Truth Will Out by Pamela Oldfield Page B

shrugged. ‘Best bet is probably the hotel where the wife’s staying. So, before I go, have either of you got any ideas what may have happened or where he might go?’
    Alice shook her head but Biddy said, ‘There was an odd chap round here the other day. Said he’d brought something and had to hand it over personally to Mr Brent.’
    At that moment Primmy made another attempt to ingratiate herself with the stranger. She trotted cautiously forward, stopped about three yards from Sergeant Taylor, wagged her tail and then gave three short barks and moved forward again. The constable eyed her with obvious irritation until she barked again and then he lunged suddenly forward. ‘Hop it! I’ve told you once.’ He grinned as Primmy turned tail and fled.
    Alice said angrily, ‘You’ve got a cheek! I told you, she’s not much more than a puppy.’
    ‘And I told you I don’t like noisy dogs.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘This odd chap?’ He looked at Biddy.
    She hesitated, not wanting to accuse him of anything serious. ‘He was . . . unsavoury, if you know what I mean. A bit odd. He made us nervous.’
    ‘I’d forgotten about him!’ cried Alice. ‘Biddy’s right. He was really scruffy and sort of belligerent, wasn’t he?’ She turned to Biddy. ‘Did he say what his name was?’
    ‘Belligerent? But he didn’t actually threaten us, Alice. He was odd, that’s all, and he seemed to know Lionel, but Lord knows how.’ Biddy shook her head. ‘Gone missing! It’s incredible. It was supposed to be a holiday.’
    The sergeant asked a few more questions, made occasional scribbled notes but he seemed fairly disinterested, Biddy thought. Not on his patch so why should he care?
    The policeman finally nodded. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way.’
    Alice said, ‘You haven’t written much down yet.’
    ‘I’m not investigating the case, Miss. Just been asked to see if he’s here.’
    He gave them a mock salute and they watched him in silence as he collected his bicycle.
    When he’d gone Biddy said, ‘I can hardly believe this is happening!’
    Alice slipped an arm through hers. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she told her, without much conviction. ‘Don’t upset yourself, Biddy. I promise you it will be all right.’
    Maude sat on the edge of the bed and tried to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out . . . She had talked to a Constable Wickens until her head was spinning but had refused the idea of a sleeping pill because she was terrified by what she might be told when she woke up. She needed to be alert. If Lionel were to be found injured or had finally made his way to a hospital, she wanted to be able to go there at once. If, as she still hoped, Lionel was going to return to the hotel in one piece, she wanted to be awake, to throw her arms around him and hold him close. She clung to the idea of amnesia as the least worrying explanation. She yearned to be back at home with Aunt Biddy and Alice but it made more sense to wait here. The Hastings police seemed to know what they were doing – at least she hoped they did.
    There was a knock on the door and she felt a cold rush of fear. ‘Not bad news,’ she whispered. ‘Please God, not bad news.’
    It was Mrs Cobb. ‘My dear, I’ve brought you a light snack. On Sundays we always have a big Sunday lunch and then high tea. Some people call it supper. We don’t mind. You must try to eat.’ She set the tray on the small table. ‘I’ll send Penny up later to bring your sweet course and take your empty plate.’
    Mrs Cobb was kind, thought Maude, and meant well but how was she supposed to eat anything? Her throat was dry and she felt slightly sick. She said, ‘Thank you. I will try but . . .’
    ‘I know, dear. You’ve lost your appetite but you need to keep up your strength. You don’t want your husband to come back to a wilting flower!’ She laughed to show this was a small joke. ‘At moments of crisis you should always eat something to help the body’s