Free Messenger of Truth by Jacqueline Winspear Page A

will help. Amos is a fisherman, so will probably be in his shed mending nets in the afternoon. Duncan and Quentin returned to Dungeness this morning, so do look out for them. I believe they will only be there for a day or so.
    I will meet you outside Tenterden station at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon, as we agreed. If you are traveling from Chelstone, you will probably come from the direction of Rolvenden, thus you will find the station signposted from the middle of the High Street as you come into town, a sharp turn to the left. It’s best that we meet there and then go together to the house.
    You will also find enclosed an invitation to a party at my flat on Sunday evening. It’s just a few friends. I thought it might give you a chance to meet some of Nick’s pals. Do come.
     
    “Gosh…” Maisie shook her head.
    “What’s up, Miss?”
    “An invitation to a party at Georgina B-H’s flat on Sunday evening,” Maisie was rereading the invitation.
    “That’ll be nice, you know, to get out.”
    Maisie shook her head. “I don’t know how nice it will be, but I will most certainly go.”
    “Take Dr. Dene along—you know, make an evening of it.”
    Maisie reddened and shook her head. “No, just me, Billy. It’s business.”
    Billy regarded her carefully, his attention drawn to the slight edge in her voice. Though they would never discuss Maisie’s private life, Billy could see it was quite clear that Andrew Dene’s intentions were toward marriage, whereas Maisie’s responses had become generally lukewarm. Now she was going to a party alone, which wasn’t something that a woman on the cusp of engagement might do, work or no work.
    “Right then, we’d better get cracking. Let’s do a bit more work here, see if the cold light of day has brought any new thoughts to our investigation, then go our separate ways.” Maisie took out a sheaf of notes made the previous evening and moved toward the case map. She turned to look at Billy. “And remember, Billy—let me know if you need me to see Lizzie.”
    Billy nodded, and they set to work.
     
    THE CAFÉ ON Oxford Street where Maisie was to meet Detective Inspector Richard Stratton was a rather down-at-heel establishment that she had once described as being “more caff than café.” She had already packed her leather case for the journey to Dungeness, from which she had originally thought she might go directly to Hastings but then decided to make her way to Chelstone for the evening. She would visit Andrew Dene in Hastings on Saturday morning. It wouldn’t take long to drive from the Old Town to Tenterden in the afternoon.
    Stratton was waiting at a table by the window and had just sat down. Having removed his hat and coat and placed them on a coat-stand by the door, he was smoothing back his dark hair, which was peppered with gray at the temples. He wore dark-gray gabardine trousers, with a black waistcoat, gray tweed jacket, white shirt and black tie. His shoes were highly polished, though he did not have the sort of accoutrements with which someone like Stig Svenson embellished his attire—there was no kerchief in the jacket pocket, no cufflinks at his wrist. Though he was not a young man—Maisie had thought him to be about thirty-eight or forty—an olive complexion and dark eyes meant that he was often the subject of a second glance from strangers. The detective was not aware of such attention, and the passersby would not have been able to explain why they were compelled to turn, though they might admit to thinking they had seen him in one of those new talkies at the picture house.
    Stratton had already bought two cups of tea and a plate of toast and jam. The tea was strong and, Maisie thought as she approached the table, looked as if it had been in the urn long enough to make itself quite at home.
    “You could stand a spoon up in that tea.” Maisie sat down as Stratton pulled out a chair for her, and smiled. Though they had crossed words on