Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,114
and Juliet, Love’s Labour’s Lost… Plus concerts by local bands, a stand-up comedy night, and a visit from an Elvis impersonator. And…
I started laughing. And laughing and laughing and laughing. Oh, hell. We owed Dolly the biggest tip ever.
CHAPTER 44 - EMMY
“WHAT’S SO FUNNY?” Black asked.
I jabbed my finger at a short paragraph on the back page of the brochure.
This year’s performances are kindly sponsored by Killian Marshall, whose generous contributions have allowed the Penngrove Community Theater not only to survive but to flourish.
The photo above showed a man in his early fifties, slightly greyer around the temples than when I’d seen him last, and a fuck of a lot more composed.
“We’ve found Dyson.”
“Killian Marshall? A local philanthropist?”
“Yup.” A modern-day Robin Hood, it seemed. He stole from the rich to give to the poor. “I’ll never forget that face.”
Black blew out a long breath. “Thank fuck for that. I’ll get the research team onto this. Then we can work out how to pick him up.”
While Black pulled out his phone, I looked again at the picture. Dyson’s expression was kind, benign, giving no hint that he was actually a master criminal. Did the townsfolk know where his money came from? I was betting they didn’t.
“Diamond, who’s driving your BMW?”
“Er, nobody?”
He held up his phone screen so I could see the message in red.
ALERT: E BLK - IMPACT SENSORS ACTIVATED
All of Blackwood’s vehicles were fitted with a black box of tricks courtesy of Nate, and the BMW was no exception. Someone had crashed it? I couldn’t say I was devastated, but who had been behind the wheel? Were they hurt?
“Well, somebody must have borrowed it. Where is it now?”
Black tapped away. “Three hundred yards from Riverley’s main gate.”
I began to get a bad, bad feeling about this. Riverley was on a quiet lane. Turn left out of the main gate and you’d be heading for Richmond, but turn right and you’d end up in buttfuck nowhere—just forests and fields plus a dozen or so houses, and we owned most of them. There wasn’t a whole lot to hit. Unless the driver swerved to avoid an animal and drove into a tree, which Dan had managed to do on occasion, it was a tricky spot to crash in.
Black was already calling the guardhouse.
“Did Emmy’s BMW just leave the estate?”
I shuffled my chair closer and leaned in to listen as the duty guard answered. Roy—I recognised his voice.
“Yes, a few minutes ago.”
“Who was driving?”
“Well, Emmy was.”
“Emmy’s a hundred miles away.”
“Are you sure?”
Ooh, bad move. Black’s jaw clenched. “She’s sitting opposite me. I think I know what my wife looks like.”
“Sorry, I—”
“The BMW’s been in a collision three hundred yards down the road, Richmond direction. Call the roving team. Get them to find out what happened. And tread carefully—this could be a trap.”
“Yes, sir.”
Black had gone through exactly the same thought process as me. If Roy had thought I was driving, then somebody else could have too, and thanks to my extracurricular activities, there were certain people who would rather I didn’t see my next birthday. Sure, the crash could have been an innocent accident, but on the other hand…
“And we need to find out who was driving.”
“I just started my shift, but I’ll check the visitor log.”
Oh, fuck. A fist clenched around my throat. “Don’t bother.”
Black raised an eyebrow.
“It was Bethany. I asked Bradley to lend her a vehicle, and she’s got blonde hair. From a distance, in a moving car…”
Roy came back. “A Bethany Stafford-Lyons arrived in your car four hours ago. The ‘purpose of visit’ memo says she was there to see the horses.”
Shit, shit, shit. How fast had Bethany been going? We kept the lane in good nick—no potholes, no overgrown bushes—and it was reasonably straight. And if I’d discovered one thing in the handful of times I’d driven that BMW, it was that it accelerated like a crazy-ass motherfucker. To sixty, it rivalled my Corvette.
I gulped down half a slice of apple pie because I had a feeling I wouldn’t be eating again for a while, and Black dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table.
“Are you leaving?” Dolly asked. “Is there a problem with the food?”
“There’s a family emergency.”
“Oh, sugar-pie, I’m so sorry to hear that. Let me box everything up to go.”
I tucked the brochure into my handbag. “Really, there’s no need.”
Black’s phone buzzed, and when he checked the screen, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. I didn’t question it. Whatever grudges I might