Banner Lane, leading off the high street, was narrow and curved round to the left. Each of the cottages was set back, with long paths separating them from their front gates, and the trees and shrubs in the gardens afforded the properties complete privacy.
Not that the neighbours were likely to call the police if any of them happened to see her breaking into Patsy's home, but it was still easier without an audience.
Also, did it technically count as breaking in when you weren't actually breaking anything?
At the front door, Lily unzipped the narrow leather pouch and selected two of the steel picks for the task in hand. Lock-picking was a skill Nick had taught her as a teenager; when you worked in a reclamation yard, it came in useful. Closed chests, drawers, boxes and desks regularly turned up minus their keys and needed opening. It was a handy trick, learned from months of practice at the kitchen table with an assortment of old locks. If you didn't have professional equipment, you could open standard locks with a thin strip of metal cut from a drinks can, and an unbent paperclip.
Leaning in close, Lily slid the first pick into the lock on the front door. She listened to the tiny clicking noises it made as it scratched at the inner walls.
OK, this wasn't the most basic lock on the market, but with a bit more work, she'd still be able to release it. She gave the door a push with the flat of her left hand, then gripped the edge of the lock face and pulled it back towards her before choosing another pick and trying again. For a moment she felt the oddest sensation, as if she were being watched, and she had to turn and check that no one was standing on the path behind her.
But it was just her overactive imagination; there wasn't anyone there.
It took another thirty seconds, then Lily heard the final click she'd been waiting for. Bingo. The lock retracted, she pushed the door open and …
It closed in her face.
What?
She stared at the door. It hadn't swung shut. Someone had pushed it.
From the inside.
She blinked. It definitely wasn't Patsy. And it couldn't be Dan. Could it? No, there was no way even Dan would have been able to jump out of his plane and race all the way back here to play a stupid trick on her.
Unnerved, Lily said, ‘Who's in there?'
No reply. She hammered on the door and called out, ‘What's going on?'
Nothing.
Just to be on the safe side, in case Dan had only been pretending to be flying today, she raised her voice and said, ‘Dan, is that you?'
Silence.
OK, this was ridiculous; was there actually someone inside or had she just imagined it? Had a window been left open at the back of the house, causing a gust of wind to make the front door feel as if it were being pushed shut by an invisible hand?
Because if she called the police and they came over and the place turned out to be empty, she'd look like a complete lemon.
The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed that it had been the wind. Still clutching the picks, she fed the second one into the keyhole in order to begin the process again.
‘Get away from the door,' warned a low male voice from inside, ‘or I'm calling the police.'
What? What? Leaping back as if she'd been electrocuted, Lily stared ahead in disbelief.
‘I mean it. I'll do it if you don't get away from this house.'
‘Hang on a minute,' said Lily, fuelled with sudden outrage. ‘You're calling the police? What are you even talking about? I'm the one who's going to call the police!'
‘OK, calm down. Don't call them.' There was a pause, then the voice said, ‘Who are you?'
God, he had a colossal nerve. ‘Never mind me, who are you?'
‘I'm staying here. I'm Patsy's guest.'
‘Well that's a complete lie for a start, because I saw her just now and she'd have told me.' Moving further away from the door – because he didn't sound dangerous, but you never knew – Lily pulled out her phone. ‘Right, I'm calling nine nine nine.'
‘Don't.'
‘Too late. Doing it.' Her hands had suddenly started shaking. She'd never actually dialled 999 before, and now she'd pressed 666 by mistake, which was probably the number you called when you needed an emergency exorcism.
At that moment the front door opened and the voice said, ‘OK, please don't. I wasn't lying before. I'm allowed to be here, I promise.'
A couple of years ago, Lily had been at work shifting a stack of Victorian picture frames when someone behind her had asked how much they cost. Turning to reply, she'd found herself face to face with the deputy prime minister. It had been one of those completely surreal moments when you see someone you've only ever seen before on TV but all of a sudden they're off the screen, out from behind the glass and unexpectedly inhabiting the real world.
Another time she'd been making a delivery in Oxford, sitting in the van waiting for the lights to change, and the girl with the eyebrows who did the local weather forecast on TV had crossed the road in front of her. Just like any normal person.
Neither of those experiences, however, began to compare with this one. A weather girl and a nerdy politician in socks and sandals were no match for what was happening now.
If it was actually happening and she wasn't having a particularly lifelike dream.
But really, what on earth was Eddie Tessler doing in Patsy's cottage?
Eyes narrowed, expression distinctly unamused, he checked there was no one else in sight, then said, ‘You'd better come inside.' As if there was nothing he'd like less.
He headed back in, turned and waited for Lily to follow him, then closed the door firmly behind her.
To be honest, it was hardly surprising he didn't want to be seen. As far as many people were concerned, Eddie Tessler was currently right up there at the top of the most-wanted list.
It had only been two or three years ago that he'd sprung to the public's attention when he'd written a screenplay, sold it to one of the major studios and starred in the subsequent smash-hit film. Prior to that, he'd been an unknown, intermittently employed actor with no money, zero prospects and a run-down one-bedroomed flat in Camden. Then the film had been released and pretty much overnight Eddie Tessler found himself catapulted into the shiniest of spotlights. His life changed out of all recognition, everyone suddenly wanted to know every last thing about him and he no longer had a private life.
Before long, he began to find the endless attention wildly irritating.
Then last week it had all hit the fan. Word got out that he had allegedly been having a torrid secret affair with the co-star of his just-wrapped third film. The co-star happened to be married to a major A-list actor/director, who wasn't at all happy to discover that his lissom young wife appeared to have been playing away behind his back. The press had gone wild, the paparazzi had followed everyone concerned in ever-more-excitable packs, and one of them had ended up being knocked off his motorbike.Then yesterday Eddie had given them the slip. He'd disappeared and no one knew where he was. There'd even been rumours that the furious A-list actor/director might have used some of his dodgy Italian Mafia connections and arranged to have him taken care of.
Except that clearly hadn't happened, because he was here.
Of all the bizarre hideouts in the world, he'd chosen Patsy's cottage in Stanton Langley in the Cotswolds.
As you do.
Chapter 7
‘OK, do me a favour,' said Eddie Tessler. ‘Could you just turn your phone off and put it down somewhere I can see it?'
‘Without you even saying please?' said Lily. ‘I don't think so.'
Manners were manners, after all.
He was watching her intently. ‘Sorry. Please.'
‘Why should I?'
‘Because I don't want you taking a photograph of me. These days it's all people ever seem to do.' He paused, raking his fingers through his over-long light brown hair, then said it again. ‘Please.'
Lily switched off her phone and placed it on the table between them. ‘OK, what are you doing here?'
‘Keeping myself hidden, obviously. What about you?' He looked pointedly at the lock-picking case in her hand. ‘Why were you breaking in?'
To be fair, it was a reasonable question. They were facing each other now, both wary, not trusting each other an inch.
‘Patsy's my friend. I've just this minute been to see her. She didn't want to lend me her key and I couldn't understand why, but I needed to get in here.'
‘Why were you so desperate to get in?'
If he could be blunt, so could she. ‘To stop her finding something her brother accidentally left out.'