The Retreat(37)

‘Are you all right, Mum?’

The voice from the doorway made me jump. It was a woman in her early forties with curly reddish hair. She wore jeans and a tight black T-shirt. She was curvy with long limbs, pale skin and, strikingly, a tattoo of a red rose on her upper arm, the petals disappearing beneath her sleeve. She laughed, which made her look even more attractive. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.’

Shirley snapped out of her trance. ‘My apologies. I was taking a trip down memory lane. This is my daughter, Heledd.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said.

‘What about your mum?’ Shirley asked me. ‘Is she in good health?’

‘She’s great.’ I explained how she and Dad had moved to Spain before he died, and that Mum was still out there.

‘They got away,’ Shirley said. ‘From this place, I mean. It used to be a thriving town, you know. The Apple Tree was always full up, but these days I can go weeks without anyone coming to stay. It’s not surprising, I suppose. Sad, but not surprising. It’s a punishment.’

Before I could ask what that meant, Heledd rolled her eyes. She crouched beside Shirley, laying a hand on the arm of the chair. ‘It’s not that bad. We get by, don’t we, Mum?’

Shirley patted her hand. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. My angel.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘It’s been quite a week for terrible news. First Malcolm, then this.’

‘Malcolm Jones? The librarian?’

‘Did you know him?’ Heledd asked in a surprised tone.

‘No. Well, not really. Sorry, what do you mean, did I know him? Has something happened?’

‘It was his heart,’ Shirley said, laying a hand across her own, as if checking it was still beating. ‘He’s suffered with a heart condition for years so it wasn’t a terrible shock. Dreadful, though. He was a good man, but he’ll be with Sylvia now.’

I assumed that was his wife.

‘When did it happen?’ I asked.

‘Only yesterday.’ Shirley patted her daughter’s hand again. ‘How is Olly coping?’

‘He’s okay.’

Shirley nodded. ‘He’s a good lad. Like his father.’ She turned to me. ‘I keep hoping Olly will make an honest woman of her.’

Olly? That was the name of the taxi driver. Olly Jones. So he was Malcolm’s son, and here was his girlfriend. It was a small town, all right, with a limited dating pool. But now, hearing about Malcolm’s death, I was even more keen to talk to Zara.

‘So, my friend, Zara. Is she here?’

The dog jumped onto Shirley’s lap and she ran a hand along its flank. She’d retreated inside her head again. Away with the fairies, as my mum would say.

‘Zara Sullivan?’ Heledd said. ‘She’s gone.’

Her words didn’t sink in immediately. ‘Gone?’

‘Yes, she went yesterday. Packed up, paid her bill and went.’

‘But . . . I was supposed to be paying for the room. Did she leave a message?’

‘No, she said something about her business here being done.’

I swore under my breath. How could she abandon the investigation without telling me? She was eccentric, sure, but I hadn’t taken her for a flake. Maybe she’d paid for the room herself because she felt guilty, and she wasn’t answering her phone simply because she didn’t want an argument with a disappointed client.

But then I thought about how oddly she’d behaved in the pub the other evening, and how jumpy she’d seemed. Had something scared her away?

‘How did she seem yesterday?’ I asked.

Heledd took a seat on the sofa and crossed her legs. One Converse-clad foot bounced up and down. ‘This is very intriguing. What do you mean?’

‘Was she acting nervously, or was she relaxed?’

‘She seemed absolutely fine to me. She came down for breakfast, ate three rounds of toast and we made small talk. She told me all about a case she’d once worked, something about a guy who went missing. They eventually found him chained up in a sex dungeon. He’d paid the dominatrix to keep him as her slave. We had a giggle over it.’

‘She didn’t say anything about the case she was working here?’

‘No. Just something about hitting a dead end.’

‘And you’re sure she didn’t seem scared?’

‘I’m sure. Why, is there something she should have been scared of?’

‘I don’t know.’

I said goodbye to Shirley, and Heledd saw me out. As I was about to leave, something occurred to me.

‘What did your mum mean when she said “it’s a punishment”?’

‘Who knows? Mum’s always talking about sin and divine retribution. Devils with red-hot pokers. I spent my childhood being warned that if I didn’t clear my plate or tidy my room I’d be punished by God. Or worse.’

‘The Devil, you mean?’

‘Oh no. Not him.’

She closed the door.



Now what? I needed to know if Zara had discovered anything else. Had she met with Malcolm Jones before he died?

I tried calling Zara’s office number, but there was no answer. I sent an email from my phone, asking her to call me.