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done.’
    They didn’t speak again till they reached the car, parked under some trees opposite a pub. No Oliver. Ah, here he came down the road, smiling and clutching a plastic bag full of apples.
    Neither Bea nor Zander were smiling. Bea was kicking herself for keeping quiet throughout the interview. Why hadn’t she stood up for Zander when he was being used as a football?
    â€˜Lighten up, you two,’ Oliver said, unlocking the car and putting the apples inside. ‘Lunchtime, and the pub’s got a decent menu.’
    Zander hesitated. ‘I’m not sure I fancy any food. I feel as if I’ve just been handed a black spot – that was the sign that you were marked out for death in Treasure Island , wasn’t it?’
    Oliver grinned. ‘Did she make your blood run cold? That’s nothing to what the locals say about her. I’ve been chatting to the lady who was selling these windfalls. Want to hear her take on the Lady of the Manor?’
    Bea took Zander’s arm. ‘Everything will look better after we’ve eaten. Come on, Zander; Oliver’s hungry.’
    Saturday noon
    Honoria locked and bolted the front door behind her visitors, thinking that the Chocolate Boy wouldn’t give her any more trouble. She knew his sort. They needed to be shown who was boss. They might need a twitch on the leash now and then, but when all was done and dusted, he would do as he was told in future.
    The nerve of him, asking her to sign a receipt for Denzil’s bits and pieces! Although, come to think of it, the statuette was worth a bit. Not that she’d ever cared for it. But maybe, just maybe, she could find another use for it? She smiled. Yes, why not?
    Now, back to business. Luckily Denzil had had his electronic notepad in his car when he died. She’d grudged him the money he’d spent on it at the time, but there . . . he’d had to have the very latest to show off with, hadn’t he?
    Had he really thought using a password would stop people accessing his files? What an idiot! She’d known for ever that he used the name of whichever bit of fluff appealed to him at the time. Recently it had been ‘Kylie’.
    Kylie! The very name of the chit sent her blood pressure up. Well, one of these days she was going to deal with Kylie.
    Once into the system, she’d been horrified to find so much soft porn. She hadn’t realized just how far he’d gone down that road, downloading pictures of young girls. Disgusting! Delete, delete. The only file she’d kept was the one for his staff records. Knowing the way his mind worked, it hadn’t been hard to discover which file contained the home addresses and telephone numbers and hours worked for everyone who worked for the Trust, and she needed those for getting even with people who’d tried to wrong her.
    Soon, very soon, she was going to make them pay for it.

THREE
    Saturday noon
    T he pub had a Georgian frontage, but the building behind it was ancient, consisting of a series of small rooms on different levels. An extensive garden at the back boasted a stretch of lawn dotted with picnic tables, each with its own umbrella. All the tables were occupied on this fine summer’s day.
    Bea found her appetite had returned and enthusiastically ordered a steak and kidney pie with vegetables, but she refused to sit outside in the sun. ‘Ants,’ she said. ‘Wasps. If there are any within fifty miles, they’ll make straight for me. No, we’ll find ourselves a table inside like civilized people.’
    â€˜Cheer up,’ said Oliver, handing Zander and Bea halves of bitter. He never drank alcohol when he was driving. ‘And listen up, for do I have a tale to tell! There’s no shop in the village unfortunately, but down the road I spotted a woman struggling to put up a trestle table outside her front gate. Naturally I went to her assistance, being the kind, courteous soul