A Question of Guilt (29 page)

I didn't mention it to Josh either. He rang just as we were eating; Mum put my plate in the Aga to keep warm while we talked. Another day's walking, another B & B, another much-needed beer waiting for him, he told me.

‘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.

‘All right, I'll leave it until the morning if that'll make you happy,' I agreed.

In the event, I didn't have to telephone Jeremy; he turned up at the door while I was still helping Mum with the chores.

‘Just checking on that man of mine,' he said breezily. ‘He's not slacking, is he?'

‘I haven't had any complaints from Sam,' Mum assured him.

‘And the computer programme I set up is going OK?'

I hardly liked to admit I hadn't yet used it, so I just smiled and nodded.

‘Actually, there was something Sally wanted to ask you, Jeremy.' Mum set the kettle to boil. ‘I'll make a cup of tea, and she can tell you all about it.'

This was a bit awkward, I realized. I didn't want to go into detail about the reason I wanted this information.

‘It's nothing, really,' I said lightly. ‘I understand Lewis Crighton has a partner, and I just wondered if you might know who it is.'

A look of astonishment crossed Jeremy's face.

‘Lewis Crighton has a partner? I thought the business was his and his alone.'

My heart sank.

‘Oh well, never mind. It was just a thought. It doesn't matter.'

‘That's not what you said last night!' Mum declared. ‘You told me you thought it might be really important.' She turned to Jeremy. ‘I had to stop her from ringing you there and then – at going on for ten o'clock. Not important, my eye. She thinks her story might depend on it.'

‘Your story . . . the one about the fire . . .'

‘And Dawn Burridge's death.' Mum was in full flow now. ‘She went to see Dawn's mother yesterday, and it seems this secret partner might be the one behind it.'

‘Mum – I don't know anything of the sort,' I protested. ‘You'll be having me charged with defamation of character if you're not careful!' I turned to Jeremy. ‘I'm just curious, that's all. A shadowy figure in the background whets my appetite.'

Jeremy smiled wryly. I had the feeling he could see right through me.

‘Leave it with me, Sally.'

Jeremy hadn't got back to me by the time I left to drive over to Josh's cottage, and to be honest, all thoughts of my investigation had gone on the back burner, so excited was I at the prospect of seeing Josh again. He'd phoned me around lunchtime to say he and his friend had finished their walk and were now driving back to where Josh had left his car when they'd set out four days ago. He should be home by late afternoon, and would expect me at around seven.

I was feeling on top of the world as I drove. I'd only been to the cottage once before, in the dark, and he'd been driving, so I wasn't confident I'd be able to find it again, and I'd put the post code he'd given me into the satnav. Soon it was informing me that I'd reached my destination.

‘I don't
think
so,' I replied, just as if the disembodied voice could hear me. I was indeed outside a house, but it looked more like a farm than Josh's cottage, set back from the lane, with big gates and outbuildings. I drove on a little further, then pulled into a gateway to a field and rang Josh.

‘I'm lost,' I said, when he answered.

He chuckled. ‘How can you be lost?'

‘I don't know, but I am. The satnav sent me to a farm.'

‘Ah, that's happened before. It's OK, I know where you are.'

‘Which is . . . where, exactly?'

‘Only a few hundred yards away. Just keep going until you come to a T-junction and you'll see the cottage on your right.'

‘I shall be ringing you again if I don't see it,' I warned.

‘You will,' he assured me.

He was right. After just a short distance I spotted the cottage. The front door was open and Josh was looking out. Feeling a little foolish, I pulled on to the gravelled area in front of a small garage, and beside Josh's car. Why didn't he keep it in the garage? I wondered, and then remembered. Of course, he had a motorbike. Perhaps there wasn't room for a car as well.

‘You found me in the end, then.' Josh was opening my driver's door, helping me out. And then I was in his arms, and as he kissed me, white-hot desire pulsed through me; I was thinking of nothing but him.

We were rather late making it to the pub for our meal; we'd had better things to do. Josh was a wonderful lover, generous and tender as well as passionate, and he aroused in me emotions and responses I'd almost forgotten I could experience. The touch of his hands and his lips stirred my soul as well as my body, the feel of the long hard muscles in his shoulders and back beneath my hands thrilled and delighted me, his heart beating next to mine and our breath rising and falling in unison made me feel as if we were somehow one, not two separate people at all.

‘I hope the pub is still serving food,' Josh said after we'd showered and dressed again.

‘I don't care much if they're not,' I laughed.

‘Speak for yourself! I'm starving! Josh retorted. ‘If we're too late we'll just have to find a fish and chip shop.'

‘As long as that doesn't mean driving around for miles. I haven't got that much fuel. I should have filled up, but it's such a hassle and I thought I had enough for what I needed tonight.'

‘No problem.' He picked up his car keys. ‘I'm driving anyway.'

‘But we agreed . . .'

‘I know, but I've changed my mind. When I take a lady out I don't like being in the passenger seat. And if you're low on fuel, that settles it. Come on, don't argue. Just do as you're told.'

I shook my head in mock exasperation, but there was a warmth inside me that would not be denied. I felt cherished, protected. It was a good feeling.

We were in luck – the pub was still serving food, albeit a limited menu. I chose lasagne, and Josh had steak pie with a huge bowl of chips on the side, and a pint of locally brewed beer.

‘I should be all right if I stick to just the one,' he said, licking foam from his lips. ‘So, you were going to tell me how you got on in Dorset yesterday.'

Between mouthfuls of lasagne I filled him in, though I avoided mentioning the motorcycle that had appeared to be following us on the way home. I still wasn't sure if I was being paranoid, and in any case I didn't want to get into another argument about the risks of what I was doing.

‘Something is definitely going on at the warehouse, I'm sure of it,' I said. ‘I don't know yet what it is, but I'm guessing it's something like drugs – that's how Lewis is making his money. And I don't know where the mystery ‘partner' fits in, or who he is. But I've asked Jeremy, and he's going to try to find out.'

‘You think he'll be able to?' Josh asked.

‘There's a pretty good chance, I'd say. He's well in with the business community. And once I know that, I'm going to go to the police with my suspicions.'

‘I thought you were dead set on getting to the bottom of it by yourself.' Josh took a judicious pull of his beer – making it last, I guessed.

‘To be honest, I don't think there's much more I can do,' I said. ‘And besides, I'm thinking about Alice. I don't know whether she's still missing, or ever was, but if she is, then I owe it to her to go to the police with as much as I know. No, I'm afraid I'm out of my depth here, Josh.'

‘Which is what I've been saying all along.'

I ignored that.

‘At least I'll have an insider's take on the story,' I said.

When we'd finished our meals we lingered for a little longer, enjoying cups of frothy cappuccino, then headed back to Josh's cottage and went to bed, where once again we made wonderful, exhilarating love.

Afterwards I felt replete and happy. Whether anything came of my story or not, at least investigating it had been the cause of my meeting Josh. If I hadn't gone to the
Gazette
office to research the fire, I'd never have met him, and I'd have missed out on something wonderful.

The word ‘serendipity' floated into my mind; it was still there, warming me, as I fell asleep in his arms.

It must have been an hour or so later when I woke with a raging thirst – the result of drinking too much wine, I thought. Josh was fast asleep and snoring gently; I slid out from beneath the duvet and crept downstairs in search of a glass so that I could get a drink of water.

Josh's kitchen was at the back of the cottage. I padded across the open-plan living room, where moonlight made silvery pools and shadows on the woodblock floor, and pushed open the door. I hadn't been in the kitchen before – had had no cause to. Now I took in the shaker-style cupboards and worktops, the free-standing cooker and fridge, the microwave propped on a shelf, and imagined myself cooking for Josh here. At the moment it was typically a man's domain – basic and a bit untidy – but nothing that wouldn't be improved by a few pots of herbs on the window sill and perhaps a string of garlic bulbs and bunches of dried flowers hanging from the beams between the copper pans. I smiled to myself – how presumptuous was that?