Jack took a moment to look at the river, the boats, the crowds on both riverbanks — all here for the big event he planned.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure his light-hearted approach to a revered Cherringham tradition was such a good idea.
He saw Ray downriver, in his barge’s dinghy, anchored near one of the turning points in the loop that the regatta teams needed to take.
And down at the other end of the loop, he saw the line of small sailboats, all paired. Some had gone full out in the costuming department, following the American–British theme.
One boat held redcoats, cherry red in the glorious sun. Their teammates in another sailboat, all in Continental Army blue.
Wherever had they gotten those revolutionary war costumes?
And in another, GIs, looking as if they might be taking their daysailer to hit the beaches of Normandy.
British soldiers in the other.
And one team even went for cartoon characters, along national lines of course. A Mickey and Goofy teamed with what looked like a Pooh Bear and Piglet.
How would they ever handle the sailing in such outfits? That would be something to see.
Then he spotted Daniel, on a small floating dock near the starting point. And true to his word, Daniel had stacked a mighty pile of coconuts.
Everything looked all set, just awaiting the starter pistol to be fired by none other than Lady Repton.
Apparently the ancient but feisty dowager’s role was another Cherringham tradition.
Jack looked around for Brian Larwood. As much as he just wanted to enjoy this race to come …
Talking to Larwood … confronting Larwood … was far more important.
But it was going to have to wait.
Then — the gunshot.
A puff of smoke, and the first line of sailboats set off, racing to the mound of coconuts, before tacking, and hurrying to Ray at the turn-around point.
***
Sarah knew the girl at the desk of The Bell Hotel
A peer of Chloe’s — someone she had seen her daughter and friends hanging with.
Then — the name came to her.
Claire.
“Hi Claire.”
“Oh, Ms Edwards, hello? You not down by the river?” The girl made a face. “Wish I was. I hear they’ve got some strange things planned for this year. Oh — how’s Chloe?”
”Well, I’ve not heard from her for a couple of days. But I’m sure she’s having fun.”
“Bet she’s having a smashing time.”
“Not too smashing I hope …”
Claire smiled. “Um, Ms Edwards, can I help you? You need something?”
“Actually I do. You have a Mr Lionel Townes staying here?”
Claire suddenly looked unsure. “Oh, we’re not supposed to say anything about anyone staying at the hotel.” Claire leaned close to Sarah. “I could get sacked for that, you know.”
Sarah nodded. As much as she wanted to speak to Lionel Townes, she didn’t want to get the girl in trouble.
But then Claire looked left, then right. “Ms Edwards, I know what you and your American friend did, last year. When we had that trouble at our school? That was good what you did.”
The girl took a breath.
Then locking eyes, she went to the cubbies for guests’ keys and mail.
And, as if simply checking it, she went to one cubby hole. Reached in, took a key out, then replaced it.
The number of the cubby: 303.
When Claire turned back she wore a smile.
Sarah nodded.
“Nice chatting, Claire,” Sarah said. And then she turned and headed towards the big open staircase.
She knew Lionel’s room would be on the third floor. As she climbed the last flight of stairs she heard voices from the corridor above — one of which she recognised.
A female voice. Hard. Clipped.
Karin Carter.
Sarah stopped on the second floor landing and stepped back out of sight behind a laundry trolley. Peering over the top, she saw Karin appear on the turn of the stairs above her, then head down.
The woman looked serious, intense.
And as Karin passed, Sarah saw her pause and stuff a fat envelope into her handbag — then carry on down the stairs.
Interesting. Had she just been to visit Lionel Townes?
Maybe it was a good idea after all that she hadn’t gone to the Carter house.
So much for Karin being by Bruno’s bedside.
Sarah carried on upstairs until she reached the third floor. Room 303 was just opposite.
Down the corridor she could see a chambermaid at an open bedroom door.
Within shouting distance if she needed it …
She took a deep breath. Was this crazy? For all she and Jack knew, Lionel might be behind the murders. Right now — was she about to enter the lion’s den?
Or was Lionel just a mouse?
Only one way to find out …
She knocked on the door.
***
The race began, and the redcoats were first to swing by Daniel’s float, one of the team awkwardly reaching out and grabbing a coconut.
Now they had to sail to where Ray waited, transfer the coconut to him, and hurry back to their partners.
Then that boat had to do the loop, pick up that same coconut from Ray without tipping the boat or dropping it, and bring it back.
First team to bring in five coconuts wins!
And though Jack had been unsure about his obviously wacky idea, he saw people grinning, pointing — definitely enjoying the bizarre river spectacle.
Might not be the kind of sailing competition that old Henry VIII would have commanded. But for Cherringham, on a sunny carnival day — it looked perfect.
But then he took another look around.
Off in the horizon — though this day was still brilliantly sunny — he saw a few greyish clouds had gathered like unwanted spectators at the event.
Weather maybe about to change?
Still no Larwood.
He’d thought for sure the old Cherringham cop would appear.
But had he left the village already? Gone back to Spain?
Had Jack missed his opportunity?
***
Sarah knocked again. Then a series of sharp, firm taps.
Before hearing a voice.
“Hang on. One sec. Be right there.”
And Lionel Townes opened the door.
He look confused, startled, expecting maybe a chambermaid.
Or a return visit from Karin Carter?
“Um, yes? Is there something wrong?”
Jack wanted buttons pushed.
If that’s what he wanted, then best she got started.
“Mr Townes. Lionel. We need to talk.”
“Hmm? What do you mean, talk? What about?”
“About fifty thousand pounds.”
Townes’ eyes went wide.
“That’s what you were looking for, I imagine, at Tim Simpson’s house? Oh, and we also know about Sitges. Yes, and about your relationship with Amanda and Harry Tyler. Tim’s disappearance. Oh yes — and about what happened in Cherringham twenty years ago that led to the death of a young man.”
And for a moment, Lionel Townes stood there. A statue. One hand locked on the door edge. His eyes glassy, as if he had suddenly been turned into stone.
As if he’d been expecting this moment for years.
And maybe he had …
“You’d better come in,” he said.
Then he turned, his shoulders slumped, and walked back into the room.
She watched him sit on the corner of the unmade bed.
“And shut the door behind you.”