Liz nodded. ‘I’d agree,’ she said, looking Jax firmly in the face. ‘One hundred per cent, I’d agree. As long asallthe messages andallthe goings-on in Ffion’s house stop – well, then there’d be nothingtofind out.’ Her tones were crystal sharp and uncompromising.
Jax nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, looking at the ground. ‘Of course.’
As the subdued figure retreated across the garden centre, Pat let out a laugh. ‘You enjoyed that, Liz Newsome,’ she said.
Liz nodded grimly. ‘After all that woman put us through,’ she said. ‘All the confusion she caused – all she put Ffion Hilton through – it’ll do her no harm at all to have something to think about.’
Pat grinned and stifled another yawn. ‘So go on, Liz Newsome Detectivator,’ she said. ‘Explain – because I’m feeling very slow on the uptake here.’
Liz half shut her eyes, gathering her thoughts.
‘It all comes down to triggers,’ she said.
‘Triggers?’ Pat took a thoughtful bite of Dishforth meringue. ‘Like in a gun? Or that man offOnly Fools and Horses?’
‘Mental triggers,’ said Liz, doing her best to avoid looking at the sugar on her friend’s lips. ‘Harvey was telling us about them at pre-diabetes awareness.’
‘So, what were Ms Shally’s mental triggers?’ asked Pat.
‘Money,’ said Liz sombrely. ‘Or rather the lack of it. She is working all hours she can, cleaning up after other people – and there’s her ex and his wife doing very nicely, thank you, with a very plush property, plus a holiday let to rent out.’
‘Jax was the one who left Neville,’ pointed out Pat.
‘Which is Jax all over,’ reminded Liz. ‘Giving something up in the hope of something better. And then, after all these years she’s suddenly back in touch with her ex and sees that maybe she’d have been better off staying with him all along. Every time she set foot in that holiday let, she was reminded of how much money Neville and Ffion actually had.’
Pat frowned. ‘But it’s a bit of a leap – going from envy, to actively besmirching his widow’s name,’ she said. ‘I presume those boots were her doing?’
Liz nodded. ‘I think she must have taken them from one of the charity bags Ffion would leave outside the house. Maybe she took them for herself and then realised they’d come in handy,’ she said. ‘Whatever the case, I think she genuinely believed Ffion had in some way caused Neville’s death, so when she planted the boots, she felt she was planting evidence about something she thought was a fact. But of course, she put too much paint on them, and in slightly the wrong colour. But that’s Jax all over – she never thinks things through properly.’
Pat nodded. ‘And that was her going through the house?’ she said. ‘Letting herself in with a copy of the key?’
‘I’m completely guessing here,’ said Liz. ‘I rather think after she went in with me and Thelma, she started letting herself in on her own, with a key she must have got cut.’
‘So, what was she looking for?’ said Pat.
‘Guessing again,’ said Liz, ‘I think she was looking for his will.’
‘His will?’ said Pat. ‘Did she think Nev was leaving her something? That seems a bit unlikely.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Liz. ‘She’d been talking to Neville a fair bit ever since she took on cleaning his holiday let and, knowing her, she’ll have made it quite clear how hard up she is. When I saw her yesterday, she was hinting how Neville always looked out for her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nev had even given her some money from time to time. And Jax being Jax would’ve drawn her own conclusions—’
‘And was he, d’you think?’ Pat mused. ‘After all, at the end of the day, she left him.’
Liz didn’t answer for a moment but looked out of the window where two young people in garden centre polo shirts were laughing together as they wrestled down the table umbrellas. In her mind was a creased photograph of two other young people laughing, happy, carefree, with it all stretching out in front of them.
‘Feelings,’ she said reflectively, ‘are funny things. They flare up and then they die back down. And then years later they can flare up all over again.’ She sighed and thought about her son, Tim, and the whole sorry saga of him and the barmaid from Dishforth, and how after many years she’d resurfaced in his life, almost upending his marriage. With a determined shake of the head, she pushed the past away. ‘Anyway, I don’t think there’s going to be any more anonymous postings or visits to Ffion’s house.’
‘Liz Newsome,’ said Pat, ‘I take my hat off to you, you ace detectivator, you—’
But Liz was not looking at her friend, she was looking at the determined figure crossing the garden centre café towards them.
‘Thelma?’ she said. ‘But surely today’s her course?’
Pat turned and looked. ‘Maybe it’s finished?’ she said.
Thelma reached the table and sat down.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay long; I have to be logged on by noon. But there’s something I have to tell you.’
