The arrangement had been clear, she thought. Friday at two. If something had gone wrong he could have called the garden centre and left a message for her. She’d just checked and she had no voicemail. He wouldn’t have reached her at home because he didn’t know her number, or even where she lived. This early in a friendship you don’t exchange addresses.
Plenty of things might have delayed him, and she kept playing them through her mind. She didn’t wish to face the other possibility: that he’d stood her up. It was hard to know how any man’s mind worked, and Jake’s shyness was an extra barrier. So for the moment she preferred to think something had gone wrong at home, a burst pipe or a gas leak. He’d get the problem fixed as soon as possible and come hurrying to meet her.
If she was wrong and a domestic emergency wasn’t the reason, she supposed he could have made a mistake about the time. Or even the day. Forgetfulness would be preferable to rejection.
Clutching at her arms, trying to rub warmth into them, she looked again along the path in each direction. Few scenes are so bleak as the seaside on a grey autumn day. To the east, where the wind was coming from, she could see the black trailer the police had parked opposite the place where she’d found the body. It just depressed her more.
He’d said he lived in Selsey but she had no idea which part. No one else was in sight. The only life in view was the gulls gliding on the stiff wind, and they were pretty inactive, not needing to move their wings. This was looking like a lost cause.
I hate this place, she thought. Once it was all right, but now it’s linked with that poor woman’s death and the hard time I was given by those detectives. If I’m honest with myself I’m only here for the chance to spend time with Jake. I don’t really have to put myself through this.
She looked at her watch again. Maybe the poor guy was ill, too far gone to make contact. That would be dreadful, but was it realistic? People his age didn’t get ill very often, not ill enough to be stuck indoors. If she stayed here much longer she’d be the one who was ill. Soon she’d have to admit he wasn’t going to appear and hadn’t bothered to let her know.
Ten more minutes, then.
Those minutes passed and he didn’t come.
On Saturday in Starbucks Gemma was even more hyper than usual. ‘You’re a crafty minx, putting those wicked ideas in my head. I’ve done the dirty now. There’s no going back. The ordure hits the air conditioning next week, about Tuesday morning, I reckon.’
‘You went through with it?’
‘Calm down. You look like the bird that went for a worm and pecked through the electric cable. This was your suggestion, remember. Yesterday she left about three-thirty and so did he.’
‘Together?’
‘Take a wild guess. So it gave me the chance to get into her computer. To be honest, I was in two minds even then, but I didn’t know the half of it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff he’s syphoned off to her in the last week. I went mental when I saw it all on screen. These aren’t jumble sale posters, Jo, they’re major projects, colour magazines, and Christmas catalogues for some of our top clients. Work I’ve always handled.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘Just like you said, I bumped up one of the orders from five thou to five hundred thou.’
‘Good. Which one?’
‘A council booklet about waste disposal.’
Jo raised a clenched fist. ‘I like it. She’ll be waste herself when this gets found out.’
Gemma rolled her eyes upwards. ‘I’m not so comfortable with it now.’
‘Why?’
‘Basically, I’m a coward. I’m hoping the printer queries it with Mr Cartwright.’
‘That’s no use,’ Jo said. ‘The business has to suffer, or she’ll walk all over you and so will he. You want half a million useless booklets stacked up for everyone to see.’
Gemma whistled. ‘Half a million? Is that how much it comes to?’
‘Five hundred thou, you said.’
‘I’m wetting my pants over this.’
‘Believe me, if it doesn’t hurt him where it matters, in his pocket, your Mr Cartwright is going to forgive and forget and Fiona will be sitting at your desk before the end of the year. Be strong, Gem.’
Gemma’s way of being strong was to bite her lip and flap her hand in front of her face, and Jo felt her own confidence falter, in spite of all she’d said. She’d set this up and people’s careers were at risk. Someone was going to suffer, whatever the justification for the thing.
Jo changed the subject. ‘How are you and Rick getting on? Have you been out with him again?’
‘A couple of times,’ Gemma said. ‘The lad is shaping up. We’ve got the same taste in films, which is good. But we haven’t had sex yet, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘D’you mind? I wouldn’t be so nosy.’
‘Did you sleep with him when you two were going out?’
Jo smiled. ‘I see. It’s all right to ask me. As a matter of fact, I didn’t. Things got a bit physical, if you get me, but I wasn’t ready for the main course.’
‘I bet he was.’
‘Possibly, but it takes two.’
‘He behaved like a gent, then? Adjusted his dress and wished you a polite good evening?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I don’t plan on telling him about my war with Fiona,’ Gemma said. ‘That’s between you and me, right?’
‘Fine.’
‘I know I can trust you not to blurt it out. Can’t count on Rick keeping it to himself. Know what I mean?’
‘Understood.’
‘I’ve nothing against him. He’s fun to be with, but I’ve got to keep this schtum. I mean, it doesn’t reflect very well on me. I don’t mind you knowing because it was all your idea.’
‘As you keep reminding me.’
‘That’s me accounted for, then,’ Gemma said. ‘How about you and old motormouth? Are you two an item yet?’
‘Hardly.’ Jo felt the colour rise. ‘Where did you get that idea?’
‘Come on, babe, it’s obvious you fancy him something wicked. Look at you now, a poinsettia in full bloom.’
‘You’re so wrong.’
‘Don’t mind me. Just because I call him names it doesn’t mean a thing. I’m always slagging off blokes. It’s a sport. You’ve got to make the first move, you know. He’s chronically shy. If you wait for him to ask, you’ll still be waiting when you get your bus pass. Fix a time and place and tell him to be there.’
Jo didn’t enlighten her about Selsey. ‘He isn’t interested.’
‘Bet he is. Want me to find out?’
‘No,’ Jo said sharply. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Look at the state you’re in. Simmer down, babe. You’ve got it bad, haven’t you? All right, do it your way. I won’t interfere.’
‘You’ve got this all wrong.’
‘I’m sure. Be funny, wouldn’t it, if we swapped blokes?’
‘Oh, hilarious,’ Jo said.
Back home the light was winking on the answerphone. She pressed it before taking off her coat. The voice was not Jake’s. It was female. And familiar.
‘Miss Stevens? Hen Mallin-DCI Mallin. We spoke the other day. Give me a call directly you get back, would you?’ She gave the number.
What did they want now? Jo hung up her coat and looked at the mail. Junk, all of it. Nothing with a local postmark.
She went back to the phone.
‘Thank you for calling in, my dear,’ Hen Mallin said, all sweetness and light now. ‘I’ve got a favour to ask. When you told us about finding the body at Selsey you mentioned seeing a couple of men.’
‘Did I?’
‘The one in the tracksuit and the one with the dog. What I’d like is for you to see if you can recognise the jogger.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Pick him out from a line-up. An identification parade.’
Jo gasped and her mouth went dry. ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t see him well enough for that.’