‘Someone else thought so too.’ Lucie did a doom-laden voice.
‘We need to decipher March’s notebook,’ Lucie said. ‘It’s our bible.’
‘You’ve got his notebook?’ Jack and Beverly shouted at once.
‘No, it wasn’t on Roddy when I found him.’ Stella sent the spreadsheet to print and emailed it to Jackie, attaching photos of those suspects they’d managed to grab from the internet.
‘The killer knew March’s notes would incriminate them. With it in their possession, they believe themselves safe.’ Lucie caught the collated copies churning from the printer. No one spoke as, in gloomy silence, they digested the contents.
‘Four murders.’ Jack moved to the armchair and, elbows on knees, said, ‘It’s time to face the elephant in this room. Last night it could have been five murders. Whoever did for Roddy and the Clockmaker tried to kill Stella. They could try a second time.’
‘Last night was the second time.’ To a thunderstruck room, Stella described the evening on her way to the Death Café when a van had slowed on the lane. ‘If another car hadn’t appeared, I think that the van driver would have murdered me. At the time, I assumed they had engine trouble, but that’s a classic ploy to get an unwitting driver to stop. Now, I think they wanted to stop me linking up with March.’
‘So far we know one person who knew you and March might meet.’ Lucie flapped her copy of the grid. ‘The Grumpy Gardener.’
‘Andrea rides a bike,’ Stella said. ‘We need to find out if she owns a white van like the van in the lane.’
They were all startled by the doorbell. Refusing to be cossetted, Stella went to answer.
‘My God, Stella.’ Janet pointed at the steri stitches on Stella’s temple. ‘I came to see how you are and you’re worse than my worst fears. Are you OK?’
‘Fine now.’ Stella actually felt dizzy from getting up too fast.
‘I need a statement about last night.’
‘There’s people here, we’re…’ Stella’s dizziness increased.
She didn’t want Janet to see that Jack and Beverly were there as well as Lucie. Too late. Striding past Stella into the lounge, Janet said, ‘Fancy that, the gang’s all here.’
‘We’re doing your job.’ Lucie would never make a diplomat.
‘Give me the room, please.’ Hands on hips, her anorak collar up, Janet jerked a thumb.
‘I insist I’m present while you interview Ste—’ Lucie started.
‘Before you leave,’ Janet raised her voice, ‘Lucie, here’s a head start on my briefing. This morning, we raided a block of flats in Evesham and rounded up the gang who mugged and murdered March and Clive Burgess. They had the gear, an icon thingy from the abbey, religious stuff from the gift shop, enough purses and wallets to open a leather goods’ store. Small-time violent thugs. And, Stella, we linked them to you.’
‘Linked them how?’ Lucie looked less than grateful for the heads-up.
‘The youngest – a fifteen-year-old – had Stella’s rucksack. Denied the lot, bare-faced they were.’ Janet took in Stella. ‘You’ll get it back when Forensics are done.’
‘You know this is crap, don’t you?’ Lucie thundered. ‘A bunch of kids murder two men for pin money?’
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Beverly said as she and Jack hustled Lucie out.
It wouldn’t be the first time Lucie was charged with assaulting an officer of the law. However, now Stella agreed with Lucie about the muggings and the murders. As their voices merged with the street sounds below, her headache worsened.
Chapter Forty-Two
2019
Jackie
Geo-Space’s reception fitted Jackie’s vision of a state-of-the-art software company. A theme of orange followed through in rubber flooring, lampshades and the uncomfortable bucket chair in which she sat waiting – too long – for Zack Hunt, acting CEO. At least the coffee was good.
‘You plan to offer home scans for cleaning customers, way to go,’ a voice bellowed.
‘We thought…’ Good grief. Balding pate, excess bulk, pushing sixty. This confounded Jackie’s expectation of svelte, too-young-to-shave in Kenzo and Alexander McQueen. Jackie guessed his pinstripe siren suit, à la Winston Churchill, was the cool bit. At least Churchill had the advantage of being a war-time prime minister busy saving the nation from the Nazis. On Zack Hunt, the suit spelled sartorial disaster.
Hunt showed her into his ‘pod’ and instantly embarked on a presentation projected onto a wall behind her. ‘Geo-Space creates a digital doppelganger, for every kind of space…’ Jackie was swooped around buildings, homes, offices, gyms, art galleries, then Hunt introduced the team: a gallery of young men dressed to type in sneakers, jeans and T-shirts.
‘Who’s that?’ The woman was in her forties, with wavy blonde hair and what looked like the old National Health glasses but probably cost as much as a cheap car. Team mug-shots were meant to reassure customers that they’d get on with people, but Andrea Rogers’ filthy expression turned Jackie cold.
‘Her? She’s the boss-lady. Andrea Rogers started this business.’ Hunt’s neutral tone betrayed definite dislike.
‘I should meet Ms Rogers.’ Jackie got out her phone and scrolled to Stella’s email. She clicked on one of the attachments.
‘I’m as good as it gets, I’m afraid.’ Hunt rested his hands on the shelf of his stomach. ‘Andrea’s away on a long-term project.’
‘That is a shame.’ But for the siren suit, Jackie would have spared Hunt’s feelings. ‘I was told Andrea was top of her game.’
‘Your informer is misinformed.’ Hunt gave a hearty laugh. ‘Anyone can scan properties, the true skill is in the editing.’
‘Is that what you do?’
‘It was, but now we’re one man short – one lady – I’ve had to get down and dirty.’
‘Did you scan that gorgeous house in Ravenscourt Square? I loved it. The lighting, the dimensions, the… um… the general feel.’ Jackie essayed a vague gesture of rapture.
‘No. That house belongs to Andrea. She scanned it herself, didn’t trust any of us.’ Hunt gave a hollow laugh.
‘Is Andrea likely to pop into the office today?’ Jackie asked. ‘I do want to meet the Queen of Virtual Tours.’
‘She’s away, no idea
