The Fall Girl Read Online Free Page B

superstitious, but even she knew it was supposed to be bad luck to see one of those things on the loose.
    She began to trudge back up the stairs, her expression dubious. No: that thing she and Kinky had seen had been flesh and blood – she would stake her life on that.
    Two hours later, dressed in her usual combats, t-shirt and faded denim jacket, Lexy left the cabin with the chihuahua, both peering apprehensively out first. The mist was
clearing as quickly as it had arrived, blown away by a brisk sea breeze that Lexy was by now accustomed to, after three months of living on the east coast. She unlocked a rusting lime green Fiat
Panda parked in a lean-to next to the cabin.
    “Four Winds Cottage, Freshing Hill,” Lexy muttered, checking she had the key that Rowana had thrust at her the day before. Freshing Hill was only a couple of miles down the coast
– she’d checked it on the map. Probably take at least twenty minutes to drive there though, as she’d need to negotiate the network of little lanes through the farms and salt
marshes south of Clopwolde.
    Lexy checked her watch. There were a couple of things she needed to do first. She turned the ignition key a few times, waiting anxiously for the engine to fire. Depressingly aware that the car
was on its last legs, she drove into Clopwolde village centre, stopping off for a local newspaper. As usual, visitors cluttered the picturesque high street, and as usual, Lexy had to park on a
double-yellow.
    She rushed across to the newsagent’s, then, halfway in, she glimpsed something that chilled her to the marrow.
    It was a tastefully designed poster displayed in the shop window.
    CLOPWOLDE-ON-SEA ANTIQUES EXTRAVAGANZA!
    A WEEK OF ANTIQUES FOR EVERYONE!
    It explained the marquees.
    But it wasn’t the prospect of a week-long antiques fair that had filled Lexy with so much horror.
    No – it was the name of the resident host.
    GERARD WARWICK-HOLMES.
    Her estranged husband.
    Not good. And there was her thinking earlier that a genteel Suffolk coastal village would be one of the last places he’d look for her. Well, she obviously hadn’t reckoned on
Clopwolde having an annual Antiques Extravaganza, and inviting Gerard, of all C-list celebrities, to host it.
    And the worst of it was, whether he was working or not, Lexy’s husband would always be on the lookout for her. Went without saying. Not that he’d want her back or anything. Oh, no.
He’d just be missing the half-million quid she’d stolen from his safe three months ago.
    It was actually the second time that the cash had been stolen, as Gerard himself hadn’t exactly earned it by the legal sweat of his brow. However, it had been the last straw in a long line
of last straws as far as Lexy was concerned. She had made it her personal mission to ensure that every penny was used as its rightful owner intended, even though she and Kinky had nearly been wiped
out in the process.
    Lexy’s plan to hide out in Clopwolde and keep a low profile had been somewhat hampered when she became a suspect in a murder case on her second day in the area. But at least she’d
managed to avoid having her name splashed all over the newspapers.
    However, trying to escape notice by her abandoned husband when he was spending a week in a marquee bang opposite her rather eye-catching, elevated home might be a little more problematic.
    Ignoring an elderly woman who was trying to get out of the shop, Lexy checked the dates of the antiques jamboree. It was starting the following day. Christ, Gerard would probably be in Clopwolde
already.
    She shot a glance up and down the high street.
    “Looking for someone?”
    Lexy jumped violently and twisted around. A tall, grave-faced man in a dark suit stood behind her. Not for the first time she wondered why Detective Inspector Bernard Milo hadn’t pursued a
career in undertaking.
    “You have to do that?”
    “Do what?”
    “Creep up behind me.”
    “I’ve been standing here patiently for