by Sue Fortin
‘You wouldn’t …!’
‘Try me.’
Owen’s finger tapped rapidly against his leg. He was the one bluffing and Elizabeth knew, out of the two of them, she had the balls.
They eyed each other across the desk. Owen wasn’t as strong as he liked people to think he was. He’d buckle. She knew it. Still, she applied a bit more pressure. ‘I’ll give you a chance. You keep saying no and I’ll send this to Dominic first. See what he makes of it. Personally, I don’t think he’ll be very impressed and more than likely furious with you for getting yourself into this predicament. My betting is he’ll take even more power away from you. That would be rather humiliating, wouldn’t it? I mean, at this rate you’ll end up as a stable lad, answering to someone else running the yard.’
The redness returned to his face. ‘You’re one evil bitch,’ he said. ‘When Harry first brought you home, I was convinced he had fallen on his feet with someone beautiful on the outside and the inside too. How wrong could I have been? You are rotten to the core.’
Elizabeth yawned uninterestedly. ‘Stick and stones, sticks and stones.’
‘Well, fuck you.’ Owen almost spat the words out.
‘I’d sooner you didn’t.’ She waggled her little finger at him. ‘I’m used to a real man.’
She hadn’t banked on his reaction and as he flew round the desk and grabbed her by the throat, sending the chair flying backwards, Elizabeth realized she’d gone too far. Jesus Christ! He was going to strangle her!
She grabbed at his wrists, trying to prise his hands away from her throat, while at the same time she writhed on the floor, twisting her body one way and the other, attempting to get away from him. As she twisted to the side, she brought her knee up swiftly and caught him straight in the side of the ribs. Owen let out a moan. She did it again. And again.
The pressure was released from her neck and she pushed him away. Owen rolled over, clutching his side and groaning. ‘I think you’ve broken my ribs.’
On her hands and knees, gasping for air, Elizabeth crawled to the other side of the office and sat on the floor, leaning back against the door. She held one hand to her sore neck. The bastard would have killed her if she hadn’t managed to catch him with her knee.
‘You ever do anything like that again,’ she spat, ‘then I swear to God I will kill you myself.’ She pulled the remote-control spy camera from her pocket. ‘I’ve got all that recorded.’
Owen, now sitting on the floor, propped against his desk, looked over at her. ‘Total fucking bitch,’ he muttered.
After a few moments, Elizabeth hauled herself to her feet. She felt light-headed and had to hold on to the desk to steady herself.
Owen stood up too and righted the chair. He indicated for Elizabeth to sit and walked round to his side of the desk, taking the opportunity to pick up the telephone and pens he’d knocked over in his temper. Elizabeth took a moment to study him. The fight had definitely left him. The coward had frightened himself. She judged it safe to sit back down and resume their discussion.
‘Not sure how I’m going to explain the bruising to my neck,’ she said.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ said Owen, with no trace of remorse.
He was probably only sorry he hadn’t finished her off, thought Elizabeth. She cleared her throat. ‘You know what needs to be done and it needs to happen by next Friday, otherwise I’ll be sending a copy off to everyone; that includes the press and anyone you know on social media. So are you going to do it or not?’
‘Doesn’t look like I have much choice in the matter.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Elizabeth stood up. ‘Mind you don’t lose that memory card, now.’ This remark sent Owen into a panic as he tapped his pockets and frantically scanned the floor before swiping up the device from under his desk. Elizabeth gave the most saccharine smile she could muster. ‘See you later, Owen.’ She couldn’t resist waggling her little finger at him again.
‘Fuck you!’ shouted Owen.
Elizabeth slammed the door behind her to deflect the paperweight Owen had thrown after her. It hit the door with a thud. She poked her head back round the door. ‘Temper, temper.’ Then this time, leaving the door open, she sauntered back across the yard to the house.
Chapter Twenty-One
Conmere, Sunday, 12 May, 1.10 p.m.
Steph took a quick shower and, once dressed, packed the rest of her clothes into her suitcase. Although she didn’t have to be out of the room just yet, she wasn’t taking any chances by leaving her possessions unattended again. She just didn’t feel comfortable in the lodge now, despite the change of locks.
As she hurried along the path towards the car park and rounded the corner of the main house she glanced up, and saw Pru Sinclair standing at the French windows that opened out onto the lawn. Pru smiled and waved in her direction and Steph returned the gesture. As she did so Harry appeared at the windows next to his mother. He gave a small frown and nodded towards her case.
‘I’ll be back later!’ she called. Without breaking stride, Steph carried on out of range of the watchful eyes and into the car park. She had just loaded her car and put the keys in the ignition when Harry appeared at the driver’s door. Steph let out a small yelp of surprise, before opening the door.
Harry put his hand on top of the door. ‘Changed your mind?’
‘Not at all,’ said Steph. ‘I’ve just got to nip into town and thought I’d clear my room while I was at it. Save me having to do it later.’
‘Are you sure you should be driving after that knock to your head?’
‘Absolutely,’ she replied. Her headache had subsided and she didn’t feel groggy any more. ‘I feel fine.’ She went to tug on the door but his grip was firm.
‘Maybe I should drive you,’ he suggested.
‘Not at all,’ said Steph quickly. She could hardly meet Sonia with Harry in tow. ‘Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be.’
A frown creased his forehead. ‘Aren’t you supposed to still be working?’
‘I’ll make the time up later,’ she replied, slightly irritated at his tone. He wasn’t her boss – not yet. ‘Don’t worry, Conmere Resort Centre will get a full and glowing report, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘I wasn’t actually,’ said Harry tersely. ‘I was thinking more about you getting into trouble with your boss for skiving off.’ He let go of the door and stepped back from the car. ‘Enjoy your trip.’ He gave the door a push and turned on the spot, before marching across the car park and towards the house.
Steph let out a sigh. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened just then. There was an underlying tension between them since last night which kept rising to the surface.
She put the car into gear and headed out of the resort, her mind still occupied by Harry. Perhaps what happened yesterday at the lake should be put down as a one-off with no strings attached and no expectations from either of them. It certainly seemed to be the way Harry wanted to play it. Perhaps he was regretting their kiss now but didn’t know how to tell her he wasn’t interested in taking it further. She was an adult; she didn’t need treating with kid gloves. She’d tell him once again it was OK, she didn’t expect anything else from him and they could put yesterday behind them. She certainly wasn’t some sort of bunny-boiler.
Twenty minutes later Steph was parked in the pub car park. She opened her phone and scrolled through her messages and emails. There was one from her editor asking when she would be able to deliver the report and could they have it asap as he wanted to get ahead of the curve and be one of the first, if not the first, to publish a report on Conmere. Steph tapped out a reply, confirming she’d have it with him before six that evening. She knew her boss would be working on a Sunday, as the website and the company were his baby, meaning he rarely took time off.
There was a text message from her ex-colleague Adam Baxter.
Hey, Miss Marple, how’s it going? Solved the Mystery of The Dead Wife yet?
Steph sent a succinct reply.
Piss off!
She got a response almost immediately, as she thought she would.
Touchy! Seriously, I don’t know if you’re ruffling feathers over there already but we’ve had someone ring up asking about you.
Steph reread the text message and her heart gave an extra beat. Someone had been asking about her? She didn’t wait to ponder the question any further and hit the call button. Adam answered straight away.
‘Thought that might stir you up.’
‘Are you being serious?’ she asked, dispensing with any niceties.
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘Who was it?’ she asked, looking round for any sign of Sonia.
‘I didn’t speak to them, Ian did. He seemed to think it was someone from Conmere House.’
Steph tried to remember if she’d even told them of her employment history. She might have mentioned it to Harry when they were chatting on the terrace on Friday night, but she certainly hadn’t given him any authority to speak to anyone. ‘What did Ian say to them?’
‘That he couldn’t discuss anything without a formal written request from them and confirmation from you.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Steph, realising too late that she’d spoken the words out loud.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Adam, the mildly amused tone having now left his voice.
‘Nothing’s going on.’ Even to her own ears she sounded cagey.
‘Are you sure? Are you OK?’ Adam persisted.
‘Yeah. Positive. I don’t know what that was all about. I’m doing some work here at Conmere, housekeeping stuff, for the week, just to earn a bit of extra money, but that’s all. Maybe it was to do with that.’
‘You’re not poking around into Elizabeth Sinclair’s death, then?’ Adam at least made an attempt to sound casual, when Steph was aware he was dying to know really.
‘No, I’m not. Nothing to report, as far as I can see,’ she lied, aware that she didn’t want to share anything with him, partly because she wasn’t entirely sure herself what was going on and if anything that had happened actually had any bearing on Elizabeth Sinclair’s death.
‘Not sure I believe you,’ said Adam. ‘But I’ll let you know if we have any more calls about you.’
‘Thanks.’ She cancelled the call, trying to decide if she should be concerned or not. She looked around to see where on earth Sonia was. She’d give her another ten minutes and then send her a text. In the meantime, feeling agitated by Sonia’s lateness and Adam’s call, she decided to call Harry. She’d confront him while she was in the mood for it.
‘Hello, Steph,’ said Harry. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Not entirely. I just had an interesting call from one of my ex-employers.’ She paused, letting the words hang in the air.
‘Right,’ he said slowly.
‘Apparently, someone from Conmere has been making enquiries about me,’ she said, not hiding the annoyance in her voice. ‘I am grateful for the job this week in Housekeeping, but I don’t remember signing any forms or agreeing to anyone contacting my former employer.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ interrupted Harry. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. No one, certainly not me, has called your former employer. What makes you say that?’
She felt her earlier bubble of confidence deflate. ‘My old newspaper in Carlisle rang to tell me someone was checking up on my employment history …’
‘And you automatically assumed it was me?’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘No. It wasn’t.’ Harry sounded very put out. ‘The job is just a one-off – I was doing you a favour as much as you were doing me one. I had no intention of getting in touch with your current or former employers. Do you really think I’d do something like that without asking you first?’
‘What about someone from the office?’
He let out a sigh of frustration. ‘I haven’t told anyone where you worked; it hasn’t come up in conversation … it hasn’t been necessary. I’m telling you, Steph, it wasn’t me.’
‘Oh, God. I’m sorry,’ she said. He sounded genuine and her gut instinct was telling her the same. ‘I just assumed.’
‘Yeah, well, you know what they say about that.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Would it have been such a bad thing to get in touch with your former employer? Would they have told me what a hothead you are? How you jump to conclusions? How you’re impulsive?’ he said and then, dropping his voice, ‘That you would be a distraction?’
‘Me? A distraction?’ She laughed out loud. She was relieved they appeared to be back on good terms.
‘I honestly don’t know anything about it,’ he said. ‘I can ask though. Just to put your mind at rest. Maybe it was someone wanting to hire you. Maybe someone had something they wanted you to review or investigate – I don’t know.’
It was a good job Harry couldn’t see her face; she felt the smile drop like a stone at the apparently casual comment. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she said. ‘Look, I’d better go. The friend I’m meeting will be here any minute now.’
‘OK. I’ll see you later.’
God, she felt so confused around him. She couldn’t work him out at all. She definitely needed to speak to him later. But before any of that, she needed to know what was going on with Sonia. Steph decided just to phone her instead of messing around with text messages. She pressed the screen on her contact list and the phone began to ring at the other end.
‘Steph. I’m sorry I’m not there,’ said Sonia, and there was an urgency in her voice. ‘I’m about ten minutes away.’
‘Is everything OK?’
‘Not really. I was followed but I think I might have been able to get away without them noticing.’ Her voice was hushed. ‘I’m in a taxi. I’ll explain once I’m there.’
It was another fifteen minutes before a taxi carrying Sonia Lomas pulled up alongside Steph in the car park. After paying the fare and watching the taxi depart, Sonia jumped into the passenger seat next to Steph.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Steph; she could see from the look on the other woman’s face she was frightened. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Ever since I made contact with you, I’ve had the feeling that someone is watching me. Sometimes I think I’m being followed. I’m getting paranoid. The other day I came home, and I don’t know what it was but I just knew someone had been in the house.’
‘Was anything taken?’
‘Not that I could see. Everything looked exactly how I had left it, but it was just that feeling. Do you know what I mean?’
Steph considered Sonia for a moment. Yes, she did know what she meant. She was sure even if she hadn’t come into contact with the intruder in her lodge last night, she would have instinctively known someone had been there. ‘I do know what you mean.’
‘Have you found anything out?’ Sonia looked anxiously out of the window and then turned to look out of the rear window.
‘I’ve only been there a couple of days,’ said Steph. She hated admitting she was beginning to think that maybe there was nothing to report after all and Sonia was just desperately grasping at straws. That, over time, the loss of her daughter had sent her into the realms of conspiracy theories, the need to explain her daughter’s death properly so great it was clouding reality. However, she wasn’t quite ready to dismiss the older woman yet. ‘I’m staying on for another week,’ she explained. ‘I’m hoping to find out some more things then. It will give me a chance to have a look around and ask other people who worked there at the time. That sort of thing.’
‘Good, and thank you for believing in me.’
‘Is that all you wanted?’ asked Steph, thinking it could easily have been said over the phone.
‘I came to give you this.’ From her bag, Sonia pulled out a hardback notebook, with roses printed on the cover.
‘What’s this?’ asked Steph, taking the notebook Sonia offered her.
; ‘It belonged to Elizabeth. We met one day for lunch. Everything seemed fine. We chatted and left each other afterwards. When I got home, I found this notebook in my bag. I couldn’t think where it had come from. When I opened it, I recognised Elizabeth’s handwriting straight away.’
Steph looked down at the open book and flicked through the pages. It appeared to be a book where Elizabeth kept reminders for herself, to-do lists, places to go, almost like a filing cabinet but in no particular order. ‘What’s so important about this?’
‘When I phoned to tell her I’d found it, she asked me to look after it. She said it was important to her, but she didn’t want it back just yet. I think whoever was in my house was looking for it,’ said Sonia. ‘It’s the only personal item I have of Elizabeth’s.’
‘Did you show the police this?’
‘Yes. I did. And they weren’t interested. CID had a look through it and dismissed it. They gave it back to me the next day.’
Steph’s stomach gave a roll of unease at the mention of CID. It was highly probable it had been her own mother. She wondered now whether she should come clean and tell Sonia about Wendy. Would Sonia be OK about it or would she think Steph was more likely not to want to find out the truth? Undecided, she looked back at the book. ‘Can I keep this?’
‘Yes. I think you should. You need to go through it and find out what’s in there that’s so important.’
Steph had to admit she was a little sceptical that this notebook would hold the key to Elizabeth’s death, but she also knew she couldn’t ignore it either. She tucked the A5-sized notebook into her own bag. ‘I’ll look at it tonight.’
‘I know you probably think I’m crazy, but I’m grateful for all you’re doing,’ said Sonia. ‘Not many people are willing to listen to me any more.’ She squeezed Steph’s hand and her eyes filled with tears. Sonia fumbled in her pocket and found a tissue to wipe her face with. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not one for tears, but every now and again I can’t help it. I miss Elizabeth so much and even though she wasn’t an angel, she was my daughter, my flesh and blood, and I loved her more than anyone else could.’
