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Good luck with that.
“Right,” he said woodenly. “It’s forgotten.”
“And we’re friends,” she repeated, a bit desperately.
“Sure.”
She usually preferred a little less sarcasm from her friends.
Mick checked his watch.
“I should head back,” he said. “I don’t want to be late for this meeting.”
“Right.”
They turned to head back the way they’d come, keeping Jeeves well between them. Sophy watched the ground as she walked and her fingertips fluttered up to touch her lips.
Friends.
Right.
Chapter Five
Mick was right. His boss was a difficult man to refuse. Sophy hung up the phone after the surprise call from William Ryland, feeling a bit dazed. He’d wanted to thank her personally, he said, for her assistance to the police on the day of the would-be bombing. He understood that she was an artist herself and he would be delighted to give her a personal tour of his collection that morning. Her polite stammering about a regular ten o’clock class on Mondays had fallen on wilfully deaf ears.
Apparently she would be playing hooky today.
She wasn’t sure if she hoped for or dreaded Mick’s presence at the hotel. They hadn’t spoken since he’d left Silver Leigh on Friday. They hadn’t really spoken since they’d left the copse by the stream. She had stared at her phone on several occasions over the weekend, slowly rotating it in her fingers while she considered sending him a text message. The difficulty of knowing what on earth to write had stopped her.
Short of pushing him in the stream or accidentally shooting him or something, she couldn’t have handled the situation much worse.
She pulled an ugly grimace into her Froot Loops just as Melissa walked into the kitchen with the mail.
“That’s attractive first thing in the morning.” Her cousin yawned and scratched an itch on her cheek with the corner of the newspaper. Sitting down at the kitchen counter, she reached for her cup of coffee and began to sift through the stack of envelopes. “The power bill is really high again,” she said, taking a sip. “Yuck, this is cold. I think you need to stop using your hairdryer to set your sketches.”
Sophy considered it too much effort to remove her forehead from the table in order to respond to that observation.
“Here, two for you,” Melissa continued. Sophy rolled her head to the side and stared at her through one bleary eye. “Bank statement and something that looks very official and governmental. I’m going to say unpaid library fines or jury duty.”
“Close,” said Sophy slowly a few minutes later, staring down at the succinct letter in her hand. “Deciphering a bunch of legalese, it’s a summons to give evidence in the arraignment of William Darvie and Maria Harper next week. In Auckland. They have charges pending there for a number of other misdemeanours.”
“God, that was fast.” Melissa finished her coffee. “Bet that millionaire – what’s his name? Ryland? – pushed things through. Probably took the whole thing as a personal insult. You don’t have to pay your own expenses, do you?”
“No.” Sophy bit her thumbnail. God. She had to give evidence for a legal trial. “I suppose I have to go.”
Melissa cast her a sympathetic look.
“I’d say so, chicky. Unless you want to end up on the other side of the dock. Look on the bright side. Free trip to Auckland. I wish I could come with you, but we’re swamped at work with the festival. I’ll dog-sit Jeeves for you, though.”
“Oh, thanks.” Sophy absently petted the dog’s head where he stood ever hopeful of a fumbled pass with the breakfast spoon.
“You should see if someone else could go with you. I’m sure Aunt Marion would be up for it if you can’t wrangle a friend from school.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Mick was going to Auckland next week. She wondered if it was to do with the case.
Shaking her head quickly, Sophy looked at the time flashing on the oven, compared it with the settings on the DVD player, swore, raced and failed to beat Melissa to the shower.
