SEVENTY-NINE

12.30 P.M.

‘Should we be concerned, do you think?’ Stacey asked, after relaying the boss’s intentions and waiting for the list from Fred.

‘Would we be concerned on any other day if Frost wasn’t answering her phone?’

Penn had a point. They wouldn’t even know. And yet.

‘He did make it clear that we were to follow his instructions, or someone would get hurt,’ Stacey said. That did sound like a threat.

Penn sighed. ‘Personally, I think that was a scare tactic. The whole thing made the national news, so her work was done.’

‘Numbers are still growing on the website,’ Stacey argued.

The Jester had posted the clue to the obelisk at one minute past twelve, and Stacey was ashamed to admit that many people had solved it within minutes, a damn sight quicker than they had.

And it was the next clue that Penn was working on right now, while she focussed on following where this partial registration number took her.

‘Hey,’ Penn said with a devilish wink. ‘Imagine if the boss broke in and found Frost taking a nice long soak in the bath.’

Despite the pressure they were under, Stacey laughed. She suspected the boss and the reporter would never view each other the same way again.

While she waited for the names and registration numbers from Fred, she put in a search for Steve Ashworth.

‘Any idea what’s going on with the boss and this guy from Sunrise News?’

‘Is he a suspect?’ Penn asked, raising his head.

‘Don’t think so, but he’s hanging around a bit.’

‘Why? Everyone else has moved on to bigger stories.’

‘Hmm…’ she said, scrolling through some of the top articles attached to his name. ‘Ahh, he’s a muck-raker by the looks of it.’

‘Stace,’ Penn said in his ‘leave me alone’ voice.

Stacey could take a hint and read on in silence. His bio said he’d risen through the ranks from nothing. He’d worked all the local rags around the Stoke-on-Trent area before writing articles for the Daily Mail. From there, he’d advanced to Sunrise News as a local correspondent. She could already see a pattern in his reporting and it wasn’t a pleasure to read.

Her email tinged a new message, and she was pleased to see it was from Fred. She minimised the search tab on Steve Ashworth, knowing the boss would expect the number plates to take priority.

‘Aha,’ she said, opening the email up.

The list he’d sent didn’t have make or model, just registration numbers.

She was looking for something that ended TYL.

Her gaze immediately went halfway down the page where those very initials were staring right back at her.

‘Hey, Penn, what did you find out about the litter-picker Peter Harris?’

Penn flicked to his list. ‘He was the one I highlighted for serious assault.’

Stacey felt a stir of excitement. ‘Can you pass me everything you’ve got?’