The Shooting in the Shop

Thirty-Eight

“The agent,” said Jude, as soon as they got back into the Renault. “We’ve got to get in touch with the agent who read Polly’s book.”

“The one who’d been at Cambridge with Lola and Piers?”

“That’s right. Serena Somebodyorother, if my memory serves me right.”

“I suppose we could try to contact Piers. If he’s still at Fedingham Court House.”

“We don’t need to do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll have Serena’s number at Woodside Cottage.”

“Oh?” said Carole.

“Because that’s where Polly’s mobile is.”

“Ah,” said Carole.

Sure enough, in the Contacts list on dead girl’s phone, there was an entry for ‘Serena’. On the assumption that the name was unusual and this must be Serena Fincham, Jude rang the number straight away. As soon as she said she was calling about Polly Le Bonnier, the rather Sloaney voice at the other end became very concerned.

“That was terrible. I only got the news from a chum a couple of days ago. I’d been away skiing over Christmas. What a disaster – poor Polly. Do you know anything about exactly what happened?”

“I know quite a bit, and I’m trying to work out the rest. I wonder, would it be possible for us to meet?”

“Sure. When?”

“Sooner the better. Is tomorrow possible for you?”

“No, I’m staying with my parents in Gloucestershire. Back to work on Monday, though. Could do after work, sixish. My office is in Earls Court.”

“Would it be possible to make it a bit earlier?”

“Not sure. There’s bound to be a log-jam of manuscripts. Aspiring writers don’t seem to observe public holidays.”

“It is rather urgent.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I could nip out for a coffee sometime in the morning. Since it’s about Polly. I mean, I really am devastated.”

They fixed to meet in a coffee shop near Serena’s office at eleven o’clock on the Monday morning. Anticipating the reaction when she relayed this to Carole, Jude said, “And you’ll be there too.”

She was on her own in Woodside Cottage at about half past nine on the Sunday evening when the phone rang. It was a very weary-sounding Lola.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Pretty grim. But it helps having to do stuff with the children. Though I’m still no nearer breaking the news to Mabel. I fobbed her off this evening with something about Daddy being away, which has been the case often enough so she didn’t suspect anything. But there’s only so long I can keep doing that.”

“You’ll find a way to tell her.”

Lola sighed deeply. “I’m sure I will, though I can’t for the life of me imagine what it’ll be.”

“Is Piers still with you?”

“Yes, and getting to be a bloody nuisance. Emoting all over the place. It’s quite honestly the last thing I need at the moment.”

“He’s a sensitive soul.”

“Huh. Is that what you call it? A self-appointed ‘sensitive soul’. His only real concern is his own emotions, he never considers anyone else’s. Anyway, Jude, reason I rang…”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for being such a support over the last few days. I don’t know how I’m going to get through what lies ahead, but at least I’ve got friends like you to help me through.”

“Of course you have,” said Jude. “If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”

And she felt very guilty that Lola Le Bonnier was still on her list of suspects.