“Now that you mention it, there is. Am I right in thinking only one door opened by keypad provides access to the studio?”

  Raf stood up and wandered into the kitchen as he spoke. “Yes. Hoagy changes the code regularly and only he knows the combination. Not me, not Philly and certainly not Romy. Security is tight because there is always the threat of theft.” He opened the fridge and withdrew another bottle of beer. “You couldn’t sell a Moffatt on the open market, but there are plenty of private collectors who would pay over the odds to have an unseen original.”

  It was interesting to note the level of familiarity Raf Beaufort demonstrated with Hoagy and Philly’s home. Opening your host’s fridge was unthinkably rude, at least in Europe, unless you were close family. Raf was evidently part of the inner circle.

  “I see. Hoagy? Can I ask when you last changed the code to the studio door?”

  He looked at her with a vague expression. “Not for a while. I can’t remember. I try to do it every month, but I may have missed one.”

  “Not since March, if memory serves, old boy,” Raf interjected.

  Beatrice made a note. “And the only security is a sturdy door and the keypad entry? No cameras?”

  “Yes, we do have cameras,” said Philly. “But only on the front gates. The police took the footage from Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights. If they still suspect me, it stands to reason there’s no sign of anybody else coming in or out.”

  “Right. Could you and I have a little wander round the garden? Out of sight of the photographers, obviously.”

  Philly got to her feet. “Keep an eye on him,” she said to Raf and escorted Beatrice out of a back door, facing away from the road.

  “Let’s meander through the shrubs for a bit and then I’d like to get a look at the studio. From a distance, of course. I have some questions about Romy. What do you know of her background? Her friends? How did she earn her income before coming to live here?”

  There was a little bench against the garden wall, cluttered with cushions and rugs, in the shade of a magnolia tree. Philly stood on it to peer over the wall, then beckoned Beatrice to join her. “My reading corner. Just checking Bernie the Barbarian is not lurking the other side. Now let me see. Rosemary Palliser, daughter of Maxwell and Santa Palliser, sister of Gregory and Nathaniel, better known as Greg and Nat. You’ve likely heard of Nat Palliser? Formula One driver?”

  Beatrice shook her head.

  “No? Well, he’s hugely successful and as obnoxious as they come. Lives in Monaco most of the time and turns up here once or twice a year to show off. Their parents have a home outside Port de Sóller, but rarely use it because they’re tax exiles in Bermuda. Their children have the run of the place. Romy never ‘earned her income’ because she has no need. Her parents provided her and her brother with an allowance. As for intimates, she was seeing a swimmer called Juan Carlos for a while, but broke it off when she moved in here. Silly girl. He was fit as a butcher’s dog.”

  “Was he upset? Do you know his surname?”

  “His surname is Mendez and I have no idea how he took being dumped. I only saw him the once. Her friends are a loose circle of similar people, drifting from season to season and occasionally starting a life-coach business or idly dabbling in some form of art. I’m only aware of one you could call close. Miranda Flynn and Romy set up ‘Nirvana’, a yoga practice in the town around two years ago. They sometimes held dawn classes on the beach, which is where Hoagy spotted her.” Her face grew wistful for a moment and then her eyes focused on Beatrice.

  “Ah, here’s a thing. Romy’s business partner and Romy’s younger brother Greg are an item, romantically speaking. There was quite a falling-out when Romy dropped all her classes to become a life model here.”

  Beatrice scribbled notes as Philly flowed on.

  “Her brother Greg is a classic drifter. What hasn’t he tried? Bar owner, manager of a band, restaurateur, literary novelist and then he went on some kind of retreat and now he’s started a church. Cult, more like. He calls it ‘The One Truth’, invites all these esoteric preachers to speak and charges an absolute fortune to hear them spout arrant nonsense, while running his own ‘healing’ sessions. He even sells online course at a premium. When Romy dropped the yoga business, he stepped in with financial backing and started teaching spirituality. What never ceases to amaze me is that people actually pay for this hogwash. There’s no accounting for gullibility.”

  Beatrice closed her notebook. “Those two will be my next port of call. Philly, please try not to worry too much. You’ll have a lawyer with you tomorrow, I’m pulling out all the stops to find the person who did this and my assistant arrives today. We’re all behind you.”

  “You are a marvel. I know you’re doing a wonderful job, as is Raf. I’m in safe hands, I know. But what about Hoagy?”

  Beatrice had no answer to that. Instead, she asked to see the entrance to the studio. It faced away from the entrance to the property, hidden by large bushes of camellia and rhododendrons. Hoagy could walk from the back door of the house to his atelier without being seen, if he wished. The steps to Romy’s apartment were on the other side of the two-storey outbuilding. It reminded Beatrice of those weather vanes. One goes in on the left and the other comes out on the right.

  If anyone were to spy on Hoagy pressing the numbers on his keypad, they would have to be quite literally in the hedge, which backed up against a wall. She scanned the area, observing nothing more than hedge, grass, cypress tree and an abundance of fragrant flowers.

  “Who’s on the other side? You have the Whistler man to the north and east, the road to the south and what’s to the west, the other side of this wall?”

  “An old Spanish lady from Madrid, Señora Navarro. She’s rarely seen outside and pays a local couple to tend the house and garden. We have almost no contact.”

  Beatrice made up her mind to visit the old woman with Theo at her side and ask permission to study the garden wall. There had to be another way in that someone could use at will. If there wasn’t, Philly’s situation looked very bad indeed.

  Chapter 11

  For the second day in a row, Will harried them through a coffee and dessert, impatient to get back to Upton St Nicholas. Adrian dallied on purpose, to remind Will of the reason they were in Dartmouth. Mornings were lovely. Relaxed breakfasts and trips to absorb the glory of the countryside. But as the clock ticked towards three, Will became agitated.

  Adrian announced he was visiting the bathroom and spent an extra few minutes in a stall, with no good reason. The imposition on their lifestyles would eventually get through to Will, and his romantic concept of fatherhood would be exposed for the fantasy it was. Huggy Bear and Dumpling could be left alone for a few hours, enabling him and his husband to continue visiting the places they’d earmarked when planning their holiday. The one restriction on their freedom was taking Luke to school, picking Luke up from school and entertaining Luke in the evenings. Yet Will showed no sign of tiring.

  When Adrian returned upstairs, their table was empty and Will was waiting in the doorway, car keys in hand.

  “I paid the bill. Come on, let’s go. It’ll take us a good hour to Luke’s school and I don’t want to be late. Maybe I should drop you off at the supermarket to get some veg for tonight. I also need more fruit to put in his lunchbox.”

  Adrian waved a thank you to the waiting staff and followed Will out into the sunshine. “What a beautiful location. I could spend all day sitting by this river. People living in the countryside don’t know how lucky they are. I mean it, every single day we walk out in this gorgeous greenery makes me feel better. Do you feel that too?”

  Will glanced at his watch. “This holiday is certainly doing me good. Where are you going? The car is this way.”

  As they belted themselves into the Audi and left the picturesque town of Dartmouth, Adrian raised a point of concern. “I know things have been a bit hectic and not exactly according to plan, but we have a dinner reservation on Friday night, booked two months ago. That was my birthday treat for you and I really don’t want to lose it. Somehow or another, we need to find a babysitter.”

  “Or take him with us.”

  Adrian shook his head with some emphasis. “No, we can’t. Kids are not allowed, I checked online. Can’t we rope in either Marianne or Luke’s Grandma Pam for the occasion? It’s just for a few hours, to give us one evening to ourselves.”

  Will drove faster, accelerating to the point Adrian sensed was borderline unsafe. He still had not responded.

  “Will, slow down a little, please. Even if we are a few minutes late, the school will keep him in until we arrive. You haven’t answered my question.” He withdrew his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Marianne, and ask if she’s free on Friday.”

  “No, not Marianne.” Will’s gaze remained on the road but he shot a sideways glance at Adrian. “At the Stag Night, Gabriel made a very gentle joke about Marianne and her lack of responsibility when it comes to her nephew. Even Matthew laughed. Marianne won’t want to babysit and we already know Luke doesn’t like staying with his grandmother.”

  Embers glowed in Adrian’s gut and he clenched his teeth. Why should these people’s preferences supersede his? Why shouldn’t Luke spend a few hours in a sub-optimal situation so that Will and Adrian could enjoy a five-star birthday dinner? Why did Will rate Adrian’s needs as secondary to the whims of a seven-year-old? For several miles, he was unable to speak, the pressure on his molars almost painful.

  “You’re right though,” said Will. “We can’t lose that reservation. When I dropped Luke off at school this morning, I bumped into Susie.”

  Adrian’s lower jaw jutted forward as if he were Huggy Bear. He detested this whole ‘mums at the school gate’ bullshit and grew irritated beyond belief at Will’s assumption he should remember each mummy’s name. He’d be suggesting play dates next.

  “Who the fuck is Susie?”

  Will shot him a puzzled glance. “The landlady of The Angel, who served us breakfast every morning for the last week? Ring any bells?”

  “Oh, that Susie.” Even though he liked the landlady, Adrian’s temper was not yet calmed. “And the significance of that would be?”

  “Yeah, that Susie. Her daughter is home for the Midsummer Solstice.”

  Adrian crossed his eyes. “Shit. I knew I should have packed my Druid robes.”

  “Do you want to drop the attitude?” Will’s voice dropped a register, signalling danger. “As I was saying, Susie’s daughter Frankie used to be Luke’s babysitter. You must remember her. She was here around the time of our wedding. Anyway, Luke loves her to bits and she might well be free on Friday night. Shall we ask her?”

  Frankie. An image floated across Adrian’s vision: a beautiful heart-shaped face framed by straight black hair, a wide laughing mouth and obsidian eyes. His lips lifted at the thought of her animated face and how her life force reminded him of Catinca.

  “Yes, that’s a great idea. The perfect solution all round. So we can still go to El Pescador for your birthday?”

  Will reached a hand across the gearstick to squeeze Adrian’s thigh. “After waiting this long, I think we really should.”

  All his snark melted away and Adrian’s gaze ranged over the hedgerows, conjuring up the menu and that fabulous wine list.

  Will cruised to a halt outside the pub, Adrian jumped out and Will sped off towards the school. Several tables outside the pub were occupied and someone called his name. The two bikers he’d met the day before were sitting in the sunshine, their bikes parked right in front.

  He waved and went over to say hello. “If it isn’t the Cider Bikers! Hello, Buster, hi, Mac. I was fit for nothing after having two halves of that rough stuff yesterday.”

  Mac laughed. “We can’t tempt you again then?”

  “No, not with cider. But let me buy you a drink, unless you’re in a hurry?”

  “We’re not going anywhere today,” said Buster. “We had a long ride out to Seaton this morning and booked ourselves a room here for tonight. Thanks, mine’s a pint of Bulmer’s.” He drained his glass and held it out to Adrian.

  “Cheers, mate. I’ll have a pint of Tanglefoot,” said Mac.

  Adrian took their glasses and went inside for refills. The interior of the pub was dark in comparison to the brilliant sunshine outside and his eyes took a moment to adjust. Behind the bar, Susie was serving an elderly man in a flat cap. She looked over at him with a smile.

  “Hello, stranger. Where’s that handsome husband of yours?”

  “Doing the school run. How are you?”

  “Busy. We’ve got the Midsummer Solstice this weekend, so we’re rushed off our feet. What can I get you?”

  Adrian ordered the drinks and asked about Frankie. “Will said she was home and I wondered if we could bribe her into babysitting on Friday night. I booked us a table at El Pescador months ago, you see.”

  “Ooh, lucky you. I haven’t been there for donkey’s years. Are you sitting outside? I’ll give her a shout.”

  “Thanks, Susie. Can you add a drink for her too? By the way, your hair looks nice.”

  “You are a charmer. She’ll have the same as you. White wine. That’s nine pounds fifty, please.”

  Adrian paid and took the drinks outside on a tray, careful not to spill any. He asked Mac and Buster about their ride and was hearing all about the joys of Seaton beaches when Frankie came to stand by the table. She was even prettier than Adrian remembered in a summery blue dress which matched the sky.

  “Hello, Adrian. Mum says you’re looking for a babysitter. Hello!” she said, nodding at the bikers with a smile.

  “Frankie! Come and join us. I got you a glass of wine. This is Buster and this is Mac, from Cumbria. They’re touring Devon, just like Will and me but in a slightly more rock ’n’ roll way than our middle-class Audi. Gentlemen, this is Frankie, whose mum runs the place.”

  “Yes, we met earlier. I’ll be the one cooking your breakfast in the morning. Cheers, Adrian.”

  She sat beside him on the wooden bench and raised her glass. “Here’s to midsummer!”

  “To midsummer!” they toasted.

  “When is the solstice?” asked Adrian.

  “Saturday. There’s a party on the green. Are you going to come? You can bring Luke. Kids are always welcome.”

  “Most probably. What about you two?” he asked Mac.

  “No, we’re off again tomorrow. Heading Glastonbury way. What do you do when you’re not helping your mum out, Frankie?”

  “I run an art gallery in Bath. Have you seen the city? It’s really lovely.”

  The conversation continued as if these three had known each other decades. Adrian sipped his wine and gave them all a benevolent smile. With some surprise, he acknowledged that he liked the country life, knowing the locals and appreciating the proximity to nature. Maybe the dream was closer than he thought. Move to a smaller city, sell the flat and buy a cottage, Will could get a transfer, Adrian could set up a wine shop and finally adopt a Schnauzer.

  “... honeymoon?” asked Frankie.

  “Sorry, I missed that. Daydreaming about living here permanently. What about a honeymoon?”

  “I said when is Tanya back from her honeymoon?”

  “Sunday was the original plan, but what with her finding a murder victim, they may have to stay longer.”

  “Finding a murder victim! What?”

  Adrian told them the whole story and Frankie was beside herself at discovering Gabriel’s connection with Alexander Moffatt. Buster bought another round and they devised several theories about who would want to kill an artist’s muse. Mac told a story about Robert Graves, who also lived in Deià, quoting some of his poetry. Frankie insisted on buying them all a drink on condition that Mac recited more. They were each taking turns to recall a poem from childhood when a small hairy bundle dashed up and placed her paws on Adrian’s legs.

  “It’s Huggy Bear!” exclaimed Buster. “Come here, mate!”

  Adrian lifted his head to see Luke charging in his direction, Will strolling behind.

  “Frankie!” Luke opened his arms like a mendacious fisherman and Frankie rose to give him a hug. In the general welcome for boy, dog and man, Mac going to get them all drinks and Will reacquainting himself with Frankie, Adrian didn’t think to check his husband’s mood. Probably because he’d consumed three glasses of Chardonnay.

  Well-mannered as ever, Will engaged the bikers by asking questions about their travels, expressed his thanks to Frankie for agreeing to babysit and bought another round. By this time, Adrian was aware he really needed something to eat and asked for a packet of crisps. Will cast him a disdainful look and when he returned with the tray of beverages, there were no crisps.

  He left the party to go to the bathroom and bumped into the door jamb, which knocked him sideways into the opposite wall. He faced facts. He was drunk as a skunk and should go home. When he’d finished in the bathroom, he washed his hands and face, hoping it might sober him up. Then he went to ask Susie for two bags of crisps. By that time Gordon was behind the bar, and he chastised Adrian for buying four individual glasses of wine.

  “Buy a bottle next time, man! Why waste your money! Here’s my cheapest Chardonnay, and I’ll give you the cork too, in case you want to take the rest home. What flavour crisps do you want?”

  “Salt and vinegar. Can I get a pint of cider and that beer, what’s it called? Frangipani or something?”

  “Sure. I’ll get one of the guys to bring it out to you. Cash or card?”

  Adrian paid and made his way outside with a little extra caution to find Will on his feet, Huggy Bear’s lead in hand.

  “Here he is! Great to see you again, Mac, Buster. Have fun in Glastonbury. See you tomorrow, Frankie. Is half six OK? Brilliant, thank you so much. Come on, Luke, dinner’s ready. Adrian?”

  “I just bought another round.” His voice was not as distinct as usual.

  Will’s upbeat smile didn’t change. “All the more for Frankie. Let’s go.”