‘What are we going to do?’ whimpered Mia.
It was suddenly all too much for her and she burst into tears. Rosie dragged her into a hug, and with relief allowed the tears to fall down her own cheeks. Over Mia’s shoulder she watched as Matt rubbed his palm across his jawline, his eyes sombre, his brain working overtime.
‘I’m going to ring a couple of Freddie’s friends from the band. Maybe he’s with them, boasting about his dalliance with a famous rock musician.’ And he ran down the stairs into the back garden to make the calls.
‘Where do you think he is, Rosie?’
‘I have no idea, but I’m sure he’ll be okay wherever he is. Look, I’m going to ring Dr Bairstow to see if he’s had any more callouts.’
Rosie tried to extricate her mobile from her handbag, but her fingers were shaking so much that she lost her grip and the phone tumbled to floor. She bent down to retrieve it and again, the feeling of light-headedness almost engulfed her, forcing her to slump onto Freddie’s surprisingly chintzy sofa and wait for the moment to pass.
She needed to staunch the anxiety gnawing at her stomach for the time being, and ignore the fact that if she lost her job at the Windmill Café she would also lose her home. She thought she had moved on from the distressing events that had taken place in London, had even started to see an improvement in her compulsion to clean, but it seemed that dark grey raincloud had caught up with her again.
‘Hello, Dr Bairstow, it’s Rosie Barnes here. I just wondered whether there’s any news on new cases of food poisoning?’
‘None. I’ve called a couple of pals who were with you this afternoon and they all told me that not only are they fit and well, but they thoroughly enjoyed the garden party and are hoping that you will organize something similar at Christmas. I’ve also spoken to my colleague in Hamsterly, Doctor Mullins, and he’s having a very quiet evening, too – no callouts. I’m cautiously optimistic that the cause of Suki’s illness did not originate in the Windmill Café’s food. I promise to press the lab technicians for a swift result on the blood tests so I can completely put your mind at rest.’
‘Thank you, Doctor, that’s very kind of you. Could I ask you one final question? Have you heard anything from Freddie Armstrong at all? It’s just, erm, well, he left the garden party with Suki and we saw them go back to her lodge. He wasn’t there when Felix found Suki so we’re worried about him. He could have eaten or drank whatever Suki did – we’re having trouble contacting him and he’s not at home.’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t had any calls about Freddie. Suki didn’t mention the fact she had a visitor in her lodge when I examined her. Of course, I understand her reticence. Have you asked Suki what happened to your friend?’
‘No.’
‘Then, I think that’s your next conversation. If I can help any further, please let me know.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosie cut the call and turned to Mia who had been following the conversation. ‘We need to speak to Suki. Come on.’
‘But what about Felix?’
‘We’ll work something out.’ Rosie ran down the stairs and joined Matt in the garden. ‘Any news?’
‘No one’s seen him.’
‘I’ve just spoken to Dr Bairstow. He hasn’t heard from Freddie either, but thankfully there’s been no more cases of food poisoning reported. He suggests we speak to Suki – after all, she was the last one to see him before he disappeared.’
‘Okay. Let’s go.’
Before they had even got back to the SUV Matt’s mobile burst into life. Rosie watched on, her heart pounding against her ribcage, sending up a fervent request that the director of positive outcomes was back from her vacation.
‘Okay, thanks for letting me know. We’ll be right there.’
‘Well?’
‘Found him.’
‘Thank God,’ muttered Rosie and Mia in unison. ‘Is he okay?’
‘Well, he isn’t writhing in agony from ingesting a dose of poison, if that’s what you mean. However, he’s really upset about what has happened to Suki and he swears he has nothing to do with it.’
‘So, where is he?’
‘He’s at the vicarage with the Rev and Carole. He wanted to go straight back to the lodge to see Suki, to make sure she was okay, but bearing in mind Felix’s temper, I thought it best if he stayed where he was.’
‘Good call,’ muttered Mia.
‘Oh God!’ exclaimed Rosie as something else occurred to her. ‘I completely forgot. I should call Graham in Barbados to let him know what’s going on.’
‘I know it’s not my decision, but why don’t you wait until the morning,’ said Matt, climbing up into the driver’s seat. ‘Any explanation is going to be easier on his ears when you know for certain what caused Suki’s sudden illness. The Windmill Café’s reputation would take a hit if it turns out to be a food poisoning scare, but if she was targeted, then that puts everything in a totally different light – you can’t be held responsible for that. However, I also think we should hold back on mentioning that theory when we talk to Carole. You can shoot me down all you want, but in Willerby, gossip spreads like burgundy wine on a cream carpet and we still can’t rule out the fact that Suki took something herself. “Singer Takes Accidental Overdose”, well, no news there, is there?’
‘Okay, you’re probably right. I’ll call Graham in the morning. Let’s talk to Freddie and find out what on earth happened when he went back to the lodge with Suki.’
Rosie was still worried about the café, but doing something positive, like talking to the people involved and trying to piece together exactly what had happened, made her feel better, more in control of events, rather than simply succumbing to the feelings of disorientation and panic. As they made their way to the vicarage, a number of theories ricocheted around her brain: had Sukie taken an overdose? From what Jess had said, it didn’t seem likely. And if it wasn’t accidental food poisoning, all that was left was that Suki had been targeted by a person or persons unknown.
But who? And, more to the point, why?
The handsome sandstone vicarage crouched beneath a canopy of trees, a battalion of arboreal obelisks embroidered with cobwebs and draped with necklaces of glossy ivy. With rectangles of amber light winking at its bay windows, the building took on the resemblance of a stone-hewn sailing ship moored against a backdrop of rippling leaves that undulated to the waltz of the wind. A solitary coil of silver smoke trailed from the chimney and merged with the night sky.
Rosie leapt from the passenger seat of Matt’s SUV and sprinted up the stone steps to the impressive front door that Carole had chosen to paint a cheery red, closely followed by Mia. She raised her hand to press the doorbell but paused. Why wasn’t Matt with them? She turned to look over her shoulder and, through the windscreen, saw him slumped over the steering wheel gazing at the entrance to the church on their right.
‘What’s wrong with Matt?’
‘Oh my