by Sue Fortin
Dominic took a step back and smiled warmly at Steph. ‘Good. You’re a nice girl, Steph. Harry likes you a lot. I wouldn’t want to piss him off by having to sack you or anything. And I’m sure you don’t want to lose your job either. The photos sound quite the money-spinner.’
Steph shook her head. ‘No. I don’t.’ She could detect the tremor of fear in her own voice and was sure Dominic wouldn’t miss it either. It was true, she didn’t want to lose her job here at Conmere, but not for the reasons Dominic thought. She wanted to find out what had happened to Elizabeth Sinclair more than anything now.
‘Good,’ said Dominic. ‘Now, you’d better get on with sorting out the Daffodil Room ready for our new guests.’
He stepped aside so Steph could pass him.
‘Oh, Steph,’ he called as she reached the top of the stairs.
Steph turned to look at him. ‘Yes?’
‘You haven’t heard anything more from Sonia Lomas, have you?’
Steph put on her best perplexed face. ‘No. Nothing. Can’t think why I would.’
‘Someone said they saw her in town the other day. I just wondered if she’d spoken to you. Never quite sure with that woman if she’s going to pull one of her publicity stunts or not. We could really do without that. So could Harry.’
‘I haven’t seen her at all,’ said Steph.
‘If you do, let me know, won’t you?’
Steph gave a shudder as she descended the staircase. She really didn’t like Dominic, and if she was honest, he scared her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Conmere, Tuesday, 14 May, 10.30 a.m.
Steph was glad it was her morning break and she could get out of the house for fifteen minutes. Conmere had such an oppressive feel to it; she couldn’t explain it, but every time she stepped foot in there she felt uneasy.
She found a quiet spot in the centre of the Rose Garden and sat herself down on the bench which circled the centrepiece rose bush. The smell of the roses was gorgeous and it reminded Steph of her father’s funeral and the posy of yellow tea roses she had placed on his coffin. Oddly enough, it was one of the few memories of that day that brought her comfort. Her dad had adored his roses and would spend many an hour lovingly tending them in his garden. It was a happy memory, and seeing roses, especially yellow ones, always made Steph feel that sense of love.
As she sat down she felt the corner of Elizabeth’s notebook dig into her leg. She hadn’t wanted to leave it in her room and, for peace of mind that she would know where it was at all times, she had slipped it into her pocket that morning.
She really should give Sonia a call to make sure she was OK after the accident.
Sonia answered almost immediately. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, all fine,’ said Steph. ‘I was just ringing to see how you were after the other day?’
‘A little shaken, if I’m truthful, but I’m over it now. In fact, I’m quite glad it happened. At least that way it proves we, or rather you, are on to something. Whoever crashed into your car was trying to warn you off.’
‘Hmm. An anonymous note or phone call would have been sufficient.’
‘Someone must know something more about Elizabeth’s death.’
‘I agree, but it’s getting people to talk.’
‘You’ve got to find a way. Please don’t give up on me. Or Elizabeth. Please.’ There was a fracture in Sonia’s voice. ‘You’re my only hope. Don’t lose sight of the fact that this is my daughter’s life we’re talking about. My daughter was murdered. I know that. I feel that.’
Sonia’s belief churned Steph’s heart over and reminded her once again of the lack of connection she had with her own mother. Could you just feel things, know things, as a mother? ‘I’m not giving up. Not yet,’ she said, and heard Sonia sigh in relief. Steph continued. ‘Did Elizabeth have any friends up here? Someone I could talk to? Someone who might know something that you don’t? Someone she might have confided in?’
‘None that I can think of,’ replied Sonia. ‘She only knew the Sinclair family.’
‘What about her hairdresser or beauty therapist? Did she mention a salon?’ Steph knew she was clutching at straws.
‘I don’t remember,’ said Sonia, apologetically.
‘Wait!’ Steph almost shouted down the phone. The niggling thought that had been with her since she had rummaged around in Elizabeth’s belongings gate-crashed its way forward.
‘What is it?’ Sonia sounded alarmed.
‘You told me Elizabeth had a friend called Camilla, didn’t you?’
‘Er … yes, she mentioned her once or twice.’
Steph thought of the business card with the name Camilla and a phone number. ‘I think I might know who she is. That’s not exactly true, actually. I think I’ve found a number for her. I can’t explain now, but I’m going to phone her.’
‘So you’re not giving up on me just yet?’ There was genuine hope in Sonia’s voice.
‘No, I’m not giving up on either you or Elizabeth,’ reassured Steph. She stood up and began walking back along the grass path through the roses. ‘I’ll call you again when there’s something to report.’
‘Thank you, Steph. Thank you so much.’
‘Let’s not get our hopes up too much.’
‘I know you won’t let us down.’
Ending the call, Steph slipped her hand into her pocket and took out the card she’d found in Elizabeth’s coat. In her haste to put the coat back in the wardrobe before Pru caught her, she had stuffed the card into her own pocket. It couldn’t be a coincidence, not with a name like Camilla. Surely there was a connection. At last she had a lead to follow, one that wasn’t a member of the Sinclair family.
She stopped before she reached the edge of the Rose Garden and, using her phone, took a picture of the card which she then emailed to herself as back-up. The card had taken on a new significance and the last thing she wanted to do now was to lose it.
She thought back to her chat with Cameron. The name in the notebook wasn’t his name, so could it be Camilla? She flipped through the pages and looked closely at the comment ‘Cam … 230’. She let out a deflated sigh. It definitely didn’t say Camilla. She studied the writing, which was unusually squiggly, as if written in a hurry. And then it dawned on her. It said neither Cameron nor Camilla.
‘Camera!’ said Steph, out loud. ‘It says camera.’ The end squiggle was a dash leading towards the numbers. Perhaps it wasn’t significant at all, but the way it was circled, Steph couldn’t help feeling she was missing something. She looked at the rest of the list. Immediately below was a phone number, which had been underlined in the same red pen, and then 2206 on the same line, written in the same pen. Again, it seemed important and Steph was sure it was connected in some way.
Steph Googled the phone number. The results shouldn’t have been surprising, she thought as she looked at the screen on her phone. The landline number belonged to a company called Jaspers, who were an online audio and visual equipment supplier, specialising in CCTV and monitoring.
She looked back at the notebook. Camera 230 – was that possibly a model number? She tried putting it into the browser but had no luck in finding out exactly what it was. If she could find out what Elizabeth was interested in, then it may help Steph build up a better understanding of what was going on at Conmere. Steph thought for a moment how she was going to do this. A few minutes later, taking a deep breath, she phoned the number.
‘Hello. Jaspers Cameras and Accessories. Can I help you?’
‘Oh, hello. I’m a personal assistant and I’m just trying to reconcile one of my client’s accounts. They’re on holiday at the moment so I can’t ask them but wondered if you could help me. I’d sooner not trouble them, you see,’ explained Steph. ‘My client bought some camera equipment from you but, unfortunately, I seem to have just the model number. I know it’s a long shot, but could you tell me what it relates to, please?’
‘Well, I don’t know but I’ll give i
t a go. What’s the model number?’
‘Two three zero,’ Steph offered.
‘Is that all you’ve got? No letter before or after?’
‘Just that followed by double-two, zero, six.’
‘Hmm. That bit’s not the model number. Wait while I input this on our system and see what we’ve got on our database.’
Steph waited patiently, listening to the tell-tale clicking of a keyboard being tapped. ‘I do appreciate this,’ she said.
‘OK, you’re in luck. Here we go …’ There was a pause. ‘It’s actually one of our spy cameras. I suppose I’m not breaking any client confidentiality here.’
‘No, of course not,’ reassured Steph. ‘I just needed to know what the item was. A spy camera, you say?’
‘Yes. One of our more expensive ones. You can take photos with it, or record moving images.’
‘Like a video recording?’
‘Yes. It’s a snazzy little number. Looks like a TV remote control. And this particular model uploads the images direct to the cloud as well as storing it on the memory card at the same time.’
‘Oh, wow. That sounds very cool,’ said Steph. ‘Just out of interest, these clouds – are they easy to access? I was just wondering about storing my own files. I’ve got Dropbox but I can’t always link up to that for some reason.’
‘For SpyCloud you need a four-digit code, like a PIN you have for your bank card. You can access it from anywhere and the service is very reasonably priced too.’
‘Great. I’ll have a look into that. Thanks very much for your help.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Steph hung up. So, Elizabeth had bought a spy camera which looked like a TV remote control. Why? Who had she been spying on?
‘What were you up to, Elizabeth?’ she muttered.
Steph’s phone began to ring, startling her enough to make her drop it on the ground. Fortunately, the grass was a soft landing and Steph picked it up, turning it over to see it was her mother, of all people.
Steph had half a mind to ignore the call. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to speak to Wendy right now, but all the same, she felt compelled to answer it.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Stephanie,’ came her mother’s voice, brisk and chilled as per usual. There was no remorse or contrition in her tone. ‘Are you OK?’
Had she heard her mother right? Wendy was asking her if she was OK? She realised her mother was waiting for a response. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Although as she replied Steph conceded that wasn’t particularly accurate.
‘I think maybe we should talk,’ said Wendy, this time more conciliatory. ‘Maybe we could have lunch again?’
‘Er … yes, that would be nice.’ Steph was stunned by not only the call, but by the invitation too.
‘Good. I’ll call you later in the week to arrange it. Maybe Thursday or Friday?’
‘Great. I’ll look forward to it,’ she heard herself saying, before her mum said goodbye and the call ended.
Steph felt both excited and cautious at this apparent development. Perhaps she should have given her mum a bit more credit when it came to understanding her daughter’s emotions.
She was still mulling over the phone call as she entered Conmere House, and wasn’t aware of anyone else in the hallway until she heard a voice.
‘Penny for your thoughts.’
Steph stopped abruptly at the stairs. In front of her was Harry. He smiled at her and his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight that flowed through the feature window.
‘Sorry. I was miles away,’ said Steph, feeling herself return his smile, although his friendliness took her by surprise. It was as if they hadn’t argued at all. ‘My mum just phoned. She’s invited me to lunch at the end of the week.’
‘That’s nice,’ replied Harry. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere you’d recommend?’
‘There’s the Woodcutters in the village, just a few miles down the road. They do a good lunch.’
‘Thanks. I’ll mention it to her.’ Steph didn’t know what else to say and suddenly felt awkward standing there as they looked at each other. She wanted to apologise for not being able to tell him the truth but it would be a hollow apology if she still refused to confide in him. She broke the silence first. ‘I’d better get on. Apparently, the clean laundry is coming in today.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the laundry room.
Harry pulled a face. ‘Laundry duty. That will be fun. I remember having to do that myself when I was a kid.’
Steph raised her eyebrows. ‘You did? Oh, I didn’t realise you had to do that sort of work.’
‘Yeah. My dad said it was character-building and that we all had to start at the bottom and do the worst jobs possible. He said it was the only way to earn the respect of the staff.’
‘He probably had a point.’
‘Yeah, he did. Put it this way, he didn’t believe in anyone being born with a silver spoon in their mouth. His work ethic was probably the only thing I inherited.’
An imperceptible look swept across Harry’s face but disappeared as fast as it had arrived. ‘And nothing else? Is that all you inherited?’
‘All I wanted to,’ said Harry, almost to himself.
Steph was both relieved and confused that Harry was speaking to her as if nothing had happened. She went to speak, but Harry beat her to it.
‘Look, Steph, I’m glad I’ve seen you. I was hoping to speak to you later, when you’d finished work, but seeing as we’re here now … I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you Sunday evening. I know it’s no excuse, but I’m finding it hard adjusting to being back here at Conmere, for lots of reasons.’
‘I can imagine.’ She gave a sympathetic smile.
He looked around the hall and then in a low voice said, ‘I really like you, Steph. I don’t want what happened here to affect anything between us. If it helps, I’m prepared to answer your questions about Elizabeth, but on one condition.’
Steph’s heart threw in an extra beat. ‘The condition?’
‘It’s just between me and you. It’s personal and private, so we can maybe take things further but with no taboo subjects. I’m not going to ask you about Sonia or your mum; I’m going to prove I trust you.’ He looked intently at her. ‘One of us has to give first and I’m willing to do that. I want you to know I trust you … then, maybe, you’ll trust me.’
Steph nodded. ‘I’d like that.’ And she would, despite acknowledging that, while this might mean she couldn’t publish Elizabeth’s story completely, there was the chance that some of it could be used, or at least used to find the truth without betraying Harry’s confidence.
He smiled again and her stomach gave a tumble. ‘I’ll speak to you later – maybe we can go for a drink? Away from here.’
‘I’d like that too.’ She felt like a traitor to both herself and Harry. She wanted to see him again, no doubt about that. She hadn’t felt so drawn to a man in a long time, maybe never, but there was the other side of her who was fist-pumping the air that he was prepared to open up about Elizabeth to her. She might be able to find out something that would be crucial to proving or disproving Sonia’s theory.
‘I’d better let you go,’ said Harry.
‘And I’ve got a date with the laundry room,’ said Steph.
‘Have fun.’
‘Can’t wait.’
As she made her way across the hall and to the rear of the house, she didn’t need to look round to know Harry was watching her. She could feel his eyes searing into her back. Her stomach gave a little flutter of excitement and she could feel herself grinning broadly.
Conmere, Staff Room, Tuesday, 14 May, 5.00 p.m.
The laundry was as boring as Steph had anticipated and Harry had warned. She spent the afternoon counting in the table linen and napkins, sheets, pillowcases, towels and duvet covers, putting everything away correctly in the laundry room, then going around the various station points in the main house and stocking
up the cupboards.
Finally, the afternoon shift was over and Steph was free to do what she liked. She ate tea with Antonio and two other members of staff, Hazel and Eileen. Both women had worked at Conmere for several years. It was a good opportunity to try to get the women on to the subject of the Sinclair family.
‘Do you live far away from the resort?’ asked Steph, looking at her colleagues.
‘I’m about two miles down the road in Conmere village,’ said Eileen.
‘I’m over at Kendalton, which is about a twenty-minute drive,’ replied Hazel.
‘Although I haven’t always lived there,’ continued Eileen. ‘I used to live in, here at Conmere House, in the staff quarters.’
‘How long ago was that?’ asked Steph.
‘I’ve been moved out about eighteen months now.’
‘What made you move?’ Steph hoped her interest sounded casual.
‘A couple of reasons, really. I used to live here with my partner, but we split up and he stayed on working, which made it a bit awkward. Although he did actually leave Conmere six months ago, thank goodness.’
‘Good riddance too,’ chipped in Hazel. ‘Thought he was going to stay forever.’ She looked over at Steph. ‘He wasn’t very popular with the rest of us, in case you hadn’t noticed. He was always grassing people up to Dominic for petty things, like being late or having five minutes’ longer break, that sort of thing.’
Steph pulled a sympathetic face. ‘One of those,’ she said. Then, turning back to Eileen, ‘What were the other reasons?’
Eileen put her knife and fork together and pushed away her plate. ‘It was never the same after Harry left. I used to clean Harry and Elizabeth’s lodge.’
‘Eileen does all the Sinclair family lodges and private bedrooms,’ put in Hazel.
Steph nodded. This was a great way in for her. ‘That was awful what happened to Elizabeth Sinclair. Were you here that day?’
‘Yes, I was working in the house,’ said Eileen gravely. ‘Terrible business. There was pandemonium when her body was discovered in the lake. It was Harry who found her.’
