“And the ashes?”
“He said Durant couldn’t let go of them, not straightaway, anyway. He’d asked him—Durant—if he would have them interred, and apparently Durant said he was going to take them somewhere special, somewhere that was loved by his wife.” Billy frowned. “Miss, why are you interested in the ashes?”
“It’s just an idea, Billy,” said Maisie. “Look, I’ll be away all day tomorrow—I’m making a little detour on the way down to Chelstone.”
“All right, miss—but I always worry about your little detours. I never know what might happen next. Anyway, Sandra here said we’ve had two inquiries for assistance. One’s a missing person, and the other is a man over in Belgravia who wants someone to look at his house to see if it’s secure enough.”
“Secure enough for what?”
Billy shrugged. “Blessed if I know.”
“All right—Billy, start the initial interview for the missing person case, and then take the Belgravia job on your own. Checking windows before they’ve been broken is not my bailiwick. But it’s an unusual request, I must say.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Sandra. “We’ve two more of those come in.” She held up the just-opened letters. “I suppose they’re worried about the number of people coming in—soldiers, refugees, and so on—and they think they’re all going to go on a burglary rampage.”
“Billy,” said Maisie, “you’ve got your work cut out for you. You’re now our expert on domestic security.”
Parking the motor car just outside Reigate on the Dorking road, Maisie hoped she had found the place where Albert Durant and his wife had taken their Saturday walks. She had dressed for a ramble across fields and along old footpaths, and was wearing trousers and a light cardigan over a cotton blouse, and carried a mackintosh in her knapsack, along with a flask of water and a sandwich. She had also brought the recent photograph of Albert Durant. Before locking the motor car, she swapped her footwear, and was now wearing a pair of stout walking shoes in well-worn brown leather. She looked around, crossed the road, and set off along a narrow path that flanked farmland leading farther up the hill, where she turned left along the edge of a field of golden stubble. Hay bales were strewn across the landscape, gleaming in the sun. Maisie thought they looked like nature’s ingots awaiting collection.
Every so often, she stopped and stared across the fields. At one point she watched a hawk hovering in the morning sunlight before swooping down to claim its prey. She had been walking for over an hour when she came to a stile and was presented with a choice of two routes—the first across the top of the field, so she would remain in the lee of the hill if she chose that way, or she could embark upon the path running perpendicular to the hill, which she thought would lead back down to the road. An area of woodland lay in the distance. Which of the two rustic paths should she take? She sat on the stile, pulled the flask from her knapsack, drank some water, and ran the back of her hand across her forehead before combing her fingers through her short hair—though it was not as short as it had been in Spain, when she had cropped it herself with nail scissors. Taking another sip of water, she set off on the route to the left, down the hill, returning the flask to the knapsack as she walked towards the woodland.
She was about one hundred yards from the cluster of trees when she saw a woman walking towards her with a dog, a spaniel that ran ahead, snuffling around along the verge, until he was called back when he ventured into the wood.
Maisie raised her hand, and the woman returned her greeting. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.” Maisie stooped to stroke the spaniel, who had scampered along the verge to greet her. “Do you come here every day with your dog?”
“Yes, I do—well, almost every day. My cottage is down there, close to the road.” The woman turned to point farther along the path.
“So you see a number of walkers, then, people coming out for the day.”
“You see some regulars. People who aren’t country folk don’t come this way—they go to the town instead. But you’re right—I always see a good few people walking, and there’s been more ever since the government started putting up posters telling us all we should get out and start ‘hiking for health.’ I suppose I’ve seen more faces I’d not seen before, but I know the regulars.”