Jill Westcott looks at him with what he thinks is barely concealed loathing. He realizes he feels much the same way about her. He turns away and makes his exit.
Ted is about to give up and approach the podium for his speech when he spots John Burnley deep in conversation withan attractive woman. He can tell from their body language, even from a distance, that they are flirting. At his brother’s memorial! He remembers his wife’s distress at the text before they left for the memorial and suddenly he wants nothing more than to confront John Burnley. He strides over to the pair, interrupting.
‘Excuse me,’ he says. ‘John, can I speak to you for a moment?’ He takes him away by the elbow into a private corner where no one can overhear.
‘What’s on your mind?’ John asks.
‘Are you sending us those texts?’ Ted asks, with an edge to his voice.
‘What texts?’ John says, raising his eyebrows, as if feigning ignorance.
He’s so good at it that Ted falters for a second. But he presses on. ‘You know what I’m talking about.’
‘No, I really don’t,’ John replies. And then he smiles that disarming smile that Ted finds so hard to read.
‘Stop it now, or I will go to the police.’
‘Oh dear,’ John says, cocking his head to one side. ‘Someone is sending you nasty texts? I wonder why?’ He says it with obvious pleasure.
Ted feels his face flush. He wants to punch this arrogant bastard right in the face, but he can’t do that here. ‘You tell me.’ He glares at his adversary.
‘Well, sorry to disappoint you, but it isn’t me,’ John says. He brushes past Ted to return to the woman he’d been speaking to earlier.
Ted watches after him, uncertain. He doesn’t know what tobelieve. He turns away and catches sight of his wife and Lara Donleavy with Ramirez and his blood turns a little colder.
His wife suggested that it might be Lara who is sending the texts. But would she text MURDERERS to Jill’s phone right before she had to come to this memorial? What kind of friend would do that? Now he watches them, Lara with her hand protectively on Jill’s arm, as she speaks to Ramirez. Ramirez, who questioned Lara and her husband weeks ago, suggested to them that it might have been murder, planted the idea in her mind. Would Lara send those texts? He doesn’t know her very well. But Jill does. And Jill thinks it’s possible.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JILL AND TEDreturn home in the afternoon. The memorial has exhausted them both. Jill notes that Ted seems quiet on the drive home. His speech had gone very well, she thought; just the right sentiments, just the right amount of pausing to fight tears. He was very convincing. She’d watched people, their lips quivering in sympathy with his grief.
It’s done. They have to move forward now with their lives. But the text this morning, and seeing Ramirez, have upset her. What can Ramirez possibly hope to gain by pestering them? Does he want to drive them to a confession by persecuting them? Well, that’s not going to happen. She wonders if Ramirez has been sending the texts.
She removes her heels in the foyer, hangs up her trench coat on the antique coat stand. Then she makes her way to the front room, where she collapses onto the sofa, her head thrown against its back, her stockinged feet up on the coffee table.
Ted follows her in and heads straight for the sideboard. He pours himself a hefty scotch. ‘Want one?’ he asks.
She does. ‘Yes, please.’
He hands her the drink, and she sits up to accept it. He drops down across from her into his leather chair. For a moment they don’t speak. Then Ted says, ‘I’m glad that’s over.’
‘Me too,’ she agrees.
‘I think it went well, all things considered.’
‘Your speech was excellent. Well done, Ted.’
‘You think it seemed sincere enough?’
‘Absolutely. People’s eyes were tearing up in sympathy. I saw them.’
He nods. ‘I’m quite pleased with myself.’
‘No one would ever guess how much you hated him,’ she says.
‘I should get an Oscar.’
She stares into her glass. ‘I’m worried about Ramirez.’