Deadly Clementine

“It’s difficult when all I can think about is kissing you again,” Moss warned with an unrepentant grin.

Clementine felt her cheeks burn. She didn’t object when, once they were safely tucked away in the back garden of her home, he tugged her into his arms and indulged in a very thorough kiss. While Moss wanted the killer to see just how close his connection with Clementine was, he also wanted Clementine to know how he felt. He made no attempt to hide his need for her either physically or emotionally and was so successful that Clementine was a little breathless when he eventually lifted his head.

“What do we do now?” Clementine gasped, hoping that Moss didn’t step back and release her. Her knees shook so badly she was certain she would fall into a heap on the floor if he did.

Moss eyed the house behind them but doubted the wisdom of going inside. Clementine was far too tempting outside in the garden. In the house they were far too secluded; far too alone; and they were already tempted enough.

“Let’s take a long route around and go back to the Captain’s house as planned,” Moss whispered directly into her ear. He nuzzled into her neck as he spoke so anybody watching them would see him, an amorous suitor, nuzzling into the neck of the woman in his arms.

Clementine shivered and tipped her head toward his. “How do you know they won’t follow?”

“Because I have a few tricks we can use to make sure that we aren’t followed.” Reluctantly, Moss released her and stepped back.

As planned, he led her over to a large outbuilding at the side of the garden. He opened the door and allowed her to precede him into the building before carefully closing the door behind them. Moss studied the garden through a narrow crack in the woodwork beside the door and suspected their target was hovering in the trees on the opposite side of the garden.

“They are heading up to the top of the garden. I think they plan to circle around the garden and try to get closer to here to see what we are up to,” Moss whispered.

Clementine shivered. She was partly thrilled, partly terrified, by what they were doing. It was the most dangerous thing she had ever done, but strangely, she wouldn’t change h

er situation for the world.

“Put this cloak on.” Moss donned his own cloak while Clementine dutifully encased herself in the billowing folds of the black material Moss handed her.

“Ready,” she whispered.

Moss hustled her down the length of the narrow barn and through a small door at the end. They immediately stepped out into the field which ran alongside the garden. They then ducked low and used the hedge to shield them as they made their way around the field and on to the village. It took half an hour, but eventually Moss and Clementine slipped through a side door and into the Captain’s house.

“Are we relieved to see you,” Cameron muttered fervently.

Moss grinned. “Did you doubt us?”

“I am glad you could join us,” Mr Billsdon teased. “I was wondering if I was going to have to send my men out to fetch you.”

Moss rolled his eyes.

“Did they follow?”

Moss met the magistrate’s pointed look and shook his head. Moss had already told the man whom he believed the killer to be, but they were careful not to reveal the murderer’s identity to the others too early.

“They are on their way once their frustration builds,” Moss assured everyone.

“Right, well, I have a man over at Mr Cavanagh’s house. He is going to remain there throughout the night in case the killer returns,” Mr Billsdon informed them. “I have another couple of men here, and two more in the woods outside. Now, we sit and wait. The men have been given orders not to challenge the killer if they appear. The killer has to deliver the cake and leave unchallenged.”

“Why not just arrest him when he is delivering the cake? If it is poisoned, isn’t that enough to arrest him?” the Captain demanded.

“We want to make sure that the killer doesn’t claim there has been a miscarriage of justice or something,” Mr Billsdon explained.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I have to have something to eat,” the Captain grumbled, rubbing his empty stomach.

Moss looked at him in alarm but didn’t object. He suspected it was going to be a very long evening. Because he wanted a quiet word with his friend, Moss followed the Captain into the kitchen. They both immediately slammed to a halt when their gazes fell upon a neatly wrapped package positioned in the middle of the kitchen table.

“Well, well, well,” the Captain mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of the killer having been in the house.

“When was the last time you were in the kitchen?” Billsdon demanded.

The Captain scratched his head. “About half an hour ago.”

“Your men will have seen the killer deliver it,” Cameron whispered.