I stared at the fairy-tale cottage, trying to digest what she had just said. I hadn’t been gone that long and when last seen the sheriff was out in the grounds, searching for more clues. And he still thought that Stella might be involved in the robbery, if not the murder. So how could she have made it as far as this and what could she possibly be doing in that cottage? Her things were still in the main house and that cottage had been unoccupied. . . . Then suddenly I realized what had struck me as odd when I looked at it earlier this morning. When we arrived yesterday there had been no curtains across that window, I was sure. Now the drapes were drawn. Someone had been in there overnight, and it couldn’t have been Stella Brightwell. What’s more, I realized I knew who it had to be.

Chapter 28

AT THE CASTLE

AUGUST 4

I stared into the trees that appeared like indistinct shadows among the fog. “How long ago did she leave, Belinda?”

“Not long at all. Only a few minutes,” Belinda said.

“Come on, then,” I said, attempting to grab her arm. “We must go after her.”

She shook herself free. “What do you mean? Darling, I can’t go after anybody. I’m still in my nightclothes.”

“We can’t let her get away and I don’t fancy following her alone. And we haven’t got time to find anyone else.”

“But if the sheriff has let her go, then why are we going after her?”

“Because I think she may still be involved and there is something important we don’t know.”

“You mean she may still be involved in the murder?”

“Possibly.”

“I’m not like you, Georgie. I don’t actually enjoy chasing after murderers.”

“It will be all right with two of us.” I tried to convince myself as much as Belinda. “Do come on, please, or I’ll have to go alone and I really might be in danger.”

Belinda sighed. “I don’t know why I ever became friends with you in school,” she said. “Yes, I do. I thought you were a sweet and innocent little thing who needed protecting out in the big bad world. How wrong I was. Somebody should have told me that you’d be involving me in a constant life of crime.”

“Well, if you’re really not coming . . .” I started to walk away.

“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll put my shoes on. I’m not walking among wild animals in satin slippers.”

“Then please hurry up, and don’t stop to put on your makeup or do your hair. . . .”