‘They are,’ said Stephanie in a small voice. ‘They’re the fourteenth and fifteenth brightest stars, actually.’
‘Good Lord – how do you know that?’ demanded Jessica.
‘Tim likes stars, and makes me listen to him talking about them. Those are two of his favourites.’
‘And how did you meet these people?’ Jessica wondered.
‘It was a year or so ago. When we’d only been here a little while. When—’
‘When that woman was murdered,’ said Stephanie, matter-of-factly. ‘Ant talks about that sometimes.’
‘It was pretty awful.’
‘He likes us because we let him talk about dead people.’
‘His sister!’ Thea had obviously forgotten until then that Aldebaran had died at the hands of a murderer in Texas. ‘God – that must make it worse that his mother’s disappeared.’
‘Explain,’ said Jessica.
‘That’s it. That’s all we know. She was older than Ant, I think, and they never found the man who did it. It must have been absolutely terrible for them.’
‘Awful,’ agreed Jessica, momentarily diverted by this tragic story. ‘So what exactly does your Gladwin friend want you to do? Given that it’s Christmas Eve and you don’t work for the police and you have a whole lot of people arriving – and your husband’s father has just died?’
‘Nothing in particular. She was simply telling me about it, because she knows they’re our friends. Haven’t I said that already?’
‘I’m still processing it, given that it’s massively unorthodox. She must have a reason for involving you so quickly.’
‘She might think I’d have some idea about Beverley.’ Thea hesitated, thinking this through. ‘Although I don’t expect she knows anything about that. Nobody’s likely to have told her. Nor about the lost piece of jewellery.’
‘You’re saying you’re ahead of her already.’
Thea nodded, her face rather pink. ‘You could say that, I suppose. Look, Jess – I really do want to be there, at least to see who it is that died. Everything’s under control here. Most of it can wait until this evening, if it has to. I could have a little look for Beverley, if it’s not her.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Jessica sounded really angry. ‘You can’t just wander around the countryside in the hope of finding this woman under a hedge somewhere. It doesn’t work like that. Either there’s a properly organised police search, or you just wait for her to turn up. You wouldn’t know where to start.’
Stephanie made a small sound. ‘You could start in our burial field – because that’s where dead bodies end up. Even when they’re not supposed to.’
Jessica stared at her. ‘You’re joking. You’ve got to be.’
Stephanie could not suppress a giggle. Not only were her words completely true, but it had happened before Drew had even met Thea, before Stephanie herself could remember. There had been a body unofficially buried in Drew’s first burial ground, right at the very start. It was a story he told often, along with a lot of boasting about how he had solved the murder almost by himself.
‘She won’t be dead,’ said Jessica with unwarranted certainty. ‘She’s probably just stressed. Is there a husband?’
‘Yes. Digby. He’s a bit of a wheeler-dealer, apparently. Involved in house clearances and car boots and all that. Puts his hand to anything. Mends stone walls, if I remember rightly.’
‘Metal detecting?’ asked Jessica, making a sudden connection.
‘Quite probably.’
‘Well, text her again now, and see if you can find out any more. But let’s forget about showing up for a bit, okay? You’d only add to the confusion. If it’s murder, they’ll want a clear field for the SOCOs, and lots of peace and quiet.’
‘I know,’ said Thea meekly. ‘I almost wish she’d never told me anything. Just when I was all set to do the perfect family Christmas. You’re right about Drew. He won’t like it one bit.’
‘No, he won’t,’ said Stephanie. ‘But he won’t blame you. He’ll say Mrs Gladwin should never have brought you into it.’
‘And he’ll be right,’ said Jessica.
There was no reply to Thea’s text for almost an hour. Then it came through with a ping. ‘Deceased is Rufus Blackwood. Not sure about cause of death. Family in meltdown. Happy Christmas!’
Sonia Gladwin’s approach to Christmas was very similar to Thea’s. The children’s expectations were impossibly high, despite being unable to rely on their mother’s presence throughout the holiday. Her husband was the constant parent, his work relatively undemanding and his hours reassuringly predictable. Sonia’s income was the higher by far (unlike that of Thea, which had dwindled to nothing) but there was still a sense that the overall household management was down to her. That included finding the ideal presents, sending out cards, ordering the turkey and ensuring there were dozens of mince pies available. This year, with the twins rapidly leaving childhood behind, she resolved to do everything properly, with the right festive spirit. It would be pure magic, she promised herself; a Christmas they would all remember for ever.
But now everything was under threat because a dead man had been found not far from Broad Campden. As she drove north to view the scene for herself, she was being regularly updated. A team had been summoned, including a doctor and enough officers to secure the site and repel sightseers. ‘Not that there’ll be many of those, this being Christmas Eve,’ said the girl who was relaying information. Phoning Thea Slocombe had been an act of sheer selfishness, she admitted to herself as soon as the call was concluded. She had wanted to share her frustration, to elicit support and even sympathy. In justification, she reminded herself that the death was close to Thea’s home, the people involved likely to be familiar. But it had been outrageously early, even before the body was officially identified. And she had managed to retain enough professionalism to withhold from Thea the name she’d been given. Already she had breached protocol – and doubtless interrupted Thea’s own family Christmas. All before she had any idea what had killed the man and whether there was
