‘That’s awful, but I don’t see what any of it has to do with Bill,’ she said.
‘He was the man at the warehouse. I was there. I saw him,’ I said.
‘You’re lying!’
‘I wish I was. Bill turned up, gave Niamh a fistful of money, they had some kind of argument, then he sped off towards Littlebourne in a cloud of dust.’
‘Perhaps she asked him for help. You know what Bill’s like. Can’t say no to a damsel in distress.’
‘I wondered if Niamh kidnapped Immy and approached him for ransom money,’ I said.
Melanie looked incredulous, and I couldn’t blame her. The more I thought about it, the more implausible it sounded.
‘Even if that’s true,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘it still doesn’t explain where he is now.’ She turned to Stuart. ‘I told you I should have called the police. He’s probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere.’ She ferreted around in her handbag and pulled out her phone.
I laid a hand on her arm. ‘Stuart was right. You can’t call the police. If they get wind of the fact that Bill was at the warehouse last night, that he was the mystery man I saw, they’ll have him arrested and in a cell quicker than you can blink. We need to find him first. Talk to him. Find out what he was doing there. Once we know that, we can decide what to do.’
‘But we don’t know where he is!’
‘Does the Range Rover have a tracker fitted?’
‘It does.’ Melanie’s face fell. ‘But the app’s on his phone.’
‘What about his phone?’ Stuart said. ‘Do you have Find my iPhone?’
‘We never bothered.’
‘Think logically,’ I said. ‘Where might he have gone?’
‘You know Bill. The only places he ever goes are to work, the pub and the lock-up to see that damn car.’
An idea came to me. ‘I wonder if Sheila’s heard from him.’ I picked up my phone and was about to dial when it rang. ‘Shit, it’s a withheld number. Must be the police.’ I accepted the call and said brightly, ‘Cleo speaking.’
‘Just checking everything’s all right with you guys,’ Sam Bennett said. ‘I know the DI’s told you about Niamh. I wondered if you wanted me to drop round.’
My eyes widened. ‘Oh, you don’t need to do that. We’re both fine. Upset, obviously, but fine.’
‘Are you sure? I’m tucked up with a nasty aggravated burglary case, but it’ll wait if you need some moral support.’
‘Absolutely sure,’ I said. ‘We’ll phone if we need anything, I promise.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll speak to the search team sergeant later and I’ll phone if there’s an update.’
I ended the call and let out a long breath. ‘That was Sam. She wanted to come by, but I put her off. I’ll try Sheila.’
The work number rang and rang until Sheila answered, sounding flustered.
‘Sheila, it’s Cleo. Have you seen Bill?’
‘He’s not in yet. Would you like me to ask him to call you when he arrives?’
I glanced at my watch. It was gone half nine. Late by my standards, but not by Bill’s. ‘Yes.’
‘Is that all?’ Sheila’s voice was curt, and I realised I must have sounded abrupt.
‘Sorry, yes. Thank you, Sheila, that’s all. Is everything else OK?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘There’s another call coming. I’ll speak to you later.’ And she hung up before I could say goodbye.
‘What’s the matter?’ Melanie said, clocking my expression.
‘Sheila wasn’t exactly helpful.’
‘I don’t know why you bothered asking her. She wouldn’t tell you where Bill was if he’d asked her not to. Saint Bill can do no wrong in her eyes.’
Stuart looked up from his phone. ‘Kent Online are already running a story about a body being found.’
‘Let me see.’ I grabbed his phone and scrolled up to the top of the page. I scanned the story, which was underneath a generic photo of police incident tape strung across a road.
The body of a woman in her 20s has been found in Littlebourne, police have confirmed.
Officers discovered the body on an industrial estate off Court Hill shortly before 3am today.
A police spokesman said: ‘Patrols attended an address at a commercial property in Littlebourne at 2.50am on Thursday 17 June and discovered the body of a woman in her 20s. The death is currently being treated as unexplained and the coroner has been informed.’
The woman has not been named, and a number of officers and Crime Scene Investigators are still at the scene.
More news when we have it.
I handed Stuart back his phone and tried to ignore the anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. Stuart and Melanie watched and waited for me to make a decision. I picked up my car keys and cleared my throat. ‘There’s no use sitting here and worrying. We need to find Bill and see what the hell he was doing meeting Niamh hours before she was killed.’
The Porsche flew along the A257, Absolute Radio blasting hits from the 1990s. Behind me, Stuart’s Audi E-ton was so close I could see the apprehensive expressions on the faces of my husband and his lover every time I glanced in the rearview mirror. I’d instructed them to head to Bill and Melanie’s barn, and then to follow the various routes Bill might have taken to his favourite pub and, crucially, the old FoodWrapped warehouse in Littlebourne.
‘Just in case his car did end up in a ditch,’ I said.
Melanie paled. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll check the lock-up.’ It was where Bill kept his Lotus Elan. If he was holed up anywhere, it was with his precious custard-yellow sports car.
When we reached Wingham, Stuart turned off towards Bill and Melanie’s house while I carried on through the village towards Preston.
Bill’s lock-up was on the site of an old rose nursery, which was tucked away behind a formidable line of leylandii conifers. The nursery
