Page 27 of Secrets of the Forgotten Heir

The guilt and anxiety rolling off her was so strong that all I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. But that wasn’t something I could do. ‘I’ll talk to Yanni,’ I said instead. ‘I’ll make her understand it was an accident. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.’

My stomach knotted as the words left my lips. Fingers crossed I wasn’t lying.

Chapter Seventeen

‘Mrs D was responsible for the poisoning?’ Yanni shook her head in disbelief and pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘God, who’d have thought it?’

‘She really didn’t think she was poisoning him,’ I insisted. I’d already told her exactly what had happened, but I felt the need to reinforce that point again. Mrs D had made a very poor decision but she’d never intended it to be a deadly one.

In my absence Eva had claimed the large chair that was meant to be for people waiting to see Yanni; given that it now had a soft blue blanket on it, I guessed my boss was okay with that. ‘She seemed absolutely desperate,’ I continued. ‘She wanted to get the money for the trip, for the kids.’

Yanni sighed. ‘I believe her. She’d do anything for those kids.’ She frowned. ‘It’s strange that Warren has cancelled his financial support for the school. He always credits his success to the education he had there – and recently theprofits from his charter company have been the highest ever.’

‘Do you think it’s personal?’ I suggested. ‘Could he have some sort of issue with Mrs D, or the direction the school is taking? Maybe he feels like his money is being frittered away.’

Yanni shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, but I should go and talk to him, let him know we found out what happened and that he’s not being targeted by any dangerous criminal elements.’

‘Could I come?’ I asked. ‘I know I’m not a police officer but this is about Mrs D. If he gets mad, I’d kind of like to be her voice.’

‘Being police is about being impartial, Bea,’ Yanni said sternly. ‘You can’t let your opinions cloud how you handle a situation.’

‘I’m not. I don’t. It’s … she was really upset. That’s all I want him to know. She was really broken.’

Yanni drew a breath then exhaled with a sigh. ‘Fine. You can come with me – butI’lldo the talking.’

I gave her a mock salute and mimed zipping my lips shut. I’d let her take the lead – but that was another reason I knew this job was only a short-term fix: I relished asking the questions and solving the mystery myself. After you’ve been self-employed it’s hard to go back to having youractions dictated by someone else rather than by your own whims. Still, I could help Yanni for a couple of weeks and at least then I could still pay rent on my flat in London.

I expected a yearning for home to hit me when I thought of my apartment but it didn’t. Witchlight Cove was, and always would be, mytruehome. Perhaps it was the ten years I’d been away, but it didn’t hurt to be back, not like it had before when every shop or road carried a memory of Mum and Dad that cut me to the core. Now those reminders were bittersweet and they made me smile as I remembered our lives together. It had been good – far, far too short but really good. I’d been raised in a loving home and, in that sense, I’d been lucky.

Eva lifted her eyes, tipped her ears forward and gave a slight grumble. She was used to being my wingdog and she wanted to come with us to speak to Warren.

‘Fine,’ Yanni groaned. ‘You can come too.’

We piled into the police car and set off. Warren lived on the expensive side of the village where the roads were all freshly tarmacked and the wide pavements were lined with trees even older than the oldest inhabitant of Witchlight Cove – and that was saying something.

I sat in the passenger seat as we drove past big houses guarded by high walls and electric gates with intercom systems that only allowed entrance to the most honouredguests. When we reached Warren’s house, Yanni parked outside and pressed on the buzzer. ‘It’s Police Chief Yanni Greenridge from the local police station,’ she said into the speaker. ‘We’d like to speak to Mr Storcrest regarding the incident at the weekend.’

She let the button go but there was no response. ‘Strange,’ she murmured, her frown lines deepening.

As she peered through the gates, I stepped out of the car with Eva close on my heels and looked down the drive. My breath tightened at the sight of the luxury cars parked on the gravel; they were a far cry from my own Rosie Rustbucket, though to be fair Rosie had character. And a tendency to make ominous noises every time I hit 40mph.

I knew that the vehicles out front were nothing compared to the ones out back on the water where Warren Storcrest kept his private boats. When I’d lived here, they had included a 120-foot yacht and two speedboats, though I suspected his collection had increased since then if he’d been making such healthy profits.

‘Mr Storcrest,’ Yanni called out, though with the distance between us and the house I wasn’t sure that anyone inside would hear us. She stepped back and pressed the button again.

Nothing.

‘I guess he’s not in,’ I said. I didn’t know if I was pleased or not; it gave me more time to work out how to plead Mrs D’s case – if Yanni let me get in a word –, but I also knew that Mrs D would be turning herself inside out with worry as she waited to learn her fate.

‘We’ll have to come back later,’ Yanni said.

As we turned to leave, Eva gave a loud bark. I frowned at her. ‘Come on, we’ll come back later.’ I tapped my thigh, which was normally all I needed to do for her to come to my side, but she refused to budge. She looked into the property again and barked pointedly.

‘Eva! Eva, come on,’ I called.

She barked again. ‘She thinks someone’s in there,’ I said to Yanni. ‘Someone or something she wants us to pay attention to.’

‘Is this normal behaviour for her?’

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