Next Door to Murder (21 page)

Lindsey frowned. ‘What man? This is the first—'

‘Just listen.' Rona related her own encounters, ending with Louise's frightened phone call of the previous day.

‘And you think he mistook me for you?' Lindsey exclaimed. ‘My God! The times fit; he must have just left the Gallery when I saw him. And he knows something about your neighbours?'

‘That's what the note implies, wouldn't you say?'

‘Perhaps they're a gang of terrorists!'

‘In which case, he'd surely have gone to the police. And talking of the police, Max is going to have a word with Archie Duncan. Look, I'm probably overreacting wildly about the whole thing, and I'm only telling you so you can take avoiding action if you meet this man again.'

‘Believe me, he won't see me for dust. Take care, though, Ro; you're more in the firing line than I am.'

‘Max is coming home every night till it's sorted out.' Rona drew a deep breath. ‘Anyway, that's quite enough on the subject. Here comes our lunch. Let's enjoy it.'

Lindsey hesitated, unwilling to let the matter drop, but in view of her sister's obvious reluctance, acquiesced.

‘How's it going with the Willows?' she asked instead, as they embarked on their warm chicken salad.

‘Almost finished, actually – the research, that is. Now I have to write it up, but I can do that at home.'

‘And you get on OK with Julian and his wife?'

‘Yes; Felicity's great. She's insisted on my joining her for lunch when I'm there, which is why I repaid her by bringing her here yesterday.'

‘Well, you certainly fell on your feet, having lunch cooked for you! I should hang on in there as long as you can!'

Rona's dislike of cooking, which Lindsey, an accomplished chef, was at a loss to understand, led to frequent badinage.

Rona smiled. ‘They'd have been suspended in any case; Julian's cousin is descending on them for a few days. Actually, I shan't be sorry to miss her.'

‘Oh?'

‘I think she imposes on Felicity, who's too sweet to notice. Also ­–' Rona dropped her voice – ‘when Max and I were in London, we saw her and Julian having dinner together, and they were all over each other.'

Lindsey raised an eyebrow. ‘Not in a cousinly way?'

‘Possibly a kissing-cousinly. Felicity told me that in their teens, they'd had a boy-and-girl thing going. Tara's just ended a longish relationship – or had it ended for her – and is reportedly in need of some TLC. Which Julian seems only too ready to provide.'

She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘All of which is highly slanderous. I wouldn't have dreamed of saying it to anyone else.'

‘Fear not, talking to me is like talking to yourself. What's she like, this Tara?'

‘Chic, sophisticated, glamorous. Everything Felicity, bless her, is not.'

Lindsey ate in silence for a minute. Then she said, ‘And what's your opinion of Julian? Apart from suspecting him of adultery?'

‘Hush!' Rona looked quickly round, but to her relief no one was within earshot, and those at the nearest tables were engaged in conversations of their own.

‘He's all right; he's been very nice to me. I may be wrong, but I get the impression he's rather weak. Susceptible to flattery, perhaps.'

‘Well, sadly there's nothing you can do. Felicity will have to stand on her own two feet – sink or swim.'

Rona smiled. ‘Any more metaphors you can mix?'

‘And presumably, since you'll only be in contact with them short-term, you'll never know the outcome.'

‘I just hope there isn't one,' Rona said.

The only person Rona saw on her return to Oak Avenue was the daily help, a large, red-faced woman in an overall. They nodded to each other in the hall as Rona made her way to the lift. She worked steadily all afternoon, tidying such loose ends as she could and going through the relevant archives for what might well be the final time.

When she left at five thirty, she removed her teabags from the little kitchen and her bottle of milk from the fridge, unsure when or if she'd be back. She'd enjoyed working here, even without Felicity's friendship, and no one had disturbed her. That wasn't always the case at home, where her phone rang frequently and people came to the door. And as the thought entered her head, she wondered if the note had been left only because its author had received no answer to his knock. Lindsey's experience seemed to indicate he was anxious to speak to her. He might well be back.

Louise did not, as Rona had half-expected, come to meet her again when she reached home. Though relieved, she would have welcomed the assurance that there'd been no further sighting. Still, they had each other's phone numbers now, and if she was worried, Louise would no doubt contact her.

It was Wednesday, so Max would in any case have been coming home after his afternoon classes. He usually arrived about seven, and Rona, temporarily denied access to the sitting room window, awaited his return with impatience. She no longer felt at ease when alone in the house, and bitterly resented it.

But no one either phoned or came knocking at the door, and Max's return brought an easing of tension. She greeted him in the hall, and they went down to the kitchen.

‘Nothing further to report?' he asked, emptying the ingredients for their meal out of a succession of carrier bags.

‘No, thank heaven. I met Linz for lunch, and put her in the picture, in case he approaches her again.'

‘And no further word from next door?'

‘No.'

‘Well, I spoke to Archie, but as I suspected, he didn't think there's much in it. He says the most likely thing is that this guy has a grudge against the Franks, and is out to make trouble for them. Apparently that's quite common, and without anything criminal occurring, it's hard for him to get involved.'

‘Oh, fine. So he'd rather we were banged on the head or something?'

Max leant over and kissed her lightly. ‘Let's try to keep this in perspective,' he said. ‘Discussing it with Archie made me feel a lot easier. As he pointed out, if this bloke had contacted you in Yorkshire, you'd have been glad to hear from him. You were, after all,
asking
for information about these people.'

‘It was you who told me under no circumstances to call him,' Rona pointed out indignantly.

‘I know; I overreacted, too. But looked at objectively, it's because he's down here rather than up there that you were spooked.'

‘That, and the fact that he's been following me, and Lindsey, thinking she's me. Not to mention Louise.'

‘But has he? We don't know for a fact that the man you saw is the same one that Louise – or Lindsey, for that matter – came across. They could be three separate people.'

‘Too much of a coincidence,' Rona said shortly.

‘Possibly. But even if he's the same guy, he's not done anything
wrong
.'

‘Well, I just wish he'd go and not do anything wrong somewhere else,' she said.

When Max left after breakfast, Rona seriously considered going to Oak Avenue, if only to get out of the house. But that, she felt, would be giving in to paranoia.

Halfway through the morning, she almost changed her mind. When the phone rang, she was totally focussed on John Willow and his slow but steady rise from barrow-boy to office boy, to manager, to shop-owner. Could such a thing happen nowadays, she wondered, with the present emphasis on qualifications and training?

She reached for the phone and tucked it between her ear and shoulder, eyes still on the computer screen. ‘Hello?'

‘Is that Rona Parish?'

The present and its perceived perils rushed back into her consciousness. It was a man's voice, and one she didn't recognize.

‘Who's speaking?' she asked sharply.

‘You don't know me, but I must speak to you. It's very important.'

‘Was it you who left the note?' she interrupted.

‘Yes; I apologize for not signing it, but my name wouldn't have meant anything, and I'd much prefer to explain in person.'

‘I'm sorry, I have nothing to say to you, and I'd be grateful if you didn't contact me again.'

‘But it really is—'

Rona dropped the phone back on its cradle and sat staring at it, willing it not to ring again. It didn't, and after a minute she dialled 1471. As she'd expected, the number given was the same as that on the note. As the trembling set in, she called Max.

‘He's been on the phone,' she said without preamble.

Max swore. ‘What did he want?'

‘To speak to me, about something very important.'

‘You didn't agree to meet him?'

‘Of course I didn't. I told him not to contact me again.' She paused. ‘Do you still think I'm making too much of this?'

‘What did he sound like?'

She thought back. ‘It was quite an educated voice.'

‘I meant, did he seem – disturbed in any way? Another of Archie's suggestions was that he might be a fan, of either your books or articles. They sometimes get obsessive, and stalk the people they admire.'

‘Archie's full of bright ideas, isn't he?' Her voice shook slightly. ‘Do you think he'll come here again?'

‘No, I don't. He'll have got the message now, and will probably try to enlist someone else.' Max hesitated. ‘Do you want me to come back?'

She knew he didn't want to, that he'd been looking forward to a day's productive painting before his evening class.

‘No, I'm OK. I won't open the door, and I'll let the answerphone take any more calls. If I'd been thinking clearly, I'd have done it this time.'

‘Good girl.' He sounded relieved. ‘Let me know if there are any problems, and failing that, I'll see you about ten.'

‘See you,' she repeated, and rang off. But John Willow had lost his fascination, and it was some time before she could dig herself back into the article.

The rest of the day passed without incident. The phone didn't ring again, and no one came to the door. Rona forced herself to concentrate on her work, and by the end of the afternoon, was quite pleased with what she'd achieved.

She went downstairs, made a cup of tea, and settled in the sitting room – away from the windows – with a library book. At seven, she phoned for a take-away from a firm she frequently used, and checked through the spy-hole that it was the usual delivery boy. She ate her meal at the kitchen table – blind across the window – then returned upstairs to watch television. Only a couple of hours till Max came home.

Then, at nine forty-five, as she was beginning to expect him, the phone did ring. She went into the hall and waited for the answerphone to cut in. Max's voice reached her.

‘Pick up, darling, it's me. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be late. One of the students is having trouble with her car; she can't get it to start, and nor, for that matter, can I. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's raining heavily and she lives out at Shellswick. Everyone else has gone, so I've no option but to run her home.'

‘Oh, Max!' Rona glanced at her watch. ‘That's a good twenty-minute drive each way!'

‘I know, love, and I'm very sorry. You go to bed. I'll give you a ring when I'm on the way back. On your mobile, so you'll know it's me. See you soon.'

Dejectedly, Rona returned to the sitting room, only half-concentrating on the end of the programme she'd been watching. She then sat through the whole of the news, and at ten thirty took Gus down to the kitchen and gave him his bedtime biscuits. Without television to mask the sound, the rain now impinged on her consciousness. It was sluicing down the glass door and bouncing off the patio outside. Not a good night to be driving down narrow country lanes, she thought with a shiver.

She watched Gus finish his biscuits and contentedly climb into his basket, taking his usual time to settle himself. Then she switched off the light and went upstairs, collecting her library book from the sitting room en route. She'd follow Max's suggestion about going to bed, but she wouldn't sleep until he was home.

The bedroom curtains were blowing out through the open window, and Rona pulled them back inside. They were soaking wet, and she had a surge of longing for Greece. If only they were still there, making love in the warm, still nights with the cicadas on the veranda outside. In Greece, there had been no disturbed people who'd lost their memory and possibly their identity, no silent strangers staring in out of the darkness.

Rona pulled her T-shirt over her head and was reaching for her nightdress when the bedside phone rang. A shaft of hope went through her. Max, on his way home already? Then, with a clutch of fear, she realized it was the landline, and he'd promised to call her mobile.

Bare-footed and heart pounding, she raced down two flights of stairs to the kitchen, crossed the room in the semi-darkness, and reached the answerphone as it kicked in. In the still room, Felicity's urgent voice sounded unnaturally loud.

‘Rona? Oh, please, please be there!'

Rona caught up the phone. ‘I'm here, Felicity. Whatever's the matter?'

‘Oh, thank God!' It came on a sob. ‘It's Julian; he's been in an accident. He's seriously hurt, and my car's being serviced. I know it's a huge thing to ask, but could you take me to him?'

Rona glanced at the streaming rain outside. ‘Where is he?' In Marsborough, please God; though if he were at the Royal County, Felicity could have run there in ten minutes.

‘That's what I don't understand; he's at the Princess Royal, in Farnbridge.'

‘
Farnbridge?
' It was at least twenty miles away.

‘I know; I'm dreadfully sorry. I – I can give you directions.'

‘I know the way,' Rona said slowly. ‘I went to university there.'

‘That's a relief. Rona, I know it's late and everything, and I hate having to ask you, but – but he could die!'