‘I thought Charlie was going to be here?’ said Cleo.
‘He was, but he dashed off first thing … said something had come up.’ Regan sent the text and tried to hide the smug smile that was threatening to slap itself across her face. ‘I think things might be changing with Charlie. He gave me such a tight hug when he left this morning. And he paused – you know like when they’re going to kiss you? And I swear my heart missed a beat. That or I’ve got arrhythmia.’ She let out a sigh, but on noticing Cleo’s expression she tried to be less gooey. ‘Sorry. How’s things with Penny?’
‘She’s not talking to me. Still refusing to run the place after the sale goes through.’
‘That’s awkward,’ said Regan.
Cleo sighed. ‘I don’t know if we can recover from this. I’ve been such a fool.’ Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up outside.
‘Right. Showtime,’ said Regan, straightening her shoulders and rubbing her hands together.
‘Be normal,’ said Cleo. ‘Well, you know; as close to it as you can get.’ Cleo gave her a brief hug and Regan steadied her breathing. This was it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Regan strode up to where Alex had parked outside Brian’s garage.
‘Hiya.’ She felt a bit jittery meeting Alex. There was an awkward air kiss and she had to keep reminding herself that he didn’t suspect anything, so all she had to do was not alert him to what they were up to.
‘Thanks for setting this up,’ said Alex.
‘My pleasure,’ said Regan, not sounding like herself at all. ‘We need to forget what happened at work. Move on.’ She was glad when Brian appeared and took over. Brian played his part beautifully – even mentioning that the bolts looked like they’d take some elbow grease to get them off. Alex handed over his keys and they got in Regan’s car. With great relief, she drove away. Stage one: complete.
They went to the Caroline of Brunswick pub, because if he was guilty she felt returning to the scene of the crime might prick his conscience. She parked up nearby and was pleased that her pulse had settled to a steady rhythm. She glanced at Alex, but he was busy checking his phone and appeared perfectly normal. It was beginning to look like a wild goose chase.
They crossed the road and she saw him looking at theflowers on the crossing. ‘Horrible accident,’ she said. ‘It was a wet night. The driver probably didn’t see him.’ She had her eyebrows raised in hope.
‘Yeah. Tragic. So this Brian bloke, he’s legit, right?’
Regan sighed inwardly – it was never going to be that easy. ‘Yeah. He’s a friend of Cleo’s.’
‘Artist. Posh sort?’
‘Yep, that’s her.’
They crossed the road and went into the pub. Regan got the first round in and they found some seats and a table.
‘Not drinking?’ Alex nodded at her Diet Coke.
‘I’m driving.’
‘You can have one proper drink.’ He clinked his pint with her glass.
‘I’d rather not. Maybe that’s what happened to the person who killed Kevin.’ She leaned forward in anticipation.
‘Look, Regan. I get that it must have upset you and everything, but do you think we could talk about something else?’ He looked apologetic. He didn’t look like someone racked with guilt who wanted to offload the burden of his crime. It didn’t look like Alex was the killer.
‘Of course. Sorry.’ She threw her hands up in submission and she could see Alex relax. ‘What’s new in the world of pharmaceuticals?’
Alex jiggled in his seat. ‘You know Jackie and the Milk Club Mafia?’ These were a group of ladies who ran the tea and coffee fund with a rod of iron and Sharpie black marker so they could keep track of who was using the milk and be sure they were paying in to the fund. This was the sort of office shenanigans Regan was not missing. She nodded to Alex and feigned interest. ‘The rumour isshe’s gone for a job at the council to work for Melanie’s husband!’ She took a chance to glance at her watch; it was going to be a very long hour.
Regan was sipping her second Diet Coke and trying to conjure up a variety of facial expressions other than the I’m-so-bored-I-think-I-might-just-give-up-living one that was currently in place. Alex had talked about all the things she didn’t miss about working in an office: the gossip, the backbiting, the petty politics and the crap printers.
‘Don’t you miss it?’ Alex was studying her.
‘Nope. Not for a second.’
‘But a market stall …’ His tone was condescending. She had to remind herself she was here for a purpose. She only had another ten minutes and she could take him back to his car and forget she’d ever conjured up the stupid idea that he’d been involved. It was her dad’s fault with all his daft ‘the car had different wheels’ malarkey – if it was going so fast, how could he be so sure? She tuned back into Alex. ‘It must kill your feet standing up all day.’
