Page 209 of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

‘Oh.’ He stopped when he saw Pip. ‘I’m just on my way out. I . . . who are you?’

He stared at her with narrowed eyes, his lower jaw jutted out, and Pip felt goosebumps crawling down her neck. It was cold in here.

‘I’m here to see Becca,’ she said.

‘Oh, right.’ He smiled without showing his teeth. ‘Everyone’s working in the back room today. Heating’s busted at the front. That way.’ He pointed at the door he’d come through.

‘Thank you,’ she said, but Stanley wasn’t listening. He was already halfway out of the front door. It banged shut, drowning out the ‘ooo’in her thanks.

Pip walked over to the far door and pushed through it. A short corridor opened up into a larger room, with four paper-laden desks pushed against each wall. There were three women in here, each typing away at the computers on their desks, jointly creating a pitter-patter song that filled the room. None of them had noticed her over the sound of it.

Pip walked towards Becca Bell, her short blonde hair scraped back in a stubby ponytail, and cleared her throat.

‘Hi, Becca,’ she said.

Becca spun around in her chair and the other two women looked up. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s you that’s here to see me? Shouldn’t you be at school?’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s half-term,’ Pip said, shifting nervously under Becca’s gaze, thinking of how close she and Ravi had been to getting caught by her in the Bell house. Pip looked instead over Becca’s shoulder, at the computer screen full of typed words.

Becca’s eyes followed hers and she turned back to minimize the document.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘it’s the first piece I’m writing for the newspaper and my first draft is absolutely awful. My eyes only,’ she smiled.

‘What’s it about?’ Pip asked.

‘Oh, um, it’s just about this old farmhouse that’s been uninhabited for eleven years now, just off the Kilton end of Sycamore Road. They can’t seem to sell it.’ She looked up at Pip. ‘A few of the neighbours are thinking about pitching in to buy it, trying to apply for change of use and doing it up as a pub. I’m writing about why that’s a terrible idea.’

One of the women across the room cut in: ‘My brother lives near there and he doesn’t think it’s such a terrible idea. Beer on tap just down the road. He’s ecstatic.’ She gave a hacking foghorn laugh, looking to her other colleague to join in.

Becca shrugged, glancing down at her hands as she picked at the sleeve of her jumper. ‘I just think the place deserves to be a home for a family again one day,’ she said. ‘My dad almost bought and restored it years ago, before everything happened. He changed his mind, in the end, but I’ve always wondered what things would be like if he hadn’t.’

The other two keyboards fell silent.

‘Oh, Becca, sweetheart,’ the woman said, ‘I had no idea that was the reason. Well, I feel terrible now.’ She slapped her forehead. ‘I’ll do the tea rounds for the rest of the day.’

‘No, don’t worry.’ Becca gave her a small smile.

The other two women turned back to their computers.

‘Pippa, isn’t it?’ Becca spoke quietly. ‘What can I help you with? If it’s about what we discussed before, you know I don’t want to be involved.’

‘Trust me, Becca,’ Pip said, her voice dipping into whispers. ‘This is important. Really important. Please.’

Becca’s wide blue eyes stared up at hers for a few lingering moments.

‘Fine.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go out to the front room.’

The room felt colder the second time around. Becca took a seat on the nearest sofa and crossed her legs. Pip sat at the other end and turned to face her.

‘Um . . . so . . .’ She tapered off, not quite sure how to phrase it, nor how much she should tell her. She stalled, staring into Becca’s Andie-like face.

‘What is it?’ Becca said.

Pip found her voice. ‘So, while researching, I found out that Andie might have been dealing drugs and selling at calamity parties.’

Becca’s neat brows drew down to her eyes as she cast a distrustful look at Pip. ‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s no way.’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve confirmed it with multiple sources,’ Pip said.