He doesn’t sound remotely sorry.
When Clemmie had inquired about The Shore, she had been firmly informed that there were no payment plans available. Lodges were to be bought in full, up-front. Ever-optimistic, Clemmie had tried another route, contacting Rhys directly and appealing to his good nature. The answer had still been no, but several weeks later, Rhys had called her.
“It can’t be an official arrangement,” he’d said. “But if you’re happy to keep it to yourself, I’ll help you out.”
If Clemmie could stump up a decent deposit, Rhys would allow her to pay off the rest in monthly installments. It wasn’t easy to pull off. Clemmie’s South London flat took months to sell, but the equity was just enough for the deposit. The contract for The Shore was unequivocal on the subject of primary residences—Owners will not live at The Shore all year round and must maintain a principal domicile—but there appeared to be no process to verify this. As far as Clemmie could tell, none of the other owners intended to stay at The Shore more frequently than a few weeks in every year; how could they possibly know if Clemmie and Caleb never left?
The autumn had been a challenge. The Shore had closed for more building work after the summer, and Clemmie and Caleb had spent weeks moving from friend to friend under the guise of catching up. She’d been relieved when the residents’ WhatsApp group had announced the work was complete. There would be no more closures. Clemmie and Caleb had moved back and everything had been perfect.
Until now.
“I can’t give you the money,” Clemmie says. “I don’t have it.”
There is a long silence. Rhys sighs. “Then we have a problem, don’t we?”
From number five, Yasmin calls for Rhys to carve. Wordlessly, he goes back the way he came, leaving Clemmie standing in the cold, the sparkle suddenly gone from her Christmas.
What is she going to do? She doesn’t have four hundred grand, and her credit rating won’t permit her to borrow it. She’s sold her flat. They have nowhere else to live, and besides, Clemmie doesn’twantto leave. After two years of living every day terrified of what each knock on the door might bring, Caleb has finally come back to her—she will not go back to that.
She will keep her new life.
Whatever it takes.
Twenty-Three
January 6
Leo
The following morning, Leo goes straight to Crouch’s office. “Sir, we’re going to need an extension on Yasmin Lloyd.”
“You had her in custody all day yesterday. What were you doing? I’ve been fending off complaints from the community ever since I got in.”
“Because we arrested the wife?”
“Because you haven’t charged her.” Crouch scratches his nose. “Rhys Lloyd is a homegrown hero. When he married an English woman, it seems some of the locals were disappointed. Now they feel they’ve been proved right—she was always a wrong ’un.”
“Unfortunately Yasmin’s alibi checks out,” Leo says. “We’ve looked at the videos on her phone, and at the time of Rhys Lloyd’s death, she was giving an impromptu concert at the party. But if we can nail Jonty Charlton’s involvement, we could make a case for conspiracy. I’d like to arrest him too.”
“And stir up another hornet’s nest? I don’t want another English suspect in the traps till you’re one hundred percent certain of a charge.”
“But—”
“Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
The drive to The Shore feels three times as long with Ffion waiting for him there. A dozen times last night, Leo had composed a text message only to delete it, not knowing what to say. He’s so angry with her, but it’s more than that—more complicated. He feels betrayed. They’d had something, hadn’t they? A connection.
He’d clearly misread the situation.
For once, Ffion’s there before him. She’s leaning against the Triumph, a roll-up between her fingers. She gives a curt nod as he arrives.
“Excuse my slippers.” Dee Huxley is pushing neatly folded wrapping paper into a plastic box outside number two. “I’ve just remembered the recycling van comes today. How’s that murder investigation coming along?”
“We’re following several lines of inquiry,” Leo says carefully.
“Terrible business.” Dee goes back inside.