A Fatal Flaw. Faith Martin

go – I can’t be late back from lunch. So I’ll see you tonight then? About seven-thirty? Just go around the side entrance and knock. The doorkeeper will let you in. I’ll let him know to expect you.’

      She nodded across at Clement and left, her step much lighter than when she’d entered.

      Clement watched her go and wondered what, exactly, the curly-haired young lady was up to. Because he was pretty sure that she had some sort of agenda that she wasn’t sharing with Trudy Loveday.

      ‘Poor Grace,’ Trudy said, when her friend had left. ‘She’s got so much on her plate at the moment, with her mother being so unwell, and all this extra workload with the beauty contest. Still, if we can put her mind to rest about Abby, that’ll be one less thing for her to worry about.’

      Clement nodded. ‘You two seem close?’

      ‘Oh yes. Well, we were once, at school, where she sort of looked out for me,’ Trudy felt compelled to add. ‘But you know how important and intense childhood friendships can be. At the time, I felt I would have died if Grace hadn’t been around.’

      The coroner understood immediately that Trudy didn’t suspect her friend of anything underhanded. And it certainly hadn’t even crossed her mind that she might be playing some part in what was going on. He wondered, briefly, if he should say something to her about his suspicions, but almost instantly decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea. For one thing, he might just be wrong (although he didn’t think so!) But more importantly, he knew that if he told Trudy, she would begin to act differently around Grace, and as things stood at the moment, the more sanguine Grace Farley felt about things, the better he’d like it. She was far more likely to give herself away if she thought she was in the clear.

      But he’d be watching her closely from now on, and one thing was for certain – when Trudy went to the theatre tonight, he’d be going with her.

      ‘So,’ Trudy said, ‘where do we start?’

      ‘What about the former boyfriend?’ Clement said. ‘He hardly spoke much at the inquest, and if anybody can tell us what sort of girl the victim was, it’s bound to be him.’

      ‘Great! Where does he work?’ Trudy enthused.

      ‘The council offices. He’s a clerk in the roadworks department.’