Next Door to Murder (3 page)

There was a brief, almost embarrassed, pause. Then Rona said, ‘Well, if there's anything we can help you with, please let us know.'

They nodded their thanks, and she continued the few yards to her own gateway and, still aware of their proximity, went self-consciously up the steps and into the house, Gus at her heels. And that, she thought resignedly, might well be the last words they'd exchange. Certainly they hadn't been forthcoming, but it must be unsettling for them at their age – which she estimated to be mid-seventies – moving not only house but country. She wondered idly why they'd gone to Canada, and, more particularly, why they'd come back. No doubt she'd never know.

‘I've established contact with our new neighbours,' she told Max, when he phoned later, ‘but I doubt if it will progress any further. They seemed pretty reserved. Their name's Franks, and they're from Canada.' She paused, her thoughts moving on. ‘Have you ever met Julian Willow?'

‘That's an abrupt switch! No, I know him by sight, that's all. Why?'

‘I saw Georgia at lunchtime, and she offered to invite him and his wife to dinner with us.'

‘Nice of her, but again, why?'

‘Because I'm considering Willows' for my next assignment.'

‘Ah! Well, I'd say it's a good choice. They're a well-known Marsborough family, after all.'

‘I've not reached a firm decision, but Linz and I had a sniff round the shop. It's very plush.'

‘And pricey, I should think. Look, love, the class will be arriving any minute. I'll have to go, but I'll give you the usual call later, to say goodnight.'

Rona looked out at the garden. The sun was off it now, which made it a good time to do some watering. She went outside, filled the can at the outdoor tap, and began the time-consuming routine. There were at least a dozen urns and containers to attend to, and several hanging baskets.

It was as she was reaching up to a basket on the dividing wall that a movement caught her eye, and she glanced up at the house next door in time to see a curtain at an upstairs window twitch back into place.

Rona paused, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Someone up there had been watching her, she thought. Why? Then she shook herself. She was being neurotic; no doubt whoever it was – probably Mrs Franks – had simply been straightening the curtain.

She risked another, furtive, glance up at the house, but nothing else moved, and she continued her watering. That was the second time she'd felt slightly uneasy about her new neighbours, and both times, she told herself roundly, totally without cause.

Resolving to put them out of her mind, she finished her watering and went back into the house, closing and locking the door behind her.

Two

M
id-morning was a quiet time at Belmont Library, and they were enjoying a cup of coffee in the minute staff room.

‘How are you getting on with your lodger?' Mary Price enquired.

Avril Parish put down a book she'd been flicking through. ‘Fine, thanks, though I'm still on a learning curve.'

Mary smiled. ‘You said she has a will of her own.'

‘Oh, she has. A very determined young lady.'

‘That's schoolteachers for you, even young ones! Perhaps they're born, not made.'

It was through Mary's good offices that Sarah had come to her – Mary having a friend at the school, who'd heard she was looking for accommodation – and Avril didn't want to seem ungrateful. ‘In fact, it's working very well,' she added. ‘If she's not out, she spends the evenings in her room, so we don't impinge on each other, and so far, she's been going home to Stokely at weekends.'

‘So far?'

‘Well, I'm not sure how long that'll continue. She's acquired a boyfriend.'

‘Ah! Have you met him?'

‘Briefly, when he called for her one evening.' She paused. ‘Actually, Mary, I might be anticipating difficulties where none exist, but—'

‘No gentlemen callers above stairs?'

Avril gave a relieved laugh. ‘Exactly. Does that make me sound like a dinosaur?'

‘Not at all. It's your house, and if you don't want any shenanigans, you're at liberty to say so. Is there anywhere else they could go?'

‘There's the dining room. It already has one easy chair; I could find another.'

‘Then pre-empt them by suggesting that. You know: “Why don't you ask So-and-So in for coffee? You could have the dining room to yourselves.” They mightn't want to stay in, but if they did, you'd be covered.'

‘You're brilliant, Mary. Thanks.'

‘Any time,' said Mary Price. She passed Avril the packet of biscuits. ‘It's your weekend off, isn't it?'

‘Yes, fortunately. It's the girls' birthday tomorrow, and we're having a family lunch.'

‘Including Tom?'

‘Including Tom.'

‘And his lady friend?'

‘No, thank God. She's visiting her new grandchild.'

‘It should be good, then; you and Tom are OK now, aren't you?'

‘Oh, very civilized,' said Avril drily.

‘You're doing fine, Avril,' Mary assured her. ‘I really admire how you've pulled yourself together and made a new life for yourself, instead of sitting at home moping.'

Avril was surprised and gratified. ‘That's nice of you; thanks.'

She
did
manage to keep busy, she acknowledged to herself, as she went to relieve Liz and Rita; what with working here four mornings a week and alternate Saturdays, spending Wednesday afternoons at the charity shop, and playing bridge on Thursdays. Not to mention becoming a landlady. Then there were bridge parties at friends' houses and – though these had decreased since Tom's departure – the odd invitation to dinner. All in all, as Mary had said, she was doing pretty well. The only thing she was lacking was male company, and there was not much she could do about that.

Georgia phoned at lunchtime.

‘I've been speaking to Felicity Willow,' she began. ‘Not surprisingly, they've a lot on at the moment – when haven't they? – and then, of course, there's the added difficulty of Max being unavailable three evenings a week. Still, they are free next Friday – a week today. Is that any good?'

‘I'm sure it is,' Rona said. Max's evening classes frequently interfered with their social life. ‘Thanks, Georgia, that would be great.'

‘I didn't mention an ulterior motive,' Georgia went on, ‘so no big deal if you decide not to go ahead with them.'

‘It's good of you to go to all this trouble.'

‘No trouble. We owe you dinner anyway, and it's always pleasant to introduce one set of friends to another. I'm asking Hilary and Simon, too, to make up the numbers. Eight for eight thirty?'

‘We'll look forward to it.'

‘See you then.'

She rang off, and Rona entered the engagement on the kitchen diary, relieved to see that a scrawl of Max's hadn't forestalled her.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt she'd like to research the Willow family. They went back a satisfyingly long way, and the founding of their business, from what she'd heard, largely coincided with the development of Marsborough itself. The firm and the town had grown up together, and fashions in furniture were known to reflect social trends – wide chairs to accommodate crinolines, and so on. There were all kinds of angles she could cover, she thought with mounting enthusiasm. She'd check out the development of furniture styles on the Internet, so she wouldn't appear a complete ignoramus when she met the Willows.

Feeling more positive than she had for months, she opened a tin of sardines for her lunch.

‘Lindsey? Dominic Frayne. I was wondering if by any chance you're free on Sunday? I'm flying over to France again, and it would be good to have company.'

Lindsey sat down abruptly, willing her voice to remain calm. ‘Dominic. That sounds exciting.'
And where the hell have you been for the last four weeks?

‘We'd arrive in time for lunch, and return after dinner. The forecast's good, so it should be a pleasant outing. Would you care to come?'

‘I should, very much.'

‘Excellent. I'll collect you at ten thirty. Better bring your passport, just in case.' And he rang off.

Lindsey sat for several minutes, the phone still in her hand. Though they had met three months ago, this would be only the third time she'd been out with him. The first occasion was dinner at the Savoy, the second a visit to Cheltenham races. Each time, they had been conducted there and back in his chauffeur-driven car, and on each occasion he had been charming, courteous and attentive. But he hadn't as much as touched her hand. And she'd been told – though admittedly by Jonathan – that he was a serial womaniser. It was certainly hard to believe, she thought ruefully.

‘Moving into second gear?' Carla Deighton enquired, without turning.

She was standing at the window of Dominic's flat, from where she had an eagle's eye view over Furze Hill Park to the cluster of roofs and steeples that was the town of Marsborough. There was a breeze this evening, and in the park several brightly coloured kites were flying.

‘How do you mean?'

She turned and looked across at him, leaning comfortably back in his chair. ‘Only a selected few are taken to France.'

‘I enjoy her company, certainly.'

‘She's very decorative,' Carla remarked judiciously, ‘and you like to be seen with beautiful women.'

‘Which is one reason why I enjoy her company. I'm not sure what you mean by second gear, but I'm not putting my foot on any accelerator.'

‘Very wise. You might have more need of brakes – for an emergency stop, even.'

‘You're being very enigmatic this morning, Carla,' he remarked, with a touch of irritation.

‘Just sounding a word of warning. This one might not be the sort of woman who's content to be ignored for weeks on end, and then phoned on a whim.'

‘You know damn well that wasn't—'

‘I imagine she has some pride, and from what I hear, she's not short of admirers.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I wasn't aware you listened to gossip, my dear.'

‘I always take an interest in your
objets d'amour
.'

He gave a snort of laughter, and reached for his spectacles.

‘Talking of which,' she continued, ‘what about your little heiress in Kensington?'

He sobered, and she saw she'd touched a nerve. ‘No longer in the frame,' he said briefly.

‘Really? What went wrong.'

‘It was getting altogether too heavy; I ended it some weeks ago. Now, enough of my affairs. Did Ballingers ever come back to us?'

And Carla, sliding effortlessly from confidante to business persona, lifted a file from the table and handed it to him.

Catherine came into the room as Tom put down the phone.

‘That was Rona,' he said. ‘It'll be good to see her tomorrow – and Lindsey, of course.'

‘You missed her, didn't you, while she was in Greece?'

‘Yes – silly, isn't it? It's not as though we're in each other's pockets, but we speak on the phone once or twice a week, and I missed that.'

‘And you've also been worried about her,' Catherine said gently.

He sighed. ‘That Curzon business hit her hard – the girl's death and everything. Max was right to whisk her away. I hope the rest has restored her balance.'

‘I'm sure so; she's very resilient. Give her my love, won't you?' And she added, as he had, ‘And Lindsey, of course.'

Tom smiled at her. ‘I will. I'm sorry you won't be there.'

‘This is Avril's call, not mine, but hopefully I'll see the girls before long.'

Or at least Rona, she added privately. Lindsey was still inclined to be prickly, having sided firmly with her mother over the separation, but Catherine was genuinely fond of Rona.

‘If you're determined to go home, I'll walk you back,' Tom said, as she retrieved her handbag from the chair.

‘I'd better, my love. I want to make an early start tomorrow; you know what the traffic can be like at weekends.'

They walked together down the stairs and out into the warm summer night. Tom's flat was only a stone's throw from Catherine's home – one reason why he had chosen it. He'd been adamant that, although they enjoyed most of the benefits of marriage, they wouldn't move in together till they were free to marry. He didn't want Catherine to be the subject of gossip, and this way they maintained their independence, each having a home their children could visit without the constant presence of another partner.

‘You're staying in Cricklehurst overnight?'

‘Yes, I'll be back Sunday evening.'

‘And in the meantime you'll be worshipping at young Alice's cradle.'

She laughed. ‘At every opportunity.'

They had reached Catherine's gateway, and he kissed her gently. ‘Drive carefully, and give me a ring when you're home again.'

‘I will.'

‘Love to the family.'

He watched her walk up the path and let herself into the bungalow. Then, returning her wave from the open door, he walked slowly home.

Max and Rona had had their supper outside, grateful for the breeze that had come with evening, gently ruffling Gus's fur as he slept on the warm flags. Light from the kitchen behind them threw a pool of brightness over the table, but the far end of the garden lay in shadow, urns and containers blurring into the gloaming.

As always on Friday evenings, they had filled each other in on what they'd been doing since Max was last home on Wednesday. Though the nightly phone calls covered major incidents, there were always small things to report and amusing incidents to share. Now, though, they were silent, content to sit in the dusk and relax at another week's ending.