‘And have you discovered anything of interest?’
‘I hadn’t. Until now. Nobody seems very keen to talk about Dawn, or what happened, and it seemed like an open-and-shut case. But now . . . since I’ve found out that Dawn is dead . . . I’m not so sure. Killed in a hit-and-run accident, not that long after the fire. By a driver who has never been caught. That’s one hell of a coincidence – and I don’t believe in coincidences.’
Josh was silent.
‘Don’t you think it’s suspicious?’ I asked.
Josh shrugged.
‘I wouldn’t know. I’m a photographer, not an investigative reporter. Now, if you’ve finished, we’d better get out of here. Belinda will be back soon.’
‘Finished. Thanks for all your help.’
‘That’s OK.’ He treated me to a boyish grin. ‘Now, are you sure you won’t change your mind about letting me buy you that drink?’
On the point of refusing him again, I had second thoughts. The newspaper office was a valuable source of information, but I couldn’t continue to keep dropping in and asking to see their files. So far I’d been lucky – Josh was a very helpful ally.
Perhaps it would be wise to keep him on side.
And besides . . .
I gave him an appraising glance, taking in his angular face, with its clearly defined jaw, his wicked hazel eyes, his broad shoulders beneath the leather jacket, his long, cord-clad legs. Josh Williams was, I had to admit, rather attractive. I actually quite fancied him, and it was a long time since I’d been on a date, especially one with a man I fancied. Perhaps this would be a good time to mix business with pleasure.
‘All right,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘You’re on. As long as you realize you’ll have to drive way out into the country to pick me up and take me home again.’
Those hazel eyes twinkled wickedly.
‘I’m sure it will be worth it. Shall we say half past seven?’
‘A quarter to eight.’ I wanted to keep the initiative.
‘A quarter to eight it is. So – give me directions . . .’
I did.
I was halfway home when I remembered I had intended to call Alice when she returned from her lunch break. I pulled into a lay-by and left the engine idling while I punched in the number for Compton Properties.
The phone was answered quite quickly, but the voice on the other end of the line sounded very like Sarah, and it occurred to me that she would probably recognize my voice too. People used to dealing with the public had a good ear for things like that, and the fact that I hadn’t given my name when I called earlier wouldn’t have prevented her from knowing who I was. Well, there was absolutely nothing I could do about that.
‘Would it be possible to speak to Alice now?’ I said. ‘I rang earlier, but she was at lunch.’
‘I’m sorry, but she’s with a client.’ The answer was a little too quick, a little too convenient.
‘When will she be free?’
‘I really couldn’t say. In fact, I think she’s taking her client on a viewing. If you leave me a number, I’ll ask her to call you back.’
Really, I thought, I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t keep ringing the office. They’d quickly realize – if they didn’t already – that something was going on. Somewhat reluctantly I dictated my mobile number to Sarah, thinking that at least she wouldn’t recognize it as the one I’d given her for the property receipt – Mum and Dad’s landline. But somehow I didn’t think Alice would be returning my call. It might be true, of course, that she was busy, but I had the feeling that Alice was avoiding me, and her colleague was fending me off.
It really was very odd, I thought, as I set off again. Why was Alice so reluctant to speak to me? Was it just that personal phone calls of any kind were frowned on? Certainly the office had the sort of professional formality that was almost old fashioned. Or was it more than that? When I’d first asked about Dawn, Alice had said as little as possible, making the excuse that Lewis Crighton didn’t want her talked about, and I supposed that was understandable – at the time of the fire the office had probably been bombarded by press and even curious members of the public. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought that it was just that – an excuse. Alice wanted to avoid the subject of Dawn Burridge. But why?
I was beginning to get the unavoidable feeling that Dawn was a taboo subject where a lot of people were concerned. And in spite of Joss’s warning, it was only making me all the more determined to find out the reason.
Eight
When I turned into the farmyard, a car I didn’t recognize was parked beside the barn. Had Dad had to have the vet out again to his sick cow? But this car didn’t look as if it belonged to a vet – it was too clean, and too expensive – a top-of-the-range BMW. I parked Dad’s 4 x 4 and went in through the front door. I could hear voices coming from the kitchen.