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‘And how did you know that the provisions of the new will were going to be different?’

The look Frankie gave Carole made her realize it had been a rather stupid question. ‘Because why else would he make a new one? Anyway, Bill said to me when he handed it over, “Must see that Malee’s looked after if I pop my clogs.”’

‘So, you didn’t read the new will?’ asked Jude, taking on the more conciliatory Good Cop role.

‘I didn’t need to. He’d virtually told me, hadn’t he? He was going to disinherit Billy and give the lot to his “Mail Order Bride”!’

Carole was clearly about to reveal the real provisions of the will, but a small flick of the head from Jude dissuaded her. She let her neighbour continue with the questioning.

‘And how did that make you feel?’

‘Absolutely furious! After all the hard work Billy had put in over the years to keep Shefford’s going, his Dad was just riding roughshod over him. I couldn’t allow that to happen.’ Frankie was overwrought. She gulped down what remained in her glass and topped it up from the Captain Morgan’s bottle. She didn’t bother to add any more Coke.

‘So, what did you plan to do?’ Jude persisted. ‘Did you argue with Bill? Did you tell him what you thought when he asked you to sign the will?’

‘No. He could be bloody-minded. If you’d got something serious to say, you had to catch him at the right moment. So I thought I’d just … well, obviously not put the envelope in the post … but wait, catch him when he was more relaxed and ask if he really had considered the effects of what he was doing.’

‘And where did you put the will? Did you bring it back here?’

If Jude had hoped the precious document was about to be handed over, she was in for a disappointment. ‘No, I left it in my drawer back at the garage. I knew Bill would never look in there. And I was still hoping for a chance to talk to him about it when he … when he died.’

Carole felt she had been out of the action for too long. ‘And what did you do with it then?’ she demanded.

Frankie looked defiantly from one to the other of them and took a long sip of almost-neat rum before replying, ‘I burnt it.’ Although no criticism had been voiced, she continued defensively, ‘It was the only thing I could do! A matter of justice. There’s an incinerator we use round the back of the garage. I used it to burn the will the night after Bill died, when everyone had gone home and I was the only one there. I knew if the revised version never saw the light of day, the old one would still be valid. And Billy would inherit what was rightfully his … as he always should have done.’

Carole knew this wasn’t true. The law dictated that a new marriage invalidated previous wills. So, Frankie’s rash action wouldn’t have had the outcome that she hoped for. In fact, it would have made things worse. Had the new will been posted off as his father intended, Billy Shefford would have inherited the business. Malee would have just got the house and savings. Still, Carole reflected, there wasn’t much point in telling Frankie that now.

A look between her and Jude confirmed that they were both feeling the same level of deflation. If Frankie hadn’t leapt to conclusions; if she had only read the new will … But there was no point in considering such variant scenarios. What had happened had happened, that was all there was to it.

‘So, what do you reckon now, Frankie?’ asked Jude. ‘When we met in the Crown and Anchor with Barney Poulton, you were pretty convinced that Malee set up Bill’s death. Is that what you still think?’

‘What else is there to think?’ But her tone had lost its former conviction. Maybe, with the passage of time, the exact circumstances of her boss’s death had become less important. She was coming to terms with a world in which he was no longer a participant.

‘You two’re trying to find out, aren’t you?’ she went on. ‘What happened?’

Carole, on her own, might have denied it, but Jude nodded.

‘Why?’ asked Frankie, very directly.

It was a good question. ‘I guess we’re just intrigued,’ said Jude. But that wasn’t enough. ‘And also, I don’t like hurtful rumours going round the village.’

‘Hm.’ Frankie was silent for a moment, making a decision. Then she said, ‘I want to know what really happened with Bill, too. I’ve got something here that might help you. It’s full of stuff I know about. And some I don’t understand.’

She had clearly prepared for what she was about to do. She reached down in a purple bucket bag beside her chair, pulled something out and offered it to them.

It was a battered green diary.

‘Do you think there was love involved?’ asked Carole, as they walked back towards the High Street. Jude was better at observing that kind of thing than she was.

‘Oh yes. Definitely,’ came the reply.

‘So, Frankie loved Bill Shefford,’ said Carole.

‘No,’ said Jude. ‘She loves Billy.’

TWENTY-ONE

Frankie had allowed them to borrow the diary, in the hope that they might be able to make sense of the bits she didn’t understand. Carole and Jude were very excited. They had talked to a lot of people about the case but couldn’t wait to get stuck into the first potentially solid piece of evidence they’d found. Because Carole had got a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in her fridge and Jude’s supply was still sitting in her shopping bag on the kitchen table at Woodside Cottage, they decided they would inspect their trophy at High Tor.

Gulliver greeted them blearily from in front of the Aga with a growly cough. Carole asked Jude to sort out the wine while she dealt with the flashing red light on the answering machine.

The message was from Malee Shefford. Had Carole managed to communicate to Billy and Shannon the provisions of Bill’s revised will?

She made an immediate call back with the dispiriting news that Jude had tried but failed. Rapprochement still had no place on Shannon’s agenda. Carole decided she wouldn’t at this stage tell Malee what had happened to the actual will. Wait until she had talked to Jude about it. The last thing she wanted to do was to generate more bad blood between the widow and Frankie. Nor did she mention the battered green diary that was currently sitting on her kitchen table.

‘Oh,’ said Malee, ‘there is one other thing I have found out since we spoke at the weekend.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I have found that Bill had another bank account.’

‘For the garage?’

‘No. There was an ordinary business account and a savings account for the garage. The same for us at home. I did not want him to set up a joint account for us. I thought that might encourage the family to see me as a gold-digger. But Bill insisted. So, we had the joint account and a savings account. But the new one I have found is different.’

‘How did you find out about it?’

‘A statement came through the post.’

‘You said it was different from the other accounts.’

‘Different bank, for a start. All the others are NatWest. This one’s HSBC, and he only set it up last October.’

‘Nothing to do with the business?’

‘I don’t think it can be. All the activity going through it is transfers of money from the joint account to this new HSBC account, and payments going out of it.’

‘Payments to the same recipients?’

‘There are two different recipients. To one the payment’s always five hundred pounds.’

‘And how regular are they?’

‘Every couple of weeks. Sometimes more often. But there isn’t a pattern. No standing orders or direct debits. Just as and when.’

‘Presumably it says on the statement who these payments are being made to?’

‘Yes. It says “APIPENSION”.’