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

already on her second cup of coffee, and the world obviously seemed a little brighter and what little light there was less painful on the eyes.

If Faye stopped thinking about work and started brooding on how unfair life was there was only one way it would go. On Monday, Ashleigh would have Professional Standards breathing down her neck. ‘I expect so.’

‘And even if you had told her something, it’s not like you’re leaking details of a case or anything.’

‘No, but she’s my boss.’ Over the past couple of weeks Ashleigh had come to terms with Faye’s constant and invasive presence around the office. It was good that she was so actively involved in the investigation, but she didn’t need to make the woman into an enemy when having her as a hostile presence was enough. ‘On a purely practical note, I don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’ In her mind’s eye she could see the headline Marsha Letham might wish she’d written. Top Cumbria Cop’s Gay Fling With Detective. She shuddered. It had been a narrow escape.

‘Well, if you don’t name names and Faye doesn’t tell, who else can tell? Who else knows it was you?’

‘Jude.’ Ashleigh picked up her coffee and took comfort from it.

‘He won’t say anything.’

‘No.’ If he wasn’t discretion itself, it was more than his job was worth, as well. ‘There were people back in Cheshire who knew. One of them might have left and felt able to be indiscreet. There were plenty of people on the wrong side of her back there.’ Now she was catastrophising, just like poor Natalie Blackwell. ‘Other people might guess.’

‘I see your problem.’ Lisa was a thinker, a woman who teased a problem until she came up with a creative alternative. It was a very different skill set to that of a detective, and much more aligned with reading the tarot cards. ‘And the solution is pretty obvious, too.’

‘Yes,’ Ashleigh said, with misery creeping in to the back of her mind at the thought. ‘I know.’

‘You know you’re going to have to have it out with her. You should have done it as soon as you realised she was here.’

Being so controlling meant Faye could be hard to talk to. When she felt threatened she could hiss like a snake and she could strike like one, too. Any discussion would only ever be on her terms. ‘I know. But—’

‘But if she’s making your life difficult you have to say something. You don’t have to put up with it. It’s not appropriate behaviour in the workplace, certainly not for someone in her position. And certainly not after what she did last time.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ The previous time Ashleigh had moved on rather than stand her ground and make a complaint. That had been a mistake; but the right thing was no easier to do than the wrong.

*

Faye’s arrival had turned her personal life as well as her professional one into a minefield. When Lisa had gone, heading up to Carlisle to lunch with a friend, Ashleigh stood in the kitchen and stared out, knowing her own weakness, knowing she shouldn’t let Faye’s insecurities impinge on her own and at the same time finding herself powerless to stop it. Turning, she headed upstairs and withdrew the cards from their gauze wrapping, the only place she could think of to turn for the answer.

Jude would have laughed at her, as he so often did, and pointed out that what she was looking for was the wrong answer, the answer that offered her a chance not to do the right thing. And he’d be right. She really didn’t need the cards for that.

Complicated issues required complicated spreads, but the answers she was looking for were fairly straightforward. ‘What should I do about Faye?’ The question asked, she shuffled the cards, dealt five of them into a horseshoe on the table in front of her, and turned them up, one by one. The King of Cups, hinting she should take wise advice from those who knew better than she did. The Five of Pentacles, to reassure her like a beacon on a stormy night. The Eight of Wands, so predictable she could have guessed it, and offering her catharsis through talk. And then the Fool, the card that somehow always came up when she told the cards for herself, and almost always signalled the conclusion of the reading. Carefree, foolish and optimistic — all of them words that applied to her in some element of her life.

She smiled. There was something about the depiction of the King of Cups that reminded her of Jude. The image had a smile of amusement lurking on the lips, a querying look in the eyes and a handsome face that seemed to stare out at her. ‘You win. I get the message. I need to stop worrying and sort it out.’ After all, she didn't know what was going on in Faye’s head. Maybe her ex-lover’s concerns were as great as her own, and maybe none of them were well-founded. ‘So that’s that settled, isn’t it?’

But it wasn’t. The answers to all her questions had been delivered, accurately, at speed and in exactly the form she’d expected them, and there was still a card left, face down on the table. She contemplated the abstract design thoughtfully. It was a little faded, but it had once been bright and exciting. ‘Okay. You’ve dealt me a wild card. What’s this one about? Something I haven't thought of?’ But the cards didn’t play like that. They addressed your specific concerns. Like the most cunning criminal, like a member of the public with some other guilt to hide, they never answered questions you hadn’t asked.

She held her hand over the card for a moment before she turned it upwards to reveal the Queen of Cups. An emotional card,