Free Dying to Meet You by Patricia Scott Page B

could possibly face up to losing either of them in this way.

     
    Twenty-Four
     
    There was something important niggling in Farmer’s head. And Mel Goring had something to do with it. He knew she wrote a daily Astrology column for her newspaper. He needed somebody more clued up on Astrology than he was with all three victims born under the same star sign. It could mean that other women sharing the sign of Cancer could also be in danger.
    He called Mel Goring at the Observer office and got her answer phone. He left a message. ‘Can we meet? It’s important. DI Nick Farmer.’
    He gave her his private mobile number. She replied by text message:
    ‘MEET YOU ON PIER BY TICKET OFFICE AT SIX. MEL.’
    *
    When Farmer arrived he saw Mel leaning back against the pier rails wearing a pretty green print dress, reminding him of a girl on one of those old railway posters advertising seaside holidays. She grinned and waved when she saw him walking towards her.
    ‘Hi, Farmer. This is a surprise. What can you possibly want with me?’
    He grinned. ‘Have you eaten? I’m starving. Can I treat you to a meal? Then we’ll talk.’
    ‘Talk? Are you serious?’ She laughed running her hand through her hair out of eyes. ‘Okay, I’m all yours. I warn you though in advance, I’m hungry.’
    They visited one of the good Italian restaurants on the high street in the old town. Nick found that he was getting quite a buzz from her company. Over a glass of wine they studied one another cautiously across the table, like a pair of gunfighters preparing for high noon, although there was amusement brimming in those challenging brown eyes. She was attracting plenty of interested eyes from other male diners seated around them he noted.
    ‘Pax,’ she announced suddenly. ‘Come on, no messing. Just get on with it. What do you really want from me, Farmer?’
    Plenty. His thoughts were far from innocent as his eyes travelled slowly over the soft curves of her breasts seductively suggested by the lines of her dress. A forkful of lasagne paused on the way to his mouth. ‘First of all I must know whether I can trust you? Can I?’
    She pursed her mouth wryly, took another sip of white wine and said, ‘Can I trust you Farmer?’
    ‘You can ... I need your help. Linda was wearing a pendant when she was found.’ Interest flared in her eyes instantly. ‘She always wore it and it was the astrological sign of Cancer - yes?’
    She nodded. ‘Sure - it was my birthday present to her last year. Why do you ask? You think it’s important?’
    ‘Could be.’ He clicked his fingers to the waiter. ‘Coffee? Irish whisky?’ She nodded. ‘Two coffees with Irish whisky, please.’
    She grinned. ‘A-ah! Now I’ve got it. You want to get me tight so you can challenge my astrological skills? Am I right, DI Farmer?’
    He frowned. ‘Yes - I would like your help in the astrological field if you’ll give it to me.’
    ‘And can I ask you a question now?’
    ‘You can...’
    ‘ Am I right in thinking then that all three victims were wearing similar pendants? With the same sign of Cancer the crab, right?’
    He pursed his lips and said, ‘Right.’
    ‘So - tell me exactly how things were with Jude Van Hoet when she was found? I only know that she was killed in the Orchid Club - was she damaged and hurt as badly as Linda?’
    He f rowned and said, ‘Much worse. That’s all you and the public need to know for the moment.’ He saw the sceptical look flash into her brown eyes. ‘Okay, all I can tell you now is that she was found cut up in the shower cabinet with the water left running over her.’ He held his cup tightly in his fist. ‘It was a good imitation of Jack the Ripper at his worst - you can make your own mind up on that. But don’t quote this. I trust you don’t want to give your readers nightmares.’
    ‘My editor wouldn’t wear it for a start. And the latest one, the young girl? She was found in the park, wasn’t she? Was she dunked in