony’s a really good guy, you know. He deserves to be happy.’

      Her face dropped. Uh oh.

      ‘I know he does.’

      ‘So if you’ve got any doubts…’

      She looked at me for a few seconds, then plastered on a fake smile.

      ‘No doubts at all,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your concern.’ And with that she shut the door in my face.

      I went home and went to bed, first looking in on Daisy, who had given up waiting up for me and gone to bed, and on my mum, who was staying in the spare room. I’d mentioned her moving in with us permanently as she was getting on a bit and I worried about her being on her own (especially since she’d been diagnosed with angina a few months ago, which had helped persuade me now was a good time to move back), but she’d been almost indecently hasty to reject that idea, saying that she valued her privacy and she could hardly bring a man home if her daughter and granddaughter were there.

      I turned the light off and stared at the ceiling before finally falling into a restless sleep. My dreams were filled with 80s hairstyles, rugby tackles, and dickheads in Ralph Lauren, and somewhere in the middle of it Tony saying he’d deliver the sofa tomorrow. Except of course he wouldn’t because it already had pride of place in my living room and tomorrow was his wedding day.

      I woke the next morning and saw the text from the groom, and in my sleep-fuddled state I thought, He’s arranging a time to deliver the sofa.

      When I opened it, I was unsurprised to read that the bride had disappeared.