Chapter Eighteen
Discovery
As a rule, the Manor Inn only provided breakfast for in-house guests renting rooms, the actual pub closed for business until ten-thirty. But Megan, who was on duty that morning and usually pretty strict with her house rules, welcomed them like family. Only once they had been seated did they realise why.
“First off, the car mechanic from Newton came by at six on the dot this morning and drove your truck away,” she said, her eyes on Adrian. “But more to the point, what in the name of all that is good happened last night? Fire engine siren blaring past here in the early hours, waking the dead. We’d only gotten to bed at one, what with all the weekend revellers. My Dave said it sounded like they was heading out your way. Phoned the fire station in Llandrindod Wells to find out. They wouldn’t tell him much but I assume you must have had a spot of trouble. Am I right?”
Adrian looked to Lenny. He didn’t know how much he wanted to divulge. Fortunately, Lenny answered for them.
“We had a fire in the house. Nothing serious and Adrian here managed to get everything under control before the fire crew arrived. But we called them out just to be on the safe side.”
“Oh,” said Megan, a slight hint of disappointment, pulling a small pad and pencil from her apron pocket, ready to take their order. “Well, of course you’re right. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I’ve been on building sites all my working life,” said Adrian. “So I know to keep a decent fire extinguisher handy. But of course, once the firefighters had been called out, they needed to do a full inspection.”
None of what they said was untrue. No doubt, though, at some point—if PC Charlie Morgan were close friends with Dave Llewellyn—they would know the real cause. Adrian wondered if they ought to confide in Megan. After all, she had eyes and ears everywhere. Once again, Lenny was way ahead of him.
“Megan, can I tell you something in confidence?” asked Lenny. “You’ll probably hear about this sooner or later anyway.”
Adrian almost grinned at the instant change in Megan Llewellyn’s expression, morphing from the relaxed, friendly but somewhat bored landlady, to being completely engaged and focused.
“You can tell me anything, dear,” she said, her voice low, as she pulled out a seat.
Lenny explained not only about the petrol bomb thrown through the window, but also about having an intruder letting themselves into the house. Adrian watched as Megan’s mouth dropped open in shock. As Lenny described them getting the fire under control before the firefighters and PC Morgan arrived, Megan simply nodded and tutted a few times, but did not once interrupt.
“The thing is, Megan, to my knowledge, the only other person who knows where the place is and has a set of keys is Matthew Darlington—”
“And Freya Williams.”
“Sorry?”
“The Williams family used to have a set of keys. Didn’t Freya tell you? From what I understood, one of their family kept an eye on the house all the year round, and used to go in to clean, dust and air everything before they arrived. Well, the Darlingtons didn’t use the place from one year to the next. So once the Williams’ got notice, they’d clean up and also put some basics in the fridge. They’d also go in and clean after the Darlingtons left. You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Lenny, catching Adrian’s eye.
“You should check with Freya. I think Mr Darlington paid them a little something for their trouble. But after everything that happened, they may have taken the keys back.”
“Just out of interest, though,” continued Lenny. “When was the last time you saw Matthew? It’s probably nothing, but I’m just trying to rule him out.”
She sat back in her seat then and scratched the pencil into her scalp.
“December just gone,” she said, eventually. “Would have been a Friday. But he didn’t stop over. He’d been to check the pipes in the house on that death-trap of his. Came in here for his lunch on his way back to Bristol. Never one for chatting much, is Matthew. You don’t honestly think he was behind it?”
“Probably not,” said Lenny. “As I say, I’m just trying to rule people out.”
“Death-trap?” asked Adrian. “What do you mean?”
“His motorcycle. Dave knows the make. Noisy old thing should have been put out of its misery years ago.”
Adrian turned to Lenny, who appeared to know instinctively what Adrian was thinking and shook his head. Lenny had been the one awake and had not heard the sound of a motorbike last night. Although, in fairness, the winds could have muffled any engine sounds.
“But I’m guessing you never heard a motorcycle engine last night,” said Megan, catching on too. “Because, believe me, if he’d been on that noisy thing, you’d have known. Sounds like a machine gun, it does.”
“Point taken.” Lenny laughed, relaxing. “And no, we didn’t hear anything."
When the conversation lulled, Adrian piped up.
"Can we get two of your fantastic fry-ups with all the works?”
