book called a Grimoire for their contact with Evil.
Donna sat back.
In the cold light of day it all seemed so ridiculous.
What had any of this to do with her husband’s death or affair, she asked herself?
Perhaps she should be reading about infidelity instead of impiety. Widowhood instead of Wizardry.
And yet there were things wrong somewhere. Nagging doubts in her mind.
The police were convinced that her husband had
She
Why had masked men broken into her house? What had they been looking for?
Who were the men in the photo with Chris? Why did one of them look like a man who had supposedly been dead for over two hundred years?
Why had she been chased and nearly killed in Ireland?
Why had Mahoney withdrawn his offer to help so suddenly and unexpectedly?
Why? Why? Her life was turning into a series of unanswered questions.
Donna rubbed her eyes and got to her feet, picking up the piece of paper and putting it in her handbag.
On her way out of the library she thanked Molly for her help.
Donna hesitated on the steps of the library, looking out into the rain, seeing people caught in the downpour hurrying past. The cold wind closed around her like an icy fist, chilling her to the bone.
There had to be an answer to all this somewhere. She just wasn’t sure where to find it.
Not yet.
Julie Craig heard the car pull up in the driveway and hurried across to the landing window to look out.
She saw the Jaguar parked there but couldn’t make out the identity of its occupant. The man was alone; he looked alternately towards the house and then down, as if searching for something on the dashboard.
She saw him rub one hand across his forehead, as if wiping away perspiration. Still he remained seated behind the steering wheel of the Jag.
Should she go downstairs, outside and ask him what he wanted? No. Let
She watched as the man swung himself out of the car.
He was dressed in a suit that looked as if it needed pressing. Indeed, as he shut the car door, he brushed at one sleeve as if to remove wrinkles as well as fluff. She watched as he stood beside the car for a moment looking up towards the house.
She stepped back a pace and watched as he looked across at the Fiesta then at the house once more.
He began walking towards it and she saw that he had one hand inside his jacket, as if reaching for something.
She moved to the head of the stairs and looked down into the hallway, listening to his footsteps approaching the front door.
He rang the bell.
Julie froze, gripped the banister tightly and waited.
He rang again and waited.
She moved quickly but cautiously down the stairs and stood close to the front door, edging towards the spy- hole, squinting through it.
The man she saw on the other side was in his late thirties, his hair receding slightly, but what hair he did have was thick and lustrous and reached the collar of his shirt. He was thin-faced, a little pale.
He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for the door to be answered.
As Julie saw him reach for the doorbell a third time she opened the door and eased it back to the extent of the chain.
The man peered through the gap and smiled politely at her.
‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you. I was wondering if I could speak to Mrs Ward. Mrs Donna Ward.’
Julie eyed him suspiciously for a moment.
‘My name is Neville Dowd,’ he continued. ‘Sorry, I should have introduced myself first.’ He smiled warmly.
There seemed to be no threat in his manner.
Julie nodded a greeting.
‘I was Mr Ward’s solicitor,’ he explained.
‘Can I help you?’ Julie wanted to know.
‘I needed to speak to
Julie nodded.
‘That’s very good of you,’ she said, some of her initial apprehension disappearing.
‘May I ask who you are?’ he said.
‘I’m Donna’s sister, Julie Craig.’
He extended a hand, tried to shake hers through the gap in the door. Julie slipped the chain and opened the door to its full extent.
‘Sorry for the greeting,’ Julie said, ‘but you can’t be too careful.’
‘I agree. A woman here in a house like this, I don’t blame you being wary. Is Mrs Ward here, please?’
‘She’s away for a couple of days. Can I give her a message? I could get her to ring you when she gets back.’
Dowd looked perplexed.
‘No, it’s all right. Thank you, anyway. I don’t want to keep intruding; she must have other things on her mind. It’s just that there were some things I needed to clear up with her about her husband’s estate. Some items I’d been holding for him. She should have them.’
‘What kind of items?’
‘I really shouldn’t discuss that with anyone else but Mrs Ward. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.’
‘I understand.’
He looked down at his shoes which, unlike his suit, looked well-cared for.
‘However, if you’re not sure when she’s going to be back ...’ He allowed the sentence to trail off. ‘As long as she gets the items, that’s all that matters. If you’d be so kind, you could pass them on to her from me. If she needs to get in touch with me for anything, she has my number.’
Julie nodded.
Dowd reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick brown envelope. He handed it to Julie.
‘Mr Ward said that this was only to be given to his wife in the event of his death,’ the solicitor said.
‘I’ll see she gets it.’
Dowd extended a hand which Julie shook.
‘Thank you for your help. Please pass on my condolences and tell her to call me if she needs any help.’ He smiled, told Julie how delightful it had been to meet her and headed back to his car. She watched him slide behind the wheel of the Jag and start up the powerful engine. He turned the vehicle round in the drive and drove off. Julie
