‘I didn’t know you collected children’s books,’ Tony said when he walked from the cottage with Alex. As they made to leave, Harriet had handed over a large bag she said were for Alex’s collection.
She didn’t respond.
‘Books?’ he said, holding up the bag with one hand and closing the door behind them with the other.
‘There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,’ she said shortly.
That stung but he was sure she was right. He wished there was nothing she ought to know about him.
‘First editions, mostly,’ she added. ‘A lot of them aren’t worth anything but they make me happy.’
She said it as if not much made her happy, but he could be looking for these things.
‘Oh, hell, I should have thought of that,’ he said, and stopped walking. ‘O’Reilly’s going to be browned off about Harriet and Mary having the lace. He … This is going to give him one more reason to make digs about interference. He’ll go roaring over there and shake them up.’
‘They haven’t done anything.’ Alex’s chin came up. She prodded his chest with a forefinger. ‘And he won’t be going anywhere near them. When I get the stuff back, I’ll take it in and tell the truth: I found it in my pocket.’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
‘Such a good idea?’ she finished for him. ‘I’ve had worse ideas. This one isn’t hurting anyone. C’mon. Let’s get this over with.’
They turned right out of the path leading to the tea shop and went in the direction of the church. ‘Are you OK?’ Tony asked. ‘I can feel your mood going down – not that I expect you to be singing and laughing.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood,’ she told him sharply. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me at all.’
He glanced sideways at her. Of course she was upset, but he sensed something else. He’d felt it before – sadness that ran deep. When she had first returned to Folly she’d avoided conversation almost completely, but there had been a gradual thaw and he had hoped they were closing in on the easy friendship they’d once had.
Several police vehicles were parked in the driveway to the church and another could be seen squeezed into the small parking area in front of the rectory.
Alex touched his arm. ‘I’m not being very nice,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. Thanks for being with me.’
When she smiled at him he warmed up more than he should.
So be it. He was human and he was a man. ‘Forget it. Do you want to go in here now, or not?’
‘O’Reilly’s car is unmarked,’ she said. ‘A navy blue Volvo saloon. It’s not here.’
‘Should we call him?’
She shook her head. ‘He said something about setting up an incident room at the parish hall. Let’s take a look there.’ Putting a hand on his arm again, she said, ‘You don’t have to come, Tony. I’ve taken up enough of your time.’
‘I think we’re in this together,’ he told her. ‘Which is the way I want it to be.’ And he approached the side of the parish hall without checking for her reaction to that statement.
‘No cars in the parking lot,’ she said.
But there were a number in front of the hall, including a dark blue Volvo. ‘Is that O’Reilly’s?’
‘Yes.’ Alex dragged her feet even slower. ‘I’ve got to do this but I don’t want to. What was I thinking when I ducked out like that this morning?’
It hadn’t been a good idea but she was going back in now. ‘Let’s just do this. He didn’t tell you not to leave, did he?’
She shook her head, no, and they approached the hall. Another vehicle arrived, a van, from which two men emerged, carrying in computer equipment.
‘Have you ever wanted to run, Tony? As far and as fast as you can?’
‘I know what you mean,’ was all he said, but he thought considerably more. He had run from Australia the moment he’d been free to leave.
‘Did you think they would just tell you anything you wanted to know?’ O’Reilly’s voice reached them from somewhere to the left of the open doors. ‘You know better than that.’
‘We can get the rest when we need it,’ Lamb said. Tony could see the man leaning back in a chair, his sandy crew cut as thick and neat as ever.
‘If there’s any point to it,’ O’Reilly said. ‘I’m not sure there is.’
‘She attacked her husband,’ Lamb said, letting the front legs of his chair slam to the floor.
‘Where did you get this from?’ O’Reilly asked.
‘Witnesses. She was hysterical and said it was her husband’s fault their baby was dead. She went for him right there by the grave. Then she went for the minister when he tried to stop her and just about scratched his eyes out.’
‘Grief can make people irrational.’ O’Reilly didn’t sound too sure of himself now.
‘I’m just telling you, boss. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything but it’s out there. Alex Bailey-Jones ended up having what they called a nervous breakdown and she admitted herself to some sort of loony bin.’