A Question of Guilt(84)

‘Haven’t you had enough yet?’ I teased.

‘Beer?’

‘No – walking. You must be getting tired, doing all those miles day after day.’

‘Funnily enough it gets easier. You get into your stride, I suppose.’

‘You might. I don’t think I would.’

‘Of course you would! When you’re skiing you do it every day, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes, true . . . but there’s the ski-lift to take you uphill. Then all you have to do is coast down again.’

‘Each to his own. What have you been up to, anyway?’

‘Rachel and I have been to Dorset to see Dawn’s mother.’

‘And? What did she have to say?’

‘Some very interesting things. I’ll tell you all about it when you get back.’

‘Which isn’t long now. We’ll hit Stinchcombe where we left Paul’s car, and then all we have to do is drive back to the start point so I can pick up mine. Then I’ll be heading home. A hot bath, a couple of beers, and I’ll be all ready to cook that meal I promised you.’

‘Oh Josh . . . you aren’t going to feel like cooking . . .’

‘No, but I do feel like the beers, and if we go out, I won’t be able to drink and drive.’

‘So I’ll drive! It’s got to be my turn, anyway.’

‘Could be a plan. I don’t like the thought of you haring about those country lanes on your own late at night though.’

‘Well . . . I could always stay.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘You probably did. I’ve got to go, Josh. My dinner is going to be as dried up as the Sahara.’

‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘I may stay at Josh’s tomorrow night,’ I said, retrieving my plate from the Aga. Mum had already finished her dinner, but was still sitting at the table, waiting for me. ‘You wouldn’t mind, would you?’

‘Oh Sally, for goodness sake!’ Mum smiled. ‘I think you’re a bit past the age when you need to ask my permission, don’t you?’

But I wasn’t altogether sure how pleased she was at the prospect. Whilst she was glad he made me happy, and though they’d got on really well when he’d taken the two of us out for a meal, I couldn’t help feeling she still thought I was rushing into things a little faster than she’d like.

When we’d finished clearing away, I returned to examining Dawn’s diary, and the more I read the more I became convinced – as Dawn had been – that something very shady was going on and it centred around the warehouse where the auctions were held. At the time of writing Dawn had seemed not to know what it was, and so, of course, neither did I, but I got the definite impression that she thought it was something illegal.

L won’t talk about it at all, she jotted down. Can’t understand why he should be so secretive. Unless . . .??!?

What did those question and exclamation marks hide, I wondered? Did Dawn have some inkling, something she wasn’t prepared to put into black and white?

It seemed, though, that she was still in the dark about Lewis’s so-called ‘partner’. His identity was something else Lewis wasn’t willing to discuss, and that, too, was niggling at Dawn.

It was all highly suspicious, but it seemed to point to one thing. The auctions, and the warehouse, were a blind for some questionable goings-on. What had Grace said? Lewis is the front man. A telling phrase. But what was the illicit business?

Something a lot more profitable than an estate agency, if Lewis’s lifestyle was anything to go by. And if I was right, and Dawn had died because of what she knew, that was further evidence that it wasn’t just a two-penny-halfpenny fraud, but something very lucrative indeed.

What I really needed to find out was who Lewis’s partner was. He was the one who, according to Grace, Dawn had been afraid of. But how?

I talked it over with Mum when I eventually surfaced, though I was careful not to let her think I might be treading dangerous waters, and she had a suggestion to make.

‘Jeremy might know who Lewis’s business associates are,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘He’s in the Chamber of Commerce, after all, and the Rotary Club.’

‘That’s true. And he knows Lewis,’ I said. ‘It’s definitely worth a try. I’ll give him a ring.’

‘Not tonight, though, Sally – it’s much too late.’

I had to smile. ‘It’s only half past nine.’

‘You can’t bother someone at half past nine at night.’ Mum’s tone was decisive. ‘Do it in the morning.’

I couldn’t imagine that Jeremy would be so early to bed, but this was the countryside, and it had its own conventions.