Expiry Date Read online

  Praise for The Ant & Bea Mysteries

  ‘Bea and Ant are a delightful crime-solving duo and I’ll very happily join them again for another clean-up in a Costsave aisle.’

  Crime Review

  ‘Ant and Bea are fabulous creations and I really felt part of the Costsave community by the end. I can’t wait to see what they get up to next!’

  SOPHIA BENNETT

  ‘This odd, appealing pair prove a formidable match for the surprising killer. Readers will look forward to their next outing.’

  Publishers Weekly

  ‘I love spending time with Bea and Ant! A simply delightful crime-cracking duo.’

  CHRISTI DAUGHERTY

  ‘Rachel Ward provides warm characterisations, convincing dialogue, deliciously awkward romantic liaisons, a wicked wit to make you giggle and a plot to keep you guessing all the way to the check-out. It’s a treat!’

  Bradford on Avon Mini Book Festival

  ‘I absolutely loved The Cost of Living. Crime just where you least expect it, and one of my favourite ensemble casts.’

  K.J. WHITTAKER

  ‘Starring the most unlikely but endearing detective pairing since Morse and Lewis, Dead Stock is a charming, heartwarming page-turner. Agatha Christie meets Car Share and Coronation Street.’

  JOANNA NADIN

  ‘Unlikely friendships and quirky wit make The Cost of Living the most warm-hearted of crime debuts.’

  LUCY DIAMOND

  ‘Heart-warming, intriguing and character-led, this is just the right kind of crime book to curl up with in front of the fire.’

  PHILIP ARDAGH

  ‘Rachel Ward’s The Cost of Living flies into my top five reads list of 2018. It has everything you could want: great plot with versatile and interesting characters and real heart at its core.’

  Love Books Group

  ‘I absolutely adore this series.’

  Between the Pages

  ‘The thread of darkness and the engaging characters coupled with the plausible setting makes it more than just a cosy crime story.’

  Mary, Live and Deadly

  ‘I thoroughly enjoyed spending my weekend with Ant and Bea and can’t wait to read about their next adventure!’

  Portobello Book Blog

  ‘I’m not sure I can recommend the Ant and Bea mysteries highly enough.’

  SARAH WITHERS

  Rachel Ward is a best-selling writer for young adults. An avid reader of detective fiction, The Ant & Bea Mysteries is her first crime series for adults. Rachel is married with two grown-up children, and lives in Bath.

  Also by Rachel Ward

  The Cost of Living

  Dead Stock

  First published in Great Britain by

  Sandstone Press Ltd

  Willow House

  Stoneyfield Business Park

  Inverness

  IV2 7PA

  Scotland

  www.sandstonepress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Copyright © Rachel Ward 2020

  Editor: K.A. Farrell

  The moral right of Rachel Ward to be recognised as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  ISBN: 978-1-912240-98-2

  ISBNe: 978-1-912240-99-9

  Cover design by David Wardle at Bold and Noble

  Ebook compilation by Iolaire, Newtonmore

  There’s a lot in this book about dads, so this is dedicated to Ozzy, who has been the best dad ever to Ali and Pete. It’s also for my mum, Shirley, who continues to support, encourage and inspire.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  30.

  31.

  32.

  33.

  34.

  35.

  36.

  37.

  38.

  39.

  40.

  41.

  42.

  43.

  44.

  45.

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  She’d planned for this. Knew just what she needed to take, where to go, so that she’d be ready when the time came.

  It wasn’t what she wanted. She never thought things would turn out like this, but not everything can be fixed. Sometimes you just have to get out to keep yourself safe. Walk away and don’t look back.

  There was a noise outside, a car door slamming. She froze. Surely he wasn’t back yet? Her mouth was dry, her heart hammering away in her chest as she listened. There were footsteps on the gravel drive. Someone was walking up to the front door. No, she thought, please God, no.

  Not now.

  1

  ‘It’s meant to be summer, isn’t it?’ said Ant, glumly, looking at the pattern of muddy footprints leading from the front entrance to the ‘Lunchtime Meal Deal’ cabinet where a cluster of men in high-visibility jackets and heavy work boots were making their selections. ‘I mean, can’t they wipe their bloody feet?’

  ‘Don’t think we’re getting summer this year,’ said Bea. ‘Or rather, we’ve had it. Those few nice days in May. Reckon that was it. No suntan for me.’ She sighed, remembering the most recent photo Jay had sent her – a selfie on a beach in Thailand, with the sun setting behind him, its golden rays glinting on the glass bottle of beer he was raising to his lips. Wish you were here, his message had said. Yeah, she thought, watching the rain splatter against the floor-to-ceiling window of Costsave’s shopfront, I wish I was, too.

  ‘You’d better fetch your mop before you get it in the neck from Neville,’ said Dot. ‘Oh, talk of the devil—’

  Neville was stalking over towards them, clutching his clipboard. ‘Anthony—’ he said, but Ant was there before him.

  ‘I know, I know. The floor. I’m going.’

  They all watched him slouch away towards the back of the store where the cleaning trolley was kept.

  ‘He’s doing his best, Neville,’ said Bea. ‘You got to admit, it’s not easy with building works here, there and everywhere and blokes trailing mud into the shop.’

  ‘I’m not saying conditions here aren’t challenging, while the drains are replaced, but it’s important to keep on top of things, Beatrice. Keep the mess to a minimum for our customers. They’re the ones that matter, after all.’

  ‘It’s not just here, though, is it? They’re digging up the High Street for some reason, and there’s the second phase of the factory flats under way. Kingsleigh’s just one big building site at the moment.’

  ‘You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,’ said Neville, somewhat gnomically.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Costsave needs its new drains. The town needs improving. A bit of disruption will be worth it in the end.’ He set off back to the customer service desk.

  ‘I suppose he’s right,’ said Dot. ‘It’s nice to see things happening in the town. It’s needed a facelift for a while. And more housing.’

  ‘We haven’t got a housing problem, according to this week’s Bugle,’ said Bea. ‘Did you read what our town council leader s
aid? “We’re lucky that we don’t see homelessness in Kingsleigh.”’

  ‘Huh,’ said Ant, who was trundling the cleaning trolley slowly past the checkouts, ‘what he means is he doesn’t have to step over anyone on his way home from the pub. No one’s kipping in shop doorways. He doesn’t see it, because it’s hidden.’

  ‘How are you getting on at Nat’s house?’ said Dot. Ant had moved in with his brother Stevo’s girlfriend’s family when his mum had swapped her council house in Kingsleigh for one in Cardiff a few months before.

  Ant pulled a face. ‘I’m not there anymore,’ he said. ‘Got a bit crowded. Shame, ’cos her mum’s a bloody brilliant cook.’

  ‘Where are you now, then?’

  ‘Saggy’s.’

  ‘Oh blimey,’ said Bea.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Ant, although the flatness of his monotone suggested otherwise. There were thunderclouds gathering above the customer service desk. ‘I’d better get on, before Nev blows a gasket.’

  Bea and Dot both had customers approaching. They swivelled back into position, ready for action. Dot had a gaggle of builders clutching their meal deals. Bea groaned silently inside when she saw who hers was. A good-looking man in a shiny suit would normally be a bonus, but not this one. This was Dave, the abusive husband of one of her favourite customers, Julie. He was a surveyor for the contractor digging out Costsave’s drains, so he’d been in and out of the store more often than usual over the past few weeks, and he always seemed to make a beeline for checkout number six.

  ‘Hello, Bea,’ he said, sliding a packet of beef and horseradish sandwiches towards her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, beeping his shopping through as quickly as she could, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘What about this weather, eh? Still, seeing you brightens up my day.’

  Bea cringed. ‘That’s three, ninety-nine, please.’

  He held his debit card near the contactless reader and Bea was reminded how Julie didn’t seem to have a card of her own. She always paid in cash, spending the housekeeping that she was allowed that week, Bea supposed.

  ‘Do you need a receipt?’

  Her eyes met his briefly. He seemed to be amused at her stonewalling. There was a flicker of a smile at the edge of his mouth. ‘No, no need, darlin’. See you soon.’

  Bea shuddered as he walked away. That was one big disadvantage to working on the checkouts. You were a sitting duck. People knew where to find you.

  ‘Once a creep, always a creep,’ said Dot, who’d been listening with one ear as she served her builders.

  ‘Tell me about it. He doesn’t get the hint, does he? And he’s always bloody here these days,’ said Bea. ‘Tell you who I haven’t seen for ages, though. Julie and the kids.’

  ‘That’s odd. They’re normally in most days, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, and she usually comes and sees me. Now I think about it, it must be a couple of weeks or more since I saw them.’ Dave had left the store now. Bea could see him walking across the car park in the rain. ‘It’s like they’ve disappeared off the face of the earth.’

  2

  ‘Ooh, don’t mind if I do.’ Bea’s mum, Queenie, took an amuse bouche from a passing tray. It was a curl of smoked salmon sitting on a mini-pancake, with a wisp of dill on top. Bea watched as she picked off the dill and ate the rest.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’ she asked, nodding at the greenery.

  Queenie looked around for somewhere to put it.

  ‘Give it here.’ Bea put it in her mouth and gave an experimental chew, then swallowed it down.

  ‘Nice?’ said Queenie.

  ‘Not particularly. Perhaps it needed the salmon to go with it. Anyway, I preferred those teeny burgers. They were yum. Can you see any more?’

  ‘No,’ said Dot, who was standing with them, ‘but I think Bob’s got hold of something. He’s over there, look.’

  Bea scanned the room. It was huge, with a bar at one end and big windows along one side overlooking acres of sports fields and the river beyond. Just in view were the hoardings marking the edge of the next phase of building at the former factory site. From here on the first floor, she could see over the top, where building work was carrying on, even at six o’clock in the evening, with two diggers scooping out the footings for the next tranche of housing. Costsave’s drains might be important to the people who worked there, but the factory redevelopment was at the heart of the supposed revival of the town.

  The room was packed with people in smarter than usual clothes, standing in groups, making small, but very noisy, talk. Bea spotted Eileen and Dean in one corner. Although peace had broken out between her and Dean, Eileen was still very prickly, and, Bea found, best avoided. Dave was there, too, in a cluster of people including a man in a lounge suit with a shiny gold mayoral-style chain round his neck. Ugh, thought Bea, so many people to avoid. Safer to stay in this corner. She saw Bob, making his way through the crowd. He had a tray in one hand and was lifting it over the top of people’s heads as he manoeuvred his substantial bulk through.

  ‘Great to see you here, Maggie,’ he said when he reached them. Bea still winced to hear him use her mum’s real name. ‘And you, Dot, of course.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Queenie. She was getting out and about more these days, and even worked two days a week in the launderette, but this was the first time she’d been in a crowded room like this. Bea gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. ‘I couldn’t turn down the chance to come and have a look at the new club.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a bit nice, isn’t it? A step up from the old social club,’ said Bob. He lowered the tray, revealing ranks of mini-sausages, lined up like soldiers ready for inspection. He held the platter out towards Queenie and Dot. ‘Sausage, ladies?’

  ‘No thanks,’ they said in unison, then caught each other’s eye. Dot winked, and Queenie nodded and smiled back. Ever since they had worked out that Bob was trying to romance them at the same time, they had both kept him at arm’s length.

  ‘Like that, is it?’ he said, colouring up just a little. He popped a sausage into his mouth and looked morosely out of the window.

  Ant wriggled into a space next to Bea, then reached across her to grab a handful of sausages from Bob’s tray.

  ‘Oi!’ Bob protested. ‘Get off me sausages. What are you doing here, anyway? Your family never worked here, did they?’

  ‘So what?’ said Ant. ‘Free country, innit? Anyway, I’m Bea’s plus one tonight, aren’t I?’

  ‘Um, yes. Yes, he is,’ said Bea, improvising. ‘I asked Ant because I thought he might like to see the new gym and stuff here.’

  ‘Hmph.’ Bob went back to looking out of the window.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ said Ant.

  ‘Mum and Dot just owned him.’

  Ant grinned. Waiters were moving through the crowd now with trays of thin glasses each containing an inch or so of something fizzy. Ant wolfed his sausages down and picked up two glasses from a passing tray.

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing one each to Queenie and Dot, then he grabbed two more and gave one to Bea. He sniffed his glass and took a swig, downing the whole contents of his glass in one gulp.

  ‘Steady, mate,’ said Bea. ‘You’re meant to keep this for the toast. Look, they’re getting ready to do speeches and stuff.’

  ‘Damn. I’ll grab a couple more.’ Ant dived into the crowd, in the waiter’s wake. He returned with one glass for him and one for Bob. Bob was staring out of the window, and Dot had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention and pass him his fizz.

  ‘There’s something going on out there,’ he said. ‘They’ve stopped work on the site.’

  ‘Well, it is getting late,’ said Bea. ‘I expect it’s just knocking-off time.’

  ‘No, I think it’s more than that. I—’

  Someone had set up a microphone stand on some staging blocks at the far end of the room and now a tall man, with a dome of balding head glistening with sweat, tapped it, sending
an unpleasant knocking sound booming out of the speaker near to Bea’s ear.

  ‘Okay, okay. Evening, ladies and gentlemen. Evening. Settle down, please.’ The room started to hush and everyone turned to face the speaker. ‘Welcome, everyone, to the new Factory Quarter Sports and Social Club. Some of you know me – I’m Pete Banner, the manager here. We were all sad to say goodbye to the old club, but I think you’ll agree that we’ve got a fantastic new facility for the whole community. I’m delighted to welcome our very special guest, Malcolm Sillitoe, the chair of the town council, who will officially declare us open. Malcolm?’

  He stood aside from the microphone and moved backwards, slightly bowing as he went and sweeping his arm round to invite Sillitoe to step forward. Ant leaned sideways towards Bea and muttered, ‘If he stoops a bit lower, he’ll actually be able to get his tongue up our Malcolm’s arse.’

  Bea batted Ant’s arm – ‘Shush, Ant. Stop it’ – but she couldn’t help smiling. Sillitoe took a moment to look around the room, smiling and nodding at people he knew. As he launched into his speech, Bea’s heart sank. He had all the smug hallmarks of someone who enjoyed the sound of their own voice very much indeed. She turned her gaze towards the window as his voice drifted over her.

  ‘ . . .rich heritage . . .moving forward . . .quality housing . . .’

  Bea shuffled closer to the window. Bob was right. There was something going on out there. All workers in their bright jackets and hard hats were clustered round one of the diggers.

  ‘ . . .dynamic town with a bright future ahead . . .’

  Ant pulled at Bea’s sleeve. ‘Look, Bea.’