Free Guilty Pleasures by Judith Cutler Page A

he say what he wanted?’
    Griff pretended he was dozing.
    â€˜He did, didn’t he? It was that damned snuffbox, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜I’m afraid it was,’ he said in a small voice.
    â€˜And what did you say?’ I added, in an even smaller one. After all, it was my fault.
    â€˜That if it was valuable, you must have put it in the safe – I hoped that all the goodies in there would distract him. I said my hand was shaking too much to deal with the combination, and that he’d have to do it. Which is how he came to set off the alarm, because I forgot to tell him how to switch it off.’ He was trying to divert me, I knew he was. ‘So then he decided to make himself scarce. Do you think he’ll come back, sweet one?’
    If he was wearing make-up as clever as that, we might not recognize him if he did. ‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ I said brightly. ‘And I’ll find somewhere else to hide the snuffbox, just in case.’
    â€˜Such as where? Lina, my darling, I know what you’re thinking – that you could conceal it at Bossingham Hall, and no one would ever find it. But consider the old man. You’d never forgive yourself if he got beaten up.’
    It was a bit rich to refer to my father like that, when Griff was at least six years older. But he had a point.
    â€˜You’re not suggesting I ought to keep it until that bastard comes back with another disguise and then just hand it over without an argument?’
    â€˜We don’t need it, whatever it is. It’s just a piece of metal.’ When I said nothing, he sighed. ‘Oh, my love, I know you divvied it, and I never doubt your instincts, never. But I just wonder if in this case the game isn’t worth the candle. We’re not experts or collectors.’
    â€˜There must be someone, not just this Damian of yours, who could help. We can’t just sit around until he comes back.’
    â€˜But—’
    â€˜If someone wants it this badly it must have more than intrinsic value,’ I said, with a bit of a jut to my jaw, not least because he’d taught me the expression in the first place.
    â€˜In that case, you know what we have to do, don’t you? My angel, I know you don’t want to get in touch with him yourself, but that doesn’t stop me doing it. I want to entrust this to Morris.’
    â€˜Really, really, no. You promised me, remember! Morris’s marriage has got to stick. Got to. Leda deserves a proper father, not an absentee one.’ I scratched my head, desperately. ‘More to the point, what if it turned out to have dodgy provenance? It’d be a police case before you could blink. That’s why I wouldn’t ask Will or Freya to help.’
    â€˜So you need someone strong with the morality of the police but not absolute subservience to the law—’
    â€˜Not Robin. Definitely not. If anyone asked him, he’d blush and give the game away. Besides,’ I added, ‘I need him to get me access to the guy who donated the book, remember?’
    â€˜My poor dim memory informs me that it was the same man who donated the snuffbox. Very well, you don’t want to involve Robin as a guardian, but as your muscle. But if you have nothing to guard, what of all your enquiries then? I would click a dismissive thumb and finger if I could, sweet one. In fact, I’m going to put my foot down. That snuffbox has to leave the cottage. Preferably under the eye of the media, so our friend would know there was no point in coming back, but I suppose that’s too much to hope.’
    I allowed him to think I was too preoccupied with the traffic to respond. For some reason the pace had slowed to about five miles an hour.
    â€˜Bruce Farfrae,’ Griff said at last. ‘Thoroughly and lastingly married. You even chose his silver anniversary present, didn’t you? No longer in the police. Fingers in every art pie