a hedgerow salad just like we used to in the van,” she called to Kinky, a little too brightly. “And it’s as well my old man taught me my aconite from my elder, or you might be following Mrs Todd on your own tomorrow.”
When she had finished eating, Lexy leaned back on the sofa next to Kinky, and picked up her old camera again. It had a new film in it, never used. Touching the wooden coffee table for luck, she took off the lens cap.
“Smile,” she said to Kinky. He glared at her, but she took the picture anyway, relieved to hear a familiar click.
Lexy leaned back, allowing Roderick Todd to swim into view. She wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what she found wrong with the man, but he was definitely odd. One of his oddities, she decided, was the way he had phrased things when talking about his wife’s transgressions.
She might be getting into something she can’t control.
Lexy scrunched up her face. Avril Todd looked like a woman who was entirely in control of her world, definitely not the sort to make a fool of herself with a bout of uninhibited passion.
She checked out the photos again. They hadn’t quite done Avril justice. She had been a lot more morose in the flesh – one of those perpetually discontented middle-aged women, with scowling eyes and a mouth permanently wedged down at the corners. The sort of woman who always looked at the cloud, never the silver lining.
But someone other than her husband must have discovered a quality in Avril that floated his boat.
And what else had Roderick Todd said? Something about wanting to nip it in the bud there and then? Not wanting to have to move again.
Move? If everyone moved because their partner had an affair the whole country would be in perpetual motion.
Lexy frowned. Mr Todd even seemed to know who his wife was meeting. What he really wanted – and this was the other strange thing – was photographic evidence of exactly what they were doing. As if he couldn’t guess.
But at least Roderick Todd had been civil during their exchange, unlike Hope Ellenger.
Even though Lexy had met the receptionist on what was clearly a bad day for her, she had been inexplicably rude. Particularly when she discovered that Lexy had moved to Clopwolde from London.
Lexy shuddered when she remembered the singular look of hatred the woman had thrown at her when she realised that Lexy was ‘seeing’ her brother that coming Saturday. Even though this was genteel Suffolk, it occurred to her that she was a tad exposed up here on her own with half a million quid under the bed and the world’s smallest guard dog.
She shifted uncomfortably. She really ought to do something about that money, but she needed a contact. Perhaps the vet could help out there. He probably knew the right people.
Guy Ellenger, Lexy considered, seemed to be everything that his sister wasn’t. Engaging, kind, funny, understanding. And he had called her Ms. He was almost too nice.
Although, when she had accidentally blabbed that she was a private eye, he had been quick enough to take advantage of it and ask if she could look into the disappearance of that deformed cat. It was clearly preying on his mind. Lexy was no cat expert, but she knew from the number of posters on lamp-posts she had seen in her life that cats had a tendency to disappear from home, even those kept under lock and key. And how would a pampered moggy like that fare in the countryside around Clopwolde, if that’s where it ended up? Finding the thing might prove a little more tricky than she first thought. She rubbed her nose. With any luck it might turn up of its own accord before Saturday and save her the trouble. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a full refund on the money she gave to the vet – just that the iniquities of Avril Todd were more than enough to cope with for someone only pretending to be a private investigator.
She found herself squinting at the Todds’ address again.
4 Windmill Hill, Clopwolde-on-Sea.
“Better
When she had finished eating, Lexy leaned back on the sofa next to Kinky, and picked up her old camera again. It had a new film in it, never used. Touching the wooden coffee table for luck, she took off the lens cap.
“Smile,” she said to Kinky. He glared at her, but she took the picture anyway, relieved to hear a familiar click.
Lexy leaned back, allowing Roderick Todd to swim into view. She wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what she found wrong with the man, but he was definitely odd. One of his oddities, she decided, was the way he had phrased things when talking about his wife’s transgressions.
She might be getting into something she can’t control.
Lexy scrunched up her face. Avril Todd looked like a woman who was entirely in control of her world, definitely not the sort to make a fool of herself with a bout of uninhibited passion.
She checked out the photos again. They hadn’t quite done Avril justice. She had been a lot more morose in the flesh – one of those perpetually discontented middle-aged women, with scowling eyes and a mouth permanently wedged down at the corners. The sort of woman who always looked at the cloud, never the silver lining.
But someone other than her husband must have discovered a quality in Avril that floated his boat.
And what else had Roderick Todd said? Something about wanting to nip it in the bud there and then? Not wanting to have to move again.
Move? If everyone moved because their partner had an affair the whole country would be in perpetual motion.
Lexy frowned. Mr Todd even seemed to know who his wife was meeting. What he really wanted – and this was the other strange thing – was photographic evidence of exactly what they were doing. As if he couldn’t guess.
But at least Roderick Todd had been civil during their exchange, unlike Hope Ellenger.
Even though Lexy had met the receptionist on what was clearly a bad day for her, she had been inexplicably rude. Particularly when she discovered that Lexy had moved to Clopwolde from London.
Lexy shuddered when she remembered the singular look of hatred the woman had thrown at her when she realised that Lexy was ‘seeing’ her brother that coming Saturday. Even though this was genteel Suffolk, it occurred to her that she was a tad exposed up here on her own with half a million quid under the bed and the world’s smallest guard dog.
She shifted uncomfortably. She really ought to do something about that money, but she needed a contact. Perhaps the vet could help out there. He probably knew the right people.
Guy Ellenger, Lexy considered, seemed to be everything that his sister wasn’t. Engaging, kind, funny, understanding. And he had called her Ms. He was almost too nice.
Although, when she had accidentally blabbed that she was a private eye, he had been quick enough to take advantage of it and ask if she could look into the disappearance of that deformed cat. It was clearly preying on his mind. Lexy was no cat expert, but she knew from the number of posters on lamp-posts she had seen in her life that cats had a tendency to disappear from home, even those kept under lock and key. And how would a pampered moggy like that fare in the countryside around Clopwolde, if that’s where it ended up? Finding the thing might prove a little more tricky than she first thought. She rubbed her nose. With any luck it might turn up of its own accord before Saturday and save her the trouble. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a full refund on the money she gave to the vet – just that the iniquities of Avril Todd were more than enough to cope with for someone only pretending to be a private investigator.
She found herself squinting at the Todds’ address again.
4 Windmill Hill, Clopwolde-on-Sea.
“Better
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