The Darkest Evening

corroboration to the story, she took offence. ‘Are you saying I’m a liar? I’m only trying to help, to tell you what some neighbours are saying.’ The door was firmly shut.
Holly walked back to the Stanhope Arms, hoping that Charlie had had more success. It was quieter now, the football match over; the families in the lounge eating lunch were concentrating on their food. Charlie was at a table in the bar with a pint and an open packet of crisps; he was chatting to a couple Holly would have described as the actively retired. The woman was slight, gym-fit, with tinted hair and competent make-up. The man had a paunch, but carried it with a confidence that showed he still believed he was attractive to women. Charlie jumped up when he saw Holly. ‘I’ve been chatting to Geoff and Veronica here. What can I get you?’
‘I don’t suppose they do a decaff coffee?’
‘I can try.’
‘Oh I’m sure they do,’ the woman said. ‘You wouldn’t believe how much things have changed since we first moved here. I’m a veggie and when we first arrived the only thing on offer anywhere was an omelette.’ An educated voice but a little slurred. A large glass of red stood on the table. The wine glass in front of the man was empty; he’d moved on to whisky.
Holly thought they’d moved here on retirement with dreams of an idyllic lifestyle, of becoming leading lights in the community, running it perhaps as they had their business or office, but now they were bored. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Five years,’ Veronica said. ‘Geoff took early retirement and we thought, why not? We could practically buy a mansion with what we got for our house in Newcastle. And really we’ve never looked back.’ But her voice was wistful and Holly thought she was still hankering for smart coffee shops and the friends who shared her interests.
‘I’m sure my colleague has already asked, but did you know Lorna Falstone?’ Charlie was taking a suspiciously long time at the bar. Perhaps he’d thought Holly would be more on this couple’s wavelength. What does that make me? A snobby cow?
‘We met her a couple of times, didn’t we, Geoff? Through Connie Browne. Connie set up a watercolour class, persuaded a very talented local artist to come along as tutor. We get together in the village hall on Monday mornings.’
‘And Lorna came to the class?’
‘Not regularly. I suppose it was hard with the baby. But Connie thought she had talent and persuaded her along.’
‘What did you make of her?’
There was a pause. ‘She was a shy little thing. Pretty enough, but she didn’t make much effort with her appearance. I think she loved the class. She seemed to lose herself in the painting.’
Holly saw Charlie heading her way with her coffee, a biscuit covered in a plastic wrapper in the saucer.
‘Did she have any special friends in the class? Perhaps there’s someone we might talk to who knew her better.’
Veronica seemed to take a long time to think about this. She drank wine. Her lips were stained with it. She made Holly think of a vampire. ‘Well, the tutor took an interest in her. She was the only person under fifty in the group, so I suppose they had more in common. I must say, I wasn’t desperately impressed by her art. Rather gloomy I thought. All black forests and glowering skies.’ She must have realized how churlish she was sounding, because she gave a little smile. ‘But what would I know? I’m only an amateur. I’m sure it’s very good.’
‘What’s the name of the tutor?’
‘Josh Heslop.’ His parents farm in the valley near Brockburn. ‘He’s not long out of art school and he’s struggling to make his way. Good, though. He’s already got a little gallery in Kimmerston to stage an exhibition. He’s back at home, helping the family out.’
Holly drank her instant coffee and thought about this. Josh must be brother to the teenage girls who acted as waitresses in Brockburn the night of the murder. His father had found the body. The boss was always interested in coincidence and Holly looked forward to passing on the information.
Charlie had his phone out and was checking messages. Still he seemed happy to leave the interview to Holly. ‘Josh must be about the same age as Lorna,’ she said. ‘They would have gone to school together?’
Veronica seemed bored by the conversation now. Perhaps she only enjoyed talking about herself. She shrugged. ‘I suppose so. All the secondary kids go to the high school in Kimmerston.’
Charlie got suddenly to his feet. ‘Sorry, folks. We need to get on. Thanks for your help.’
Holly followed him out of the pub. It was only mid-afternoon but the light had already drained away. She thought of Veronica’s words about a glowering sky.
‘There was a message from the boss,’ Charlie said. ‘The CSIs have finished in Lorna’s house. She wants us to take a look, see if we can find anything that might give us a name for the baby’s father or some kind of link with Mark Bolitho.’

Chapter Seventeen
ON THE WALK TO LORNA’S HOUSE, Holly phoned Vera with the information about Josh Heslop running the art class to which Lorna belonged. Charlie was listening in. He grinned and stuck up his thumbs when he heard the tutor’s name, mouthed, Well done, lass.
‘Well now, that is very interesting.’ Reception was poor and Vera’s voice seemed a long way off. ‘It’s definitely worth a visit to that family.’
‘Do you want us to go when we’ve finished up here?’
‘Nah,’ Vera said. ‘I bumped into one of the Heslop lasses this morning, so I’ve got a bit of a relationship. And it’s almost on my way home. I’ll go.’ A pause. ‘Good work, Hol.’
Holly wished that didn’t mean so much to her, that she didn’t feel as she had when she’d just been given a gold star at school as a five-year-old.
A crime-scene investigator was waiting for