Guilty Pleasures

‘Rob Holland said he left you in his bed at Winterfold at around 1.15 to go and look for Stephen Donahue. Tom Grand discovered the fire at around 1.30. Nobody appears to have seen you between 1.15 and 1.45.’

‘I was in bed. Look, where are you going with this?’ asked Emma, afraid of the accusatory tone in his voice.

Sheldon went to the telephone, made a call and within a minute an officer appeared holding a plastic evidence bag.

‘Have you ever seen this before?’ asked Sheldon putting on plastic gloves and pulling a black cashmere shawl out of it. ‘It was found fifty feet from the Stables.’

‘It’s mine.’

‘Can you explain what this petrol is doing here?’ he asked, pointing at a dark black smudge along one edge.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen the shawl since the party,’ she said trying to keep cool but her skin prickling with anxiety and fear. ‘What are you accusing me of here?’

Sheldon shrugged.

‘I don’t think I’d better say anything further until I speak to a solicitor,’ said Emma.

DI Sheldon put the shawl back into the plastic bag and took off his rubber gloves. ‘Under the circumstances I think that’s probably a good idea.’

They lay in Stella’s bed at the St Martin’s Lane Hotel; crumpled sheets were pushed back over their bare legs. Stella lay in the crook of Tom’s arm and traced her finger down the long scar down his neck.

‘I hope this isn’t just a thank you for sorting out the Walter Maier meeting,’ he said contentedly.

‘I hope you don’t think I’m just after another bad boy.’

He sat up with a look of alarm on his face.

‘Is that what you think?’

‘No.’ She thought about it for a moment. ‘Although it did worry me for a while. I think that’s why nothing happened sooner between us. I was protecting myself,’ she said, their nakedness making her honest.

‘I haven’t had a joint since Christmas. I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Not with you around.’

She stroked his head.

‘Everything was so shit for me last year, but you seem to make things so much better,’ he continued softly. ‘With a bit of luck, that fire and what happened to Cassandra will be the end of the run of bad luck.’

‘Things aren’t that bad, are they?’ she asked. She glanced at his scar. She’d asked about it once and he’d said something vague about a mugging.

‘If it wasn’t for you and my mum it would be worse.’

‘Your mum?’ said Stella.

He took a long breath before he spoke.

‘I’ve not wanted to tell you this, because I know you think I’m a bad boy, because you’ll judge me and I’m trying to change. I don’t want to make any more stupid fucking decisions in my life. But I have to tell you everything now because I want the slate to be clean. I don’t want you to find out through someone else and then hate me.’

Stella had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What could it be? Was it criminal?

‘Remember when I got mugged?’

She nodded slowly.

‘It wasn’t just someone random. I knew who it was. Well, I knew who ordered me to be beaten up.’

He paused and wiped his mouth nervously.

‘I ran up big debts when I had the bar in Ibiza last summer. My side of the business was fine, but it was a partnership. My partners couldn’t pay the debts. I couldn’t pay them either. I can’t sell my vintage cars because they’re in trust till I’m 30. I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I thought I could come back to England and it would all go away.’