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I WAS ALLOWED back on “light” duties but Mick was reluctant to hand back the reins. I wasn’t the kind of person to let that slide, normally, but I was too busy trying to process the pictures Fiona was sending me. Wood was still after Sophie and seemed even more set on proving her guilt now . . . but she was now keeping an eye on me too.
Trin had tried to call and when I didn’t answer, she had the audacity to text me and demand answers about Sophie. I had ignored her for the best part of a month and now her messages on my answer machine were full of pleading and asking me to give her a chance to talk. I know you’ll be surprised by this, but I wasn’t in the mood. Funny, huh?
I’d tried the “strong liquor,” part of Sophie’s remedy for wounds and it was hard work trying to equip a place with cameras on a tiny budget.
I strode out into the courtyard with a whole list of suppliers who would provide and fit the night-vision cameras for cheaper if they got their company sign displayed on the wall somewhere. I only hoped Sophie went for it.
“Morgan, that detective lady is here to see Lady Haye and she won’t leave,” Malcom, my youngest guard, muttered like it was disrupting his social media browsing. “I called up to the house but Frank said Lady Haye is busy and the detective lady still won’t listen.”
“I know she is here,” Wood snapped in the background. “And I know she’s avoiding me.”
You could understand why I wanted to say “get the hint,” right? I didn’t. Instead I pulled out my mobile—better to keep this off the radio.
“Hayefield Manor,” Frank said in his patronising tone.
“It’s Morgan, put me through to Lady Haye,” I said. I’d stopped being polite a few weeks ago when he’d put me on hold for ten minutes because he didn’t want to put me through to Sophie even when my radio had broken and I’d found the section of wall our intruder had been using.
“Lady Haye,” Frank said like he wanted to put the phone down. “Miss Lloyd is desperate to gain your opinion.” His tone was stuffy, pretentious, and I swear the guy thought he actually owned the estate himself sometimes.
“I doubt that Morgan is eager for me to express any opinion,” Sophie said in her deep tone. I shivered in response. I’d been very successful at only being near her when others were around and only in short bursts, yet the sound of her voice injected me with desire all over again. “What may I do for you, Morgan?”
A whole lot of things I shouldn’t be thinking about. “Er . . .” I sounded husky. Must be a build up of hormones or tension or I was lonely. Yes, lonely. I’d work through it. “D.I. Wood is at the gatehouse and refuses to leave. Lady Raquel will be on her way soon and, if I remember correctly, kneecapping detectives isn’t allowed.”
Sophie’s chuckle rumbled through me until I shivered again. She needed to bottle that voice. “Then you can personally escort Wood to my office and then my dear aunt to the sun room.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Clearly Sophie was going to help me with the hard work part of the heartbreak remedy then.
“Frank, when you have finished decontaminating your keyboard . . . again.” Sophie’s voice grew distant—must have been handing over the phone.
I cut the line and rolled up the prospective list of camera companies and tucked them in the side pocket of my work trousers then strolled through the weak spring sunshine to the gatehouse.
Wood was in a vest top low enough to see her lunch and tight trousers. Trin was in a silky shirt that I’d bought her for a birthday present years ago and a knee-length skirt. They looked ready to do a catalogue shoot, not irritate witnesses.
“D.I Wood,” I said, ignoring Trin’s pout. “Lady Haye has agreed to see you in her office.” I gave them nothing but a professional smile. “She is very busy, you will have to be quick.” I led them up the driveway, hoping the clenching in my stomach wasn’t showing on my face. “I’ll remind you again of your obligation to follow the law.”
“We only have a few questions but she seems to be so busy, that she hasn’t the time to incriminate herself,” Wood said with a false cheery tone.
“I don’t get why we can’t just drive,” Trin muttered, fiddling with her heels. She didn’t wear heels often, usually for weddings and job interviews.
“Lady Haye doesn’t allow traffic near the manor as it’s a national heritage site,” I said like a detached tour guide. I’d read far too much about the place but with free time and trying not to become an alcoholic, it was something useful to do. “It is essential to preserve the stonework.”
That, and Sophie liked to make her visitors breathless, I was sure. It was preparation for when she sent them scurrying away in tears or scuttling like she’d fired off rounds at them.
“It’s stone, Morgan. What do I care?” Trin snapped it like she wanted a rise out of me.
“With that attitude, it’s good you don’t work here, hmm?” I shot back and picked up my pace. I had plenty of time to run laps around the estate. I was fitter than I’d ever been . . . Wood and Trin . . . they needed to cut back on the long lunches together. I smiled to myself as Trin’s cheeks reddened. Guess Zumba had gone out the window too.
“I never asked you how you earned that wound,” Trin muttered between panting. “Did you say something she disliked?”
“No, but the wall I head butted had serious violence issues.” I smiled a false smile. “Uneven floors and low lighting can be hazardous.”
Wood laughed. “You expect us to believe that?”
“I’m not really concerned with what you believe, detectives.” Distant, curt, Sophie-like. It felt good. It felt empowering.
“You should be,” Trin snapped. “Protecting guilty people isn’t something I’d have expected from you.” She was puffing hard as we made it to the courtyard. “Turning your back on me, your promise to marry me, and everything you stood for wasn’t either.”
I stopped at the service entrance. “And cheating on me with someone who I stuck myself in front of to save wasn’t something I expected from you.” I ripped open the door. Shit. She’d gotten to me. “I should have.” I forced my voice back to that distant tone.
And . . . you got the fact I was bitter?
Wood and Trin stared at me like they hadn’t expected the volley.
I turned and strode by the black marble stairs and all the way to Frank who stood in front of his desk with a forced polite smile on his face. Must have hurt him to try for polite. Stuffy, a grouch with a cleaning fetish maybe, and I was sure he could pull off “flasher in a Mack” too, but polite, no way.
“D.I Wood,” he said showing nasal hair. “D.S Matthews, Lady Haye will see you now.”
I turned to walk back down the hall but Trin caught my arm. She didn’t even flinch at my prosthesis whirring in response.
“I need to talk to you, personally. I don’t care if I have to handcuff myself to one of these weird ornaments.” She meant the suits of armour. “Please.”
I nodded, caught off guard.
Malcom yelped behind me and I hurried to the service entrance. There went another a shin.
“Morgan, this boy is young enough that I may take him on a tour of the grounds,” Raquel said with a cheeky laugh. “Not bad shape at all.”
Malcom stopped hopping, raised both eyebrows, and stared at Raquel like he would run for it.
“If he stays off his phone and doesn’t let anyone else up to the manor, I might save him.” I nodded and Malcom sprinted for it—most energy I’d ever seen from him. I held open the door as Raquel bustled through. “I enjoy dodging.”
Raquel bellowed out her laugh which bounced back off the walls. “Now, why are you detaining me?”
“Lady Haye is being bored to tears by my former colleagues.” I checked my watch. “They get fifteen minutes and I’m booting them out.” I led Raquel to the sun room, which to me was the conservatory. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, I want you to keep talking.” Raquel yanked the cord with a twinkle in her eye. “Sit.”
It saved thinking about how to avoid talking to Trin. “Are you still trying to check if I use vowels?”
Raquel flicked her feet up on the lounger. “Which one were you bedding?”
I should be used to her by now because she never said anything appropriate but I still blushed and she still laughed. “The one with the skirt on and heels she never wears normally.”
“She’s not a beauty,” Raquel said and studied me with glassy eyes. They were wrinkled at the corners and made her look severe. She had a prominent wrinkle in the centre of her forehead but, other than that, she was blemish free which for being in her mid-eighties was some going. I had the same amount of wrinkles at thirty-five. “Whatever did you see in her?”
“Trin?” I leaned onto my knees and clasped my hands together. “She was my first girlfriend. I’d been out with men before her . . . had a miscarriage with the guy I was with then and it shook me up.” I fiddled with my metal thumb trying to dislodge the fluff from my pocket lining which often stuck underneath the nail. “I realised that I needed to find myself.”
Raquel’s eyes lit up. “And what did you find?”
I smiled. “I found that I wanted to leave being a barrister and join the police. I did that on a fast-track scheme and became a police officer. I knew Trin through friends and she persuaded me to apply.” I stared out of the windows at the moors. Some furry creature darted across it, bushy tail trailing behind. “We were friends for a long time then I confided in her that I was more fluid than I’d realised before and we sort of just . . .” I clasped my fingers back together. “I was always a busy person. My ex-boyfriend always said that I was as interactive as an answering machine sometimes.”
Raquel yanked the call cord again. The maids hated tending her and were terrified of Sophie so they were probably bickering over who would have to take it. “Were you as conversational with the tart?”
“Think so. I thought I’d found who I was as a detective, you know? I thought I had good friends, nice dinner parties, good relationship, and career . . .” I wrinkled up my mouth. “Just a mirage though. Everyone faded when I wasn’t busy anymore, when I actually wanted a deeper conversation.”
Raquel yanked the cord, yet again. She must really be thirsty. “That sounds utterly pathetic.” She smirked at me. “Don’t go looking wounded, it’s a milestone we all have to crash into at some point.”
“I can’t imagine you ever being as . . . disconnected with who you are.” And, I could also imagine that if someone faded when Raquel needed them, she’d take out their ankles.
“Then you need better glasses.” Raquel rubbed her hand over the top of her stick. “I was young when George bedded me the first time. I did as told. Silly. Naïve. With no idea that it was so common for him, his wife happily directed him towards the staff so she could have peace.”
I cringed. “That sounds . . . horrible.”
“Balderdash.” She flicked out her stick as if envisioning ankle bones. “I learned over the years how to keep myself from falling pregnant, ways to get little things I wanted from him by keeping his interest.” She winked. “Then I made him think I was pregnant when his wife passed away and convinced him that he’d have to marry me.” She tapped the ring on her finger. “Then, things changed. I ran him. I had fun with the staff, and he did as he was jolly well told.”
Was I impressed or scared?
One of the maids hurried in with a tray of tea.
“Two sugars,” Raquel fired at her.
“Ma’am,” the maid mumbled, head bowed. She looked relieved about something though. Was it that Sophie wasn’t in there or that she thought I’d be able to take it on the shin for her? She met my eyes, winked, and scurried out.
I got up and handed over the tea, dodging the stick-attack. “You don’t get on with your step-children though, do you?”
Raquel snorted and took the tea. “Definitely not. I earned my position and I didn’t entertain their pleas to spend extravagant amounts or remove me. They had no idea they were bastards of course.”
We were back to that then. “They were?”
“Yes, aren’t even his. He had no idea, you see, but I cottoned on quickly that he had no gunpowder in his rifle.” She smirked and sipped on her tea then smacked her lips together. “His first wife had a running affair with the head butler. No one argued much of course, it was good for him to look like he could breed.”
“Guess if he’d known, it would have been hard for him with his brother having two children.” I checked my watch. I’d need to rescue Sophie soon.
“Oh, his brother didn’t do much better. You see he married too close to home and their genes had a habit of having issues.” She sighed and sipped her tea again. “Poor woman was beside herself as you can imagine but Andrew, Sophie’s father, had some bastards of his own.” She smiled. “Then they did something useful and Sophie was born.” She smiled wider. “Took them a good few shots but I’d say they hit right on the button with her.”
I nodded . . . probably a bit too much.
“Yes, I dare say you agree.” Raquel wagged her finger. “You’re putting up a jolly good chase alright but she is closing in. She’ll enjoy the victory more that way.” She winked. “And so will you.”
“I didn’t realise I was being chased,” I said but was that really the most convincing lie I’d ever told? No. “Maybe I’m not intending to get caught?”
She laughed and thunked her stick to the floor, making her tea cup rattle on its saucer. “A Haye is always worth getting caught. Especially one as well-bred as my dear niece.”
I was ignoring that and the reminders of alleyways and Willow-Blossoms that it provoked. I got to my feet and shook off my legs. “I owe it to Trin to explain and work things through.” As if that was going to help me fend off Raquel’s cheeky look. “She didn’t think I was worth catching.”
“But my dear niece does, and you know it.” She lifted her cup to me. “And I am noting the blush.” She grinned a rakish grin. “You never know, she might use her teeth.”
I headed out of the room to her howling laughter and closed the door. I leaned against it and blew out a breath. Like I needed any more encouragement to think about Sophie Haye. Worth getting caught? I could only imagine how worth it she was. Forget breeding, I was pretty sure being with her was like high-powered gunpowder alone . . . Potent.
I rolled my eyes and headed toward a scowling Frank.
Best I didn’t think too much about the teeth.