The Lucky Eight by Sheila Bugler

Author:Sheila Bugler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-seven

A pack of reporters had congregated outside the entrance to Adam Murray’s house. They crowded around Rachel’s car, flashes of light blinding her as she pulled up outside the gates.

‘Bloody vermin,’ Ade said. ‘Disgusting the way the paparazzi treat people. No amount of fame or fortune would make it worth having that lot following you around all the time. The gates are locked, Rach. How are we going to get past this lot?’

‘You’ll need to jump out and ring the buzzer,’ Rachel said.

Ade unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, batting cameramen out of way. Rachel watched her press the intercom buzzer then speak to whoever had answered. A moment later, she turned around and nodded at Rachel. The gates started to slide open and Rachel pressed her foot on the accelerator. Ade stayed outside, making sure none of the ‘vermin’ followed them into the garden.

A discreet wooden sign informed Rachel the property was called Glebe House. She had a vague memory that the word ‘glebe’ meant ‘parsonage’, although this house seemed too big to have ever been a parsonage. It was a stunning, detached property in its own grounds with unobstructed views of the South Downs from every side of the building. Rachel was no expert, but she guessed the house had to be at least 300 years old. It was the sort of properly she would love to live in one day but could only ever dream of owning.

‘Wow,’ Ade said, joining her at the front door. ‘Maybe it’s worth putting up with all that press intrusion, after all. This is one fancy place.’

Adam Murray wasn’t pleased to see them. He did his best to hide it, but Rachel wasn’t fooled. She’d caught the look of intense irritation on his face when he’d first opened the door.

‘Detectives,’ he said, giving them a smile that was as big as it was fake. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Can we come in for a few minutes?’ Rachel said. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about Tara Coleman.’

Now that she was officially in charge of the case, she’d made it her priority to speak with everyone who’d been at the villa the previous weekend. One of those people had killed Nick Gilbert. Rachel knew it was possible Tara had been murdered by someone else but, for now, she was working on the assumption that – at the very least – the two murders were connected.

Adam hesitated, just for a moment, before inviting them in.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ he asked, closing the front door. ‘I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Ethiopian Yirgacheffe Chelelektu. Are you a coffee connoisseur, by any chance?’

‘Not really,’ Rachel said.

‘Me, I’m more of a Diet Coke girl,’ Ade said. ‘You don’t have any of that, I’m guessing?’

‘I’m afraid not. Although, I’d urge you to try some coffee. It really is excellent.’

Rachel suspected he was trying to intimidate them, but she let it pass for two reasons. One, she’d been around too long to let a pretentious twat like Adam Murray make her feel inferior.

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