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‘Chillax,’ he said.
That made her laugh. ‘“Chillax”? Who did you learn that one from?’
He looked indignant. ‘My godson, if you must know.’
‘Hah. He was pulling your leg.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Heath looked around. ‘Took me hours to get here. No decent roads.’
‘What do you mean? They’ve only recently dualled the A11.’
He laughed. ‘Maybe, but bloody hell, they still allow tractors on it.’
Alex laughed. ‘We don’t want people like you discovering Norfolk and Suffolk. We like to keep it to ourselves.’
‘Some of the countryside I drove through was lovely,’ he admitted.
Alex liked him for saying that. She was so used to the wide open skies that went on forever and the special soft light that shimmered and the air that was fresh and clean, she sometimes forgot how special a place it was. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it – two years in London breathing in fumes and dust that was other people’s skin made sure of that – but she occasionally needed to step back and look at it anew. She thought about ripples on water, trees that were green and lush, ducks and geese on the commons, and the Broads that welcomed every new visitor, and the cerulean blue sky. She smelt the tang of brine when she was by the sea, and the scents of early summer flowers when she went walking. ‘I love it here,’ she said.
‘And did you leave London in such a hurry because you were dying to get back to sticksville or because of Malone?’
She glanced sideways at him. ‘I didn’t think anyone had noticed I’d left.’
He didn’t look at her. ‘Oh, they did. Well, I did.’
‘Don’t be daft. I was in a completely different department to you.’
‘Only the other side of the desk.’
‘Features versus news, hey? Soft bubbles versus proper journalism?’ Now she nudged him with her elbow. ‘Anyway, I wasn’t there often.’
‘Often enough.’ He looked at her with those blue, blue eyes. Flirting as ever.
For a brief moment Alex was flattered. Then she remembered his reputation and thought she had better get on with the business in hand. She cleared her throat, leaned forward and whispered: ‘Right. Two men dead on the boat, one from London. I’m reliably informed it is Derek Daley. And—’
He stared at her for a moment. ‘That’s confirmed, is it?’
‘Well, I’ve confirmed it and I’ve sent a piece to Bud, but there’s nothing up on the website. Don’t you think that’s strange?’ She tried to sound offhand about it.
Heath shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. Perhaps he wanted to keep it for the paper. Exclusive. Not bother with the website – you know what a Luddite he is. I mean, if it really is Derek Daley—’
‘Sssh, not so loud.’ Alex glanced around to see if anyone had heard. It didn’t look like it. ‘And it is.’
‘Then it should make great headlines. And the other?’
‘A man from Suffolk. Roger Fleet. Don’t know any more than that at the moment.’
‘And how did you get this information?’
She smiled. ‘I’ve got an “in” with the owner of the boat hiring company.’
‘Really?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘Not that sort of “in”.’
‘Right. Okay. So Derek, and Roger from Suffolk. I’ve never heard anything on the grapevine about Del Boy being gay.’
‘Perhaps they were just friends. You know, maybe they were hanging out together? I do believe it can happen.’
‘Hardly likely, is it? The smooth as silk Daley with a yokel?’
‘Watch it, you.’
‘Natural death? Murder? Suicide?’
Alex shook her head. ‘I’m not sure yet. It’s unlikely to be natural deaths though, don’t you think? Not two of them?’
‘Never assume, Alex, you know that. It makes an ass out of you and me, remember? Could be natural causes. Could be an accident, it has been known.’
‘Colin Harper seemed to think it was suicide. He said they had taken a disposable barbecue inside and the fumes got them.’
Heath twisted round to look at her. ‘Really? Anything else?’
Alex shook her head. ‘No, nothing. Tell me, Heath, why is Bud so interested in this story? I mean, it’s a tragedy and I can imagine him running a piece with some Press Association copy and pics, but first letting me loose on the story and then paying your expenses up here … It’s not like him, is it?’ She had been thinking about this. ‘But then he hasn’t published anything yet.’
‘By all accounts Daley and Bud go back a long way; though, as you know Bud never liked him: he always said there was something unsavoury about our Del. And maybe he’s right, we’ll have to see. Maybe he’s covering his arse. I mean, if there is something dodgy going on, he’d look stupid if The Post missed it, wouldn’t he?’
At that moment, two police officers paraded onto the stage. DI Berry and DS Logan. No family. So no ‘emotional’ appeal. Not yet, anyway. Or perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary.
‘Hang on, what do you mean, “something unsavoury”?’ asked Alex.
A look flashed across Heath’s face that she couldn’t identify. ‘I don’t know what he meant; but you never know, if he did top himself, then there must have been a reason.’
‘Could he have been depressed?’
Heath snorted. ‘What, with his lifestyle?’
‘Don’t knock it. You know damn well money isn’t everything.’
‘No, but it bloody well helps. Believe me, that I do know.’
Alex looked at him. There was more to Heath Maitland than a pretty face and a flirty manner, that was for sure, but she had yet to find out what.
Berry and Logan had sat down. Logan was making sure her papers were in order, neatening them with her hands. Nervous, Alex guessed. Berry gazed around the room. His stare alighted on Alex and she began to feel uncomfortable.
Heath leaned into her. ‘Whatever did you do to him?’ he whispered. ‘He’s giving you the evil eye and more.’
‘I met him earlier.’ Alex spoke from behind her hand. ‘We didn’t seem to hit it off.’ She made the effort and smiled and nodded at Berry. The police officer glared back.
‘Evidently.’ Heath began jiggling his knee. ‘When are they going to get on with it?’
‘Patience. You’re not in London now.’ She refreshed The Post’s website on her phone once more. Nothing.
DI Berry cleared his throat. DS Logan folded her hands in front of her. Berry leaned into the bank of microphones. ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘and thank you for coming this evening. Earlier today two bodies were found on the boat Firefly Lady moored off Poppy Island on Dillingham Broad. They have been identified as Derek Daley, aged sixty-two, a magazine proprietor from London, and Roger Fleet, also aged sixty-two and a farmer from Suffolk.’ He stopped and surveyed the room. There was a low murmur as the various journalists took in the information. Those who knew who Derek Daley was would realize immediately it was a pretty big story. Alex texted Bud.
Names confirmed by the cops.
‘Their deaths are being treated as unexplained. At the moment, we are not seeking anyone else in connection with the enquiry. That’s all I have for you at this time, but if anyone saw anything suspicious around the time the boat was hired three days ago, or motored past the boat in the last three days, please get in touch.’ Berry held up his hand. ‘I’m not taking questions, thank you.’
He marched off the stage, Logan in tow.
‘He likes talking to the press, doesn’t he?’ said Heath, standing up.
‘We need more. Especially if Bud is being cautious.’
‘Mmm. Berry didn’t even give out the fumes from the barbecue line. I wonder why not?’ He grinned. ‘I think you should ask your Detective Inspector Berry – get a bit more colour.’
‘More colour? Two bodies turning to liquid on a boat not enough for you? And he’s not my Detective Inspector Berry, thank you.’
‘He could be. We need a handle on how they died.’
‘You ask him.’
‘You’re prettier.’
‘You’re sexist.’
‘I know. Go on, I’ll buy you dinner.’
Alex laughed. ‘You mean The Post’s expenses will buy me dinner. Anyway, no thanks, I’m out tonight.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Nothing like that,’ she said. ‘A friend. A girlfriend.’ Why did she feel the need to explain?
‘Tomorrow then?’
‘Are you expecting to be here tomorrow?’
‘We still need to know how they died. And Bud will want a backgrounder.’
‘I could do some digging for you.’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d hardly thought them. Where did that come from? Was she really offering to do Heath’s work for him? But then, she had felt alive these last few hours, in a way that she hadn’t felt for a long time. And she was involved in the story; she wanted to find out more about Daley and Fleet and how a man from London and a man from Suffolk ended up on a boat together on the Broads.
Heath seized eagerly onto her words. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. I’ll get home quicker then. I’ll square it with Bud. I think more than two nights in The Travelling Inn would just about do me in.’
‘I know that place, it’s outside the town here, isn’t it?’
He shuddered. ‘Yes. I think I’m the only person staying there. Or everyone else has died and are lying undiscovered in their lumpy beds. Look. I mean it. About dinner. Perhaps you could do some asking around tomorrow and then we could reconvene at a restaurant of your choice.’ He frowned. ‘There are decent restaurants around here, aren’t there?’
‘Yes,’ Alex replied, affronted. ‘We even have chefs who can cook, you know. The Fox and Goose in Sole Bay is excellent. And is probably better than your Chiltern Firehouse or Soho Farmhouse or wherever you like to hang out.’
‘I’m sure the Fox and Goose will be fine.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a date then.’
‘No, it is not,’ she retorted crossly. ‘It’s a business meeting.’
‘Shame. Now, you talk to the friendliest policeman in town and let me know how it goes.’
Alex looked at him. Patronizing git. ‘As a matter of interest, Heath, what are you going to do tomorrow?’
‘Have a look around, get the lie of the land, that sort of thing.’
‘Don’t work too hard, will you?’
‘I’ll try not to.’
‘I was being sarcastic.’
‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a couple of people to talk to.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’ And with that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered off. Whistling.
How irritating was he?
She would have to stay one step ahead.
8 (#ulink_f717dc3d-7a14-508d-8360-51c0f6ad010d)
‘So how are things going?’ Lin refilled Alex’s wine glass. ‘You seem tired.’
Alex leaned back in her chair, running the tip of her finger around the rim of the glass. ‘Not too bad. It’s been an interesting day.’ She yawned, trying not to think of Heath Maitland and how annoying he was. And trying not to think of DI Berry who had merely glared at her and walked off when she’d tried to ask him a question. What a rude man. Listen to her – what an old woman she was turning into. ‘That was a lovely meal, thanks, Lin.’
They were sitting in Lin’s kitchen, the folding glass doors open, the air soft and still. There was a faint smell of the sea and the odd sounds from the road were of people talking, footsteps, a dog barking, rather than actual traffic. The scent of honeysuckle drifted in. Alex was full and sleepy. Must be relaxed, she thought. Even the kitchen, which was peaceful with its off-white and duck-egg blue décor and a couple of Lin’s oil paintings on the wall, was neat and ordered as though no cooking had gone on there, despite the ravioli in pesto sauce topped with mozzarella cheese and accompanied by a side salad Lin had made.
Lin put down her glass and seemed to steady herself. ‘Look. I didn’t tell you the whole truth about where I’d been for the last few days.’ She chewed her bottom lip.
‘What do you mean?’ She had never seen Lin look so vulnerable.
‘I did go on a course like I said, but I also went to visit my brother. My younger brother. In Craighill. It’s a unit for people with mental health problems. He has schizophrenia and hasn’t been taking his medication properly so …’ The words came out all in a rush. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Alex sat up, her tiredness gone. ‘Lin—’
Lin held up her hand. ‘I don’t want your pity.’
‘I’m not—’
‘It’s difficult to tell people, you see. I don’t normally do it. People don’t understand. It’s not like having a broken arm or something that you can see and that you know will be mended in a few short weeks. But I thought we were becoming good friends and it’s a relief to say it. I can’t keep it bottled up any longer, not from you.’ She gave a little hiccup. ‘I used to tell people and they would drop me as their friend, as if it was contagious or something like chickenpox or herpes.’ She looked at Alex. They both giggled. ‘You know what I mean.’
Alex reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Name?’
