Next Door to Murder (16 page)

‘Lovelorn, would you say?'

‘Could be.'

‘What was she like?'

‘Difficult to say. She didn't open her mouth.'

‘Well, if she's up there, at least she's not with Dominic.'

‘No one can argue with that,' Rona said.

Max's call came as she was preparing for bed.

‘Did you remember your curtsey?' he asked her.

‘You'd have been proud of me.'

‘Seriously, did it go OK?'

‘Yes, they were pleasant enough, but as Lord Roxford remarked, there was no need whatsoever for me to come up here.'

‘Massaging Julian's ego, that's all.'

She paused. ‘Have you been back to the house?'

‘No, why?

‘I wondered if there was any post.' She paused again. ‘Lindsey's had an invitation from the Yarboroughs, and says we're also on the guest list.'

This time the pause was on his side. ‘An invitation to what?'

‘A cocktail party. For next week, I think.'

‘Well, you go if you like, but I shan't.'

‘That's what I thought. In that case, neither shall I.'

‘We can make some plausible excuse.'

‘No doubt. Well, see you tomorrow, darling. Goodnight.'

‘Goodnight,' he said.

The following morning, she settled up with the pub, put her case in the boot, and set off for Harrogate. The last time she'd had to search the records, it had required making an appointment at the archive centre and booking a reading table. However, when she'd phoned to do so, she was told past copies of the electoral rolls were available in the local library. No appointment was necessary, and, even better from Rona's viewpoint, the rolls were in volumes rather than on microfiche.

Through indirect questioning, Louise had found out the address of the Franks' old home – 26 Rawsdon Drive – and also the date on which she herself had left for Canada. On arrival at the library, therefore, Rona's first task was to check in which district or parish the road fell, then unearth the volume for the year 2000, which would have been Louise's last entry. Having done so, she settled at a table with a feeling of anticipation. If she could provide evidence that Louise had indeed lived with her parents prior to moving to Canada, it should do a lot to restore some sense of identity.

Which did not, however, prove to be the case. There was no difficulty in tracing the listing for the Franks, but the names recorded were Barbara M., Karen E. and Keith G. There was no mention at all of Louise.

Rona frowned and leafed both backwards and forwards in case she'd made some mistake. But the address tallied – 26 Rawsdon Drive – and the year was the one she'd been given. She sat back, studying the page in bewilderment. Could it be that the Franks had, either intentionally or otherwise, given Louise the wrong date? Perhaps she'd left for Canada a year earlier? As to who Karen might be, Rona had no idea. There'd been no mention of a younger sister. Could she, then, have been an unmarried aunt, who'd been living with them? Even Keith's mother? There was no way of knowing.

Not to be defeated, Rona collected several back volumes, but each gave the same information. When, however, she consulted the 2001 records, interestingly enough, only Barbara and Keith's names appeared. Whoever Karen was, she seemed to have moved away at the same time as Louise. Was this significant?

Rona stared at the pile of volumes in frustration. There must be a logical explanation, but try as she might, she couldn't detect it. Remembering her previous experience, she then looked up the names of the neighbours on either side of the Franks' house and directly opposite, then checked them against the latest roll. Two of the names were the same.

She glanced at her watch. Ten to eleven. She wanted to be home by six, and it was a four-hour drive – possibly more on a Friday evening. She'd just have time to drive out to Rawsdon Drive in the hope of catching at least one of the couples at home. With luck, they might be able to solve the mystery.

She bought a map of Harrogate, located the road she wanted, and, after a couple of wrong turns, found her way there. Parking the car outside number twenty-six, she glanced up at the house, wondering if the people who now lived there had bought it from the Franks, or whether there'd been an intervening sale. It was worth enquiring.

Her heart sank when the woman who answered her knock was in her twenties, and holding a baby in her arms. It was no surprise to learn they'd moved in only six months ago, and had no knowledge of previous owners.

Rona walked down the drive and up that of the next-door house, but when her ring resulted only in the distant barking of a dog, it was obvious no one was home. Which left the house opposite, whose occupants had also been there during the time of the Franks.

This time, a woman of about sixty opened the door, and Rona's spirits rose, guessing her to be the Susan J. Griffiths who'd been listed at this address. She launched into her prepared speech.

‘I'm sorry to trouble you, but I wonder if you can help me? I'm trying to trace Mr and Mrs Franks, who used to live opposite. Have you any idea how I can get in touch with them?'

‘Goodness me, no,' Mrs Griffiths replied. ‘The last I heard of them was when they left about three years ago, to join their daughter out in Canada.'

‘That would be . . .' Rona frowned, as though trying to remember.

‘Karen,' supplied Mrs Griffiths promptly. ‘She'd been courting a local lad, David Swann, and when his firm transferred him to Toronto, they got married and she went with him. Barbara and Keith visited them a couple of times, then, when Keith took early retirement, they moved out there permanently.'

Rona was now totally confused. So Karen had been their daughter, and married David Swann. Then where did Louise, who'd married Kevin Stacey, come into the picture?

She said tentatively, ‘They had another daughter, didn't they? Louise?'

Mrs Griffiths shook her head. ‘No, just the one.' She looked at Rona more closely. ‘I thought you said you knew them?'

‘Not personally,' Rona back-tracked. ‘They're friends of friends. I heard they'd recently moved back to the UK, and wondered if you might know their new address?'

‘Sorry, can't help you there. We lost touch when they left.'

‘My friends certainly spoke of a Louise,' Rona persisted. ‘Could she have been a niece, or something?'

‘It's possible, I suppose' Mrs Griffiths said doubtfully, ‘but I never heard of her.'

In desperation, Rona added, ‘I called at number twenty-four, but no one was in. Might they . . .?'

‘I really couldn't say; they keep to themselves.' Mrs Griffiths was becoming less forthcoming, and Rona feared her suspicions had been aroused. She felt in her handbag and extracted a card. ‘I'm only here for the day, but if they do know anything, could you possibly ask them to phone me? My friends would be so grateful.'

She held out the card, and after a moment, the woman took it.

‘Thanks so much for your help,' Rona continued, remembering just in time not to add the woman's name, which she should not have known. Her quick smile elicited no response, and she made her way down the path and across the road to her car, hearing the door close behind her.

As she was about to drive off, she glanced back at the house, in time to see one of the net curtains twitch. With luck, curiosity would prompt Mrs Griffiths to pass on the card. If not, well, Rona had done all she could.

It would have been wiser, she reflected as she turned out of Rawsdon Drive, not to have offered to make these enquiries; their result would only add to Louise's uncertainties.

‘Cal! Hi, there! Good to hear from you! How are things?'

‘Fine, fine. You too?'

‘Great, yes. I've got a new job, did you hear? Finally made the move, and so far, I haven't regretted it. Still in IT, but a different line.'

‘Good for you. And Susie?'

‘Blooming. Literally. We're expecting an addition to the family in October.'

‘Congratulations, that's great. Look, the reason I'm phoning is I thought you'd like to know a woman has been sniffing around, making enquiries about the Franks.'

The hairs rose on the back of his neck. ‘When was this?'

‘Yesterday, I think. The folks were out, but the old biddy across the road came over with a card she'd left, asking them to get in touch if they knew where the Franks are now.'

‘Toronto, isn't it?' he said slowly.

‘She seemed to think they were back in this country.'

His grip tightened on the phone. ‘Who—' His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. ‘Who is this woman?'

‘According to Dad, the name on the card was Rona Parish, and she lives down your way. It might be worth looking her up, finding out how much she knows.'

‘It might indeed,' he said slowly. ‘You don't happen to have her address?'

‘Yep; I thought you'd want it, so I jotted it down. Nineteen, Lightbourne Avenue, Marsborough. It
is
your neck of the woods, isn't it?'

‘Yes, only a few miles away. Did she say
why
she wanted to contact them?'

‘On behalf of friends, but Ma Griffiths had her suspicions, not least because she seemed to think they had a daughter called Louise.'

‘Could be a different family altogether.'

‘Always possible, of course.'

‘I'll check, naturally. Thanks, Cal.'

‘Let me know how you get on.'

‘You can bet on it.'

He put down the phone and sat staring into space. Perhaps, after all, justice might be done.

Nine

R
ona was grateful for the respite that the weekend gave her. Not only would Louise not approach her for news while Max was home, but she needed time to decide how to impart her findings.

‘Can you make any sense of it?' she asked Max yet again, as they sat over Saturday lunch. ‘
Why
isn't Louise listed, and where is Karen?'

Max shrugged. ‘I did warn you to keep out of it.'

‘But it gives credence to her story, doesn't it? That she mightn't be their daughter?'

‘Then why would they say she was? And if she isn't, who the hell is she?'

‘I don't
know
!' Rona put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, I
wish
I'd never looked her up! At least there was some doubt before.'

‘If you ask me, there's plenty now,' Max returned. ‘Forget it, and concentrate on the Willows. In all probability, the lot next door will be moving out soon, and taking their problems with them.'

‘I suppose I could approach it from another angle, and track down Kevin Stacey.'

Max pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘I don't know why you ask my advice. You never take it.'

‘Sorry! It's just—'

‘I know, I know. It always is.' He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Come on, let's go down to the club and watch some tennis. The tournament's on today.'

‘You should have entered for it,' Rona said, starting to clear the table.

He grinned. ‘Only fair to give someone else a chance!' he said.

That evening they went to Dino's, the Italian restaurant she'd mentioned to Louise. It was a home-from-home for Rona, since, with her dislike of cooking, she frequently came here for supper when Max had his evening classes.

As often happened, several of their friends were also there, and the obliging Dino set up a larger table so they could sit together.

‘I presume the Willow introduction bore fruit?' Georgia asked at one point, winding her pasta round her fork.

‘Oh Georgie, I'm sorry – I meant to report back to you. Yes, I started work there last week. In fact, I'm just back from Yorkshire, after paying my respects to His Lordship!'

Georgia looked blank, and Rona explained, ‘Araminta's descendant, Lord Roxford.'

Georgia put her fork down. ‘Good grief! I thought Julian was exaggerating, and it was some country squire they were related to! I never imagined—'

‘Oh, it's the real thing, believe me. They live in a stately home that's open to the public, and are shortly off to Scotland for the grouse-shooting.'

‘I shall look on Julian in a new light!' Georgia declared, amid general laughter.

‘Did Lindsey enjoy her day-trip to France?' Magda enquired, as their plates were removed.

‘Very much, thanks.'

‘Odd, that you should have come across the Roxfords,' Gavin commented. ‘It's their daughter Dominic Frayne was involved with.'

‘So I believe,' Rona said steadily.

Magda shot her a glance. ‘Does Lindsey know?'

‘Of course.' She made it sound as though Dominic had told her. ‘As a matter of fact,' she went on quickly, ‘I met him myself, quite by chance, in the park.'

Gavin raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you warn him off?'

‘Certainly not. I thought he was charming.'

‘Oh, he's charming, all right. That's half the trouble.'

Magda put her hand on his sleeve. ‘That's enough, darling. You can't go round blackening people's characters! I'm sure Lindsey knows what she's doing.'

That would be a first, Rona thought silently, and was glad when the conversation turned to other matters.

As she and Max walked home through the warm darkness, the anxieties that her friends' company had held at bay again reached out for her. It was almost midnight, but there was a light behind one of the upstairs windows next door. Rona wondered whose room it was, and if Louise was lying awake up there. Max, seeing her upward glance, pulled her against him.

‘Sufficient unto the day,' he said, and though Rona realized a new one was just beginning, she merely nodded agreement as they went together into the house.

Lindsey replaced her coffee cup on the bedside table and picked up the newspaper. It was a habit she'd acquired during her marriage to Hugh, to retrieve the Sunday papers from the mat, make a cup of coffee, and take them back to bed. In the early days, Hugh had later gone down to make breakfast, and brought it up on a tray. Nowadays, Lindsey omitted breakfast altogether. Today, in particular, she'd no desire to eat, since she'd no doubt be having a large lunch at Catherine's.