Next Door to Murder (23 page)

‘I'm not even sure of that; once the dust has settled, I wouldn't be surprised if she's back.'

Max shook his head wonderingly. ‘Would you be so understanding, if I went off the rails?'

‘You'd better not believe it. I'd tear you limb from limb,' she said.

Fortunately, Friday was the one day Max had no commitments. With the alarm switched off, it was after ten when they awoke, and they were still in their dressing gowns when Felicity phoned from the hospital.

‘He's out of danger,' she said at once, ‘but they'll be keeping him in for a while. I've booked into a local B and B, at least for the weekend. My parents-in-law are holding the fort at home.'

‘And Tara?' Rona asked.

‘Is also making good progress.'

‘That's good,' she said lamely.

‘There are one or two things you should know,' Felicity went on, her tone neutral, ‘but they can wait till I see you. In the meantime, I know I can trust your discretion.'

‘Of course. Give Julian my best wishes, and I'm so glad he's improving.'

After an improvised brunch, Max went to Farthings for an afternoon's painting and Rona worked on her article. Once or twice, she looked out of the window to see if any of the Franks were in their garden, but despite the return of the sunshine, there was no sign of them. Only the ginger cat lay basking on the warm stone.

Had Louise mentioned Karen? Rona wondered. Perhaps she'd been the key to the whole mystery, harmony was now restored, and in the general relief, Louise had omitted to tell her. But her curiosity could only be contained for so long; if there was still no word by Sunday evening, Rona resolved either to phone her or call round.

From her first-floor flat, Lindsey watched the succession of cars drawing up at the Yarboroughs' house on the corner. Fairhaven, the cul-de-sac where they lived, was a fifteen-minute drive from the centre of Marsborough, and contained only eight detached houses. The original intention had been to build more, together with a school and a parade of shops, but money ran out and the plans fell through. Designed to appeal to all members of the community, the houses were of different sizes and styles, Lindsey's and one other being built as two flats.

She sighed, wishing she hadn't accepted this invitation and unsure how many, apart from immediate neighbours, she would know. It was a pity, if understandable, that Rona and Max had declined.

Still idly watching the arrivals, she thought over her last conversation with her sister, about the strange man she'd met outside the office. Was he really a stalker, and what was his connection with Rona's neighbours? It was a constant surprise to Lindsey that Rona's unexceptional line of work should so often bring her into contact with unsavoury characters.

She glanced at her watch. No point in delaying any further. Picking up her handbag, the bottle of wine and the potted plant, she set off, with mixed feelings, for the house at the end of the road.

At first sight, Adele Yarborough looked no different from the last time Lindsey had seen her, shortly before her breakdown. Her pointed little face was as pretty as ever, enhanced only by the lightest application of lipstick; the ash-blonde hair was still in its gamine style, and the large, slate-grey eyes met Lindsey's only briefly before, as always, shying away. Moreover, Lindsey noted with unease that the dress she wore had the long sleeves that had so worried Max, concealing, as they then did, unexplained bruises and cuts that later proved to have been self-inflicted.

She hoped the psychiatric treatment had indeed been successful, and that the long sleeves were now simply habit. Nonetheless, they seemed incongruous in the warmth of the August evening.

Adele was exclaiming with delight over the proffered plant, as, still avoiding eye-contact, she ushered Lindsey into a surprisingly empty room. Then Philip came through the patio doors, and was handed the bottle of wine.

‘So glad you could come, Lindsey,' he greeted her. ‘Everyone seems to have drifted outside, if you'd like to join them. What can I get you? There's Pimm's, red, white or rosé wine, or soft drinks.'

‘Pimm's would be lovely, thanks.'

‘Right; you go on, and I'll bring it out to you.'

Lindsey moved across the room, from where she could see groups of people standing chatting on the lawn. Hoping to spot a face she recognized, she stepped outside, to find her wish immediately granted: the first person she saw was Jonathan Hurst.

His face lit up at the sight of her, and, excusing himself from the people he was with, he hurried over and kissed her cheek.

‘I wasn't expecting to see you,' she told him.

‘Oh, Philip and I go way back. We knew each other in Stokely, in the old days.'

Of course; she remembered now. Incredible though it seemed, at one time Rona had suspected both Jonathan and Philip of murder, another example of her sister's topsy-turvy world.

‘Your wife not with you?' she asked casually, her eyes searching the various groups.

‘No; Tamar's running a slight temperature, and although she'd have been fine with the babysitter, Carol elected to stay home. She's like a mother hen if the kids aren't well.' He smiled. ‘As things have turned out, though, it's all for the best.'

Philip appeared with Lindsey's Pimm's. ‘I'm sorry Rona and Max couldn't make it,' he said, ‘but I think you'll know quite a few people. Most of the neighbours are here, for a start.'

Lindsey nodded, recognizing the Sinclairs from number five, and Barry and Brian, the gay couple from the flat below her own. Barry, catching her eye across the lawn, gave her a cheerful wave.

Lindsey hadn't been out here before, and saw that, being a corner site, the garden was fairly large. At the far end, partially screened by a couple of fruit trees, she could make out a swing and climbing frame, bringing unwelcome memories of her traumatic meetings with the Yarborough children. She could only hope they bore no scars from their mother's illness.

‘Well, well,' Jonathan said softly, breaking into her reflections, ‘look who's here.'

And she turned, to see Dominic standing in the doorway.

He smiled and came towards them, shaking hands formally with first Lindsey, then Jonathan. So that's how he wants to play it, Lindsey thought; fine by me.

‘Carla not with you?' Jonathan asked.

‘No; nor Carol with you?'

Jonathan shook his head. ‘One of the kids is ill.'

Unreasonably, Lindsey felt her irritation rising. Well, she'd told Rona she'd given up on Dominic; now was the time to suit her action to her words, and, seeing a familiar face across the garden, she seized her chance. ‘Will you excuse me?' she broke in. ‘I want a word with Rosemary.'

Threading her way between the groups, she felt a fierce satisfaction at the surprise she'd glimpsed on both their faces. Now, she thought savagely, they could talk about their women to their hearts' content.

Rosemary Shaw, Head of English at Marsborough High, lived in one of the other flats. Lindsey knew her only slightly, but she was pleasant and friendly, and at the moment served her purpose well.

During the next half-hour or so, the groups formed and reformed as people moved about, greeting friends and being introduced to strangers, and Lindsey, careful to keep her eyes on those closest to her, was consequently unaware of Dominic's steady and continuing attention.

Her abrupt departure as soon as he'd joined them had left him baffled. Granted, it was a while since he'd been in touch, but there'd been similar intervals before. Perhaps, he thought, with a touch of unease, Carla was right, and he'd overplayed his hand. He was surprised, and not a little disconcerted, to discover how much the possibility disturbed him. He'd also noted that his companion seemed equally put out, and Hurst's eyes had followed Lindsey as she moved away from them with an expression that, Dominic suspected, mirrored his own.

Was there something going on between them? he'd wondered suddenly. It had been Hurst who'd first introduced them, oddly enough at another party, having insisted on dragging himself and Carla across the room to meet her. It now occurred to Dominic that this might have been an excuse to get close to Lindsey himself. Perhaps – an unpleasant thought – Hurst was what Carla referred to as one of Lindsey's ‘other irons in the fire'.

As the evening progressed, and he talked and smiled with a succession of people, none of whom he knew, his thoughts continued their less than comfortable analysis, forcing him to admit that he'd never before felt the need to hold a woman at a distance, as he had with Lindsey. He'd been attracted to her since that first meeting, so why hadn't he followed it up in the normal manner? Miranda was no excuse; it was at the tail-end of their relationship, and he'd not then known of her pregnancy. Was it because, subconsciously, he'd sensed right from the beginning that this woman might, if he weren't careful, become important to him – a situation he was anxious to avoid?

Avril was also in the garden that evening. Though rain was forecast for later, there was no sign of it, and since it might never materialize, she set about watering the plants, wondering, as she did so, what her daughters were doing. It seemed a long time since she'd seen them. Was it too late to invite them for lunch tomorrow?

The house had seemed very quiet since Sarah left. Avril had offered her the opportunity of coming back for a day or two during the holidays, should she want to see Clive, but had so far heard nothing. Perhaps she and her father were away on holiday. And before she could stop them, her thoughts turned to Guy Lacey and the evening they'd spent together. It was a long time till September, when he might possibly be coerced by Sarah into bringing back her music centre.

Well, no use building any fantasies there; he'd given her no foundation for them. Resignedly, she replaced the watering can and went indoors to phone her daughters.

At about nine o'clock a trestle table was set up on the patio, and an impressive selection of food carried out. Lindsey felt a hand under her elbow, and found Jonathan at her side.

‘I've bagged us a table against the wall,' he told her. ‘If you'd like to go and claim it, I'll bring the food.'

‘You don't know what I'd like,' Lindsey objected.

‘I've a pretty good idea, but I'll bring a wide selection.'

She hesitated, but then, over his shoulder, she saw Dominic watching them.

‘OK,' she said, giving Jonathan a smile. ‘Thanks.'

There were four chairs at the table, and as Lindsey waited for him, she wondered, with mixed emotions, if Dominic would join them. But it was Margaret Sinclair who came over.

‘Well done you, nabbing a table!' she smiled. ‘Mind if we join you?'

‘Please do,' Lindsey said.

Douglas, she saw, was just behind Jonathan in the food queue. He was a GP at a group practice in town, and Margaret was a theatre nurse at the Royal County.

‘Adele seems great, doesn't she?' Margaret observed, watching their hostess as she served her guests.

‘Is that a social or medical opinion?' Lindsey queried.

‘Both, I'd say, though, like you, I can only go by what I see. Philip's had a difficult time, hasn't he, but he's coped magnificently.'

Lindsey nodded noncommittally. Margaret had no way of knowing the extent to which Adele's breakdown had affected her own family.

The men returned with laden plates, and Lindsey introduced Jonathan as a colleague from work. He raised an amused eyebrow at her, and went on to explain his long friendship with Philip. It turned out that Douglas had also been born in Stokely, and a discussion followed on the attributes of the town, past and present.

Meanwhile the savoury dishes were followed by a delicious selection of desserts, and Lindsey wondered uncharitably who had prepared them. She was pretty certain it wasn't Adele.

They had just finished eating when there was a loud clap of thunder, followed almost immediately by a torrential downpour of rain. Laughing and exclaiming, they all made a dash for the house, shaking the heavy drops off their clothes.

In the mêlée Lindsey had become separated from Jonathan and the Sinclairs, and as people continued to push their way into the room, found herself beside Dominic. She glanced quickly about her, but they were hemmed in a corner and there was no means of retreat. To her embarrassment, she realized he'd seen her search for escape.

‘You seem much in demand this evening,' he said evenly.

‘This is my home ground, as you know.'

‘Yes; I thought you'd be here.'

‘You had the advantage of me, then. How do you know the Yarboroughs?'

‘I met Philip at the golf club, and we've had some business dealings.'

Lindsey realized she still didn't know what Dominic did, but she'd no intention of asking. There was a pause, then he said, ‘I saw your sister the other day.'

‘Oh?' She wasn't going to admit prior knowledge.

‘Having lunch at the Bacchus,' he continued, ‘with Mrs Willow.'

That, he saw, had caught her attention. ‘Yes,' she said, with what seemed to him studied casualness, ‘she's researching the history of their firm for an article. She was up in Yorkshire last week, meeting their relatives, the Earl and Countess of Roxford and their daughter.'

Her eyes moved slowly and expressionlessly over his face. ‘Friends of yours, I believe.'

So that was it. Dominic felt a spurt of annoyance, the more so since he hadn't known of the family connection.

‘Indeed,' he confirmed, and, stung by her coolness to exaggerate his acquaintance with the earl, added, ‘I had lunch with Rupert the other day.'

So they
were
still in touch. Lindsey felt like bursting into tears. Instead, she gave him a dazzling smile.

‘If you'll excuse me, I think Jonathan has my glass,' she said, and finally managed to evade him.