Miles glares at her. ‘Or maybe one of them is trying to wind me up.’
‘You think one of them is sending the emails? That’s impossible.’
‘Is it? Everything seems impossible until it happens. And a lot of things that I thought were impossible have happened to me, lately.’ He turns to walk back in the direction he came, then looks over his shoulder. ‘Nothing surprises me anymore.’
Polly starts after him. ‘Wait!’ She points at their belongings on the sand. ‘I can’t just leave all their stuff here.’
‘You stay,’ he hollers back. ‘This is between me and them.’
Chapter 21
Miles
Miles stomps along the waterfront, past the main pier with its bright signs advertising boat trips, and sees his three friends ambling in his direction. He quickens his step, and his heart rate, already high, ticks up with it. George has spotted him. He points and says something to the other two. As Miles gets closer, it becomes audible – something about him being asnake– and, when he gets closer still, George addresses him directly: ‘I’m only letting you get away with this because of your annus horribilis, you little—’
‘Shut up,’ Miles snaps. He pounds right up to them, causing all three to come to an abrupt stop.
‘What’s up with you?’
Miles jabs a finger in their direction. ‘I think you know. At least one of you knows.’ George, Reubyn and Elis trade looks. They appear genuinely baffled. Either Miles has got this wrong, or someone here is a convincing liar. ‘If you’re playing some kind of joke,’ he says, ‘then I want to know now, because it’s not funny.’
They stand, bewildered, for a few moments, and then Reubyn breaks the silence. ‘Honestly, I don’t think any of us has a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘Okay’ – Miles takes his phone out and opens his emails – ‘maybe this will jog your memory. I received it about ten minutes ago.’
The four of them huddle around Miles’s phone and he presses play on the audio file. Miles studies their reactions. If anything, they appear even more confused than before. Shocked, even. When it’s over, they all stare at him, eyes wide.
‘Mate,’ Reubyn says, ‘seriously, why would any of us do this? We’re yourfriends.’
Looking at them now, the realisation that he’s right lands with a thumping clarity. There is no plausible reason for them to do it. ‘So how do they know about the Macallan, then?’
George shrugs. ‘God knows.’
‘Did any of you mention the Macallan? To anyone at all?’
They shake their heads.
‘What about on your socials? Did you post it anywhere? Or write it in an email?’
‘It was just a drink,’ George says. ‘It’s nothing to write home about.’
‘So, you’re sure? We’re the only ones who know about it?’
‘We must be,’ Elis says. ‘Just us four and the woman who poured it.’
There’s a silence, then Miles turns around, looking in the direction of The Globe. The bar staff – he’s right, they might know something. ‘I’m going over there,’ Miles says. ‘I need to talk to her.’
The others follow, and George falls in by Miles’s side. ‘What are you hoping to get out of this?’
‘I’m not sure. But I’ve got to do something.’
‘You’d be better off going to the police.’
Miles stops by the side of the road, waiting for traffic to pass. ‘I will. But right now, they’ll be asleep. It’s the middle of the night back at home.’
‘I mean here. We could go to the local police station.’
They seize a small break in the traffic and jog across. ‘That would be pointless,’ Miles says, slightly out of breath. ‘I’m not spending the next two hours explaining this whole saga to PC Plod from Queenstown police.’
