you.’
‘Natural death? Murder? Suicide?’
Alex shook her head. ‘I’m not sure yet. It’s unlikely to be natural deaths though, don’t you think? Not two of them?’
‘Never assume, Alex, you know that. It makes an ass out of you and me, remember? Could be natural causes. Could be an accident, it has been known.’
‘Colin Harper seemed to think it was suicide. He said they had taken a disposable barbecue inside and the fumes got them.’
Heath twisted round to look at her. ‘Really? Anything else?’
Alex shook her head. ‘No, nothing. Tell me, Heath, why is Bud so interested in this story? I mean, it’s a tragedy and I can imagine him running a piece with some Press Association copy and pics, but first letting me loose on the story and then paying your expenses up here … It’s not like him, is it?’ She had been thinking about this. ‘But then he hasn’t published anything yet.’
‘By all accounts Daley and Bud go back a long way; though, as you know Bud never liked him: he always said there was something unsavoury about our Del. And maybe he’s right, we’ll have to see. Maybe he’s covering his arse. I mean, if there is something dodgy going on, he’d look stupid if The Post missed it, wouldn’t he?’
At that moment, two police officers paraded onto the stage. DI Berry and DS Logan. No family. So no ‘emotional’ appeal. Not yet, anyway. Or perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary.
‘Hang on, what do you mean, “something unsavoury”?’ asked Alex.
A look flashed across Heath’s face that she couldn’t identify. ‘I don’t know what he meant; but you never know, if he did top himself, then there must have been a reason.’
‘Could he have been depressed?’
Heath snorted. ‘What, with his lifestyle?’
‘Don’t knock it. You know damn well money isn’t everything.’
‘No, but it bloody well helps. Believe me, that I do know.’
Alex looked at him. There was more to Heath Maitland than a pretty face and a flirty manner, that was for sure, but she had yet to find out what.
Berry and Logan had sat down. Logan was making sure her papers were in order, neatening them with her hands. Nervous, Alex guessed. Berry gazed around the room. His stare alighted on Alex and she began to feel uncomfortable.
Heath leaned into her. ‘Whatever did you do to him?’ he whispered. ‘He’s giving you the evil eye and more.’
‘I met him earlier.’ Alex spoke from behind her hand. ‘We didn’t seem to hit it off.’ She made the effort and smiled and nodded at Berry. The police officer glared back.
‘Evidently.’ Heath began jiggling his knee. ‘When are they going to get on with it?’
‘Patience. You’re not in London now.’ She refreshed The Post’s website on her phone once more. Nothing.
DI Berry cleared his throat. DS Logan folded her hands in front of her. Berry leaned into the bank of microphones. ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘and thank you for coming this evening. Earlier today two bodies were found on the boat Firefly Lady moored off Poppy Island on Dillingham Broad. They have been identified as Derek Daley, aged sixty-two, a magazine proprietor from London, and Roger Fleet, also aged sixty-two and a farmer from Suffolk.’ He stopped and surveyed the room. There was a low murmur as the various journalists took in the information. Those who knew who Derek Daley was would realize immediately it was a pretty big story. Alex texted Bud.
Names confirmed by the cops.
‘Their deaths are being treated as unexplained. At the moment, we are not seeking anyone else in connection with the enquiry. That’s all I have for you at this time, but if anyone saw anything suspicious around the time the boat was hired three days ago, or motored past the boat in the last three days, please get in touch.’ Berry held up his hand. ‘I’m not taking questions, thank you.’
He marched off the stage, Logan in tow.
‘He likes talking to the press, doesn’t he?’ said Heath, standing up.
‘We need more. Especially if Bud is being cautious.’
‘Mmm. Berry didn’t even give out the fumes from the barbecue line. I wonder why not?’ He grinned. ‘I think you should ask your Detective Inspector Berry – get a bit more colour.’
‘More colour? Two bodies turning to liquid on a boat not enough for you? And he’s not my Detective Inspector Berry, thank you.’
‘He could be. We need a handle on how they died.’
‘You ask him.’
‘You’re prettier.’
‘You’re sexist.’
‘I know. Go on, I’ll buy you dinner.’
Alex laughed. ‘You mean The Post’s expenses will buy me dinner. Anyway, no thanks, I’m out tonight.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Nothing like that,’ she said. ‘A friend. A girlfriend.’ Why did she feel the need to explain?
‘Tomorrow then?’
‘Are you expecting to be here tomorrow?’
‘We still need to know how they died. And Bud will want a backgrounder.’
‘I could do some digging for you.’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d hardly thought them. Where did that come from? Was she really offering to do Heath’s work for him? But then, she had felt alive these last few hours, in a way that she hadn’t felt for a long time. And she was involved in the story; she wanted to find out more about Daley and Fleet and how a man from London and a man from Suffolk ended up on a boat together on the Broads.
Heath seized eagerly onto her words. ‘I wouldn’t mind that. I’ll get home quicker then. I’ll square it with Bud. I think more than two nights in The Travelling Inn would just about do me in.’
‘I know that place, it’s outside the town here, isn’t it?’
He shuddered. ‘Yes. I think I’m the only person staying there. Or everyone else has died and are lying undiscovered in their lumpy beds. Look. I mean it. About dinner. Perhaps you could do some asking around tomorrow and then we could reconvene at a restaurant of your choice.’ He frowned. ‘There are decent restaurants around here, aren’t there?’
‘Yes,’ Alex replied, affronted. ‘We even have chefs who can cook, you know. The Fox and Goose in Sole Bay is excellent. And is probably better than your Chiltern Firehouse or Soho Farmhouse or wherever you like to hang out.’
‘I’m sure the Fox and Goose will be fine.’ He grinned. ‘That’s a date then.’
‘No, it is not,’ she retorted crossly. ‘It’s a business meeting.’
‘Shame. Now, you talk to the friendliest policeman in town and let me know how it goes.’
Alex looked at him. Patronizing git. ‘As a matter of interest, Heath, what are you going to do tomorrow?’
‘Have a look around, get the lie of the land, that sort of thing.’
‘Don’t work too hard, will you?’
‘I’ll try not to.’
‘I was being sarcastic.’
‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a couple of people to talk to.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’ And with that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered off. Whistling.
How irritating