Chapter 16
Stephanie jumped back as if stung. She quickly looked around her. There were a few people milling around, but no one appeared to be taking any notice of her. She stood rooted to the spot, unsure what to do.
“Hey, Steph,” a voice called. Matt pulled his car over to the curb, and then jumped out, after seeing the distraught look on her face. “Are you ….” He broke off and stared at her smashed windscreen. “Steph, what happened?”
She shrugged, a sick feeling gripping her.
He beckoned to the bar manager, who was clearing tables in front of the pub. He came over and looked at the damage, horrified. He hurried away wordlessly to call the police. Michael appeared from somewhere and together they helped her pick up a few larger pieces of broken glass from around the car and sit them in a pile at the curb.
He leaned in the window and read the words on the brick, and turned, looking at Stephanie with one eyebrow raised. She glanced at Matt, who was checking under the car for any glass, and shook her head at Michael, silently asking him not to say anything.
Flashing lights signalled the arrival of a police car.
“What’s happened here?” the constable asked, stepping out and putting his hat on.
He looked into Stephanie’s car and carefully opened the door. More glass tinkled to the ground. He lifted the brick out, reading the words as he did.
“What happened to your aunt, Miss?” he asked.
“Stephanie,” she corrected. “I think it means my great-aunt – she was killed in a car accident many years ago, although there’s some debate about whether it was an accident or not,” she said.
A crowd had now gathered, attracted by the flashing lights of the police car. She saw James push through and glare at her as he overheard the conversation. She looked away. What was he still doing here? Rehearsal had finished an hour ago. This was undoubtedly the work of his family. They all seemed to think she looked like her aunt. A sudden thought hit her; maybe he had done it – he would have had time, wouldn’t he? She shivered uncomfortably, fingers of fear crawling up her back.
She glanced nervously in his direction, and watched as he turned and walked away.
“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” the police officer asked.
Stephanie shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. I am trying so hard to fit in here, I don’t need this, she thought miserably.
The police officer made a phone call and arranged to have Stephanie’s car taken to the local garage to have the windscreen repaired. He gave Michael a broom and dustpan from the boot of the police car and instructed him to sweep up the remaining broken glass while he bagged the brick as evidence.
“This is probably just a prank, albeit a nasty one,” he said quietly. “But I will of course make note of it and if you think of anything else, call me.” He handed her a business card with the local police station’s contact details. “Now, Stephanie, would you like a lift home or is there someone who can drive you?”
“I will,” said Matthew taking her bag. “I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to the cop – is this something to do with Knox?” he asked. Michael glanced sharply at Stephanie.
“I don’t know, Matt,” she answered simply.
“Leave it with me,” he muttered starting his car.
Stephanie sat looking out the window as Matt drove her home. Why would someone send me a warning like that? she wondered. Maybe it was James. Maybe he does know that I am still looking into what happened back then and decided that since his verbal warnings weren’t enough to stop me, he would try to frighten me. He would have had time too; he was at the pub all day. She shuddered at the thought. She was beginning to think that James Knox wasn’t all he appeared to be on the surface.
Later that evening, Stephanie opened the bulging file on her desk and sorted through to find the newspaper report of her aunt’s accident. There were a couple of grainy, yellowing photos of the accident site that she’d printed from an old newspaper on the internet. There was no suggestion in the article that it had been anything other than an unfortunate accident. Stephanie looked hard at the photos. The passenger side of the car was all bashed in, although the newspaper said it was the driver’s side that hit the tree. Still, maybe the car had rolled. The news report didn’t say. It was too long ago to make any sense of the limited information there was. What a shame Sophie’s brother David hadn’t left any notes on his investigation.
Stephanie started reviewing the websites that Michael had identified, focussing on the ones that had any reference to van Gogh. Some were fascinating reading, others just drew blanks. None shed any further light on the Knoxes’ painting.
Frustrated, she settled down on the sofa with her laptop and her iPod – might be a good time to download some new tunes. Despite her determination that she had moved on, it still hurt every time she listened to The Fury, so best delete them.
She had just hooked up to iTunes when her mobile phone rang. She picked it up and saw from the caller ID that it was her friend Anna.
“Hi, Steph. Are you okay? I hear that you had a little car trouble today,” Anna said.
“Who have you been talking to?” Stephanie replied, surprised.
“Facebook,” Anna said.
Stephanie groaned.
“Who did it?” Anna asked.
“I’m not really sure, but I think it’s part of a much larger story,” Stephanie replied.
“Really? Why don’t you come up here for a few days and you can tell me all about it then? Please? You haven’t been back to London since you arrived. What’s keeping you in the country? Is it that hot guitarist?” Anna teased.
“Huh, that arrogant bastard,” Stephanie said.
“Stephanie Cooper! That’s so not like you. What’s going on?” Anna asked, surprised.
“Like I said, long story. Tell you what, I’d love to come and stay for the weekend,” Stephanie said, making an immediate decision. They arranged that she would catch the train up to London the next morning.
She had just clicked her mobile phone off when it chimed with a text from Sam. He’d obviously been on Facebook, too.
You ok?
I’m fine
Wanna get away for the weekend?
No thx. Got plans.
See you soon?
Sure, Stephanie keyed the text and closed her phone, throwing it on the sofa beside her. She rubbed her temples. A weekend with Anna, away from car trouble, boy trouble and mysterious paintings is just what I need.