Page 108 of A Secret Scottish Escape

“You tell me,” I parried back. “You’re the aspiring reporter with all the answers.”

“Ms Burrows claims Mr Buchanan murdered someone close to her.”

From outside, the throbbing sound of music from Dad’s garage made me start. It seemed to emphasise her words.

I faltered, trying to conceal the returning trepidation from the other night. Someone close to her? “Why aren’t you speaking to Angela Burrows?”

Shelley’s voice became defensive. “I can’t locate her. She’s gone off grid.”

Off grid? What was she? An MI5 spook?

“Don’t you think that’s rather suspicious?” I pushed, detecting a frisson of hesitancy. “Surely if there was a real story there, this woman would have kept in touch with you?”

Shelley fell quiet.

“Well, doesn’t that tell you something?”

Shelly started to talk again but I interrupted. “I think this Angela Burrows has got a hidden agenda of some kind and she was trying to use you to get at Rafe Buchanan.”

Sensing I was starting to throw her off-balance, I carried on. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? As soon as you asked her for proof of what she was saying, she got nervous and disappeared.”

I jumped up, my insides whirring around. “Sorry, Ms Fraser, but I can’t help you. Oh, and here’s some advice. Next time you try to follow up a story, I suggest you check out the validity of your sources first.”

She started to say something else but I terminated the call.

Shelley Fraser was blundering about in the dark. She was only armed with the briefest of information – no facts – and now that this Angela Burrows had done a disappearing act on her, presumably to deal with things on her own terms, Shelley was trying to claw a story out of the ashes.

But it still begged one question. Why was this woman so desperate to sully Rafe’s name?

If Rafe was guilty of something awful, why hadn’t this Angela called him out on it, instead of going to a second-rate freelance reporter and then doing a disappearing act?

Dark thoughts gnawed at the edges of my mind. Perhaps it was because she was seeking out some sort of retribution of her own.

I gathered up my bag. I was going to look into this Angela Burrows myself.

Chapter Fifty-Five

As I strode past the garage, the guys were taking a break and discussing the state of the music charts.

Dad spotted me. “Where are you off to?”

“Just got a couple of things to chat over with Faith. I won’t be long.”

Mikey did a cheeky wink. “Hope you’re back in time to make us that brew you promised.”

I pointed my hand towards Dad’s cottage. “You know where the kettle is.”

Their laughter and teasing noises grew quieter as I headed back down the lane to retrieve my car. There had been another light shower and everything from the trees to the hedges looked like they had been polished to a high finish.

I had got as far as Norrie and Clem’s front garden hedge when Norrie bobbed up from the front lawn. “All going well with your disco, lass?”

I tried not to laugh, but couldn’t be bothered to explain. “Yes, it’s all on track, thanks Norrie. You and Clem OK?”

“We’re hanging together.”

I started to move off, but Norrie wouldn’t be deterred. “Have you heard the latest rumours about that Mask character? Terrible business.”

I paused and swung round. I thought I could guess what they might be, but still asked the question anyway. “What rumours?”