Michael was already reaching for his jacket. He said, ‘I know where Edmund Fane’s gone, and it’s desperately important that we head him off.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s coming up to eleven o’clock now, and it’s probably about an hour’s drive from here. Fane’s got a three or four hour start, but I can phone ahead.’
He reached for the mobile phone, and Francesca said, ‘Michael, if you’re thinking of driving it’s out of the question. Even if your car was repaired – which it isn’t – your hand isn’t up to a long journey.’
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten the car.’
‘I’ll drive you,’ said Fran. ‘To – wherever it is.’
‘I’ll come too if you want,’ offered Lucy. ‘We could share the driving.’
‘Nobody’s going to be sharing any driving, and if anyone’s going anywhere it’ll be in a police car – two police cars,’ said Jennie sharply. She frowned, and then said, ‘All right, I’ll trust you a bit further, Mr Sallis. We can leave someone stationed at Edmund Fane’s house, and you can give my sergeant directions as we go.’
‘Can Francesca and Lucy come as well?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘We could follow you,’ said Lucy.
‘You can’t stop us doing that,’ added Fran.
‘Oh, for—All right,’ said Fletcher in exasperation. ‘But when we get to – to wherever we’re going, you’re both to stay well out of the way, is that understood?’
‘Yes,’ they said in unison.
‘You’ll never keep up with the police cars,’ said Michael to Fran. ‘Where’s something to write on – thanks, that’ll do.’ He scribbled an address and what looked like brief directions on the back of one of the paper napkins from the coffee tray. ‘Can you read my writing?’
‘I think so.’
‘Mr Sallis, you’ll have to do some fast talking on the journey,’ said the inspector as they went out. ‘There are a great many unanswered questions in this affair.’
‘We can take my car if you prefer,’ said Lucy, as she and Francesca sprinted across the car park. ‘I don’t mind driving.’
‘You’ve already driven a couple of hundred miles,’ said Fran. ‘You must be exhausted.’
‘So have you.’
‘Yes, but I’ve had a break since then, and something to eat.’ Fran settled the matter by opening the door of her car and getting in. ‘But I might ask you to take over for a spell – it depends how far it is. Michael said about an hour.’
‘He was right about us not keeping up with the police cars,’ said Lucy, as Fran drove off the White Hart’s car park as fast as she dared.
‘Yes, they’re out of sight already. But we’ve got directions of a kind and I’ve got a road atlas in the glove compartment.’
‘Then I’ll map-read as we go,’ offered Lucy, propping Michael’s scribbled notes on the dashboard.
For several miles neither of them spoke except when Lucy gave directions, but once they had joined the motorway, she said, ‘Francesca – I’d appreciate knowing what this is about. It’s clear that there’s quite a lot going on under the surface, and it’s also clear that you know more about it than I do.’
Fran hesitated, and then said, ‘I don’t know why we’re going to this place, whatever it is, but I do know some things from Michael. But not everything.’ As Lucy glanced at her, she said firmly, ‘It isn’t my story to tell. I think when you do hear it, it’s got to be from Michael. And apart from any other consideration, it isn’t a story to tell while we’re belting along a motorway at eighty miles an hour.’
‘Fair enough. How are we doing for time?’
‘It’s just coming up to half past eleven.’
‘I think we’re going to be too late,’ said Lucy, and thought: but too late for what?