Still circumstantial, but surely worth investigating further?
‘I have to go and make a telephone call,’ he told John before swallowing down the last of his whisky. ‘Enjoy the rest of the evening,’ he added derisively.
‘Not much chance of that!’ John grimaced.
Max gave him a sympathetic smile before leaving the bar to go up to his hotel suite. There were still a few bits of information he needed before even attempting to talk to the police, but if his suspicion was correct…!
May was the one to answer the telephone at the Calendar farm, her businesslike tone easily discernible from January’s husky voice and the derisive March.
‘Hi, May, it’s Max,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Could I speak to January?’
‘She isn’t here,’ May told him with what sounded like a certain amount of satisfaction in her voice.
Max frowned his irritation. ‘Where is she?’
‘Max—’
‘I need to know, May,’ he told her determinedly.
‘Why?’ she prompted suspiciously.
Because he thought January might be at the centre of this latest attack. Because he suspected the manager of the hotel as being the attacker. Because he needed to know where January was now so that he could ensure that she was in no danger!
But he couldn’t tell May any of those things without alarming her, possibly unnecessarily!
‘I just heard her car outside,’ May told him irritably. ‘If you’ll just hang on a minute…’
Max waited on the end of the line for what seemed much longer than a minute, and as the seconds ticked by he began to wonder if January had refused to speak to him. Not that he could blame her; they hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms earlier!
‘Yes?’ January finally came on the line to question cautiously.
Max felt a surge of relief just at the sound of her voice. Although, with Peter Meridew still on duty at the hotel, his worries concerning January’s safety had probably been groundless.
‘Where have you been?’ With the suspicions of the last few minutes, his tone was sharper than he intended. ‘I thought you were going straight home.’ He forced lightness into his tone.
‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I called in to see Sara,’ she explained stiffly.
‘How is she?’ he prompted huskily.
‘As you would expect, very upset,’ January came back sharply.
Not half as upset as January was going to be if his fears should turn out to be correct!
‘Max, why did you telephone me?’ she asked impatiently.
He sighed, knowing from her tone that she was annoyed with him, probably because of his own abruptness earlier this evening. ‘I just wanted to ask you a question, January,’ he told her briskly.
‘Max—’
‘Just one question, January,’ he insisted firmly at her obvious impatience, ‘then I won’t bother you again.’ Tonight, at least…!
She took a long time answering. ‘Okay,’ she finally agreed warily. ‘One question.’
‘How long have you been working at the hotel?’
‘How long—? Max!’ she murmured frustratedly. ‘What on earth does that have to do with anything?’
A great deal, if his suspicions were correct. But he wasn’t about to alarm her by telling her any of that.
‘I would just like to know,’ he came back evasively.
January gave an impatient sigh. ‘About seven months, I think,’ she told him irritatedly. ‘Yes, it would be seven months,’ she confirmed. ‘I started some time in May. But what—?’
‘That’s all I wanted to know,’ he cut in briskly, his thoughts racing.
Seven months. Seven attacks. What had seemed like an outrageous suspicion on his part now took on a much more sinister turn.
‘Max—’
‘I promised it would only be the one question, January,’ he told her brightly. ‘Enjoy what’s left of the evening!’ He rang off before she could question him any further.
As no doubt she had wanted to do! But there was no way he could confide in January concerning the suspicions he now had about Peter Meridew. That would only alarm and distress her.
Which left him in a position of wondering what to do now!
Of course he could just be overreacting. Could be reading things into situations that simply weren’t there. After all, it had been six women who were attacked previously; only Josh was the exception.
Could Max seriously go to the police with his suspicions, or should he just bide his time a bit longer? Even if time wasn’t something he had a whole lot of!
One thing he knew for certain, any thoughts he might have had about returning to America in the near future were now put on indefinite hold; he had no intention of going anywhere until this situation was well and truly sorted out!
Until he knew that January was safe…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘STILL here?’ January greeted Max rudely when she arrived at work on Thursday evening and found him once again sitting at the bar. ‘Don’t you have any little old ladies to throw out of their homes into the snow?’ she added challengingly. ‘Evening, John,’ she greeted more warmly as she walked over to the piano.
Her mood had alternated between annoyance and puzzlement since Max’s telephone call yesterday evening, the former usually winning out, her resentment at his wanting to know where she had been far outweighing any puzzlement she might feel concerning the strange unrelatedness of that single question he had asked her.
‘And a good evening to you, too, January,’ Max drawled as he turned on his bar stool to watch her. ‘And, unless I’m mistaken, there isn’t any snow left for me to throw the little old ladies onto; it’s all melted away!’
‘Your boss intends turning Hanworth Manor into a hotel and health club!’ she returned scathingly, March at last having come with the information they wanted. ‘This is Yorkshire, Max, not the south of France!’
His brows rose over mocking blue eyes. ‘You don’t think the people of Yorkshire are into health and beauty?’
‘On the contrary, I’m sure that they are,’ she snapped. ‘I just don’t think your boss has studied the climate in this area too well. The snow a couple of days ago is typical for this time of year!’
A hotel and health club, with luxury accommodation, as well as a gym and indoor swimming pool, the pièce de résistance an eighteen-hole golf course—of which, according to March’s information on the preliminary proposal, their farm stood smack in the middle!
Max shook his head. ‘This is all just speculation on your part, January—’
‘Actually, it isn’t,’ she told him with satisfaction; March’s information came ‘from the horse’s mouth’, so to speak. Not that she intended telling Max that—he and, from the little she already knew of him, Jude Marshall were not men to let the situation rest there if they were to find out someone was leaking information concerning the plans for Hanworth Manor. ‘You’re going to meet quite a lot of local opposition to the idea, you know,’ she added challengingly.
Although she wasn’t too sure that would actually be the case…
Unemployment here was quite high, and the health and country club promised employment for quite a lot of people in the area. Although that was something else she didn’t intend telling Max!
‘Headed by the Calendar sisters, no doubt,’ Max drawled wryly.
‘No doubt,’ she echoed tauntingly. ‘Somehow I don’t think our cows and sheep will welcome the idea of having golf balls whistling past their ears as they try to graze!’
Max’s gaze narrowed warningly. ‘Perhaps we should talk about this some other time—’
‘Yes, we could always talk about the strangeness of your telephone call last night, instead!’ she cut in, once again challenging.
His expression became grim as he stood up to walk over to her. ‘I would really rather you didn’t inform the whole world of our private conversations,’ he muttered harshly, glanci
ng around them pointedly.
There were three other people in the bar beside themselves, John behind the bar, and a couple sitting in the corner of the room, obviously having eyes—and ears!—for no one but each other as they talked softly together in between kisses. Hardly the ‘whole world’!
January gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Well?’ she prompted softly, dark brows raised enquiringly. ‘Of what possible interest can it be to you when I started working here?’
‘I was curious, that’s all.’ He shrugged.
January’s frown turned to one of perplexity. ‘You were curious?’
‘Yes,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘Shouldn’t you have started singing by now?’ he prompted. ‘John tells me that Peter Meridew is in a foul mood this week.’
She had seen that for herself when she’d walked through Reception earlier and the manager had looked pointedly at his watch because she’d been five minutes late in arriving!
She shot Max a dismissive glance. ‘Perhaps you should spend a little less time talking to the hotel staff and get on with the business you’re paid for!’
His mouth quirked into a smile. ‘The Calendar sisters are my business at the moment, and as you’re one of them…’
In other words, he wasn’t going anywhere, had every intention of staying here for the whole evening.
Great!
But as the bar steadily filled up, most people seeming to welcome getting out for the evening after the recent snow, January was able to ignore Max for the main part. After all, she consoled herself, he couldn’t hang around in Yorkshire for ever.
Just long enough to disturb and annoy her!
‘I’ll walk you out to your car,’ he offered as she packed her things away at the end of the evening, the bar having slowly emptied.
Not after what happened last time!
‘There’s no need,’ she refused lightly. ‘John has already offered to go with me,’ she added triumphantly.
‘Unless you would rather go with Mr Golding,’ John put in awkwardly, having shut the bar up. ‘I just thought, after what happened on Monday evening…’ He gave a shrug.
‘That’s fine,’ Max told the other man warmly. ‘You see, January, I’m not the only one who thinks you should take more care!’
If he was annoyed at being usurped in this way, then he certainly wasn’t showing it, January thought disgruntedly. And then realized how ridiculous she was being. She had deliberately accepted John’s offer earlier for the very reason she didn’t want to be put in a position of having to accept one from Max—and now she was angry with him for not trying harder!
‘I’m sure I would be perfectly all right on my own,’ she told Max waspishly.
Max shrugged. ‘Better safe than sorry.’
She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘It’s too late at night for clichés!’
He chuckled softly before turning to the barman. ‘Make sure you actually see her getting into her car and driving away, John; she has a habit of taking diversions!’
She gasped. ‘You—’
‘Goodnight, January.’ Max bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘I’ll leave her in your capable hands, then, John,’ he told the other man with obvious amusement.
She shot him a furious glare before striding from the bar, John endeavouring to keep up with her. Something he seemed to be having trouble doing as he favoured his left foot slightly.
‘I twisted my ankle playing football at the weekend,’ he explained with a grimace as January slowed down so that he could catch her up. ‘It made me realize I’m getting too old for that lark!’ he added disgustedly.
January had no idea how old the barman actually was; with his receding hairline, but boyish looks, he could be anywhere between twenty-five and forty.
‘As long as you enjoy it.’ She smiled, still completely aware of Max as he walked over to get in one of the lifts. ‘I—’
‘January…?’
She turned to find Peter Meridew walking purposefully towards her. Just what she needed at the end of an already stressful evening!
‘If I could just talk to Miss Calendar alone…?’ The manager’s words and look gave John a pointed dismissal.
John gave her a rueful grimace. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, January. Mr Meridew.’ He nodded abruptly, leaving with obvious reluctance.
What had she done now? January wondered frustratedly. Okay, so she had been five minutes late arriving, but as the bar had been particularly busy this evening she had also carried on singing fifteen minutes over her usual time…
‘Perhaps you would like to come through to my office?’ Peter Meridew said firmly.
And perhaps she wouldn’t! It was almost one-thirty in the morning, for goodness’ sake—and she had a home to go to, even if this man preferred to stay out of his as much as possible; it was common knowledge amongst the hotel staff that Peter Meridew often stayed on working long after his shift should have ended because of the formidable wife waiting for him at home! Normally she felt quite sorry for his obviously unhappy home life, but at one-thirty in the morning she had to admit her sympathy was running a little thin!
‘Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow evening?’ she suggested lightly.
His expression tightened. ‘I received a visit from the police today in connection with the attacks being carried out in the area,’ he bit out tersely, obviously not at all pleased at having police calling at his hotel, for any reason.
January frowned her confusion. ‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘On a personal level, nothing,’ he accepted. ‘However, they are suggesting we change our policy as regards ensuring the safety of certain employees.’
Somehow January didn’t like the sound of this…! Besides the fact that it sounded extremely familiar…?
‘Yes?’ she prompted warily.
Peter Meridew gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘I am afraid that, until such time as the attacker is found and incarcerated, we will have to dispense with your services.’
‘What?’ January gasped, not seeing the connection at all.
The manager’s mouth thinned. ‘Yes. Of course you may finish off the week,’ he added hurriedly.
‘That’s very big of you,’ January muttered, too tired—and angry!—to feel like being overly polite; besides, the man was effectively putting her out of a job at the end of the week!
‘I’m really no happier about this than you are.’ Peter Meridew sighed. ‘We have been more than pleased with your work. But apparently one of the guests has complained that three evenings a week you regularly leave the hotel, alone, at a very late hour—’
‘One of the guests…?’ January cut in forcefully, turning to look at the lifts; as she had suspected Max had already gone up to his suite. But it didn’t take her two guesses to know who ‘the guest’ was who had lodged the complaint.
Or to guess why he had done such a thing! He really was Jude Marshall’s man, wasn’t he, out to ruin the Calendar sisters if he couldn’t get them out of the farm any other way? First put her out of a job, and then he would no doubt start on March. Well, that was what he thought!
She gave Peter Meridew a warm smile. ‘I’m sure the police don’t actually have the authority to instruct you to sack me?’
‘I’m not sacking you, January.’ The manager looked slightly flustered at the suggestion. ‘But, after giving the situation due consideration, I am of the opinion it is the best way to deal with the problem. For the moment,’ he added hastily. ‘We don’t, of course, want to lose your services indefinitely.’
No, she would just bet they didn’t; she never demurred about staying longer than she was supposed to do, or coming in for special occasions if necessary, and the wages really weren’t that good. Just necessary in order for them to be able to keep the farm. Which brought her right back to Max Golding…!
She forced herself to remain calm. ‘Did they tell you which of the guests made the complaint?’ she prompted interestedly.
“‘You have to dispense with my services”,’ January finished for him tautly. ‘And I have no say in the matter whatsoever?’ she prompted disgustedly.
His expression softened. ‘January—’
‘It’s okay, Peter,’ she cut in impatiently, shaking her head. ‘I fully accept the position you have been put in.’ And who had put him—and her!—there! ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to leave now…?’
‘Not at all,’ he accepted, obviously relieved she hadn’t made more of a scene about the situation. ‘Perhaps I could escort you out to your car?’ he offered.
January gave a decisive shake of her head. ‘I just have to do something first—but thanks.’
If Max thought he was going to get away with this without protest from her, then he was in for a surprise—because she had every intention of going up to his suite right now and telling him exactly what she thought of him, and his machinations.
Concern for her safety, indeed!
In other circumstances, Max might have felt pleased to find January standing outside his hotel suite at one-thirty in the morning knocking to come in—but one glance at her obviously furious expression, grey eyes blazing, two angry spots of colour on her cheeks in an otherwise white face, was enough to tell him this was not a social call!
‘Would you like to come—? Ah, you would,’ he murmured derisively as she pushed past him into the suite, closing the door softly behind her before following her back into the room, glad now that he had stopped to check his e-mails rather than going straight to bed; something was obviously seriously wrong. Which meant something must have happened since they’d parted fifteen minutes ago; January hadn’t been too enamoured of him then, but she was furiously angry now!
‘Drink?’ he offered hopefully.
‘No,’ she refused tautly. ‘But you go ahead—with any luck it might choke you!’
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