A Stranger's House by Clare Chase

Author:Clare Chase [Chase, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, contemporary, Romance, Crime, mystery, Cambridge
Publisher: Choc Lit
Published: 2017-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I’d been intending to get on with my writing whilst Nate was out, but I couldn’t settle after what I’d discovered. I was pacing round the ground floor of River House when a hammering at the door jolted me back to reality and filled me with the usual sense of foreboding.

Through the spyhole I could see it was Maggie Cook, looking distinctly the worse for wear. Wonderful.

I opened up and got her in greater detail. She had mascara running down her cheeks and her hair looked as though it hadn’t been washed since she’d heard about Damien. ‘Ruby?’ she said. ‘You did say it was Ruby?’

I nodded.

‘You’ve got to let me in.’ She wasn’t crying now, but her voice was high and desperate.

I made to answer but she put up a hand as though to hold back my response, stumbling slightly as she did so. She reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘I know. You’re not allowed to have me in. I remember you told me that before, when I went into Damien’s study. But it’s different now.’ She looked at me, her eyes frighteningly intense. ‘You must see that.’

I shook my head, drawing myself up to full height. ‘I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, Maggie,’ I said. ‘But Samson Newbold’s given me exactly the same rules as Damien did, and I can’t go breaking them; least of all at a time like this, when everyone’s overwrought, and no one really knows what’s going on.’

‘You mean you don’t know who you can trust!’ She spat the words out and a fleck of saliva shot from her mouth, landing on my sleeve.

‘There is that too,’ I said.

‘But you let Samson Newbold in.’

I could feel my eyes roll before I got them under control. ‘Well, I didn’t exactly have much choice, given that he’s Damien’s heir, and his executor.’

Her eyes flashed and her mouth opened, ready to say something, when I saw her visibly pause and think – something only obvious in the very drunk – and then change tack. ‘Look, Ruby,’ she said, ‘there are things in River House – things that belong to me – and I want them back.’ She cried a little now, and it came across as very theatrical. She would probably have done it better if she hadn’t been hammered. ‘They’re things I had when Damien and I were together. All I want is to see them again; they’re all I’ve got left now. The police must have searched the house by this time.’

I nodded.

‘And if they have, then where’s the harm? Surely you can’t grudge me this?’ Her tone was veering haphazardly between wheedling and threatening now, the extravagantly acted tears forgotten again.

‘What kind of things did you leave?’ I said, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

‘It’s none of your fucking business!’ she suddenly snarled, shocking me with her unexpected ferocity. I could feel myself reeling slightly, when I noticed movement beyond her. Someone was wheeling a bike across the Common from the direction of town.

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