kids. There was no money on the premises. A few quid in petty cash. It seems pretty senseless, unless of course they were looking for something and it wasn’t here –’
Dora hovered between the hall and the office. ‘Is that what you think?’
Jon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Weekday nights are usually quiet – that’s why I noticed the reports. If it had been Friday night you’d have been lost in the rush.’
A little flurry of something dark and cold had bubbled up from just below Dora’s navel. She leant back against the cool panels of her office door.
Jon pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. ‘Have you got any idea why someone would want to break in here?’
‘I’ve got nothing of any value.’ Dora paused. For a moment she imagined a figure creeping through the flat, his face in shadow. She shivered, a trickle of fear running down her spine like iced water. ‘Maybe we should ask Lillian.’
Jon looked confused. ‘Lillian?’
Dora nodded, working hard to keep her voice even. ‘She’s the girl we hired, the one who was on TV the other night. Her real name is Lillian Bliss. If someone thought she lived here …’ Dora’s voice faded. She didn’t want to talk about Lillian Bliss. She wanted things to be normal. ‘I think I ought to make the tea.’
Dora closed the kitchen door quietly behind her. If only Jon could have called, for another reason – any other reason. He’d looked so impassive when she’d told him about the books; a policeman’s face. She took two mugs off the draining board, trying to shepherd her thoughts back onto simple things. As she picked up the teapot, fear, red raw and completely unexpected, boiled up through her like a rising tide. Hands shaking, she grabbed hold of the kitchen sink and fought to regain her composure. It felt as if her mind could easily slip and race away from her if she didn’t keep a tight grip on it.
When she came back, a few minutes later, Jon had found his way into the sitting room and was folded comfortably on the settee. On his lap, Oscar curled and simpered, purring with delight. Dora stood the tray on the coffee table.
‘You really shouldn’t encourage that cat, he’s a complete tart.’
Jon grinned, stroking the cat’s ears. ‘I don’t mind.’
She thought he looked very at home on her battered sofa. The soft lamp light picked out the laughter lines round his eyes. Dora swallowed hard. She wished she’d had the courage to ring him years before.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ he asked, glancing round the room. ‘Do you mind if I smoke? I don’t remember …’
Dora nodded. ‘Not at all, in fact if you’ve got a spare I’ll cadge one.’
He shook out a packet and offered his lighter. Dora stood an ashtray between the mugs.
‘So, what else can you tell me?’
‘Nothing very much. Calvin Roberts hired Lillian Bliss to promote the Catiana Moran novels. I scripted her interviews and she learnt them.’
Jon leant forward. ‘And you very thoughtfully included your address?’
Dora shook her head. ‘Not exactly, she got caught on the hop and started ad-libbing. Anyway, I went out shopping the day after the broadcast and when I came back the place was wrecked. Nothing taken, just one hell of a mess.’
Jon took a long thoughtful pull on his cigarette. ‘Anyone know you were going to be out?’
‘No, nobody.’
Jon pulled out a small notebook. ‘Several people rang your agent to And out about Lillian. The TV station gave out his number to anyone who was interested, so that might explain how they found him. Perhaps they were looking for something. They couldn’t find it here so they went to Calvin Roberts’ place.’ He leant forward as if waiting for her to say something.
Dora remembered sitting in a café with Jon, drinking coffee. She had contacted the local police to get some background for a book she wanted to write and Jon had been volunteered to talk to her. They’d met in Lacey’s coffee shop creating scenarios, spinning workable plots. This one sounded no different, except, of course, it was real.
‘But what about all the damage?’
Jon shrugged. ‘Covering their tracks? I should warn you, I don’t think there will be much of an investigation into this. Nothing’s been taken – the CID have got bigger fish to fry.’ He paused. ‘Divorced now?’
Dora smiled. I’m afraid so, Ray didn’t take too kindly to me picking up off-duty policemen.’
Jon laughed, holding her gaze. ‘My wife felt the same about stray writers,’ he said softly.
Dora wondered exactly what he was telling her.
‘What do you think they were looking for?’ she asked evenly.
She’d always sensed Jon’s interest was more than professional. She’d seen it in his eyes, heard in his teasing when they’d sat together in Lacey’s. Hunched over her notebook, listening to his deep, lyrical voice, she had used her husband to fend him off then, bringing her marriage into the conversation like a tank trap. Now it was the burglary.
‘I was hoping you could tell me. Is that tea brewed yet?’
Dora leant forward to pour it. ‘By the way, what were you doing at Jack’s funeral this morning?’
‘Show of respect. They sent Edwin Halliday, the cabinet minister, down to represent the government. Had to keep an eye on him. He could easily have got lost once he was off the M25, you know what MPs are like.’
Dora handed him a mug. ‘You’re a bodyguard these days?’
Jon snorted. ‘Not really, they wanted a couple of senior officers there to represent the force. I volunteered. I’d met Jack a few times, he was a nice guy.’
Looking away, Dora stroked the ash off her cigarette around the edge of the ashtray. ‘What’s going to happen about the burglary?’
‘You want me to be honest? Not a lot. By the way, who else knows you’re really Catiana Moran?’
Dora bit her lip. ‘No-one, just Calvin and now Lillian. The publishers know because of the contracts but no-one else locally.’
Jon nodded. ‘Family?’
Dora shook her head. ‘Good God, no, they have got no idea.’
‘That’s fine, try and keep it that way.’ He downed the rest of his tea. ‘You should be fine now, but don’t quote me on it.’
‘If my mystery caller decides to come back for a second look, you mean?’ she said.
‘Exactly. Look, I’ve really got to be going. At the moment there’s no way of knowing what’s going on. It might be nothing at all, but be careful. Check your locks and think about getting a security grille for the kitchen window.’
Dora looked around her familiar shabby sitting room. Oscar stretched and mewled. She shook her head. ‘Maybe it was just kids.’
Jon lifted his hands in resignation. ‘Maybe. I’ve asked the local plod to keep an eye on the flat while they’re out on their rounds.’
Dora snorted. ‘That’s very reassuring.’
Jon slowly got to his feet. ‘It’s the best I can do at the moment.’ He’d reached the hallway, hands back in his jacket. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
She didn’t want him to go. The realisation surprised her. It had nothing to do with the burglary, but a sudden awareness of how many years it had taken them to get back to this point.
‘You know, I’ve really missed you,’ she muttered thickly, feeling herself blush as she said it.
He didn’t seem to notice. ‘Funny, I was just thinking