Brought to Book by Anthea Fraser Page B

glanced at it. ‘Salmon fishcakes with dill sauce,’ she said, ‘and a spritzer.’ She looked up at him. ‘Is that why we’re having lunch? So you can voice your apprehension?’
    â€˜No, we’re having lunch because I’ve finished what I set myself this morning, because I know you’re between jobs, and because I wanted to see my wife.’
    She raised a quizzical eyebrow.
    He smiled. ‘How well you know me! All right, also because I’ve something interesting to tell you.’ He paused. ‘Guess who I saw yesterday afternoon?’
    â€˜Surprise me.’
    â€˜Any ideas?’
    â€˜To warrant lunch, it must be someone unexpected. The Prime Minister?’
    â€˜Hugh Cavendish,’ he said.
    Rona stared at him. ‘Hugh was
here
?’
    â€˜He was indeed. Hanging about outside Chase Mortimer.’
    â€˜He didn’t go inside?’
    â€˜Not while I saw him, but it was too wet and blowy to hang about.’
    â€˜What time was this?’
    â€˜Around five thirty.’
    â€˜Then he’d have been waiting for Lindsey to come out.’
    â€˜Well done, Watson! Harvey’s death will pose no problems for you!’
    â€˜But why hasn’t she phoned me?’
    â€˜I’ve no idea. Perhaps she doesn’t want you to know she’s seen him.’
    â€˜But you heard her at the parents’; she was in a state after only getting a letter from him. Do you think I should ring her?’
    â€˜If you’re really asking my advice, then no, I do not. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you in her own time. And I wouldn’t like her to think I was spying.’
    â€˜Ready to order?’ interrupted a voice above them, and Max duly obliged.
    Rona looked frowningly down into the street. Yesterday’s rain had blown away, but the wind was still strong, and people thronging the pavements were clutching their coats together against its intrusive blast.
    Max studied her averted face for a minute. ‘You said the contract’s arrived?’
    â€˜Yes, I posted it back on the way here.’
    â€˜So you’re all set?’
    She nodded. ‘Meriel Harvey phoned just after you, and invited me to lunch tomorrow. She’d seen the piece, too.’
    â€˜Just tread carefully, love, that’s all I ask.’
    â€˜Don’t I always?’ she replied.
    In the three weeks since she’d last driven this way, spring had arrived. The misty green had formed into new shoots, blossom was out, and daffodils gleamed in profusion. White clouds raced across a newly washed sky, and at last Rona felt that lift of the spirits that always presaged a new work, delayed in this instance both by her own vague disquiet and Max’s reservations.
    Again she had to negotiate market shoppers in the village, and again she was admitted by the young woman Cecile, who invited her to bring Gus into the house.
    â€˜Madame say you will be here for quite a while,’ she explained.
    Meriel Harvey came into the hall to meet her. ‘It’s no problem at all,’ she insisted, as Gus wagged his tail ingratiatingly. ‘I’m fond of dogs, and it’s not fair to keep him shut up when it’s unnecessary. I’m sure he’s well behaved.’
    â€˜Usually,’ Rona said. ‘If he’s not, he’ll go straight back in the car.’
    Over coffee, she asked Meriel’s permission to use a tape recorder and, having been given it, set up the machine and opened her notebook at the list of questions she’d hurriedly prepared.
    â€˜Perhaps we could start with a few facts,’ she began. ‘I looked your husband up on the Internet, and learned that his parents were Reginald and Frances Harvey, that he was born in February 1944 and had an elder brother and sister.’
    â€˜Tristan and Phoebe, yes.’
    â€˜Are his parents still alive?’
    â€˜His father is, in a residential home near