“Fired? That hardly seems fair; the whole thing must have been terrifying for you.”
“To be honest, I think it scared Craig more than it scared me. It was one of the reasons we moved down here, because he was so worried something like that might happen again if we stayed in London. And that’s why he overreacted just now, because he’s scared I’ll put myself in a dangerous situation again, and this time the outcome will be worse.”
“What happened to the boy?” Phyllis asked.
Nova sighed again. “He ended up getting six months in a youth offenders unit, although I heard he got released recently.”
“Does that worry you?”
Nova shook her head. “I don’t think he ever meant to hurt me, he was just high, confused and scared. If anything, I’m more worriedforhim. It can be hard to move on from something like that. One mistake at the age of sixteen can define your whole life, especially if those around you won’t let you move on.”
Phyllis felt suddenly cold, despite the car heater blasting out, and she pulled her coat around her shoulders.
“It sounds like it was very traumatic, but I still don’t think this should be an excuse for your fiancée speaking to you like that.”
“He—”
“I understand what happened must have been a shock for him, but that doesn’t mean he can wrap you up in cotton wool. You have to be allowed to carry on living your own life.”
“I know, and I don’t think he wants to wrap me in cotton wool,”Nova said. “I guess just with all the stress of the wedding, he’s feeling particularly sensitive at the moment. I’m sure it’ll all be much easier once tomorrow is out of the way.”
Phyllis had never heard a bride talk about their wedding as something to get out of the way, but she decided not to say any more. As Miss Marple knew, sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. And so they drifted back into silence as the car drove on west, carrying them toward Michael Watkins.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Arthur
I t was gone eleven by the time Arthur and Ash got back to St. Tredock.
“Are you heading home now?” Arthur asked as they disembarked from the bus at the harbor.
“I thought I might work in the Loster Pot for a bit. Our Wi-Fi is playing up and I want to have another go at using this password-cracking software. I’ll call you if it works.”
“I can stay and help, if you like?”
“Don’t you need to get back to your wife?”
Arthur glanced toward the cafe. “She’ll be all right without me for a bit longer; her friend’s visiting today.”
They found a table in the corner, and Arthur ordered them coffees while Ash set to work on his laptop. Watching him hunched over the screen, Arthur couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to have a grandson like Ash. He and Esi had never been blessed with children, despite many years of trying, and as only children themselves, there were no hordes of nephews and nieces round the table at Christmas either. Arthur had made peace with this long ago, although Esi had always found it harder, and her pain still cut Arthurlike a knife. She would have been a wonderful mother, and he reckoned he wouldn’t have been too bad a pa either. And maybe one day there would have been a teenager like Ash, shy and bright and kind, sitting at their kitchen table eating Esi’s scones.
“Stop staring at me, Arthur, it’s putting me off.”
“Sorry, lad. I just wish there was something I could do. I don’t like sitting twiddling my thumbs while Nova and Phyllis drive to see Michael and you do all the work here.”
“You can always try and think of more password suggestions,” Ash said. “I’ve tried all the obvious ones—variations on his name, important dates—but maybe you can come up with other ideas?”
“Right you are.” Arthur closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. What kind of password would a private investigator have? Something flashy, no doubt, likeDanger0orJamesBond69. No, that was ridiculous; Graham Pierce was as unlike 007 as you could get. His password would be something more boring, like the name of his childhood dog or his favorite food.Big Mac? Guinness?
“Have you tried KitKat Chunky?”
Ash looked at him over the laptop screen. “Why would that be his password?”
“He had a drawer full of their wrappers, so I wondered if he might have used his favorite snack.”
The boy shrugged but typed it in. “Nope, that didn’t work.”
“What about Jon Bon Jovi? That was his ringtone.”
