Next Door to Murder

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘Why the hell doesn’t she come straight out and ask her parents?’ Max demanded impatiently. ‘They’re not ogres. What does she think they’d do to her?’

  ‘That’s what I advised,’ Rona agreed. ‘She didn’t want to, so I suggested she asked them who Karen was – the name that was on the electoral roll. The whole thing’s completely bizarre. What was it Jenny called her yesterday? The woman who never was? That seems horribly apposite.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, and you know it. There has to be a logical explanation.’

  ‘Then will you kindly tell me what it is?’

  There was a pause. Max said heavily, ‘It’s too late to start an argument. Go to bed, love, and stop worrying. It’s really not your problem.’

  ‘I’ve a feeling I’ve made it mine,’ Rona replied.

  She didn’t sleep well that night, and the dreams that lingered on her frequent awakenings were filled with faceless strangers, car crashes, and a sense of impending danger. At six, she gave up all thought of further sleep, had a shower, and went down for an early breakfast. Gus greeted her with pleased surprise, and when she’d eaten, she took him for a brisk walk round the block. There was a freshness about the early morning that dissipated in the sluggish heat of day and which, in her unsettled state, she found very welcome.

  Max had said Louise’s problem wasn’t hers, but she’d underlined her involvement by passing on her mobile number. She might well come to regret that.

  Julian was in the hall at Oak Avenue when Rona arrived.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, ‘that you might like to have a look round the shop to get an idea of how it’s run. We could show you the storerooms, explain which items are manufactured in the UK and which imported, where they’ve come from, and so on. It might help to put some of the earlier stock lists into perspective.’

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that. Your mother was saying her family firm is one of your main suppliers.’

  ‘That’s true. I pay regular visits to Sweden; perhaps you should accompany me next time.’

  Felicity, who’d come downstairs in time to hear this last remark, said warningly, ‘That’s not half as much fun as it sounds, Rona. I went once, and was bored out of my mind. There’s no time for sight-seeing on these business trips – all I saw was a succession of timber yards and warehouses. And I don’t even like herrings!’

  Julian shook his head despairingly. ‘Anyway, there’s time enough to think about that, but regarding a visit to the store, how about going down this afternoon? I shan’t be there, but I can arrange for Giles Stanton, the manager, to show you round.’

  ‘We’re lunching together at the Bacchus,’ Felicity put in. ‘She could go straight on from there.’

  ‘Excellent. About two thirty, then?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rona said, ‘I’ll be there.’

  That morning, she was glad to bury herself in the Willow papers and push all thoughts of Louise from her mind. She also made a list of questions to ask the store manager, looking forward to increasing her knowledge of furniture in general.

  At twelve thirty she went downstairs to find Felicity waiting for her. It was a twenty-minute walk to the Bacchus from Oak Avenue, and as Felicity was going straight on to visit friends in Chilswood, they took the car and parked in Market Street car park, almost alongside the wine bar.

  Knowing its popularity, Rona had booked a table, and they were led to one of the booths against the far wall, whose shoulder-high partitions afforded the illusion of privacy.

  ‘I’ve never been here at lunchtime,’ Felicity said. ‘It’s quite a different clientele – a mixture of business people and shoppers, by the look of them. In the evenings, it’s mainly couples, many of them having a pre-theatre supper before going to the Darcy Hall down the road.’

  ‘Or a late one after the show,’ Rona said, recalling visits of her own.

  She took the menu a waiter was handing her, and ran her eyes down it.

  ‘What do you fancy?’ she asked Felicity. ‘You probably know what’s on offer as well as I do.’

  ‘I’ll be having afternoon tea, so nothing too filling. Actually, what I’d really like is a selection of tapas.’

  ‘Good choice. I’ll join you.’

  She relayed their order to the waiter, and as he turned away, her eyes moved to two men seating themselves at a centre table. With a jolt of surprise, she recognized one of them as Dominic Frayne.

  Perhaps aware of her gaze, he turned, and she saw his momentary hesitation as he attempted to establish whether or not she was Lindsey. She smiled, and he half-rose in his seat, returning her smile with a slight inclination of his head.

  Felicity, who had seen the exchange, murmured, ‘Very nice too! Who is that charmer?’

  ‘Dominic Frayne,’ Rona answered, ‘a friend of my sister’s.’

  ‘So that’s Dominic Frayne! I’ve heard a lot about him, from both Julian and Tara.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Julian met him at the golf club, though his reputation had gone before. Businessman of the Year, and all that. They say he can be pretty ruthless, but having seen him, I doubt if he’d need to be. I’d say charm is his most powerful weapon.’

  Rona smiled. ‘Possibly more with women than with men.’

  ‘You have a point, I suppose, though Julian was very impressed with him, and he doesn’t impress easily.’

  ‘And Tara?’

  ‘Oh, they met at some reception in London. She was quite smitten, I think, but at the time his name was linked with the Roxford girl.’

  ‘He’s been linked with quite a few people, I believe,’ Rona said, suddenly unwilling to discuss Dominic Frayne.

  Felicity picked up something of her reserve. ‘Sorry, I’m being tactless. He’s a friend of your sister’s, and of course you don’t want to gossip about him.’

  Luckily, the arrival of their wine obviated the need of a reply.

  ‘Talking of Tara,’ Felicity went on, ‘she phoned last night. She’s attending a reunion dinner at Farnbridge on Thursday, and wants to spend a few days with us on her way home. Which I’m afraid will mean suspending our lunches.’

  ‘Just as well for my waistline! Seriously, don’t give it a thought. You’ve done more than enough already, and in any case I shan’t be coming in every day from now on. I’ve enough to make a start on the article, and will just be looking in from time to time to check things, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course; whatever suits you.’ Felicity sipped her wine. ‘Though I hope, when you’ve finished, we’ll still keep in touch.’

  ‘I hope so, too.’

  As she spoke, Rona realized her response wasn’t mere politeness. There was an openness about Felicity, almost a naïveté, that was endearing, and Rona hoped fiercely that the predatory Tara would do nothing to hurt her.

  Their tapas arrived, and conversation stayed on a more general level for the rest of the meal. As they rose to leave, Dominic came to his feet.

  ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your meal? May I introduce my business colleague, Neville Barclay? Neville, this is Rona Parish, renowned biographer.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ Rona protested laughingly, as his companion half rose to acknowledge her. ‘Felicity, meet Dominic Frayne, and – Mr Barclay. Felicity Willow,’ she added to the two men.

  Dominic took Felicity’s hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. I’ve had some good games of golf with your husband.’

  ‘So I believe,’ Felicity smiled, flushing with pleasure.

  They chatted lightly for a couple more minutes, then, niceties over, Rona and Felicity continued on their way to the door.

  ‘Thanks so much for lunch,’ Felicity said, as they parted on the pavement outside. ‘Not to mention the introduction to Dominic Frayne!’

  ‘Any time,’ Rona smiled.

  ‘Will you be in tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll want to write up what I’ve learned at the shop.’

  ‘See you then, and I hope you enjoy your t
our.’

  As Rona started down Market Street, her mobile rang in her handbag, and she stopped, moving to one side of the pavement to answer it.

  ‘Rona?’ It was Louise’s voice, highly pitched.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Rona asked quickly.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this, but my parents have put a private detective on to me!’

  Rona frowned. ‘What makes you think—?’

  ‘He followed me from home. At first I thought I was being neurotic, but I tested him, going into one shop after another, and each time he was waiting outside, pretending to look in the window. Then I went to the café where you took me that time, and he came and sat at the next table, and kept staring at me.’ Her voice rose in a wail. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Where are you now?’ Rona asked sharply.

  ‘Back home.’

  ‘Are your parents there?’

  ‘They’re in the garden. Rona—’

  ‘What did he look like, this man?’

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. I suppose that’s one of the requirements for the job.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘In his thirties, medium height, grey eyes.’

  Rona’s heart began to pound. ‘What was he wearing?’

  ‘Wearing?’ Louise sounded distracted.

  ‘You must have noticed, if he was sitting opposite you.’

  ‘Well, he had on a short-sleeved sports shirt and light-coloured trousers.’

  ‘What colour was his shirt?’

  ‘Colour? What does that matter? I’m—’

  ‘Humour me, Louise.’

  ‘Light blue, if it’s so important.’

  It was little comfort; the pink one would be in the wash by now.

  ‘He didn’t make any attempt to speak to you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or follow you, when you left the café?’

  ‘Surprisingly, no.’

  ‘Did you mention this to your parents?’

  ‘Of course not. They—’

  ‘I think you should, Louise. This could be very important.’

  There was a pause. ‘You mean—?’

  ‘I mean that I don’t think this man is anything to do with them. I saw him myself on Sunday evening, staring into my kitchen window.’

  Louise sounded bewildered. ‘He’s some kind of stalker?’

  ‘I don’t know what he is, but I think he should be reported.’

  ‘To the police, you mean? But he didn’t actually do anything, and I can’t prove he was following me.’

  No, Rona reflected, that was the trouble. The police would be unlikely to pay attention to such vague accusations, no doubt taking the same line as Max had done. She sighed with frustration.

  ‘Even if we can’t report him, tell your parents. They’ll know what to do.’

  ‘What they’ll do,’ Louise said bitterly, ‘is go back to not allowing me out on my own.’

  ‘That might be no bad thing, for the moment. Please, Louise, do as I say. It’s your safety that counts, not your independence.’

  ‘Safety?’ Her voice rose again. ‘You think he might be dangerous?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think, but I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of this, I promise. In the meantime, speak to your parents about it.’ She paused. ‘Did you mention Karen?’

  ‘No, I haven’t plucked up the courage so far.’

  ‘I think you should. Look, I must go – I’ve an appointment in ten minutes. Take care, and I’ll be in touch.’

  She rang off, dropped her phone back into her bag, and, glancing at her watch, hurried on down the road, waiting with impatience until the traffic lights changed, and she could cross into Guild Street. Who was this man, and was it Louise or herself in whom he was interested? She caught herself glancing over her shoulder, and swore softly under her breath. She would not allow herself to feel vulnerable in her own home town.

  Head high and shoulders back, she walked briskly down Guild Street to Willows’ Fine Furniture.

  The tour was interesting, and Giles Stanton a pleasant and knowledgeable guide, but to her annoyance, Rona’s attention kept slipping. Time and again, she forced it back to what he was saying, reminding herself to ask the questions she’d prepared, and save the answers on her pocket recorder.

  At her request, he pointed out items of furniture that had been supplied by Erika’s family firm, Gustavsson of Örebro, several of which resembled pieces in Erika’s home. The quality of the wood and attractiveness of design made them very desirable, and Rona was not surprised to see the high prices asked for them.

  As Julian had requested, Stanton took her to the storerooms, where items were kept until there was space for them in the showroom, and produced order books and the latest brochures, one of which he gave her to take away.

  ‘Have you come across the old brochures in the archives?’ he asked, and she confessed she had not.

  ‘Make sure you look them out. They’re proof that furniture doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but is a constantly changing mirror of its times – delicate, spindly chair-legs reflecting the elegance of the Regency period, for instance. And of course Art Deco swept all before it – not only furniture, but fashions, ceramics, architecture and much else.’

  He glanced at her sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you.’

  ‘Please don’t apologize. It’s a fascinating subject, and I’d like to follow up several of the points you’ve made, for my own interest. May I come back some time, even after I’ve finished the article?’

  ‘Of course, I’d be delighted.’ He smiled. ‘Even more delighted if you’re tempted to buy some of the pieces you’ve seen!’

  Rona laughed. ‘I’ll have to sweet-talk my husband,’ she said.

  She decided against returning to Oak Avenue. Neither Felicity nor Julian would be there, and she doubted if she herself would get much work done, with her mind on other matters. Instead, she’d collect Gus from Max’s and take him for a walk. Perhaps Furze Hill Park would work its usual magic, and clarify things for her.

  Unusually, she found Max in the kitchen at Farthings, making a cup of tea.

  ‘I’ve finished the bit I’m working on,’ he told her, ‘and waiting for the paint to dry. So sit down and keep me company for a while. What have you been up to today?’

  ‘Felicity and I had lunch at the Bacchus,’ Rona began.

  ‘All right for some!’

  ‘And Dominic Frayne was there.’

  ‘Not, I trust, with some glamorous blonde?’

  ‘No, with a business colleague. I introduced him to Felicity, and she was very taken with him.’

  ‘One of these days I must meet this male paragon.’

  ‘I think you’d like him. Perhaps, when things are more settled with Linz, we could have them both to dinner.’

  Max grunted. ‘If things become settled. Gavin said he has a reputation, remember.’

  ‘And I’ve spent the last hour or so at Willows’, being instructed in the intricacies of the furniture trade.’

  ‘With Julian?’

  ‘No, the manager. It was very interesting.’ She paused, gazing at the cup of tea in front of her.

  After a minute, Max said, ‘Come on, then. What is it you’re not telling me?’

  ‘I had a phone call from Louise.’

  He groaned. ‘Not that again.’

  ‘She said she was followed this morning, when she left the house.’

  ‘And you believed her?’

  ‘Yes. What’s more, her stalker sounded exactly like the man I saw on Sunday.’

  Max frowned. ‘He’s still hanging around, then?’

  ‘It would seem so.’ She looked up. ‘I don’t like it, Max. I’ve a nasty feeling about him.’

  ‘You’ve no way of knowing it’s the same man. Don’t tell me the pink shirt was in evidence again?’

  ‘No, but her description tallied pretty closely.’

  ‘As, if I’m not
mistaken, it would with half the male population.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘All right, I admit I don’t like this any more than you do; it might be wise for me to sleep at home for the time being.’

  She looked up gratefully. ‘Would you, Max? I’m probably being silly, but I really think there’s something behind all this.’

  ‘Then for God’s sake don’t take any chances. Keep to well-populated places, don’t go out after dark, and I’ll be home about ten. Now, take your trusty hound and let me get back to work.’

  She leant across the table to kiss him. ‘My hero,’ she said.

  As she’d planned, Rona took Gus to the park, but she was careful not to isolate herself from the other dog-walkers, and kept a careful eye on those around her. Nothing untoward occurred, and it was with a sigh of relief that she put her key into the front door of number nineteen.

  But, as once before, as she pushed it open, she saw a note lying on the mat. Louise? she thought, bending to pick it up and unfold it. But it was not from Louise.

  If you want to hear the truth about the Franks, she read, phone me on – and a mobile number followed. There was no signature.

  Rona hastily closed the door and leant against it, her mouth dry, unsure, as a multitude of thoughts and questions collided in her head, whether it was the note itself or its message that worried her the most.

  Eleven

  Max said, ‘For God’s sake, don’t phone that number.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to – at least, not yet. But it might at least throw some light on things. He obviously has some connection with the Franks, and he seems to know I’ve been asking about them. That’s creepy.’

  ‘What gets me is that he knows where you live.’

  ‘But we knew that; I told you, he was looking in at me.’

  ‘You think it’s the same man?’

  She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I certainly hope so; I shouldn’t like to think there’s an army of psychos roaming the streets.’

  ‘God, I wish I hadn’t got this bloody class this evening.’

  ‘At least you’ll be home later.’

  ‘But will you promise me not to try to contact him? At least before we’ve had a chance to discuss it properly?’