“Shall I go on a sandwich run?” says Kate tentatively.
“Oh. Yeah.” I muster a smile. “Chicken and avocado please. Thanks so much.”
“No problem!” She bites her lip anxiously. “I hope you find it.”
As she leaves, I sink my head forward and rub my aching neck. I’ll just have to go back to the nursing home and ask more questions. There have to be more avenues to explore. There has to be an answer. It just doesn’t make sense. The necklace was there, around Sadie’s neck, and now it’s gone…
A thought suddenly strikes me. That visitor she had, Charles Reece. I never followed him up. I might as well tick every box. Fishing for my mobile, I find the number for the nursing home and wearily dial.
“Hello, Fairside Nursing Home,” answers a female voice.
“Hi! This is Lara Lington, Sadie Lancaster’s great-niece.”
“Oh, yes?”
“I was just wondering… can anyone tell me anything more about a visitor she had just before she died? A Charles Reece?”
“Just a moment.”
As I’m waiting, I get out the sketch of the necklace and study it as though for clues. I’ve looked at this picture so many times, I could practically draw each bead by heart. The more I’ve got to know it, the more beautiful it seems. I can’t bear it if Sadie never gets it back.
Maybe I should secretly have a copy made, I find myself thinking. An exact replica. I could get it distressed, tell Sadie it’s the original, she might just fall for it-
“Hello?” A cheerful voice rouses me from my thoughts. “Lara? It’s Sharon here, one of the nurses. I was with Sadie when Charles Reece visited; in fact, I signed him in. What do you want to know about him?”
I just want to know, has he got her necklace?
“Well… what exactly happened during his visit?”
“He sat with her for a bit, then he left. That’s it.”
“In her room?”
“Oh, yes,” she says at once. “Sadie didn’t really leave her room much in those last weeks.”
“Right. So… could he have taken a necklace from her?”
“Well, it’s possible.” She sounds doubtful.
It’s possible. That’s a start.
“Can you tell me what he was like? How old was he?”
“In his fifties or so, I’d say. Nice-looking chap.”
This gets more and more intriguing. Who on earth is he? Sadie’s boy toy?
“If he visits again or calls, could you let me know?” I scribble down Charles Reece-50s on my notepad. “And could you get his address?”
“I can try. Can’t promise.”
“Thanks.” I sigh, feeling a bit dispirited. How am I ever going to track this guy down? “And there’s nothing else you can tell me about him?” I add as a last-ditch attempt. “Nothing… distinctive? Nothing at all that you noticed?”
“Well.” She laughs. “It’s just funny, you being called Lington.”
“How come?” I stare at the phone, puzzled.
“Ginny says you’re not related to that Bill Lington off the coffee cups? Millionaire bloke?”
“Er… why do you ask?” I’m suddenly alert.
“Because that’s exactly who he looked like! I said it at the time, to the girls. Even though he had dark glasses on and a scarf, you could see it. He was the spitting image of Bill Lington.”
TWELVE
It makes no sense. None. It’s crazy, whichever way you look at it.
Was “Charles Reece” really Uncle Bill? But why would he visit Sadie? Why would he use a fake name? And why wouldn’t he mention it?
And as for the idea that he might have had anything to do with her necklace disappearing… I mean, hello? He’s a multimillionaire. Why would he need some old necklace?
I feel like banging my head against the window, to make all the pieces fall into place. But since at this very minute I’m sitting in a plushy chauffeur-driven limo provided by Uncle Bill, I probably won’t. Just to get this far has been a total hassle. I don’t want to jeopardize things.
I’ve never phoned up Uncle Bill in my life, so at first I wasn’t sure how to get in touch with him. (Obviously I couldn’t ask Mum and Dad, or they’d want to know why I needed to see Uncle Bill and why had I been visiting Sadie’s nursing home and what was I talking about, what necklace?) So I rang Lingtons head office, eventually persuaded someone that I was for real, got through to one of the assistants, and asked if I could make an appointment to see Uncle Bill.
It was as if I’d asked to see the president. Within the hour, about six assistants started sending me emails, coordinating a time, changing the time, changing the location, organizing a car, asking me to bring ID, telling me I couldn’t overrun my slot, asking what Lingtons beverage I’d prefer in the car…
All for a ten-minute meeting.
The car is pretty rock-star, I have to admit. It’s got two rows of seats facing each other and a TV, and a chilled strawberry smoothie was waiting for me, just like I asked for. I’d be more grateful, except that Dad once said Uncle Bill always sends cars for people so that the minute he’s had enough of them he can send them away again.
“William and Michael,” Sadie pipes up thoughtfully from the seat opposite. “I left everything to those boys in my will.”
“Oh, right.” I nod. “Yes, I think I heard that.”
“Well, I hope they were grateful. There must have been a fair amount.”