Woody had lit the woodburner and switched on all the table lamps, which provided a cosy, intimate atmosphere.
‘Wine?’ he asked as Kate sat down on the sofa.
‘Gin, please,’ Kate replied, ‘and tonic.’
After a few minutes he reappeared with two glasses containing hefty measures of gin, plus cans of tonic and slices of lemon.
As Kate helped herself Woody said, ‘You look like you need that.’
‘I do,’ Kate confirmed. It was no good; she’d have to tell him.
He leaned forwards and they clinked glasses. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Well,’ Kate said, ‘where do I begin?’ She took a long gulp of her drink and then gave him a detailed account of what had happened.
Woody sighed. ‘Honestly, Kate, how often have I told you not to get involved? Don’t you care that I’m worried? After all, I’ve every reason to be.’
Kate could hear the disappointment in his voice. ‘I’m sorry, Woody, and I do care – very much – that you worry about me. And I know that, perhaps, I shouldn’t have agreed to do this, but I might just have found something. And, if I’d had more time, I’m sure I would have found something in Hetty’s flowerpots.’
‘Hetty’s flowerpots?’
‘Yes, her flowerpots were the only ones that had recently been disturbed. Think about it, Woody! If you wanted to get rid of a phone or a syringe or something, where would be an unlikely place to hide it?’
‘So, is Hetty now top of your list?’
‘Well, no, because anybody could have hidden something in the flowerpot.’
Woody groaned.
‘Are you going to shout at me?’ she asked.
Woody sighed. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because David Courtney might report me to Bill Robson,’ Kate said, ‘and he’s not my biggest fan.’
‘That’s true,’ said Woody. He looked out the window for a moment. ‘But surely you had every right to be in there if Stan had asked you to do some cleaning?’
‘Yes, and it was pure coincidence that I was just about to start examining Hetty’s jewellery drawer when he came in. I mean, it must have looked a bit dodgy, don’t you think?’
Woody nodded. ‘Yeah, that would take some explaining, I guess. OK, try not to worry about it, Kate.’
‘And let’s get this straight,’ Kate said, sitting bolt upright, ‘I did not remove a thing from that damned drawer! I hadn’t even had a chance to look inside it.’
‘I believe you, my love,’ he said. ‘You’ve no need to convince me. Another gin? Incidentally, I have to go up to London tomorrow for a police reunion thing, but I’m back Saturday evening and I’ll call you then. Just try, will you, not to get into any more trouble while I’m gone?’
‘As if,’ Kate replied.
Thirty
Kate had only just finished washing off the salt and sand which was stuck to the front windows of Lavender Cottage due to the previous night’s Atlantic gale, when she heard the ping from her phone which heralded the arrival of a message.
The message was from Sharon. What? How could it be from Sharon?
It’s me – Stan. I’ve found Sharon’s phone, the message read, and I think I know who killed her and Edina. I’ve found something interesting. Meet me at the garden shed at 5 o’clock. Be careful, don’t be seen, park the car somewhere else.
Wow! Kate stood transfixed by the screen for a moment. At last…! She wondered if good old Stan had managed to find something incriminating somewhere as well as the phone. She wondered why he was texting her on Sharon’s phone but of course he wouldn’t have her number on his own phone. Come to think of it, she’d never seen Stan with a phone. Perhaps he didn’t have one himself. Perhaps he’d had an opportunity to go through Hetty’s pots and her own hunch had been correct. She wondered at the secrecy; perhaps the killer was aware that he or she had been rumbled and was on the lookout? As regards hiding the car, all the residents of Seaview Grange – and everyone else for that matter – must know by now that she drove a red Fiat Punto, which would look far too conspicuous parked in front of the house. She rang Sharon’s number but there was no reply, so there was no way she could contact him to check that he had in fact sent the message. She knew she really should phone the police, but what if David Courtney had reported her for being in Hetty’s flat?
Kate consulted her watch: 4 p.m. She wished Woody was around; she always felt safer when he was nearby. He would, of course, tell her it was some sort of trap and not to get involved. After all, Stan could well be the killer and she’d be walking into trouble. Could Stan be the killer? And, if not, was he in danger too?
In the meantime she decided she should tell her sister she was going out. She went up to the summerhouse to tell Angie and found her sister burrowing amongst her canvases and in a state of high excitement.
‘I’ve just had a phone call from Luke down at The Gallery,’ she said, ‘and he’s sold my “Indian Sunset” painting!’
‘Hey, that’s terrific news!’ Kate said. ‘Many congratulations!’
Angie’s abstract art didn’t do an awful lot for Kate but nevertheless she was truly delighted for her sister. Even if ‘Indian Sunset’ had been languishing in The Gallery for six months.
‘Do you know who’s bought it?’ Kate asked.
‘A tourist,’ Angie replied. ‘A tourist with great taste, obviously. And I’m now looking around for another one in the hope that Luke can sell that too. After that I’m meeting up with Fergal in Launceston, after I’ve been into the estate agent and signed the contract for buying The Locker Café.’
‘Wow!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘You’re having quite a day, aren’t you? I’m off to Seaview Grange to see someone, so I’ll see you later.’
‘No,’ Angie said, ‘I won’t be back tonight. We’re staying in
