Crusher’s friendliness vanished in an instant. “Because if you write any of what I said in your book, I’ll bloody sue. Say you took advantage of my worldliness.”

Robin dropped his smile and nodded.

He watched as Crusher walked away. And then just as she was moving out of earshot, he thought of another thing to ask her. “Mrs. Crusher?” he called, half thinking she wouldn’t look back, and pleasantly surprised when she did.

“What?” she grunted.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you not talk to your daughter anymore?” Robin knew he was stepping out of bounds. But if he didn’t try, then he wouldn’t get anywhere.

Crusher mulled over the question, as though wondering whether to throw him a bone. And just when he was about to give up, she obviously decided to allow him something. “I found out that my daughter was canoodling with him, with Tim Claypath. So I forbade her to see him. She said that if I enforced it, she’d never talk to me again. Let’s just say we both kept our promises.” She turned and walked away.

Robin looked after her. Amber had gone out with Tim Claypath—it sounded a lot more serious than Amber had made it out to be. She had downplayed it. Had Amber been lying to him? And more than that, he had another thought—intrusive and a little out of turn. If Amber held a candle for Tim Claypath, well—No.

Was she involved somehow?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Walking into Diggle Community Centre was like going back in time. The lobby reminded Robin of his old primary school in London. It was small and cramped—an empty reception area was cordoned off at the start of the room and beyond that was a small waiting area with a couple of budget gray sofas. The overall impression of the area was one of clutter—the walls were lined with overlapping flyers and pamphlets and posters stuck on with Blu Tack: flyers about the classes and happenings in the Community Centre, pamphlets open in all their glory about alcohol and drug awareness, and posters about shows happening at the Community Centre. Apparently, Diggle was about to be shaken by an amateur production of Glengarry Glen Ross by Diggle and Marsden Theatrical Society.

Sally was nowhere to be seen, and with no idea where in the building the Ghosts of Marsden were, Robin started his search. For the next ten minutes, he completely covered every corridor of the Community Centre, looking into all the rooms. Most of them were empty, with only a few having a semblance of life. He walked in on a pasta-making class in the kitchens and an AA meeting on the second floor.