Web of Lies by Sally Rigby (classic novels for teens txt) 📗

that either. I’ll take the phone and see if Birdie knows anyone who can get it unlocked. There might not be anything of use on here, but it’s still worth checking. I’ll be in touch soon.’

He left the house and on his way back to Market Harborough he called Birdie.

‘You’ve changed your mind and want me with you tomorrow,’ she said by way of any answer.

‘Nice try but I’m still going alone.’ He laughed. ‘I called into Sarah’s on the way back because she has Donald’s phone. The people who bought his car from the auction found it hidden under the passenger seat and managed to get it returned to her.’

‘What was it doing there … unless …’

‘My sentiments exactly,’ he said pre-empting her response. ‘If we say, for argument’s sake, that we believe Donald was murdered, then by hiding the phone it would be yet another clue he was leaving.’

‘Is there anything on there we can use?’

‘That’s the issue. I can’t get into it. Sarah doesn’t know the code and it isn’t in the book Donald kept of all the passwords. I was hoping you might have a self-service kiosk at the station and you could open it for us.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding. This is Market Harborough CID we’re talking about. We don’t have such luxuries. But … there’s a guy in forensics who owes me one … don’t ask why because I won’t tell you.’

‘Excellent. Meet me at my place in fifteen minutes and I’ll give it to you.’

Chapter 33

19 May

Seb bought a coffee to go from the café close to the TV studio and positioned himself against some railings so he could see the entrance. Several people who walked past him stared at his face. He wished he’d asked Birdie to put some make-up on him again, but he hadn’t thought of it. Nor had she, or she’d have said. She’d already texted four times wanting to know where he was and whether he’d seen Andrea Wood yet. She also told him that the guy she knew in forensics had agreed to unlock the phone, but she wasn’t sure how long it would take.

He waited for over half an hour and was about to give up, thinking Andrea had left early or out of another entrance, when he caught sight of her coming out of the double doors.

She was alone.

Perfect.

He walked purposely in her direction. She was wearing a cream shirt and dark blue trousers, with a long gold necklace, and was fully made-up.

‘Andrea?’ he called as he got close.

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. ‘I know you. We met the other day, didn’t we, in my dressing room?’

‘Yes, that’s correct I’m Sebastian Clifford.’

Her eyes travelled from his feet to his face. ‘How could I forget someone of your size? What have you done to your face? It looks dreadful.’ She grimaced.

‘I was mugged several nights ago.’

He scrutinised her facial features for any telltale signs of already knowing what had happened but it was difficult to gauge.

‘Oh dear, how awful. Did they catch the person who did it?’ She rested her hand on his arm.

‘I was attacked by two men and, no, they haven’t been apprehended yet. But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the police find them, they have some strong leads.’

Again, he looked to see if his words made any impression on her, but they didn’t appear to.

‘I hope so. They shouldn’t get away with it. Is there a reason for you being here, or just a lucky coincidence?’ She gently squeezed his arm.

‘I’d like another word with you about Donald Witherspoon.’

She bit down on her bottom lip and withdrew her arm, taking a step backwards. ‘I have nothing else to add to what I’ve already told you.’ Her body tensed, and she glanced anxiously from side to side.

‘My investigation has progressed since we last spoke and I’d now like to talk to you about something we’ve discovered regarding Donald.’ He paused. ‘He blackmailed several people, and we believe you might have been one of them.’

Colour drained from her face, and she blinked furiously. ‘I’m not prepared to talk about it here in the street,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

‘Where can we talk?’

‘My driver, Aaron, has gone to fetch the car. You can travel with me and we’ll talk on the way. Then—’

‘Andrea, Andrea. I’m such a fan,’ a middle-aged woman said as she ran up to them waving her phone in the air. ‘I record your show every day and watch it when I get home. I’d love a selfie to show my daughter that I’ve met you. She’ll be so jealous.’

‘Of course,’ Andrea said, smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which remained troubled.

‘I’ll take the photo for you,’ Seb said, holding out his hand.

‘Thanks. Are you famous, too?’ the fan asked as she gave him her phone.

‘No, I’m not.’ He stifled a chuckle.

He took a couple of photos and returned the phone to the woman. ‘Thank you so much, Andrea. I knew today was going to be good, it said so in my stars.’ She left them, and as she headed down the street, she kept turning back to wave.

‘It must be extremely frustrating if this happens all the time,’ he said, once the fan had done her final wave and was now out of sight.

‘I don’t mind,’ she said, giving a small shrug. ‘Most fans are very nice, like she was, and don’t outstay their welcome. But it can get frustrating, like when they follow you into the ladies’ loo and want a photo when you’re desperate for a pee.’

‘Seriously, people do that?’

‘I wish I could say it’s a rare occurrence, but it isn’t. There’s no such thing as privacy when you’re on the telly. You become the property of the public. I’m used to it now. Mostly.’

‘How long is your driver going to be?’ Seb looked up and down the road, unsure the direction he’d be coming. Or the car