Fell looked across the restaurant. “I think that’s Inspector Rudfern’s daughter, but I’m not sure. Let’s choose something to eat.”

They ordered salad and Dover sole and a bottle of white wine. “I’m surprised your mother hasn’t phoned or been round,” said Fell.

“She’s like that. I mean, I’m not usually the target of attempted murder, but I don’t think she cares much.”

“Did your father die a long time ago?”

A painful blush crept up Maggie’s face. “I don’t know who my father was,” she said, “and I don’t think Mum knows either.”

“Oh, Maggie,” said Fell sadly. “What a pair we are. It’s a good thing we’ve got each other.”

She brightened. “Yes, isn’t it?”

“What about Peter? Do you think you’ll marry him?”

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing Peter again. But you’ve got Melissa.”

“I may as well tell you, Maggie, you were right all along. She was only interested in my money. Now it looks as if she’s getting to work on another sucker. Dreams are funny things. I saw a beautiful woman and she wasn’t really beautiful at all.”

“It must have been a terrible shock,” said Maggie. “Were you dreadfully hurt?”

“I felt silly and ashamed of myself.”

“How did you find out?”

“The lawyer warned me against her. I didn’t want to believe him, but after I met her and talked to her, it became all too obvious what she was after. There was nothing there but greed. What happened with Peter? I thought you looked very affectionate today.”

“Peter was being affectionate. I wasn’t. He was kissing me farewell. I had just told him I wouldn’t be seeing him again.”

“Why?”

“He’s nice. But he does drink rather a lot.” Maggie told him what had really happened at the disco.

They discussed the weird ways of coincidence while they both grew more relaxed and happier.

Then they began to reminisce about their days in the Palace Hotel, laughing over the antics of some of the more difficult customers. Melissa Harley left, but Fell was barely aware of her.

At last, when they had finished their coffee, Fell said, “Home?”

And Maggie agreed happily. “Home.”

¦

There was a new policeman on duty, a grumpy-looking man. He nodded to them. “I’ll bring you out a cup of tea and some biscuits,” said Maggie.

The policeman smiled. “That’s very kind of you, miss.”

“You do fuss over them, Maggie.”

“I’m grateful he’s standing guard.” But Fell obscurely thought that Maggie should not be fussing around arranging a tray of tea and biscuits for a constable while wearing that low-necked dress.

Then he could hear her chatting to the policeman and the policeman’s laugh. Well, he wasn’t going to wait up for her. He would be glad when she appeared in the morning looking more like her usual self. And Fell would not admit to himself that he wanted the old frumpy Maggie back, and not this one who seemed to be attracting men.

¦

The next day, Fell, pleased to see Maggie in a print cotton dress and with her thick glasses back on, standing over the stove making scrambled eggs, told her he would like to smarten up the bedrooms first.

“The beds are awful and old and lumpy,” he complained.

Maggie deftly served scrambled eggs and toast. “We could be extravagant,” she said. “We could call one of those small cheap removal firms and get the old beds taken away to the dump today. Have you bagged up the stuff in your mother’s bedroom?”

“Yes, but it’s still in garbage bags on the bedroom floor.”

“Then they can take those as well and drop them off at Oxfam. What about the wardrobes?”

“Let’s get rid of them as well. We’ll get new beds today and then strip the walls and paint them.”

“Grand. The minute we’re finished breakfast, we’ll get to work.”

¦

Later that day, with a dust sheet over his new bed, Fell worked away happily, stripping wallpaper from his bedroom. He could hear Maggie whistling tunelessly as she worked in her room. This was the life, he thought. Forget about that damned robbery. All he wanted now was peace and safety.

“Maggie!” he called.

“Mmm?”

“I’ve just had an idea. Why don’t we phone up the Courier and say that we’re leaving any investigations into the train robbery to the police? That way, whoever it is out there will know we’re no longer a threat.”

Maggie appeared in the doorway. “You mean, give up the whole thing?”

“Why not? I’m hopeless, Maggie. I haven’t got a clue who might have done it. Look at the mistake I made with Johnny Tremp.”

“Well, the police do have all the resources and that attempt on our lives has opened up the whole case again. I’ll phone Whittaker, if you like.”

“Tell you what; we’ll have a break and go and see him.”

¦

Tommy Whittaker was in his office. “That was a good story,” he said, handing over a copy of the Courier,

“We want to give you another story,” said Fell, ignoring the newspaper. He told the editor how they had planned to drop all their investigations.

“Pity about that,” said the editor. “It rather caught the local imagination.”

“It’s not like in books,” said Fell earnestly. “Amateurs like us don’t have the expertise of the police and in fact we might just be complicating matters for them.”

“You’re not just saying this to make sure there won’t be any more attempts on your lives?”

“Well, of course,” said Maggie. “That’s a good part of it. What we mean is why should we go on risking our lives when we know now we’re never going to find a solution?”

“I’m grateful to you for today’s exclusive, so we’ll run your story.”

“Thanks,” said Fell. “Now we can get on with our lives.”

Tommy grinned. “I suppose the next story we’ll be covering will be your wedding.”

Maggie blushed and looked down.

“Set the date yet?”

“Not yet,” said Fell.

“Let me know.”

When they left the newspaper office, there was a new constraint between them. “Back to housework,” said Fell at last. “You don’t think I’m weak to drop it?”

“No, Fell, you’re not weak and neither am I. We just want to stay alive.”

¦

The cloud Maggie had seen had not been joined by others. In the following week, while they both shopped and worked and painted, a haze covered the sky but the heat was as stifling as ever.

At the end of the week, he was just finishing painting the bedroom walls when Fell called to Maggie, who was working in her room, “Do we have a spare newspaper? I want to put some sheets on the floor in case the paint drips.”

“It’s supposed to be non-drip paint,” Maggie called back. “I’ll have a look.”

She went down to the kitchen. They had not been buying any newspapers. There were only two: the edition of the Courier that Tommy Whittaker had given them and the new issue carrying the story that they had both given up the hunt. She would ask Fell if he wanted to keep them as souvenirs.

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