Death at Rainbow Cottage by Jo Allen (novel24 TXT) 📕

was mashing the crumbs on his plate. ‘If he did wrong he has to answer for it. I don’t think he did it. Of course I don’t. He’s my dad. But let’s not pretend he isn’t in the frame.’

‘Does he realise he’s a suspect?’

‘He could hardly not, with me in my job and Mum in hers. He knows we’re asking questions.’

The truth was the truth and the law was the law. Striving to keep down the importance of what Tyrone had revealed. Doddsy shifted the conversation on. ‘I didn’t know your parents were churchgoers.’

‘The old-fashioned sort. Habit, I think.’

‘Does he know Claud then? If he knows about the Rainbow Festival.’ It kept coming up. The church meeting about the festival, back on the day that Len had died, had been where he’d first heard of Claud Blackwell. Doddsy himself, a silent listener from the back pew, had liked the idea, seeing it as a vehicle that might somehow lead to his own acceptance of himself. At the workshop Claud had made him feel like a coward for not wanting to engage and choosing, instead, to take on an invisible cloak of celibacy. He’d felt forced into talking about it when he was much more like Jude, someone who was rarely caught out committing the error of showing a stranger how he felt.

But Tyrone liberated him. He understood now that it wasn’t about sexuality but about himself and the fact that he’d never before met someone who touched his soul. He’d had to wait far longer than he’d ever thought, but he’d finally found the man who made him care nothing for the opinion of the world around him.

‘Claud? I don’t think so. He certainly never mentioned it.’ Tyrone pushed his empty plate aside. ‘We’ve got the rest of the day. Let’s call into Booths and pick up some stuff. Then we can go back to your place and I’ll cook you some tea.’

He went off to settle the bill and Doddsy, day off or not, took the opportunity to flick a quick message to Jude.

Chapter 17

‘This is all my fault.’

Death — any death — was traumatic. Natalie plucked at the skin on the back of her hand but the pain wasn’t great enough to distract her. Anxiety bred anxiety, until the smallest thing presaged the largest, the most innocent move assumed the signature of guilt. Deep down she was a rational woman, had read all the books and had all the help that Claud could get for her, but there was an inexplicable and unbridgeable gap between knowing and understanding. No matter what techniques she employed with her rational mind, her eternally anxious soul believed the worst.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Claud was at his desk, looking out of the window just as he must have done when Gracie Pepper had been slaughtered in the churchyard almost under his eyes.

‘It is my fault. And they think it’s serious.’

‘It’s routine. It was just a break-in. Nobody died.’

The nobody died made her twitch, as if the mention of death was an electric shock prompt meant to keep her sane. And this was after the calming effects of the medication. Without it, she wouldn’t have coped. ‘If it’s routine, why are they sending the chief inspector?’

‘They want people to know they’re around. It’s all about visibility. Or maybe he’s got nothing else to do.’

‘It’ll be because it’s us. We’re suspects. Me. They must think it’s me, because I found the first body.’

‘And I found the second.’ He’d given in to irritation, as if the strain was beginning to get to him, too, but with those words he turned and smiled at her, as if that was all he could offer in the way of reassurance. ‘Of course we’re suspects. Dozens of other people must be, too. But just because we could have done it doesn’t mean they think we did.’

‘At least we aren’t gay. So we’re safe.’

‘For God’s sake, Nat. Two dead bodies aren’t a scientific sample. They might be random killings.’

Even Claud’s nerves were fraying. The tension in her body heightened in response. ‘Then nobody’s safe.’

‘And anyway,’ he went on, ignoring her, ‘you know what I think. We shouldn’t define ourselves as gay or not gay. We’re all a little bit gay. It’s a spectrum.’

How Claud defined sexuality was irrelevant. It was how the killer saw it that mattered. ‘But it’s always near us.’ She bit her knuckle. How was she going to cope when her rock, her soul mate, was struggling? ‘Supposing someone wants to kill you.’

‘If someone wanted to kill either of us they’d have done it, instead of taking out the poor guy you found and the nurse in the churchyard. It’s coincidence.’

Which took them back to the first question. ‘So why are they sending a chief inspector if all that’s happened is a break-in?’

‘I told you. It’s because it’s a high profile case and they want the public to know they’re on top of it. Or think they are. They clearly aren’t, or they’d have arrested someone by now.’ He turned away from his position by the window with every sign of relief. ‘I’d hoped they might send Chris Dodd, if they were sending a big cheese. Bloody brilliant copper, and so helpful. I really took to him. You know when you meet someone.’

‘Like us.’

Yes, exactly like us. Only different of course.’ He squeezed her hand and returned to the issue. ‘Anyway, Satterthwaite’s here now. You can ask him.’

Natalie stayed where she was, balanced on the more rickety of the two chairs with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms clasped around them, feet touching the seat just firmly enough to maintain her balance. The damp of her running gear clung to her skin. She shivered, watching Claud as he went towards the door to the office and