A Fatal Affair by Faith Martin (top e book reader TXT) 📕

he asked, letting his eyes flicker uncertainly, in a way he’d learned before hitting his sixteenth birthday. It was remarkable, he’d realised, what a show of vulnerability could do to the feminine heart. ‘I thought we … well, connected in some way. Was I wrong?’

Trudy looked him steadily in the eye. ‘Are you still engaged?’ she asked simply.

Duncan sighed. ‘That situation really is complicated, I told you before.’

Trudy nodded. ‘Oh yes, I remember. You’re engaged to the boss’s daughter, poor you.’

Duncan stiffened, feeling a flush of genuine anger creep over his face. ‘Actually, it’s not that funny. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, because she’s a great girl, and how can I break it off without feeling like a right heel? On the other hand, I’m just not sure we’re suited.’

‘So why don’t you just tell her that?’ Trudy asked, intrigued to see what lie he would come up with.

But Duncan was too canny to spin out any of the usual trite excuses. Instead, he just shook his head. ‘It’s not that easy. As I told you before, apart from anything else, she is the boss’s daughter. Do you think I’d still have a job tomorrow if I just up and ditched her? Come on, I grew up in the same circumstances as you did. I can’t afford to lose my job.’

Which was actually true. And because it was true, he suspected this had far more of a chance of making its way through her defences than anything. Of course, he didn’t intend to work for an Oxford paper forever. He had his eyes set on Fleet Street. But for now, he needed to get a few good years in and break some big stories if he was going to catch the eye of one of the big editors in the capital.

Trudy shifted a little uneasily on the pavement. She supposed, in all fairness, he was in a bit of a cleft stick. She knew how much working-class people such as themselves needed to keep a good job. ‘Well, I’m sorry, I hope you manage to sort it all out. But speaking of work …’ She indicated the police station entrance a few yards away. ‘I have to go.’

‘At least have a cup of coffee with me some time,’ Duncan asked. ‘Just to show there are no hard feelings. I really didn’t make a fool of you last time, you know, but I have a horrible feeling that you might think I did. Or that I pretended to feel … Oh look, we can’t discuss it here on the pavement.’ He made a show of glancing around at the curious shoppers moving past them. ‘Can’t we just have a cup of coffee somewhere and talk about it rationally? We are two adults, after all! Being childish is just silly.’

Trudy’s lips twisted slightly. Who was the one being childish? ‘Oh, all right,’ she sighed. It would probably just be easier to let him talk and have the chance to soothe his ego – and then she could be rid of him once and for all.

‘Great. I’ll call you,’ he promised. ‘Soon.’

Can’t wait, Trudy thought cynically. But as she walked away from him, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit pleased. After all, it always made a girl feel good to have a good-looking young man acting so anxious to please her.

Her heart beating a little bit faster than before, she stepped inside and girded her loins to report back that day’s findings to her inspector. Not that she expected him to be that impressed.

Chapter 22

The next morning started with a rain shower that had, luckily, all but played itself out by the time Trudy and Clement returned to the village of Middle Fenton. This time, they swept down the main street to the end, and then followed the smaller lane that led off to the Dewberrys’ Farm.

The sun came out, quickly warming the rain-dampened air, and lifted the scent of spring flowers and blossom so that it was a delight just to breathe in. Through the open window of the car, Trudy smiled gratefully.

When they pulled up in the now slightly steaming farmyard, Ray Dewberry was already climbing into the seat of an old tractor but he paused at the sound of the engine and turned to look at them warily.

Trudy climbed out and called over to him. ‘Is your son at home, Mr Dewberry?’

The farmer indicated the house and as they walked to the kitchen door, the sound of the rumbling engine filled the courtyard, echoing slightly off the cobbled yard.

Ronnie was at the sink washing the breakfast dishes when they passed the window, and they saw him startle slightly as their shadows cut across the windowsill, then indicate that he would meet them at the door.

‘Hello again,’ he said a moment or two later, looking from one to the other. He looked unhappy to see them again, and Trudy supposed that was only natural. Like a lot of people in the village he was probably hoping that things would blow over sooner rather than later, and that they could all be allowed to get back on with their lives in peace. Life in farming villages changed little from one year to the next, and the vast majority of people who chose to live here must prefer it that way.

But until her DI arrested someone for Iris Carmody’s murder, and she and Dr Ryder had found out what had really happened to David Finch, she was afraid Ronnie Dewberry and the rest of the village were just going to have put up with the upheaval.

‘Did you want to come in? I can put the kettle on,’ he offered diffidently.

‘Tea would be nice,’ Clement said, noting the way the young man’s shoulders first slumped slightly, then braced, at his cheerful acceptance of a beverage.

‘Don’t mind Bess,’ he said, indicating a black and white sheepdog that was both barking at them and also backing away from them as