Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (good book recommendations TXT) 📗

calls men under 35 —’ Amanda stopped abruptly, reluctant to relate something her friend had said in private, which may not have redounded to her credit with the inspector.

‘Do go on, Miss Cadabra.’

‘I’d better not.’

‘In the interests of the investigation,’ he suggested persuasively.

‘Oh dear! Well … she calls men under 35 “a light snack’.”

He threw his head back and laughed aloud.

‘Does she indeed! Wonderful. Well, you’ve made your point. Still, for the sake of completeness, I must add her name to the list.’

He read through his notes and finished his tea.

‘I’ll leave you to your rest now, Miss Cadabra. I’m sure you’ve had a long and trying day. Well done for bearing up with your usual resilience and level-headedness.’

‘Thank you.’ She rose with him. ‘If I think of anything else ...’

‘Call me at any time. I shall have to return to Cornwall for a day or so,’ he added. He was mindful of his meeting with the anonymous ‘Well-wisher’ who promised information regarding the Flamgoynes visiting Parhayle around the time of the cliff incident. ‘But I shall be available on the phone.’

‘Will do.’

They shook hands at the door and Amanda waved him off.

Should she have told him, she wondered, about her strange and alarming experience in the stacks all those months ago? When she’d had that sensation of being pursued and the vision of the shelves tumbling around her? Surely it wasn’t relevant … was it?

Chapter 17

Trelawney Interviews

Thank you for seeing me, John,’ said the inspector, as they shook hands.

‘Thank you for not hauling me off to the police station!’ Bailey-Farrell returned humorously, leading the way into the fresh, light, open-plan living space of Madley Towers. John was staying there with the owner, Ryan Ford, while his own newly acquired house was being fitted out.

‘I don’t think there’s any need for that. But forgive me if I am a little formal. I’ll need to take notes.’

‘Of course. It’s your job, and this is a serious matter,’ said the cricketer more gravely.

Once they were seated on white sofas either side of a glass and chrome coffee table, and refreshments were postponed until later, Trelawney asked,

‘You knew, Miss Gibbs, I understand?’

‘Well … I wouldn’t say, “knew” exactly.’

‘How had you encountered her previously?’

‘At the cricket team events. Her father is one of the sponsors, you see, and Miss Gibbs usually turns up — turned up.’

‘And on those occasions?’

‘To be honest, I tried to keep my distance.’

‘Because?’

John looked awkward and picked up one of the gold-lacquered Posh Trading Company Faux Shagreen coasters from the table.

‘She was rather predatory. And it was difficult to spurn her … what with her father being …’

‘Miss Gibbs made advances toward you?’

He fiddled with the shiny rectangle in his hands. ‘Not at first. She was all over Ryan, and I was in a relationship. Plus, there were plenty of other guys on the team that she considered worthy of her attention.’

‘And then?’

‘Then my relationship ended and …’ He looked up anxiously at Trelawney. ‘This is conjecture, mind you …’

‘That’s all right. Please go on, John.’

‘I think she wanted to make Ryan jealous, in the hope that he’d be more … responsive. She must have seen that he and I were buddies. I’m guessing she thought that if she hung around me, then he couldn’t help but notice.’

The inspector nodded, jotting in his notebook.

‘But you managed to keep your distance?’

‘Yes. And Ryan helped with that.’

‘So, what was the extent of your interaction with Miss Gibbs?’

‘Just “hello, how are you?” Pleasantries.’

‘I see. But — I have to ask this — she was at your birthday party, wasn’t she?’

‘I wouldn’t exactly call it mine,’ Bailey-Farrell stated, putting the coaster down and leaning back. ‘It was an excuse for an official do. Press and so forth. I didn’t have much control over the guest list.’

‘Thank you, John. So how about at the library party?’

He shook his head. ‘Oh, she came up to get a selfie with me, and then someone rescued me,’ he said, apparently reliving the relief.

‘And that was the only time you spoke?’

‘Yes,’ John confirmed.

‘Do you remember seeing her at any other time during the afternoon?’

‘I’m sorry … no. People were coming up all the time. I …’

‘OK, that’s fine. If you think of anything else …’

‘Yes, Thomas … or should I call you Inspector?’

Trelawney grinned. ‘I don’t think the situation is sufficiently serious for that yet!’

In spite of Thomas’s good-natured repost, as he drove away, his intuition told him that John Bailey-Farrell had not told him the whole truth. Not that he’d lied. But there was something … something …. Hogarth’s words sounded in his head: ‘Do your thing.’

Trelawney pulled over, turned off the engine and closed his eyes. He waited until the rivers of lights came. Gradually they appeared, like the delayed exposure photographs of car headlamps at night. There was John’s stream, racing … and here came Samantha’s running in proximity … Wait for it … wait for it … With a brief and tiny explosion, they crossed.

So, there was a connection. And Bailey-Farrell was hiding something. Something … John seemed so honourable that even a small infraction would surely trouble his conscience. Unless there was more beneath the charming modest surface. Was the integrity only veneer deep?

Not the whole truth … who did that remind him of? Amanda Cadabra. In fact, the entire trio of Cadabras were past masters of the art of the not-the-whole-truth. Miss Cadabra, he thought, probably had never told a lie in her whole life. And that was rare. But when it came to leaving out facts, spinning, prevaricating and misdirection …

Trelawney pulled himself up mentally. This was not about Miss Cadabra. It was about John Bailey-Farrell. Still, there was something John had said that he could consult her about. That is, he could interview her. Yes, that’s what he meant. Definitely.

Chapter 18

More Suspects, and Back to the Towers

‘Ryan? I remember Samantha was all over him like the serpent around the tree in the garden of Eden,