This was what I hoped to find out from her friends at Compton Players.
It was five o’clock before the membership secretary returned my call, and I’d almost given up on hearing from her. In the event, though, she sounded very friendly, her strong Welsh valleys accent lending warmth. She told me that there was indeed a meeting tonight in the town hall when they would be play-reading in an effort to find something suitable for their spring production, and that I’d be welcome to come along. Then, as I’d expected, she asked if I’d ever done anything on stage before.
I said that I hadn’t, and explained I was at home recuperating from a skiing accident, and was at a loose end. I wouldn’t be looking to take an acting part, but I’d be happy to help out in any way I could behind the scenes.
Delyth, as the membership secretary was called, told me the meeting time was seven thirty p.m.
‘We probably won’t get started until nearer eight,’ she said, ‘but if you get here on time it will give you the chance to get to know a few people before you get thrown in at the deep end.’
Dad, bless him, had agreed that I could borrow his car again, and when we’d had tea I got myself ready and set off in good time. I was hoping I’d find a parking space in the High Street or the Square at this time of day – I really didn’t want to have to walk too far if I could help it – and I was in luck. There were a couple of vacant bays in the Square; I reversed into one and sat for a few minutes’ waiting time.
The lights were still on in Compton Properties, I noticed – surprising, really, given that it was past seven, and I couldn’t imagine they’d have late viewings at this time of year, when it was dark by five, or even earlier if it was overcast. Could be office cleaners, I supposed. But as I watched, the lights in the upstairs windows went off, and then most of the downstairs ones as well, leaving no more than a dull glow that I presumed was from the security lights. Then the door opened, and two figures emerged. One was recognizable as Lewis Crighton, though his back was towards me as he checked that the door was securely locked. The other was Sarah, the girl who had dealt with the items I’d taken in for auction.
Why that surprised me so, I really didn’t know. There could, after all, be a perfectly reasonable explanation – that they had both been working late. But there was something in their body language that suggested to me that it was more than that. The angle of her head, as if she was looking up at him adoringly, although of course I wasn’t close enough to see if that was the case, the way he put a hand on her back as he turned away from the door and steered her across the Square, looking both ways a couple of times although there was no traffic about – as if he was checking to see if they were being observed, I thought. Lights flicked on a parked car twenty or so yards up the Square from where I was parked, and Sarah got in. Lewis waited until she had pulled away, then walked further up the Square. A few moments later a Range Rover drove past me from the same direction; by the light of the street lamps I could see it was Lewis driving.
I was agog by now. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation for what I had seen, of course, but somehow I didn’t think so. Much more likely they had been ‘carrying on’, as Mum would have called it, in the empty office after hours. Lewis was twice Sarah’s age, at the very least, but when had that been a deterrent? He was also distinguished, undeniably handsome, and her boss. A man who liked his staff to look like fashion models, which suggested he had an eye for a pretty girl.
My thoughts were racing now, so fast I could scarcely keep up with them. If Lewis Crighton was having an affair with Sarah, then she might not be the first. Perhaps it was something he made a hobby of, and exactly the same thing had happened with Dawn. I’d suspected her of having an illicit affair – it was one of the things that might well provide the motive for her death. Could it be that Lewis Crighton was the man she’d been involved with? If so, it would explain the brick wall I’d encountered at his office, and why Alice was so reluctant to talk about Dawn.
It would be more than her job was worth to gossip about her employer’s liaisons. That could very well be the reason she had shut up like a clam when Lewis had appeared on the stairs on the first occasion when I’d visited and begun asking questions, and why she had failed to return my calls. But for all that Lewis fitted the bill very neatly for an illicit lover, I really couldn’t see him as a fire raiser and a hit-and-run driver. He was too suave, too polished. The idea of him creeping about in the middle of the night with a can of petrol was almost laughable.