Next Door to Murder (28 page)

‘No, thanks, I've just had some. The reason I called – apart from bringing the flowers – was that I felt you deserved an explanation. About how Julian came to be in Farnbridge.'

‘It's really none of my business.'

‘It was good of you to be so discreet about it; not everyone would have been.' Felicity looked down at her hands. ‘You were right in thinking Tara wanted him to partner her at the dinner. And he
had
spent the day in London, as he said, but instead of staying the night there, he caught the train to Farnbridge, and Tara met him at the station.'

Rona said carefully, ‘I thought there'd be a simple explan-ation.'

‘Not all that simple. I wasn't born yesterday, Rona, and nor were you. They
have
been seeing each other; Julian was sympathetic over the break-up, and – his sympathy went too far. He bitterly regrets it now. I wanted you to know the facts, so that you wouldn't be left wondering.'

‘Thank you, but really—'

‘The accident's being investigated, of course, so things will be a bit strained for a while, but once that's all over, we'll put the whole thing behind us.'

‘And – Tara?'

‘Has been discharged, and is being looked after by her mother.' Felicity gave her a bright smile. ‘So, enough of all that. How's the article coming along?'

‘It's almost finished. I need to check a couple of things, so if it's not inconvenient, I'll pop back later in the week.'

‘And stay for lunch?' Felicity asked with a smile.

‘Strictly sandwiches. You have enough on your plate.'

‘You could be right; Graham and Erika are staying on for a while. But we will still be friends, won't we, Rona? When the article's finished and everything?'

‘Of course we will. Another lunch at the Bacchus, perhaps?'

‘I'll look forward to it.' She rose to her feet. ‘I must be getting back; Minty needs collecting from a birthday party, and Robin's due to play cricket. I'll see you later in the week, then? We can at least have a cup of coffee.'

‘That would be good.' Rona saw her to the door.

‘And I do hope they find your friend safe and sound,' Felicity added.

‘So do I,' Rona said. ‘Oh, so do I.'

‘Avril? It's Guy.'

Avril's heart gave a little jerk. ‘Guy! How nice to hear from you.'

‘How are things? Nice and peaceful, now my daughter's out of the way?'

‘I wouldn't exactly say that.'

Something in her voice must have alerted him, because he said quickly, ‘There's nothing wrong, is there?'

‘Well, I suppose you've heard of the double murder that's in all the papers?'

‘Yes? But it's nowhere near you, surely?'

‘They lived next door to Rona. And it was she and her husband who found them.'

‘Not again!' Guy exclaimed. When Sarah had first arrived, Avril had felt bound to tell him of Rona's involvement in the Curzon case.

‘My own feelings exactly.'

‘I'm so sorry, Avril. I'd have rung sooner, if I'd had any idea.'

‘That's kind of you, but there's nothing anyone can do. How's Sarah?'

‘Well, that's partly the reason for this call. She's gone off to France with Clive at a moment's notice. Which means she won't be coming to the theatre with me on Friday, as planned.'

Avril waited, hope stirring inside her.

Guy gave a little laugh. ‘You'll think I make a habit of making use of you when my daughter lets me down, but I was wondering if you'd care to come with me? It's the modern-dress production of
The Merchant of Venice
. It's had rave reviews, and I remembered we discussed Shakespeare in modern dress at the pub that evening.'

‘It's – good of you to think of me,' she said. ‘When did you say this is?'

‘This coming Friday, the seventeenth. Are you free?'

‘I'm almost sure I am. That would be lovely, Guy.'

‘Excellent. Now all that remains is to fix the mode of transport. I'm not too keen on driving down; would you mind going by train?'

‘Of course not. And meet you at the theatre?'

‘Good Lord, no! I'll drive over to collect you, and leave the car at Marsborough station.'

‘That's fine going down, but it will be nearly midnight before we get back, and you'd still have the drive to Stokely.'

‘Don't worry about that; I'm quite a night bird.'

‘Wouldn't it be more sensible if you stayed overnight? You could have Sarah's room.'

She stopped short, heat washing over her. ‘That is,' she stammered, ‘I didn't mean—'

God, she was making it worse!

Guy said quickly, ‘That's a very kind thought, but I wouldn't want to put you out.'

Though she desperately wanted to back-pedal, she couldn't in all conscience leave the invitation hanging. ‘It would be no trouble,' she said, ‘but of course, if you'd rather—'

‘Avril.' His voice was gentle. ‘Please don't be embarrassed. I know exactly what you meant, and as I said, it's a very kind thought. Provided you're sure it wouldn't make too much work for you, I'd be delighted to stay.'

She drew a long, tremulous breath. ‘That's fine, then. I'll see you on Friday.'

‘I'll check the train times, but to be on the safe side, I'd better collect you at five. If we're too early, we can always have a drink before the show. And in the meantime, I'm sure you needn't worry about Rona; she seems a very capable young woman.'

Avril put the phone down with a rush of conflicting emotions. Only a couple of days ago, she'd been regretting the loss of a kind and considerate man like Tom. Possibly – just possibly – she'd found herself another.

Fifteen

L
indsey's call had been ecstatic. Seeing Max's long-suffering expression, Rona had taken the phone to the privacy of the hall, and sat on the stairs while her sister repeated, almost verbatim, what had passed between her and Dominic.

‘I told you playing hard to get would work,' Rona put in, when Lindsey paused for breath. ‘And wasn't it I who said it was too soon to give up on him completely?'

‘Oh, aren't you the wise old owl! But seriously, Ro, he is gorgeous, isn't he?'

‘I admit I liked him,' Rona replied. ‘More than I expected to, having heard a fair bit about him. But what are you doing, phoning me? Why aren't you with him, making mad, passionate love?'

‘Because, unfortunately, he's had to go to London for a couple of days, which is why he came to the office at lunchtime, instead of waiting till this evening. Ro, he wants me to go on holiday with him. He mentioned South Africa.'

‘Hang on: I thought you were going to Italy with Mum?'

There was a pause. Then Lindsey wailed, ‘Oh, God, I'd forgotten about her! I was just thinking I could cancel my singles booking.'

‘Well, you can't let her down; you saw how pleased she was. Anyway, it's only for ten days. You have four weeks' holiday, don't you?'

‘Yes, but I've already had a week, and it was September Dominic mentioned.'

‘Then you'll have to tell him. He won't think the worse of you for sticking to your arrangement.'

‘I suppose not,' Lindsey said disconsolately.

‘And if he does, it'll tell you quite a bit about him,' Rona added sharply.

‘All right, all right. I'll suggest we go in October.' She paused. ‘Jonathan was pretty unpleasant this afternoon.'

‘Are you surprised?'

‘Said I was looking very pleased with myself, like the cat that got the cream.'

‘Perhaps,' Rona said, ‘it will encourage him to return his attentions to his wife.'

They watched the news in silence. The photofit of Louise received wide coverage, and Rona wondered uneasily if her abductor had seen it.

‘It looks quite like her, doesn't it?' she commented.

‘I wouldn't know.'

Rona frowned. ‘How do you mean?'

‘I can't say if it's like her, because I've never seen her.'

She turned to him incredulously. ‘But you
must
have, Max! They've been there nearly a month!'

‘Nevertheless, I haven't – apart from a cigarette glowing in the dark, which could have been anyone. And what's more, from what that detective said, I'm in the majority.'

‘Yes, but living next door . . .'

‘Strange, I agree, but true. Come to think of it, the police and I have only your word for it she even exists.'

Rona stared at him, and gave a little shudder. ‘That's weird.'

He put a hand on her knee. ‘All of which puts you in a unique position, my love. To help them with their enquiries, and so on.'

‘As long as the phrase isn't used euphemistically,' Rona said.

This was the last week of Max's classes, which, unusually, had stretched into August to compensate for the four weeks they'd been away.

‘Once they've finished and you've handed in your article,' he said at breakfast the next morning, ‘I think we should go up to Tynecastle and spend some time with the old man. It'll be lovely up there at this time of year.'

‘Better check with Cynthia that we can stay with her. We can't impose ourselves on Roland and Mrs Pemberton.'

‘Well, we'll give him the option. God knows, the house is large enough; he rattles around in it.'

‘Is he working on anything at the moment?'

Roland Allerdyce was a gifted artist and member of the Royal Academy, and it was from him that Max had inherited his talent.

‘He mentioned some commission or other, but it's hard to find him when he
hasn't
something on the go. It wouldn't interfere with our visit.'

‘Another thing,' Rona reminded him. ‘You'd better finish that painting of Michael's car before you show your face up there again.'

Cynthia's elder son had bought a red MG earlier in the year, and extracted a promise from his uncle to paint it – an obligation Max had not yet fulfilled.

Max pushed back his chair, bent to kiss her, and made for the stairs. ‘Don't talk to any strange men,' he said, only half-jokingly, ‘and I'll be back round ten.'

Rona cleared away the breakfast things. There'd been no further developments on the news, but Max's comment the previous evening, about having only her word that Louise existed, had lodged in her mind. The police had been unable to find any record of her; would they come to the same conclusion, and stop looking for her?

Shaking her head in frustration, she resolved to put all these worries out of her head, and concentrate on finishing the article.

Max had put the post on the hall table, and on her way to the study, Rona stopped to flick through the half-dozen envelopes. One was typewritten and addressed to her. She slit it open and drew out the single sheet of paper. Then, as she glanced through it, she sat down abruptly on the stairs to read it more slowly.

There was no address at the top of the page, merely the date, yesterday's, before the letter began.

Rona leant back against the stair, her heart pounding. She read the letter through again, and the detective's voice echoed in her head:
It goes without saying that if this man contacts you again, you report it immediately.

She glanced at the phone on its glass-topped table. So what was she waiting for? And yet . . .

Suppose she did inform the police: they would be waiting for HS, whoever he was, at the Clarendon, and take him away for questioning. And she was quite sure they wouldn't let
her
know what he had to tell them. Whereas if she met him herself, somewhere safe like the hotel lounge – where, at four o'clock, afternoon tea would be in full swing – well, what harm could come to her? And he said he'd then voluntarily go to the police. Could she believe that?

Clearly, it was no use informing the police where he'd be, but asking for time to talk to him first. They'd laugh in her face. But Max . . .

She pushed herself up off the stair, went to the phone, and pressed his button.

‘I want you to listen,' she began, ‘and not interrupt until I've finished. I've had a letter from the stalker – “HS” he signs himself this time – and he wants to meet me this afternoon at the Clarendon.' She raised her voice above his immediate protest. ‘Max, I want to go. I've been puzzling over this whole business too long, and if I simply tell the police now, I'll never know what he has to say. He promises to go to them straight after seeing me—'