Page 111 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I printed off a copy of the whole article and returned to my screen saver, which was an image of a snow-drizzled Loch Harris. Then I scooped up my mobile from the top of my desk.

Hazel Jennings deserved a visit.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

I looked up the location of the bed and breakfast place online. It was called The Beech Tree and was situated just off the main street in Finton, overlooking farmland.

Finton was an even smaller town than Loch Harris, so I knew I shouldn’t have too much difficulty in finding it.

I drove away from my cottage, piecing together what I was planning to say to Hazel Jennings. I mean, realistically, what could I say? I had no idea why she seemed so intent on persecuting Rafe, but hoped I would be able to prize it out of her.

A picture of her face contorting as she screamed “Murderer!” at Rafe shimmered into my head and I tried to blink it away.

I clicked on my radio, forgetting that I had left one of Rafe’s CDs in there.

I stared at my apprehensive reflection in the rear-view mirror as his dusky, melodic voice filled the inside of my car.

What on earth was I doing? I had my business just about to open shortly and yet here I was, charging about the area like Miss Marple. Thank goodness I had most things for The Conch Club in hand now and Faith watching my back so efficiently.

Dad and Faith would often tease me about being a manic list-maker, but if I didn’t do it, goodness knows what a pickle I would be in, especially with all this DNA test worry that had taken place, and now the Rafe debacle.

A carved wooden sign proclaiming ‘Welcome to Finton’ appeared on the grass verge, taking me past three old stone crofts and through the main street that consisted of a bevelled-windowed post office and several shops huddled together.

I drove on until I reached the end of the row of glinting shop windows and ended up looking out over a patchwork blanket of bottle-green and sage-coloured fields. Sheep wandered and jostled each other like blobs of noisy cotton wool.

I looked to my left. There it was. The Beech Tree Bed & Breakfast.

I slowed down, taking in the chintz curtains at the sash windows and two hanging baskets of lavender heather swinging either side of the porched entrance. A green picket fence ran around the front, framing a modest patch of grass and a bird table. The whole effect reminded me of a doll’s house.

Parking at the rear of the place, I pulled my denim jacket tighter around me.

I squared my shoulders and walked around to the entrance, still inwardly deliberating about what I was going to say.

The door was unlocked and a bright table lamp threw out a welcoming hue.

What if this Hazel Jennings isn’t in? murmured a doubting voice in my ear. Maybe she’s moved on again?

I plastered on a smile as an attractive, curvy brunette strolled towards me in a navy V-neck sweater and silver knotted scarf. This must be Nicola, Sophie’s friend. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for a lady who I understand might be a guest of yours – Meredith Stone?”

She appraised me out of wary, dark eyes. “Can I ask what it’s in connection with?”

Bingo! So, she was a guest here.

A combination of realisation and trepidation tripped through my chest. I couldn’t blow this. Not now.

I flapped my hand in the air as if to stress it was a matter of minor importance. “Oh, she was sitting near me in a café in Loch Harris this afternoon and left her sunglasses on the table.”

I delivered what I intended was a friendly smile. “By the time I realised, she had already gone but she’d stitched her name into her sunglasses case…”

My eyes alighted on a sprinkling of Beech Tree business cards on top of the hall table by the lamp. “And I found one of your business cards on the floor beneath her table. It must have fallen out of her bag when she got up to leave.”

The woman returned my smile and shot out her hand. “Well that’s very kind of you. If you give me her sunglasses, I’ll pass them on to her.”

Oh bugger.

I could feel my mouth twitching. “That’s sweet of you, but we had a chat and I wouldn’t mind asking her for her contact details back in Australia. It would be nice to keep in touch.”