Darren mirrored her actions and pushed further up the pillows. ‘Maybe, but don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that Dunne gets out of prison and then Scarlet Jones gets murdered? And then there’s your granddad’s house going up in smoke.’
‘Yes, it’s just that, a coincidence. You know what it’s like, it’s the same round here. All of a sudden there’s a spate of burglaries, people get paranoid, Facebook neighbourhood watch goes into overdrive and then the scumbag moves on.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right, I’m being paranoid.’
‘Or do you think that the burglar was in Bea Butler’s house? Is that what you’re saying?’
Darren shrugged. ‘There’s absolutely no evidence to back that up. Nothing was taken, no forced entry so she probably did fall, but then there’s that tiny shred of doubt in my mind. What if someone is making it look like a botched burglary and a tragic accident?’
Chelsea lay back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling for a moment before replying. ‘But why would anyone do that? I don’t understand what they have to gain.’
‘You’ll think I’m mad when I say this but what if it’s Herbert Dunne, trying to get revenge on the three girls for having him locked up. Let’s face it, your granddad more or less threatened all three of them because he blamed them for not raising the alarm sooner when they saw Dunne with your mum. So what if Dunne feels equally as bitter that their evidence convicted him? They took a lot of flak from all sides after the case, so if some of the more spiteful villagers were angry, there’s no reason why Dunne won’t be the same, just for different reasons.’
‘So you think that the third girl… what was she called again?’
‘Francesca Hooper, known commonly as Frankie.’
‘You think that Frankie might also be in danger? That’s a huge leap, Darren, and if I’m honest what’s happened to the others really does sound like a very weird coincidence.’
Darren sighed. ‘Do you think?’
Chelsea nodded and took his hand. ‘Look, I admit my granddad is a mouthy git but apart from drunken rampages he’s never acted on his stupid threats, not towards the girls. Towards Margaret Tibbs, yes. I’m so glad he had an alibi, though, even if his house burning down was a bit extreme. As for Dunne, he must be getting on a bit by now. Is he up to burglary and murder? From what I know he killed my mum in a rage, a one-off random act. He’s hardly the serial killer type, is he?’
Darren thought Chelsea had a fair point. ‘True, and he’s dying… cancer apparently. That bossy girlfriend of his told me he had months at the most. He didn’t look great when I saw him. I suppose you could call it karma, you know, being locked up for all that time then when you get out, finding out you’re on borrowed time.’
When she responded Chelsea’s voice had lost its lightness. She sounded slightly annoyed. ‘You didn’t tell me Dunne had cancer.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want to know, and I’m breaking all the rules discussing the case. Anyway, the last thing I want to do is ruin our time together by mentioning him, like I’m doing now.’ Darren could tell Chelsea’s mood had taken a dip and he vowed not to mention Dunne again, however, when she replied, it seemed like she’d recovered.
‘You’re right and I’m sorry. It’s a tricky one, isn’t it, because of your job and our shared history. It was a bit of a shock that’s all, to think of Dunne as a dying old man. I pity anyone who goes that way but for him I have none. I prefer to think of him as a hard-faced monster who denied killing my mum. I need to hate him otherwise I’ll feel like I’m betraying her. It’s easier that way.’
‘You don’t have to apologise for anything so let’s change the subject. I’ll go and make a brew, then we can find a film on Netflix, something upbeat for Christ’s sake.’
Chelsea leant over and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Deal, and bring some biscuits too. I hope you’ve got chocolate ones.’
Darren saluted and then got out of bed, his departure halted when Chelsea grabbed his hand. ‘Try to put it out of your mind now, about those girls and Dunne. If I can do it so can you.’
Darren wasn’t convinced but was wary that he was starting to get on Chelsea’s nerves by bringing up the past. ‘Okay. I’ll do my best. Now, madame requires tea and biscuits. Back in a bit.’
As he waited for the kettle to boil and sighed with relief that he did in fact possess chocolate biscuits, he smiled at the pile of surgical gloves on the unit before sticking them in the very messy bits and bobs drawer. Chelsea had brought them from work – perks of the job she said, definitely not stealing and they came in very handy around the house. Darren had let her off with a jokey caution, then assured her he didn’t need any sterile dressings or any other medical items she managed to acquire during a shift.
The click of the kettle snapped him out of a train of haphazard thoughts – rubber gloves, Francesca Hooper, his naked girlfriend currently choosing what to watch, the horror of having to endure another series ofGlee, when it dawned on him that there was one thing that might settle his mind.
What if he tracked down Frankie Hooper, put her in the picture about her old friends and checked she was okay? It was well known that she’d left the village so therefore probably out of harm’s way but maybe it was worth a try, just in case. It took seconds for Darren to decide.
Even if his concerns were unfounded it would make him feel a whole lot better if he made contact with Frankie. It wouldn’t take long, a quick phone call and then he could concentrate on finding the arsonist. Otherwise Dennis would have his guts, and that was before he found out his precious granddaughter was sleeping with a copper.
25
It had been the best week ever and in a few hours it would all be coming to an end. Frankie was setting the table for their last breakfast while Jed and his dad finished a few niggly jobs around the house. Spud was tasked with making sure they didn’t leave any tools behind. He’d already been told off for packing her electric drill away, and then he’d tripped over the broom and nearly broke his neck falling down the stairs.
‘Sorry, Frankie, where shall I put it? It’s all charged up.’ Spud looked around the kitchen as he waved the drill in the air like a gun.
‘Just stick it on the worktop, love. I’ll put it in the utility room later– and watch the dogs…’ Her warning came too late because when Spud turned Oscar was right behind him. Spud did a comedy trip and stagger, recovering well before placing the drill where she’d said.
Frankie had already asked Jed if they were well insured, because if anyone was going to get a claim in, it was Spud. Luckily they were, although Jed said their company policy didn’t cover sunburn and hangovers, or plain stupidity.
Feeling wistful as she placed the baguettes on the table, Frankie went back to fetch the food, ignoring the granny trolley as she passed by, vowing never to use it again after Jed’s teasing and the squeaking noises he made every time she wheeled it out. It now rested in the kitchen, a quirky accessory on which stood an antique jug containing sunflowers. Granny bloody Frankie indeed!
