Joseph thanked him. ‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention my troubles to Cassie. I have been a little under the weather and have got sidetracked with my finances lately. Nothing serious, you understand, and I don’t want her to worry over nothing. Can I count on you?’
What could Stefan say? He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets, but he nodded. ‘By the way, your radiator is leaking.’
‘Young Darren has been working on that radiator for weeks,’ Joseph said. ‘He said it was sorted last time he came.’
Stefan frowned. ‘Do you want me to take a look? It shouldn’t be too hard to fix.’
‘It’s nice of you to try. I have a few tools in a box under the sink. While you’re up there, could you also get my arthritis medication from the bathroom cabinet? I’ve been fine without it until today, but I guess I’d better start taking it again.’ He gave him the name of the medication and told him it was in a red and yellow box.
Back upstairs with the tool box in hand, it didn’t take Stefan more than five minutes to identify the problem with the radiator, select the appropriate tool, and stop the leak, and a further five to lift the wet carpet and make sure there would be no lasting damage to the floorboards underneath.
Anyone with the most basic skills would have done the same, so what had taken Morse so long to not do the job?
What if he had just pretended to work? Stefan glanced at the filing cabinet where Joseph stored his bank papers and Cassie some of her clients’ files…
He rose to his feet, pulled the drawer towards him and grabbed the file named Gasby. From what he remembered, the woman had been burgled recently. Flicking through the papers, he found what he was looking for – a cleaning schedule for the past few months and notes detailing if Mrs Gasby had been in or out when Cassie had been cleaning at her house.
He put the file back and took another one out. Sweeney. The name had been mentioned at Patterdale Farm about yet another burglary. Once again, the file contained cleaning schedules with a snapshot of the woman’s diary and weekly activities. Anyone studying the schedule would see a pattern emerge, and be able to select a day and time when the house was likely to be empty to commit a crime.
Anyone pretending to be fixing a radiator, that is…
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kerry’s car was already in the car park when Cassie arrived at the campsite. She unloaded the flip-flop flamingo that she had just collected from Cecilia’s shop, taking care not to catch the long legs or the beak of the bird in the door, and locked the van. Cecilia had been very giddy – all twinkling blue eyes, lopsided smiles, and hints about Tarzan – but it hadn’t been enough to restore the glorious mood of that morning…
Her body ached from scrubbing, dusting and polishing every inch of the holiday cottage Alastair had booked for the London friends who were coming to the wedding, and her eyes hurt from crying tears of rage and humiliation after the disaster of her lunch with Piers. More than anything, she was ashamed – ashamed to have let the situation with Piers run for so long; ashamed not to have told him before that she wasn’t interested and not demanding that he stop groping her. It was her fault. She had been weak and pathetic, and now she was paying the price…
She had been so downhearted that she hadn’t even tried any of the beautiful dresses Cecilia had selected for her. She would have to be careful about money from now on. Piers had terminated their arrangement, and without the Ashville holiday let contract, Bluebell Cleaning was as good as finished.
‘Things are going to be a bit tight. I can’t afford to buy a new dress,’ she had confessed to her friend.
‘Then I’ll let you borrow one,’ Cecilia had replied, before selecting a diaphanous knee-length grey dress that matched the colour of her eyes. ‘I’m sure your French Tarzan will only have eyes for you in that dress.’
Cassie walked carefully on the gritted path to the clubhouse, her arms full of a pink flamingo taller than her. What else could go wrong today? Kerry might hate the jungle makeover, have one of her infamous tantrums and pop all the balloons Stefan had blown with her spiky heels, and demand real monkeys instead of the cardboard cut-outs Cassie had designed.
The door of the clubhouse swung open and Kerry walked out, a beaming smile on her pretty face.
‘Cassie! I love it! It’s beautiful and fun!’ Her excited voice pierced through the night, followed by the clicking of heels as the young woman rushed down the steps. ‘Here, let me help you with that… thing.’
‘It’s a flamingo made of recycled flip-flops, coming all the way from Kenya, via Cecilia’s Studio,’ Cassie explained as Kerry grabbed hold of the flamingo’s feet and helped her carry it into the clubhouse.
They put the bird down and Kerry wrapped Cassie in a tight hug. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve made my dream come true.’ As the young woman pulled away, she was smiling but her eyes glistened with tears.
‘You like it that much? Really?’ Cassie gestured to the mock tropical forest, the paper flowers and animal masks peeping through the fake foliage, bathed in the golden glow of the fairy lights strung around the room.
‘I told you. I love it!’
Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. The day wouldn’t be a total disaster after all. ‘Where do you want the flamingo? You’re the bride, you decide,’ she told Kerry, ‘but I think it would look better here… or…’
Kerry nodded. ‘Put it anywhere. I don’t mind.’
The sounds of a car engine, of doors closing and men’s voices outside interrupted her. Cassie glanced at Kerry. ‘Is that Alastair? I thought you wanted to keep this a surprise for tomorrow.’
Rachel’s sister blushed. ‘I didn’t think you would do such a great job. One of Alastair’s friends is an interior designer… I asked him if he could join us and help with any last minute changes, but it turns out there’s nothing to change,’ she added quickly. ‘It’s just perfect as it is.’
The door creaked open, and Alastair strode in, looking very conservative as usual in his tailored navy blue coat, pinstriped suit and white shirt. He smiled at Kerry. ‘Hello, darling. I heard on the grapevine that there was a Tarzan party. Is it true or was it all just a lot of bananas?’
Cassie shook her head in disbelief. Had prim, starchy Alastair just cracked a joke?
‘I think you’d better stick to writing wills and powers of attorney,’ a tall, dark-haired man said behind him.
Cassie blinked in surprise, and her mouth gaped open. Nathan Hardman, looking even more film star gorgeous than she remembered, glanced around the room and whistled between his teeth.
‘Wow, that’s brilliant. Kitsch, but brilliant nonetheless, especially since you only had a few days and a ridiculous budget to sort everything out.’
Kerry ran to her fiancé’s side, snaked her arms around his neck and gave him a resounding kiss on the lips. ‘Isn’t it fab?’
Cassie stepped into the centre of the room. ‘Hi, Nathan.’
It was Nathan’s turn to be shocked. ‘Cassie? Well, I never… How are you?’
She smiled. ‘I’m fine. And you?’
‘I’m good.’ He frowned. ‘So, the Bluebell Cleaning Fairy van parked outside is yours. I should have guessed.’