‘Hang on, and I’ll ask him . . .’ Muffled voices, then Mum was back on the line. ‘He says that’s all right.’
‘Thanks. I won’t be much longer.’
‘Take your time. And just take care.’ Mum still sounded slightly anxious.
‘I will,’ I promised. ‘And don’t worry, I’m fine.’
In fact, I realized, I was actually feeling rather tired. All that swinging about on crutches had taken it out of me. And I wasn’t done yet. But I wasn’t going to let a little thing like a pair of sore hands and an aching leg put me off.
I climbed out of the 4 x 4 again and set off back towards the High Street and the library. When I got there, however, it was to find it all locked up. A notice stuck to the inside of the glass-panelled door gave today’s opening times as ten a.m. to one p.m., and the next session wasn’t until Monday morning. It hadn’t occurred to me that the library would be closed on a Friday – when I’d lived at home and used it, it had always been open every day but Wednesday. The reduced hours were, I supposed, a sign of the times.
This was, to put it mildly, something of a blow. I didn’t want to have to wait until Monday to gather the information I needed. I stood for a moment, staring balefully at the locked doors, turning over my options. I could go back to the café, have something to eat, and have another crack at Lisa, or I could go to the newspaper office. They’d probably know how I could contact someone from the dramatic society – they must cover their productions. There was a good chance they’d have something on file about Dawn’s fatal accident, too, but when I’d been there before no one had mentioned it because they thought it was the fire I was interested in.
A sudden thought struck me – why hadn’t Lisa told me about it when I asked about Dawn? She must have known her former flatmate was dead. Very strange. But it confirmed my suspicion I’d get very little out of Lisa, and certainly nothing at all at this time of day, when she was busy with lunches.
I hoped the Gazette office didn’t close for lunch. The Western News offices didn’t, but this wasn’t a big-city newspaper, but a small-staffed local weekly. Mentally crossing my fingers, I made my way down the High Street.
I was in luck. The lights were all on, and through the plate-glass window I could see the receptionist, Tara, at her desk. I pushed open the door and went inside.
Besides Tara and one girl working on a computer the office was empty. No one in the chief reporter’s office where I’d done my research when I was here previously, as far as I could see, and – thank goodness – no Josh. Tara’s suspicious look was bad enough; she’d obviously recognized me as the person who’d taken liberties with her boss’s files – hardly surprising given my rather conspicuous crutches!
‘I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the Compton Players,’ I said. Tara looked at me blankly and a little mutinously. ‘I’m trying to find out when and where they meet,’ I went on, ‘and, ideally, a contact number for the secretary.’
Tara shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’ Then she thought better of it, her resentment of me losing out to the call of duty. ‘Katie!’ she called in the direction of the girl at the computer. ‘Do you know anything about the Compton Players?’
Katie looked up from what she was doing.
‘I’ve done a couple of reports on them. Why?’
I crossed the office to her desk and repeated my question.
‘As far as I know, they meet in the town hall,’ Katie said. ‘I think their regular night is a Monday, and a couple of other evenings as well when they’ve got a production coming up. They’ve only just done their annual pantomime, though, so they may be having a bit of a break.’
‘You wouldn’t have a contact name or number, I suppose?’ I asked.
‘Should have, yes.’ Katie scribbled on a post-it and handed it to me. ‘There you go. And good luck. They’re a friendly bunch, and they put on some excellent shows. Quite professional for a small town.’
Obviously she thought my interest was as a prospective new member. Well, I wasn’t going to disillusion her, though I rather thought my next question might.
‘There was something else . . .’
I never got any further.
‘Well, well!’ A familiar voice came from behind me. I swung round to see Josh Williams looking at me with one eyebrow cocked and a half smile making a deep and unsuspected dimple play somewhere between his mouth and his ear. ‘Twice in one day! I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re here to tell me you’ve changed your mind about that drink!’