‘Hi, my name’s Steph Durham. I’m a friend of Elizabeth Sinclair’s mother.’

‘Elizabeth Sinclair? I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.’

Steph could now hear the very crisp and upper-class accent of the woman and it was hard to place her age, as she sounded neither old nor young. Steph also didn’t miss the slightly guarded tone to the woman’s voice.

‘You gave her your business card. She mentioned you to her mother.’ It wasn’t quite the truth, but Steph couldn’t think of another way to get Camilla to talk to her. ‘It’s really important that I speak to you.’ There was a silence. ‘Camilla? Are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ said Camilla after a moment. ‘Thinking about it, I do vaguely remember her. I’m not sure why she’d have my business card though.’

Steph was sure Camilla knew exactly who they were talking about and decided to plough ahead on that basis. ‘I take it you know Elizabeth Sinclair died two years ago?’

‘Yes, I heard, but then everyone in the area did.’

If Camilla had heard of Elizabeth’s death, the chances were she was local too, and Steph jotted that down in her notebook. ‘Her mother doesn’t believe Elizabeth’s death was an accident. I’m trying to help her.’

‘Are you a reporter?’

‘Not in the way you probably think. Please don’t hang up,’ said Steph quickly, sensing that Camilla might be of a mind to end the call. ‘I didn’t know anything about this until last week when Elizabeth’s mother contacted me after she found out I was coming up here to cover the opening of Conmere Resort Centre. I’m not even sure there is a story but I’m making discreet enquires.’

‘I can’t help you.’

‘Please, Camilla, could we just meet for a chat over a coffee? You may not realise you know anything, but if we can just talk I might be able to find something out. It’s just that no one other than the family seem to know anything about Elizabeth and I’m trying to build up a picture of what sort of life she had here.’

‘I really don’t think I’m the one to ask.’

‘Then who?’

‘I don’t know.’

The line went dead. ‘Damn it!’ cursed Steph. She redialled the number, unperturbed. ‘Please don’t hang up,’ she said as soon as Camilla answered it.

‘I have nothing to say,’ she snapped.

‘Elizabeth kept your card. There must be a reason she did that. Her mother mentioned your name. You may not know it, but you could be important to finding out the truth.’

‘I’m sorry …’

Steph cut in. ‘I don’t believe the police know about your card in Elizabeth’s coat pocket. I can keep it that way.’

There was a pause. ‘Are you blackmailing me?’