Next Door to Murder by Anthea Fraser Page A

Road.’
    â€˜For heaven’s sake, that’s just round the corner. The Bacchus at one?’
    Rona sighed. Lindsey always wore her down. ‘I’ll be there,’ she said.
    Lindsey was already seated at an alcove table.
    â€˜Where’s Gus?’ she asked, as Rona joined her.
    â€˜Spending the day with Max. I can’t cope with him when I’m working.’
    â€˜You fixed yourself up with the Willows, then?’
    â€˜Yes; I’m based at their home in Oak Avenue. Down past the station,’ she added, in response to her twin’s enquiring eyebrow.
    Lindsey picked up the wine bottle and filled Rona’s glass. ‘It was arranged at the Kingstons’ dinner party?’
    Rona nodded. ‘This is my first full day.’
    â€˜And I’ve scuppered it. Well, sorry and all that, but I wanted you to see this.’
    She reached in her handbag, produced a page from a society magazine, and passed it across the table.
    It was filled with photographs taken at some function, and Rona wondered what she was supposed to be looking at. Not recognizing anyone, she turned to the text for elucidation. And found it.
    Under a shot of a smiling couple seated at a table ran the caption: Lady Miranda Barrington-Selby and Mr Dominic Frayne.
    Rona studied the faces with interest. So this was the famous Dominic. The picture was too small to distinguish features, but her eyes moved critically over the thick hair, the confident smile. And the girl with her hand possessively on his arm looked young enough to be his daughter.
    Unwillingly, Rona looked up to meet her sister’s eyes.
    â€˜The magazine’s dated the ninth of April,’ Lindsey said unsteadily. ‘That’s after we met.’
    â€˜But you hadn’t been out with him then,’ Rona pointed out reasonably. ‘Perhaps he dumped her after meeting you. You didn’t think he’d been living in a monastery, did you?’
    â€˜Or perhaps he hasn’t dumped her,’ Lindsey said darkly, ‘and that’s how he spends all those weeks when I don’t hear from him. Lady Miranda, for God’s sake! I can’t compete with that! And just look at her, Ro! She looks about twelve! If I’d seen that photo without knowing either of them, I’d have taken him for a dirty old man!’
    â€˜Oh, come on! He’s not that old. Where did you find this?’
    â€˜At the dentist’s, where else? I had my six-monthly check this morning.’
    â€˜Pity they don’t update their magazines.’
    â€˜That wouldn’t have changed anything. And don’t say “What the eye doesn’t see”, because it won’t wash.’
    A waiter approached and they broke off to choose and order their meal.
    â€˜So what do you expect me to do?’ Rona asked, when he’d gone.
    â€˜Advise me.’
    â€˜On what? Linz, there’s only one option; forget you ever saw it.’
    Lindsey stared moodily at the photograph. Then, very deliberately, she tore the page in half, then into quarters, then into still smaller pieces, and stuffed them in the ashtray.
    â€˜Feel better?’
    â€˜Pity I can’t do that to him!’ Lindsey sighed. ‘OK, maybe I’m overreacting. But I can’t help wondering if he took her to France.’
    â€˜She was then and you are now,’ Rona said firmly, hoping she was right. ‘Now, stop being evasive about your own trip, and tell me everything that happened.’
    While Rona and Lindsey were discussing him, Dominic was being shown into the dining room of the London club. During the journey, he’d been attempting to formulate the best approach to Miranda’s father. He could hardly claim she’d made all the running, even though it was true. Better, he’d decided, to sit tight and judge the prevailing mood.
    At least his greeting was cordial enough.
    â€˜Frayne! Good of you to come.’ Rupert Barrington-Selby,