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‘No.’

He leant forward conspiratorially against the bar. ‘What about this body you two found then? Any more information?’

Jude shook her head. ‘Not a squeak. Police seem to be playing things very close to their chest.’

‘Presumably that forensic stuff takes time. Identifying the poor sod, checking his DNA, all that malarkey.’

‘Probably.’

‘Hm.’ The landlord shrugged. ‘Oh well. Basic thing is, he’s dead and we’re still alive.’

‘That’s a very philosophical thought, Ted.’

‘Yes. I do have my introspective moments, you know.’ He looked very gloomy. ‘So we should continue to enjoy everything life brings us, shouldn’t we?’

‘Sounds like the best approach, yes.’ Jude changed tack. Ted Crisp, from all the people he encountered and conversations he heard over the bar was a useful source of Fethering information. ‘Have you come across a man called Kent Warboys?’

‘Architect, property developer? Yes, I know him. He comes in here every now and then.’

‘And what do you know about him?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘“Property developer” can have so many different meanings, can’t it? For a lot of people round here it’s usually a term of abuse.’

Ted chuckled. ‘Take your point. Well, from what I know of him, and what I’ve heard about him from other people, Kent Warboys is one of the good guys. Yes, he’s in the business for the money – and has done very well out of it – but he also seems genuinely to care about the projects he gets involved with. You know, he wants to build stuff that kind of fits the area, not the kind of monstrosities you see all along the coast here. You should have a look at his own place.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Right here in Fethering. Other side of the Fether estuary, opposite the yacht club. He converted a bunch of old fishermen’s huts. Won an award for it, I think, you know, for sympathetic, environmentally friendly conversion. All that bloody Green nonsense.’ He looked directly into Jude’s eyes. ‘I gather he’s got an interest in developing Polly’s Cake Shop.’

‘News travels fast.’

‘Surely you’ve been in Fethering long enough not to be surprised by that?’

‘True.’

‘Kent was in here on Wednesday night.’

‘Was he?’ Jude thought back. He must have gone to the Crown and Anchor after the SPCS Action Committee meeting at Hiawatha.

‘And he seemed to have got a new girlfriend.’

‘Oh?’

‘All over her he was … well, they was all over each other. And he was showing off in that way that men only do right at the beginning of a relationship. Before they start taking the woman for granted. Know what I mean?’

Oh yes. Jude knew exactly what he meant. ‘Did you recognize the woman?’

‘Sure did. I’ve forgotten her name but I’d recognize it if someone said it. Spanish looking, she is. Works as a waitress in Polly’s.’

‘Sara Courtney?’

‘That’s the one.’

Jude felt rather pleased to have confirmed the suspicion that had been born when she talked to Kent Warboys after the last SPCS Action Committee meeting at Hiawatha.

By the time Jude’s cassoulet had arrived, the Crown and Anchor was very full. Sunday lunch was one of its busiest times and she was glad she’d taken Zosia’s advice about ordering before the rush. She felt very mellow working her way through Ed Pollack’s winter warmer and down her second large New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. And the bigotry of the Mail on Sunday was keeping her at a pleasant level of simmering irritation.

A text arrived on her mobile. She was surprised to see it was from Carole. Not surprised that her neighbour was contacting her, but that she should be using the medium of text. Carole was always slow to take on new technology (though once she had taken it on, she became almost obsessively enthusiastic about it – that had certainly been the case with her laptop).

The message simply said that she had arrived back at High Tor and wondered where Jude was. A quick call brought her down to the Crown and Anchor, where she accepted Jude’s offer of a large Sauvignon Blanc ‘to wet the baby’s head’. She also followed her neighbour’s recommendation and ordered the cassoulet.

Jude wanted to get straight down to talking about the Fethering Beach body, but knew she had to ask first about the new arrival. And she found Carole in a rare state of ecstasy verging on the poetic when she talked about her new granddaughter. Chloe was the most beautiful creature who had ever been born, totally unlike her sister in appearance but retaining that baby’s ability to look like both of her parents (just as Lily had done). And equally beautiful.

Lily, incidentally, was being extraordinarily good about the new arrival, positively welcoming. Absolutely no signs of jealousy yet, though Carole did concede that it was early days in the relationship between the two.

Then, to Jude’s amazement, Carole pulled out her phone to show her some photographs of the new arrival. The amazement arose not from the fact that photographs had been taken, but that they had been taken on a phone. Though it had other capacities, Carole had always regarded her mobile as a device for the making and receiving of phone calls, differing from a landline receiver only in its portability. And suddenly, within two days, she had started using it to send text messages and to take photographs. Jude wondered what had caused the change.

Though she had never had children of her own, and did not feel the lack of them in her life, Jude was not immune to the enchantments of the young, and cooed appropriately at the pictures she was shown. Chloe Seddon looked to be a perfect newborn baby and, like many newborn babies, seemed resolutely unwilling to open her eyes, especially when being rather cautiously cuddled by her older sister. There was even a photograph of Chloe being tentatively held by her grandmother. The whole family looked relieved and happy, and on the face of Gaby was an expression of exhausted triumph.

Jude did not wish to appear uninterested by moving the conversation on, but fortunately Carole herself changed the subject. ‘Anyway, what with all that’s been going on, I haven’t seen much news for the last couple of days. Listened to Radio Four when I was driving down from Fulham this morning, but there was nothing about the Fethering body. Have I missed anything?’

‘I’m afraid not. Total news blackout on the subject from official sources … though, needless to say, there’s been a lot of unbridled local speculation.’

‘Yes, I bet there has. Any of it worth listening to?’

‘Well, the trouble is, as ever in Fethering, a large number of theories are being put forward, but none of them is based on any solid facts at all.’

‘Sounds familiar. And have the police been in touch with you again?’ Jude shook her head. ‘No, nor me. I kept checking my mobile for messages, but there was nothing. Nothing on my answering machine at High Tor either.’

‘But, so far as we know, the police are continuing to conduct their investigations?’

‘One would assume so, yes. But, as ever, they’re not rushing to share their findings with the amateur sleuths of Fethering.’

‘No.’ Carole grimaced and then looked sharply at Jude. ‘And what have you found out? I’ll bet you know more than you did when we last met.’

‘Well …’ Jude was faced with a dilemma; one which she had known would come up at some point. Maintaining the confidentiality of her clients was a strong principle with her, and this was not the first time that principle had been threatened in the course of an investigation.

She tried to think of a way in which she could tell Carole why she thought the mystery man had been murdered, without giving away the secrets which Sara Courtney had confided to her in her professional capacity.