A finer end - Deborah Crombie [74]
“No. I just assumed she’d stay here for the time being. She certainly has no business being on her own.”
“She’ll need some of her things, then.” He pushed his chair back from the table with an air of relief. “I’ll just nip up to the farmhouse—”
“No,” Gemma interrupted. “I’ll go. Faith will want to see you if she wakes, and I could use the exercise. Just give me directions.” She didn’t mention that the place would be crawling with police by now, and she could at least plead official status. Besides, she had to admit she was increasingly curious about Garnet Todd.
“Okay,” Nick said at last, and gave her terse directions. Glancing critically at her shoes, he warned, “It’s a good climb, though.”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she answered, amused. Her new shoes had a bit higher heel than she usually wore on the job, but her feet were veterans of abuse. As she gathered up her handbag and jacket, she remembered the promise she’d made to Faith. “The café where Faith works—is it near here?”
“Halfway up the lane to Garnet’s farm. You can’t miss it.”
At the door, Gemma turned and made a last entreaty to Nick. “You will try to convince Faith about the doctor, won’t you?”
He snorted. “Trying to get Faith to do something she’s made up her mind against is like trying to move the damn Tor. I don’t know how Garnet managed to make her so biddable.”
“Hypnotism, maybe?” Gemma said lightly.
“Or something worse,” Nick muttered darkly, but when she raised an eyebrow, he shook his head and said, “Never mind.”
Gemma hadn’t realized how much the atmosphere of Jack’s house oppressed her until she was outside it. Most of the houses along the way were massively Victorian, like Jack’s, but a good many showed obvious signs of modernization and redecorating. Odd that Jack’s mother had done so little to make the place more livable.
On the right, the slope of the Tor rose from the back gardens, while beyond the houses on the left side of the road, the land dropped steeply away to a flat, level plain.
Soon she came to the sharp turn Nick had indicated and began the climb up Wellhouse Lane. Immediately, she saw the bough-entwined entrance of the footpath that led to the Tor’s summit. She found the prospect strangely tempting, in spite of the uneasiness the hill engendered in her, but she resolved to put off the climb until another time.
A bit winded by the time she reached the Dream Café, Gemma paused to examine the charm-and-ribbon-bedecked tree in its courtyard. It occurred to her that Winnie had come to the café on her bike, perhaps leaning the bicycle on that very tree.
The interior of the café was dim and damp. Van Morrison’s Moondance played on the cheap sound system, and a few customers sat eating at wooden tables. Beyond them, a lanky man with a graying ponytail worked in a small kitchen behind a serving area.
“Are you Buddy?” Gemma asked, reaching the counter.
“One and the same.” His smile was friendly, his accent vaguely American. “What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Gemma. I’m a friend of Jack Montfort’s, visiting from London—”
“Is it Winnie? Not—”
“No, Winnie’s condition hasn’t changed. Faith asked me to come see you; she’s staying at Jack’s.”
Buddy looked relieved. “I didn’t know, when she didn’t show up for work this morning. I thought the baby …” Then his brow creased as he sorted out the implications. “Why isn’t Faith with Garnet? Is Faith all right?”
“Faith is fine. It’s Garnet. I’m very sorry to say she’s dead.”
“Dead?” Buddy stared at her. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Gemma repeated gently. “I know you were friends.”
“But—she can’t be dead! Not Garnet! There must be some mistake.”
“Faith got worried when Garnet didn’t come home last night. She went to Jack, who called the police. They found her in her van this morning.”
“In her van? But … I don’t understand.” He seemed lost, the cheerful bonhomie extinguished. “Was there an accident? Was she ill?”
“No one knows for certain, yet. But Faith wanted me to tell you.”
“Faith …” Buddy seemed to focus on Gemma with difficulty. “Who’s going to look after Faith