Betrayal of Innocence (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 1)

“She is about five and a half feet tall, aged one and twenty, and has light brown hair.”

“But it is brown,” Justin prompted.

“Well, it is light brown it says here,” Weeks edged.

“But it is brown,” Justin repeated.

“Well, yes,” Weeks, replied weakly.

“Did she disappear the same week as Oscar?” Angus asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s it then,” Justin sighed.

Weeks nodded. “That’s it.”

The men absorbed the information for a moment. When nobody asked any more questions, Oliver slammed his notebook closed and looked at Justin.

“Thank you for that,” he murmured politely.

“What happens now?” Weeks asked, looking at each man in turn.

“We are going to need somewhere to stay,” Angus declared. “Do you think the tavern will be able to accommodate us?”

“You don’t need to stay at the tavern unless you think it would help the investigation. You are quite welcome to stay here. I don’t mind saying that the villagers will be wary of everyone and might keep an extra eye on you if you stay anywhere near the tavern. It would hinder your ability to move about at will without witnesses, if you know what I mean? Besides, at least here, you are making it clear you are connected to the magistrate and will be able to come and go without hindrance,” Weeks offered. “I have plenty of room.”

“I think it would be best if we stayed in the tavern, if only so we can listen in on some of the gossip going around but thank you anyway. It would help if we are able to get some of the locals talking, and to do that we have to be there. Our presence might put them at ease, especially when they realise we are just like them,” Oliver replied.

“I agree,” Angus growled.

Justin nodded. While the magistrate’s house was nice, it was a little too stuffy for his tastes. It was almost too highly polished and not busy enough for his peace of mind. Of course, he occasionally enjoyed rare moments of peace as much as the next man, but as far as he was concerned if a man was supposed to enjoy the deathly silence of the magistrate’s house then he might as well be in a box, six feet under.

“Well, if you are sure,” Weeks murmured hesitantly, a little put out that they hadn’t accepted his generosity.

“Please leave this investigation to us from now on. We will keep you updated, of course, but only when we have something worth reporting. If we don’t tell you anything it is because we don’t have anything to say,” Callum warned.

Justin nodded. “Also, don’t tell anybody who we are. The villagers will be curious for a day or two, but it will ease. We will keep our distance from them most of the time and will spend time in the tavern only when we need to. They can ask their questions of us directly.”

Weeks frowned because he felt himself being pushed out, as though his experience and knowledge was a mere triviality. When he opened his mouth to object, and looked at Justin, he caught the looks the man shared with his colleagues and felt even more of an outsider. The men seemed to be able to communicate with the briefest of twitches, and just a look here and there. It was most disturbing, and made Weeks feel more insignificant than ever.

Jasper pushed to his feet and stood beside Justin. “In the meantime, if you hear anything from the magistrate in Derbyshire, or anything else happens, just send for us. Someone will always be at the tavern in case you need our assistance.”

Weeks nodded but was prevented from replying by the all too familiar chiming of the ironwork on the front gate. With a jerk, he spun around and peered out of the window.

“Damn it,” he grunted when he saw a prim, all too familiar, young lady stalk almost regally toward his front door.

“Who is it?” Jasper asked, unable to see for himself from his position before the fire.

“Miss Clarkson. Do you want me to allow her in, or should I arrange to go and see her later?” Weeks asked making no attempt to move to the door.

Angus looked at the men in turn, who then all looked at Justin. Justin sighed because he knew then that he was honorary leader of this particular investigation. He wondered if his colleagues had timed their silent vote so he couldn’t argue, but now was not the time to ask.

“Fine,” he sighed, well aware of the smug looks that passed between his colleagues. Unfortunately, far too late to retract his words, he watched Weeks stalk to the door. It appeared that Weeks had taken his agreement as acceptance that he should allow Miss Clarkson in.

“This is your lead,” Oliver whispered, settling back with a somewhat smug air of satisfaction.

“Go into battle, my good friend,” Angus taunted with a grin.