Death at Rainbow Cottage Jo Allen (digital book reader .TXT) 📖

Faye shrugged that off. ‘Goodbye, Mr Blackwell. Thank you so much for the workshop. Fine stuff.’

‘I’ll email the debriefing notes over to you this evening.’ Claud bounced off down the corridor ahead of him, the jacket of his brown suit straining across his shoulders. ‘Working late to catch our neighbourhood murderer, are you, Chief Inspector?’ He fidgeted with the visitor’s badge clipped to his lapel, snapped it off the moment they reached reception and headed over to the front desk to sign himself out. ‘No nearer laying a hand on him, DI Dodd tells me.’

‘I’m doing my best.’ He might have been a bit closer if he hadn’t had to spend an afternoon in Claud’s workshop, but too bad.

‘A very fine man, Chris Dodd. And a very useful link on building bridges with the churchgoing community. The feedback on the workshop was excellent, too.’

‘Thanks for this afternoon’s session,’ the devil in Jude made him say, as if provoking Faye wasn’t bad enough. ‘It was most enlightening.’

When Claud turned injured eyes on him, he knew he hadn’t hidden the sarcasm in his tone. ‘I know you people resent having to take the time to do these things. I appreciate you have more than enough to do already. But regular refreshment of attitudes and approaches is vital to public engagement and confidence. Superintendent Scanlon knows that. I’m sure your behaviour is impeccable at all times, but to educate people we need to walk a mile or more in their moccasins.’

‘Fair comment.’ Feeling he’d been too sharp, Jude sought to make amends. ‘Is Natalie not with you?’

‘She left straight after the workshop. She wanted to run back to Temple Sowerby, but I don’t encourage that on country roads when it’s dark. So she decided to go down into town, run around for a bit until she’s got however many miles she needs today, and catch up with me at the office.’

‘You’re based in town?’ A cold blast caught them as they headed out of the building.

‘Yeah. We’ve just taken on the lease to a new office up in the church close. It’s a nice enough place, central, and there’s a real community around there.’

‘And a great little baker’s in the arcade.’ Jude, who patronised the bakery on a regular basis whenever he had to buy off the team for some minor misdemeanour, was thankful for something other than murder or diversity to talk about as they headed to the car park,.

‘I’ll check it out. Nat turns her nose up at cake, of course, but I eat the carbs for her and she runs the calories off for me.’ A grin showed Claud’s face in a different light, a flash of humour underlying his usually fierce expression. ‘I’ll head down there and work until she sees fit to turn up.’

‘Do you need a lift? I’m heading down into town myself.’

‘A wild night out on a Tuesday, eh? You guys know how to live.’

‘It’s a birthday.’

‘Every day’s someone’s birthday.’ Claud laughed again. ‘No, I have the car. Nat may like to travel everywhere she can under her own steam, but I don’t have the time.’

Jude checked his phone for messages for one last time once Claud had left. At least on a Tuesday he’d be unlikely to run into Becca, and he had the next day with Ashleigh to look forward to. In the meantime an uneasy hour trying to keep the peace between Tammy and Doddsy wasn’t something he was looking forward to, and the workshop hadn’t offered him any help in dealing with this particular problem. How would Claud have handled Tammy’s grievance — as a straightforward case of homophobia or as a mother’s badly-expressed concern? And how would Giles Butler have reacted to the challenge that Claud had issued them with, to be true to themselves and honest with each other?

*

In Penrith’s Market Square, Gracie stopped for a moment to glance up at the clock. Twenty past six. Giles was due at seven. Perhaps, after all, she should have taken the car.

Too late, now. She’d just have to hurry. The last thing she wanted was for him to turn up and find out she wasn’t there. Poor Giles – such a lovely man, such a fragile ego. And so reluctant to confront his problems. His wife wouldn’t mind, in the end, surely. Not after thirty years. Surely she’d be forgiving, because she loved him.

She sighed as she stopped outside Barclays, fishing into her bag for her purse and sliding the card into the machine. She had no idea of the real state of Giles’s marriage, and what she heard was only one side. Problems, she said to herself fretfully. Other people’s problems. They were much easier to solve than your own.

Giles had been put out with her on their trip to Temple Sowerby, but surely he’d be over it by now. He knew she’d been right. He’d had no option but to go to the police before they came to him.

Well, soon enough she’d find out if he’d done it, and what they’d said. Taking the cash from the machine she folded the notes into her purse, slotted the purse into her bag and headed off.

*

 Jude parked the car at his house in Wordsworth Street and walked the short distance to the pub. Recently Adam Fleetwood, no doubt in another attempt to be constantly in his face, had rented a ground floor flat at the bottom of Wordsworth Street, where he sat of an evening with the curtains open and the lights on. This evening Adam was standing with his back to the street, a can of Coke in one hand and the remote control for the telly in the other. At least Becca wasn’t there, though it was still early and there was plenty of time for her to head down