Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

situated in the highly sought-after area of Deganwy Quay. Edging the waterfront, the bungalow enjoyed the most magnificent views across the Conwy estuary and the castle beyond.

Turning her attention away from the sight of King Edward II’s imposing edifice, Gaby pulled into the driveway behind what was presumably Barbara Matthews’ dark green Toyota hatchback, more than half annoyed that she’d reluctantly agreed to visit the property. She had far too much on her plate to be bothered with an old biddy who’d decided to go AWOL rather than face up to the fact that her friends were better than her at bridge.

Instead of jumping out of the car, she paused a moment to examine the sharp lines of the stark cream house, which didn’t immediately present with any of the usual features she’d come to associate with the term cottage. The front garden was a neat square of green, cut into regimented strips, where no weed would dare to pop up its head. There were no flowers or shrubs, apart from a pair of neatly clipped box hedges heralding the entrance and certainly no sign of wisteria crawling up the brickwork.

It only took a second to select the Yale from the small bunch of keys clutched in her palm that Clancy had passed on earlier. Modern policing meant that the days of entering a property by force were long gone unless it was either a dire emergency or unavoidable. All it had taken was a knock on the next-door neighbour’s house, by the paramedics earlier, to ascertain that they had an arrangement to keep an eye on each other’s properties – within moments the keys had exchanged hands.

The hall was tiny with barely space for the narrow table, a pair of navy lace-ups carefully positioned beneath. The lace-ups interested Gaby simply because removing her shoes when she came in from the outside was one of the first things she did after dropping her keys into the shallow bowl she’d bought for that express purpose. It was something that her mother had drummed into her along with hanging up her jacket in her bedroom and ensuring that her bags were packed and ready in preparation for the next day. Little routines that she still performed except, instead of a school bag, she now carried around a smart leather briefcase. If Gaby’s work shoes weren’t neatly placed in the hall there was a very good chance that she was at the office, a fact that was starting to make her feel uneasy about the current location of Barbara Matthews.

She had an idea that she wouldn’t find Mrs Matthews at home; after all, the police had already conducted a thorough search. But Gaby was nothing if not exacting in all aspects of her life. She’d be the last person to admit that she was a control freak but checking up was something she did. It wasn’t about a lack of trust, far from it. It wasn’t even that she thought herself better than anyone else – the reality was she had self-esteem issues, so nothing could be further from the truth. No. Gaby was again attempting to walk in someone else’s footsteps even if, in this instance, there was no evidence that a crime had been committed.

The downstairs of the airy dormer bungalow was painted in rich creams to maximise the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which framed the most spectacular views out across the marina. In her mind’s eye, she closed the hall door behind her and, after slipping off her shoes, padded into the kitchen towards the kettle. With the switch depressed, the next job would’ve been to gather together a mug before unloading the food into their relevant cupboards …

Giving a little start, Gaby shook her head, returning to the reality of the empty house. She took in the neat pile of side plates and linen napkins placed at one end of the table alongside four cherry-red wine goblets. Her brow pulled into a frown at the sight of the preparations for the bridge party. Careful not to touch anything, she removed a fresh pair of disposable gloves from her pocket and crossed over to the large American-style fridge, her frown deepening when she caught sight of the box of cheeses just like Mildred Pennyworth had suggested. It looked as if the only thing stopping the bridge party from going ahead was the absence of the hostess. And yet, with no evidence to the contrary, she couldn’t be sure that Mrs Matthews hadn’t been delayed by something unexpected.

For some reason her concern, which had been negligible, had upgraded to alarm in part due to her inability to trace the blasted woman. The hospitals had all come up blank as had the next-door neighbour, who’d seen her return to the property earlier with her hands straining under the weight of her shopping bags. They’d even passed the time of day on their respective doorsteps like they’d done hundreds of times previously. There was nothing unusual or suspect except her failure to be where she was expected. Reports of missing people in and around North Wales were rare. To have two in one day was unheard of.

Walking through the rooms, Gaby pulled open every cupboard and searched under every bed. She only turned her attention to the outside after she’d exhausted every hiding place. The exterior of the bungalow was surrounded on three sides by nicely manicured lawns and a small patio at the back with steps down to the marina. Apart from a shed, which contained the usual gardening tools, there was nowhere for Barbara Matthews to hide and no reason Gaby could think of for her to do so. Wandering back into the kitchen, she walked over to the sink and the full mug of tea resting on the draining board, which added veracity to her earlier thought that the next thing Barbara Matthews would have done after removing her shoes was to make herself a cuppa. But why