Page 99 of A Change of Location
“No. And no.” She sampled her wine.
The girl arrived with her salad and his soup. “It’s hot,” she warned Alistair. “Have a care.”
He left his spoon on the table and fumbled in his jacket pocket. “I had an ulterior motive when I invited you to dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Tell me what it is, and we’ll find out.”
He placed an object in front of her. “Two days ago, this was taken from Stanwell House.”
Hannah stared at a portrait miniature approximately the size of her palm, of a lady in Georgian dress. The red gems surrounding its gold frame glistened in the candlelight. “Taken,” she repeated. “You mean stolen.”
“Tragically, yes. Found on a crew member. During a pat down.”
“Logan. Your intern.”
“Ex-intern. How’d you guess?”
“He shamelessly pilfered a prop apple and ate it. Right in front of me. He didn’t ask permission.” She pierced an arugula leaf with her fork. “Was he vetted? Did he receive a recommendation from his university film program?”
“My assistant made the referral. Logan told her he’d completed a video production course at Bridgewater.” He placed his finger over the elegant lady’s painted face. “You’d best soon return it to your friend Latimer, or Milverston, or whatever he calls himself. Discreetly. Apologize. Assure him our unit manager and I will beef up security. Tell him nothing like this will ever happen again. We need him to keep quiet about it. Can’t have any adverse publicity.”
He’d pushed her out of her dream job. Now was asking her to tidy up a mess that he should’ve prevented.
And she would—she had to. Not only out of loyalty to Liz, or to preserve the good reputation of Acorn Films. But because she was the one person on the production familiar with the way Martin received really bad news. Not that she’d be capable of soothing his outrage when he learned a family treasure had been purloined.
Gingerly she picked it up and thrust it into her bag. “Conceal this travesty from Owen and Nigel, if you feel you must. But I’m telling Liz.”
Mrs. Gregorio had recently arrived from Boston to look after her granddaughter during Telma’s visit to family in Lisbon. Liz had often been absent from the set lately, temporarily giving domestic matters priority over professional ones.
Hannah abandoned her feeble effort to eat her salad, rendered tasteless by dismay. Pulling her napkin out of her lap, she dropped it on the tablecloth. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to Stanwell.”
Striding through the car park, she decided Poppy’s house would be her first stop. The estate manager had years of experience dealing with Martin and his responses to disappointments—or disasters. She would be a supportive, objective presence.
But as she drove by The Peacock, she noticed the Volvo parked in front. Making a sharp turn, she circled the village green and rolled up to the pub’s door.
As usual, the place was buzzing. Andy Riddell, behind the bar, was manning the taps.
“What’ll it be?” he asked.
“I’m looking for Poppy.”
“She went outside. Reckon she wanted to sneak a smoke.”
Hannah barged between the tables, barely acknowledging members of the film crew on her way to the terrace. The floodlight wasn’t turned on and the tables were empty, their umbrellas tightly closed. She heard soft voices over by the stand of trees. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out two figures.
A brown head with dangling ponytail was fused to another head. Two bodies, entwined. Two people, kissing. Poppy and Jack.
Rejoicing at evidence that her friend’s crush on the pub’s proprietor was reciprocated, she hurried inside. Passing through the room as quickly as before, she returned to her car.
At the crossroads, she swerved onto Home Farm Lane. Halfway to her destination, she noticed flashing blue lights in her rearview mirror.
Chapter 30
Hannah eased into a lay-by. She told herself to stay calm, as if that were possible while a policeman approached her car.
He tapped the window.
Her hand jerked towards the control panel. She lowered the glass. “Hello.”
