At the top was a narrow landing. To the right was a small bathroom and a store cupboard overflowing with stuff belonging to the owner of the takeaway. On the left, the door to his bedsit stood ajar. Grinning, he kicked it open.
A woman was sitting up in his bed, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Her clothes were scattered over the threadbare carpet. At first glance, she looked twenty, although if you studied her closely you could see crows’ feet around the corners of her eyes. Not that Logan cared; he wasn’t looking at her wrinkles.
‘Hi, Goldilocks,’ he said. ‘Who’s been sleeping in my bed?’
‘What kept you?’ she retorted.
‘Three guesses.’
‘You need to watch yourself with old Misery.’ She narrowed her eyes and mimicked Kathy Bates in the Stephen King film. ‘I’m your number one fan.’
He laughed. ‘You’re so wicked, Sheena.’
‘All I’m saying is, make sure she doesn’t start chopping off your body parts. At least the ones I’m interested in.’
‘Tory is lonely, that’s all. And she’s our passport to a better life.’
‘Tory?’ She pouted. ‘Of all the stupid things to call yourself. Anyway, I’ve decided to change my own name,’ she said. ‘I always hated being named after an eighties pop star.’
‘You can be whoever you want to be, gorgeous.’
The woman pushed aside the duvet and beckoned him forward.
‘OK, you got yourself a deal. From now on, I’m Ingrid.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The warmest night of the year. Hot and sticky in his winceyette pyjamas, Kingsley hardly slept. As dawn broke, he was contemplating spidery cracks in the ceiling. This small square room had always been his private domain. His parents’ old bedroom next door was twice the size, but moving in there after Mamma’s death would have seemed like sacrilege.
Birds chirruped outside his window and rays of sunlight filtered through gaps in the curtains. Another scorcher, he told himself. The experts were warning that the weather would break before the end of the day, but he found it hard to credit. Soon people would be swarming through the village and around the lake, licking their ice creams and teasing the swans. The outsiders were so noisy and carefree; he’d always envied them, as well as resenting the way they treated his home turf as their own.
What now? He mustn’t rush into his next move. Fortunately, he was a patient man. Too patient for his own good; his instinctive reticence was a handicap that had held him back in life. Yet on the rare occasions when he acted on impulse, it never ended well.
Handling Tory and Prentice demanded the utmost care. He dare not afford a misstep or forget that the clock was ticking. Soon Greengables would deny him access to the manor. Time was so short. He dare not allow Tory to slip out of reach.
He hauled himself out of bed and got dressed, putting on his suit because it was a working day, despite the heat and the fact he had no work to do. Whatever the appalling Annabel thought, he prided himself on not letting his standards slide. Breakfast comprised cornflakes, toast, and marmalade, washed down with tea, same as every other morning. After he’d finished he poured himself another cuppa and carried it into the sitting room. When he pulled the curtains apart, the glare made him screw up his eyes.
Could he rely on Hannah Scarlett to mark Prentice’s card? She’d shocked him to the core by producing that old witness statement like a rabbit out of a hat. A dirty trick, when he’d put the whole business out of his mind. After all, he’d neither committed an offence nor been given a caution relating to his involvement with Leila Smith.
If only he’d denied knowing the woman, just as he’d denied knowing her daughter. With hindsight he realised that if the police hadn’t panicked him into a hasty admission, it would have been the word of a decent citizen against the so-called diary of a dead prostitute. Nobody could have proved anything. He preferred to occupy the moral high ground, and the thought of those two female detectives, especially the older, unpleasant one, judging his behaviour and finding it wanting, made him burn with humiliation.
And yet. All was not lost. As he contemplated the stuffed toucan, he urged himself to look on the bright side. Twenty-four hours after meeting the police, he was getting things into perspective. Hannah Scarlett was diligent; only a painstaking search could have dredged up that flimsy sheet of foolscap. Like a true play-by-the-book public servant, she’d refused to commit herself, but surely there was a chance that she’d follow up the threat that Prentice posed to Tory? What if, God forbid, the worst happened, and he harmed her? Hannah Scarlett wouldn’t want to risk being found guilty of dereliction of duty.
Nobody liked to have a death on their conscience. He knew that better than anyone.
Overall, he decided that yesterday could have been worse. Considering the shock he’d suffered, he hadn’t acquitted himself too badly in the interview. There was still everything to hope for. You had only to look out of the window. Even the weeds in his back garden were shimmering in the sunlight.
As for Hannah Scarlett, she wasn’t quite as bright as she liked to think. She underestimated him. She still didn’t have a clue about what he was capable of.
‘You spoil me,’ Tory said.
Logan had brought her breakfast in bed. Gingerbread waffles with maple syrup and a cappuccino.
‘You’re worth it.’
She smiled.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘You really need to look after me until the money goes through,’ she said.
His face puckered with anxiety. ‘You’re not feeling unwell?’
‘Oh, don’t look so panic-stricken. I’ve never been better.’
‘That’s all right, then. Joking apart, the next few days are neither here nor there. I want to look after you forever.’
‘You’re so sweet.’ She patted his cheek. ‘To tell you the truth, I really don’t think I deserve you.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘My life changed the day I met you.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Of course!’ He gestured towards the bedroom window. Outside stretched the grounds of the manor with a screen of tall trees in the distance. ‘This is marvellous. I really feel I belong here. With you.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘But my conscience is pricking.’
He peered at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man. In any meaningful way. In his last few years, Winston wasn’t well and he became very … passive. He turned in on himself, and he left me to my own devices, if you catch my drift. With you, it’s different. You’re young and active …’
‘And devoted,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t forget devoted.’
‘I’ve been indulging myself with you. Oh, yes, I’m helping you out financially, but there’s more to a relationship than money.’
‘You bet!’ he said fervently.
‘I ought to make more of an effort to support you. Not just financially, but taking an interest in the things that turn you on.’
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘turns me on more than you.’
‘You pay such lovely compliments. I could listen to them all day.’
‘Then why don’t you?’
‘No, I mean what I say. I mustn’t be selfish. I thought …’
‘Yes?’
‘I might go to your next performance.’
He stared at her. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘Oh, come on, sweetheart. The Newbies. Your am dram group.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I looked you up on the internet last night, while you were out.’
‘You what?’
‘Don’t look so shocked. I read about the production you’ve lined up for Cartmel in September. Hobson’s Choice.’
He pulled a face. ‘A play so old it’s got whiskers.’
‘You’re not in the cast. I checked the web page to see if I could find you.’
‘Heavens, no. That sort of stuff isn’t my cup of tea.’
&nbs
p; ‘Such a pity.’
He shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen me on stage. To be honest, I’m no great shakes as an actor. It took me a long time to admit the truth, even to myself, but I’m better suited to being behind the scenes.’
‘With looks like yours? Sweetheart, you’re far too modest, you’re very convincing. I’m sure you’d be brilliant in the right role. You’d make a wonderful … whatshisname? Willie Mossop? Though I might be a teeny bit jealous of the leading lady.’
He swallowed. ‘Really, there’s no need …’
‘Actually, she reminds me of someone.’
‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.
She shook her head. ‘That actress, Sheena something? Her face seems so familiar. I’ve been racking my brains. The funny thing is, I’d never heard of the Newbies until I met you, but I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before.’
‘You can’t have done.’
‘It’s only a local group, you told me. She must come from this neck of the woods.’
‘I hardly know her,’ he said. ‘She only joined the group recently. I think she works in a bank or something.’
‘Pretty young woman.’
‘I’ve kept my distance,’ he said. ‘The men buzz around her, but she’s a bit of a diva.’
‘I wish I could remember who she is.’
‘Don’t waste your time worrying about it,’ he urged. ‘Lots of young women look like that. They’re all much of a muchness. You’ve confused her with someone else, it’s easily done.’
‘I’m sure I’m right,’ she said indignantly. ‘I mean, I’m definitely not going senile.’
‘Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean …’
‘The fact is, I do know her from somewhere, and it will annoy me until I get straight in my mind.’
‘Please don’t give her another thought.’ He dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘There are so many better ways we can make the most of our time together.’
She frowned. ‘You make it sound as though it’s coming to an end.’
‘God, no. Absolutely not. On the contrary. I’m going to spend much more time with you, not less. I’m bored with the Newbies. Getting involved with them was fun for a while. A distraction. But I don’t need to be distracted any more, do I? Not now I have you.’
She smiled. ‘You say the sweetest things.’
‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘My enthusiasm for drama was just a fad. Playing the piano is different. At least if you’re not much good, you can still entertain yourself and your nearest and dearest. As a matter of fact, I’ve already told the Newbies that I can’t help out back stage with the new production.’
‘Pity,’ she said. ‘I was looking forward to cheering you on from the front row. What did you say to them?’
He mustered a grin and pushed the breakfast things out of the way before clambering into bed.
‘Oh, I just explained that I had my hands full.’
As he slid his arms around her, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the warmth of his embrace.
Hannah’s meetings were normally booked by a member of the admin team, but Tory Reece-Taylor justified special treatment. This was a woman she needed to handle with kid gloves. Besides, she was bursting with curiosity about her.
She dialled the landline number Kingsley Melton had given her and went through to voicemail. Rather than leave a message, she tried the mobile.
‘Yes?’
‘Ms Reece-Taylor?’
‘Yes?’
‘My name is Hannah Scarlett and I’m a DCI with Cumbria Constabulary. I wonder if I could …’
‘Wrong number.’
Tory cut her off.
Oh, well, it was worth a try. The call had always been a long shot. She’d better think up a Plan B. Twenty minutes later, Hannah was ploughing through a lengthy email from HR about the process for recruiting candidates for a transfer to her team when her phone rang.
‘Is that DCI Hannah Scarlett?’
A surge of excitement rippled through her. ‘Ms Reece-Taylor?’
‘Yes, sorry I hung up on you. I couldn’t talk. It’s all right now, I’ve popped outside into the garden.’
‘Apologies if I interrupted you. I didn’t realise you had someone with you.’
No reply. Well, it was worth a try, even if Tory hadn’t risen to the bait.
‘Anyway, thank you very much for calling back.’ Better lay it on with a trowel. ‘I’m extremely grateful.’
‘What can I do for you, DCI Scarlett?’
Crisp, businesslike, giving nothing away.
‘I wondered if it would be possible for us to have a short conversation. I’m happy to visit you at Strandbeck Manor.’
A pause. ‘What is this about?’
‘I’d rather not discuss it over the telephone, if you don’t mind, Ms Reece-Taylor. I promise not to take up much of your time.’
‘Very cloak and dagger. Surely you can give me a hint?’
‘Sorry, I really don’t mean to cause you any alarm. This is simply a matter of crime prevention.’
Another pause. ‘I see.’
‘Would you be willing to spare me twenty minutes?’
Hannah heard the other woman breathing hard. She waited.
‘Kingsley Melton has been pestering you, I suppose?’ The woman’s tone struck Hannah as surprisingly cool and collected. Amused rather than outraged. ‘Filling your head with his paranoid accusations.’
‘As I say, it’s better if we talk in person.’
‘Let me think it over,’ Tory Reece-Taylor said. ‘If I fancy a chat, I’ll phone you back.’
‘Please call my direct line.’ Hannah gave her the number. ‘If I’m not around, you’ll be diverted to a member of my team. And Ms Reece-Taylor, may I ask … ?’
But the woman had rung off.
Logan Prentice clambered out of the lake, and Tory, sitting cross-legged on the grass, handed him a gaudily coloured beach towel.
‘You remind me of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘Mr Darcy. He dived into a lake to cool his ardour for the girl he fancied. Mind you, he was wearing a white shirt.’
Logan pushed damp hair out of his baffled eyes. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
‘Ah, of course. Before your time. A famous television scene, from the good old days.’ She watched him towelling himself. ‘I keep forgetting, we come from different worlds. Different generations.’
‘We’re not so different, you and me.’
‘You don’t think?’
‘No.’ He grinned. ‘We both want the lovely things in life.’
‘This was what I always wanted.’ She waved her hand vaguely to encompass the manor and grounds. ‘The posh house, the long lawn, the sexy man at my beck and call. Yet somehow …’
‘What?’ He squinted at her. ‘You’re not getting fed up with me?’
‘I can’t help thinking about poor Ingrid,’ she said. ‘Last night I even dreamt about her.’
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he said. ‘Thanks to your generosity, she has every chance of …’
‘Hey!’ She clapped a hand to her forehead. ‘That’s it, I’ve remembered. Thank God, I’ve not lost my marbles after all.’
‘Remembered what?’
‘The photo of the actress from the Newbies, the pretty girl you called a diva. She reminds me of Ingrid.’
He dropped the towel on to the grass. ‘Really?’
‘Don’t you see the likeness, now that I’ve mentioned it?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose there might be a superficial resemblance. Not that I’ve noticed it myself.’
‘Take a peek at the photo of her on the website, it’s really striking.’
‘No need,’ he said brusquely. ‘I know perfectly well what Sheena looks like. And I can promise you, she’s very different from poor Ingrid.’
‘But …’
‘Please, let’s not talk about it.’
He started to walk back towards the manor. Tory called after him. ‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did I put my foot in it? Did I say something to upset you?’
She got to her feet and followed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The phone call came out of the blue. Kingsley’s heart skipped as Tory’s name popped up on the screen.
So she had relented. Faith and persistence had earned its reward.
‘Tory?’ His throat was dry, making him croak like a pensioner.
‘Hello, Kingsley.’ A pause. ‘Are you all right?’
She did care!
‘Yes, yes.’ His heart was thumping. ‘How are you?’
‘I wanted to say sorry. For being unkind to you.’
Was he dreaming? He needed to pinch himself to be sure he wasn’t making it up.
‘That’s … that’s all right. Please, don’t mention it.’
‘I thought you were jealous, but that was unfair. You’ve only ever wanted to look out for me, from the day we first met.’
He squeezed the phone in his hand. ‘Yes, Tory, you know how much I care for you.’
‘Don’t be cross with me, please. It’s just that he swept me off my feet.’
‘Prentice?’
‘Yes, he’s young and good-looking, and I’m a naive old cow.’
‘Of course you’re not old,’ he said stoutly. This was incredible. At a stroke, his worries were over, his problems solved. ‘Such a plausible, smooth-talking devil, anyone could be taken in. I was conned myself, to begin with. Until I understood what he’s really like.’
‘Manipulative and selfish. Yes, you were right.’
He wanted to burst into song. ‘Thank God you’ve seen through him. No harm done. Have you sent him packing?’
A long pause. Kingsley guessed that she was summoning up the nerve to make a confession.
‘No, that’s the trouble.’
‘I don’t understand.’
She hesitated. ‘He’s still here.’
‘What – in the room with you?’
‘No, obviously not.’ The way she snapped back, for a moment he thought he’d tested her patience. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m on edge, that’s the reason why I sound abrupt. Logan moved in with me. I’m ringing from the summer house. He’s inside the flat.’
The Crooked Shore Page 23