Rita’s grip tightened on her crutches. ‘What does that mean?’ Mark didn’t reply.
The Labrador nosed along the scorched ground, pausing and sniffing sharply near a corner at the back of the marquee. The melamine bench seats were blackened at the edges, the surface bubbled and curled where the heat had been fiercest, giving off a faint chemical tang.
The dog pawed at the earth and let out a short bark.
Mark exhaled slowly, crouching to examine the spot. ‘Hmm. Here we go.’
Rita’s grip tightened on her crutches. ‘What does that mean?’
‘This is where the fire started,’ he said, pointing to the blackened corner. ‘And not a foot further in.’ He nodded toward the dog. ‘That little fellow here is telling us something else too.’
The dog barked softly, pawing at a tiny piece of scorched paper half-buried in the ash-darkened wooden floorboards of the marquee.
Mark knelt, raising his camera to snap photos of the scene, the charred boards, the torn paper, and the blackened lantern lying on its side, one glass panel shattered, wax streaked across the scorched timber.
He lowered the camera and lifted the paper carefully with gloved hands, edges jagged, half a signature visible, and in the corner, barely visible, the Rosecliff Barns logo. He slipped it into a plastic evidence bag, sealing it with a snap.
Mark crouched lower, studying the scene. ‘Lantern’s been knocked,’ he muttered. ‘Candle’s fallen out.’
Gingerly, he lifted the warped lantern and placed it into a larger evidence bag.
He stood slowly, his gaze meeting Rita’s. His expression was calm but serious.
‘Could this lantern have been left alight by accident?’
Rita shook her head, her mind racing. ‘We usually only light them when there’s a gathering in here, but… I guess a guest could have come in here or… well, whoever we saw on the camera maybe?’ Rita grimaced. ‘We had put a box of long matches on each table and added some fancy paper tablecloths in advance of the wedding party too, so…’
‘A fire hazard heaven.’ Mark crouched lower, glancing at the warped, blackened lantern. ‘So, it could have been knocked over.’ He paused. ‘Or dropped while lit, even?’
Rita swallowed. ‘Well, yes, of course. They have a carry handle so are not fixed.’
‘At this point, Mrs Jory’ – the inspector’s voice carried the weight of the moment – ‘I think it’s best we involve the police.’
Rita’s grip tightened on her crutches, her heart thudding, and she nodded, already knowing he was right.
Mark crouched back down and ruffled Ash’s ears.
‘Told you he’d behave, didn’t I?’ He reached into his pocket to bring out a chewy treat. Ash’s tail thumped as he gobbled it up, then looked up at Mark with bright, expectant eyes.
‘Good lad,’ Mark said, scratching behind his loyal companion’s ears.
‘He deserves a medal.’ Rita smiled, forgetting for one instant that if it hadn’t been an accident, who an earth might want to destroy her farm and why.
Ash gave a satisfied woof, clearly proud of himself.
THIRTY-NINE
Rita pushed open the door of Sail Away and smiled as the bell tinkled above her head, today reminding her ofNotting Hill, one of her favourite films. She was already off her crutches, having woken that morning, put her foot to the floor and realised she did not actually need them. It had only been a turned ankle and although it was healing remarkably well, she had made sure the support was firmly in place, as instructed. She was not quite confident in her braking skills yet, so Thom had given her a lift down to the harbour and extracted a promise that she would ring him when she was ready to head back to the farm. She had of course not paid heed to any of Jago’s worries about her resting. She felt fine; she had a wedding to organise!
She paused just inside the shop, one hand drifting to her bump before catching her reflection in the glass door. She hadn’t told Teo yet, or Stan. And she couldn’t possibly tell Jude before them. No. That news needed to be shared properly. Deliberately. Today was not that day. Making sure her bump was covered, she moved over to one of the two inviting Lloyd Loom chairs that looked over the harbour and sank into it with an audible ‘oof’.
‘Escaping?’ Jude said, looking up from behind the counter, eyes warm with understanding.
‘Very much so.’ Rita let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
‘Let me get you a coffee,’ Jude said, moving towards the coffee machine.
‘Decaf please, and yes, I’ve come down to escape the madness for a bit. And also… to say thank you. Truly. For helping on the night of the fire. I’m so grateful to you all.’
