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SOPHIE STEPPED OUT from the wall of the gift shop in the village. Visitors filled the little place as staff hurried to accommodate their requests. Her new idea to run murder mystery weekends in the conference centre seemed to be paying off. She smiled. One way to work with all the media speculation.
Edwina was appalled . . . there was a surprise.
She exited out of the back door before anyone could spot her and into the old cobblestone alleyway—the very same one she’d enjoyed Morgan’s attentions in and perhaps enjoyed too much. She turned and headed across the narrow space to a presentable plastic door in blue and tapped in the code. The door opened and she strode up the claustrophobic steps and in through the wooden door at the top.
“Sophie?” Jackie, her accountant, said in the midst of tidying her hair and scrabbling to clean up the takeaway cartons. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“So it seems.” Whenever she had visited, Jackie was inch perfect in presentation but never was by the time she left. She strode over to the chair away from the window and eased into it. “This is new.”
“Yes.” Jackie threw the old cups and glasses into the sink and then slumped against it. “You haven’t been here in a month. I’m not fit for company.”
Had it been that long?
“Things are taxing for me at present.” Sophie cocked her head as she spotted bundles of paper on the table. “The statement you sent was displeasing.”
Jackie sighed. “I know . . .” She shoved her hands in her slouchy pockets. “Even with the new idea, the estate is really in trouble.”
“How?” It bothered her how impossible it was to see anything but symbols and nonsense when she looked at numbers. It made her vulnerable and she hated being vulnerable.
“It’s a giant money pit that’s why.” Jackie switched on the kettle. “It’s not insulated or properly wired. Not to mention all the staff wages.” She folded her arms. “And if this new head of security fulfils her probation, it’ll bankrupt you.” She tucked her red hair behind her ears. “You need to consider . . . well . . . just parting with one or two businesses, maybe a section of land.”
“No.” If she did, Bright would swoop in or another vulture.
“You have to do something.” Jackie perched on the armrest beside her. “I’m not saying it to irritate you, I’m saying it because I love you.” Her eyes filled with desire. “You know I love you.”
“Yes.” Sophie pulled Jackie onto her lap and lifted her red hair from her neck.
The scent of Morgan’s perfume filled her mind and she hesitated. Why was she thinking of Morgan?
“I know you’re angry. I can’t think of any other way to help.” Jackie tilted her head to expose more skin. “Maybe you should talk to Bright and hear him out.”
Sophie growled and gripped Jackie’s arms. “What?”
Jackie didn’t fight, didn’t argue but kept still, eyes glinting with fear. “I don’t mean about the estate but he might take some dead wood off your hands.”
Knock, knock, knock.
Had to be a salesperson . . . or the police with that rap.
Jackie darted free of her. “Let me answer that . . . okay?”
Sophie glared instead of providing an answer. What madness had infected Jackie to think she would ever sell anything to a vulture? Yes, why would someone she’d kept safe for years, who knew what would happen if she was crossed, even utter such nonsense?
Jackie headed down the steps and she got to her feet. The Recluse would need to double check how loyal Jackie still was. Would she be so stupid as to turn on her?
“Can I help you?” Jackie’s tone was guarded, flustered.
Police.
“I’m Detective Inspector Wood, this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Matthews. We’d like to come in and ask you a few questions.” Wood wasn’t on a charm offensive with Jackie. She sounded ready to strike.
“Um . . . I’m not really presentable at the moment.” Jackie laughed it off but the worry was clear.
Sophie spotted Jackie’s laptop bag behind the sofa. People who didn’t want to be found tended to keep their dealings electronic or easily hidden and erased. She opened the bag and smiled. One laptop, power cord, and a plastic box with three USBs inside. Perfect. She took the bag and headed into the bedroom to the window. The garage roof was corrugated iron, flimsy so she tucked the laptop under one arm and climbed out of the window onto the ledge.
“We won’t take long,” Wood said, her voice close. Must have barged in.
Sophie slid the window shut and stepped along the edge before dropping down into the alleyway. She hurried to the gift shop, slipped inside, and through the wall back into the tunnels before wheezing out a breath.
Wood was becoming ever so bothersome.
“Do you really think Lady Haye killed that woman?” A Canadian man’s voice rumbled through the wall from the shop.
“Oh, the tales I could tell you of the Haye family,” the woman—must be staff—said. “Some say she stalks local beauties to drag back to her estate . . . but this book will give you all the details.”
Hopefully not Bunion’s book. The least they could do is tell a tale properly. She rolled her eyes, pulled out her phone, and slipped down the steps into the gloom.
“Darl, you got me something to search?” The Recluse, as always, sounded like she’d been expecting her and Sophie was running late.
“A laptop.” She perched beside the tomb of Walter the Shark—one of her grandfather’s most trusted friends—and flicked the laptop on. “It wants a password.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” the Recluse said with a chuckle. “Just flick on the wireless and connect it to your phone.”
She could do that. She connected it and in seconds the desktop screen flicked on. “Have I ever told you how disreputable you are?”
“Not enough, Darl.” And the entire hard drive started to upload . . . somewhere. “You’ll have to give me a few hours to get the kid on this.”
“What?” the kid snapped from somewhere nearby. “I am not trawling through a load of shit.”
“It’s for Sophie,” The Recluse shot back. “And if you don’t I’ll make you fix the porch roof.”
“I hate you,” the kid muttered but her tone was warm. “I’m only doing it for Sophie.”
“Thank you,” Sophie whispered as sheets and sheets of numbers appeared.
The Recluse laughed as she cut the line.
Sophie patted Walter’s tomb. “You’d never believe it but she’s an even bigger shark than you.” She flicked her feet up and leaned back against the wall. Guess it was a good time for a nap.