before his uncle, his expression granite-grim.
‘The money in the community account and the business account. It’s been moved out of the accounts in a series of transactions, raising a red flag with the bank.’ Gabe passed a shaking hand over his face. ‘It’s the money the village raised and the start-up money Jodie and I put into the partnership.’
Ben swung a grey gaze on Alexia before returning his attention to his uncle, his voice hard and rapid. ‘Who has access to the bank accounts?’
Gabe pressed his forehead as if forcing himself to think. ‘For the community account Alexia, Jodie, and Christopher Carlysle and me. Jodie and I for the business account.’
‘But it takes two of us to sign to get money out of the community account,’ Alexia croaked.
‘Not on Internet banking. We all signed that it was OK, if you remember.’
Ben’s face was a mask as he studied the evidence on Gabe’s phone. ‘The accounts are showing nil balances. And my uncle’s property has been stripped out and devalued with no means of refurbishing it.’ Slowly, he raised his gaze. ‘Can you shine any light on this?’
‘Me?’ Alexia’s eyes felt ready to pop out on stalks as she gazed at Ben in fresh horror. ‘Me?’
‘Well …’ Ben hesitated at the shock in her dark eyes, conscious that his thoughts hadn’t translated into quite the right words.
He’d been so angry at the grief and shock on Gabe’s face, this good and genuine man who’d always been on Ben’s side, that only half his thoughts had been on the current situation. The other half had been a shame-filled reflection on what Alexia must be thinking of him after his middle-of-the-night desertion. All day he’d been plagued with images of her in his arms. But they’d warred with images of Imogen until he wasn’t certain where he should lay guilt and over whom he felt regret. He tried to explain. ‘You have the knowledge of how much the original features are worth and where someone might sell them. You were telling me last night about your contacts.’
‘Ben!’ Gabe protested sharply. ‘You sound as if you’re accusing Alexia!’
Ben groped for better words. ‘No, I was asking for insight—’
But Alexia was already climbing to her feet, turning on Ben a look of dazed repugnance, lifting a shaking hand as if to keep him at a distance. ‘We’ll have to come back to that discussion. I have to ring one of my contacts and get a tarpaulin on that roof.’
Gabe clambered to his feet too, pulling her into a comforting, avuncular hug. He looked to have aged ten years in ten minutes but at least the torpor of shock seemed to be fading. ‘Are you OK to handle that? I’ve got to ring the police.’
Over Gabe’s shoulder Ben watched Alexia close her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to have to look in his direction. ‘I can do it. You report what’s happened.’
Then Ben ceased to exist – at least so far as Alexia was concerned, anyway. Her gaze didn’t rest on him once. She moved into the Bar Parlour to make her call while Gabe remained in the foyer to make his.
Ben found himself hovering between the two, unable to contribute and with plenty of opportunity to wish his words to Alexia unsaid. He cringed at what she must think of him – the man who last night had savoured her body and today sounded as if he were accusing her of wrongdoing.
Through the doorway he watched Alexia slide down the wall as if her legs wouldn’t hold her, pinching the bridge of her nose as she spoke into her phone. ‘Dion, I know it’s a huge favour –’
‘I’m afraid I have to report some thefts –’ Gabe said into his own phone from Ben’s other side.
‘– it’s not my property but it’s my project –’
‘– it seems like a finely calculated scam. Much of the property was removed last night under the guise of –’
‘– I’ll really owe you if you can get it tarped tonight. I hate to ask you on a Sunday evening but you can invoice me, obviously –’
‘– I know what was in the bank accounts but fixing a value on the rest at this moment is difficult –’
‘– and I need someone to put a temporary door on, too. Oh, would you? That would be fantastic.’
Gabe finished first. He came to stand silently with Ben while Alexia began another call.
‘Jake, a project I’m on has been done over.’ She hunched a shoulder as if feeling Ben’s gaze on her. ‘Can I list some of the stuff that’s been stripped out? Then if you could let me know if any of it’s offered to you … It’s all mid-Victorian. A load of roof slates, mahogany doors and screens with etched glass, two mahogany pub bars – probably dismantled – Victorian mosaic floor tiles, black and white with a border tile …’ She pushed herself up and began travelling from room to room, slowly listing what she could remember of what had been in them. She remembered a lot. Her voice went on and on, growing fainter as she progressed.
Gabe turned a steely gaze on Ben. ‘You must apologise to her.’
Ben felt slightly sick. ‘I will. I didn’t mean it the way it came out.’
‘Then you need to control the way things come out. She must think you’re a shit.’
Gabe almost never swore. In fact, Ben couldn’t remember seeing him angry before, but now his bushy brows were meeting over a sharp crease between his eyes. Like a naughty child, Ben squirmed through the only lecture, in fact the only criticism, he’d ever received from Gabe, who wound up with, ‘I know you’ve had a bad year, Benedict, but to say I’m mortified is understating the case. Alexia’s not only a dear friend, she’s donated all her work to this project.’
‘It honestly wasn’t meant to sound that way.’ Ben was unable to summon a better explanation or admit that he’d had only half a night’s sleep, again. ‘I’m not proud of myself,’ he muttered in the end, which had the virtue of being true.
Before Gabe could reply Alexia returned to the room, white and shocked but otherwise composed.
Ben lost no time in trying to put things right. ‘I’m sorry if I sounded as if I was accusing you, Alexia. I was angry on Gabe’s behalf and I was just trying to get information. I offer an unreserved apology.’
Alexia’s gaze remained on Gabe. ‘A roofer, Dion, is coming to tarp the roof and he says he’ll hang a temporary door while he’s here. What did the police say?’
Gabe glanced at his watch. ‘They’re sending someone.’
‘OK. I’ll stay and see them with you.’
‘Alexia,’ Ben tried again.
Alexia turned her back.
Ben spent the rest of the evening fermenting in a mix of shame and irritation as Alexia continued to elaborately ignore him but bestow fervent thanks on Dion when he turned up with rolls of blue plastic sheeting and the scaffold tower he needed to protect the roof from the worst of the weather.
When black-clad Police Constable Arron Harris
