“I suppose so,” said Jane Halliwell. She sounded doubtful, almost scornful.
“I’ve brought Ms Halliwell to look through the rooms in the house to see if she can notice any missing items, or any new ones, since she was last here. Will we be in your way if she comes in here next? And should we be wearing white suits? I’m sorry – I thought you’d probably be finished inside the house now. When I talked with Jo yesterday she said that she’d started on the garden.”
“Yes, she has, and I’ll be joining her shortly. I just wanted to give this room one last going over, because it is so clut . . .” – Patti looked at Jane Halliwell – “because there is so much in here that I wanted to be sure that I hadn’t missed anything. I’ve nearly finished – if you could just give me another ten minutes that would be great. And no, you don’t need to wear suits now. As I’ve said, there’s virtually nothing left to do here.”
“Of course I am happy to wait,” said Jane Halliwell. She turned to Tim. “If the forensic search of the house is more or less complete, does that mean that I can return home?”
“Not yet, unfortunately,” said Tim. “We shall need to wait for the analysis of the SOCO team’s work first. If we find evidence that one of the rooms in the house may indeed be a crime scene we may have to preserve it as it is, in the hope that the criminal will be apprehended and brought to trial. In such a case the trial judge may wish to bring the jury to visit it.”
“I see,” said Jane crisply. “But it could take years to apprehend the criminal – or they might never be caught. Would that mean that I could never come home?”
Tim smiled.
“I see that you are somewhat sceptical of police capabilities,” he said. “But the answer is no. We may preserve the cottage as a possible crime scene for a reasonable time, but not indefinitely. And Patti’s work may yield nothing further, though there is still the bloodstain to explain. Despite it, we are still hoping, like you, that Dame Claudia may return safely – though it would be misleading of me to deny that the likelihood of that diminishes with every day that passes. If she is safely found, of course you may return here immediately. If she isn’t, I can’t give you an answer at present.”
Jane Halliwell nodded with a resigned air. She’s forgotten to look sad, Tim thought.
“In that case, may I take some clothes with me when I leave? As I think I’ve explained, I have very little with me at the hotel that is suitable.”
Tim looked at Patti.
“I don’t see why not,” she said. She smiled at Jane. “Your room has been dusted for prints and I can’t find anyone’s there except your own, nor any evidence of anyone else’s having been in there except you – not even Dame Claudia. You should be able to take away what you need now.”
“Thank you,” said Jane. “Perhaps I might do that immediately, while I am waiting for you to finish here?”
Tim nodded. Jane left the room with some alacrity. Her footsteps could be heard mounting the polished wooden stairs. Tim would have liked to see her reaction as she passed the bloodstain again but not much of the hall was visible from where he was standing.
Patti replaced her glove, wiggling her fingers until it became a second skin. She waited until Jane Halliwell could be heard moving about in the room immediately above them and pushed to the door of the sitting-room. She moved closer to Tim and whispered, “I don’t trust her.”
“Neither do I,” Tim whispered back. He was rather pleased by the naturalness of this gesture, Patti’s professional interest in Jane apparently having dispelled her customary awkwardness. “What makes you say it, though?”
“Just a hunch,” said Patti. “She doesn’t seem worried enough, somehow.”
“Have you found a tape-recorder in here? I understand that Dame Claudia sometimes uses one when she is working, but I don’t recollect having seen one when I was here before.”
“No,” said Patti. “No, I’m sure there isn’t one here now. We’d certainly have found it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tim escorted Jane Halliwell back to the Welland Manor Hotel in time for her to keep the hair appointment which she had told him about.
“Thank you,” she said as she got out of the car. Tim had read somewhere that society women were trained at finishing schools to swivel themselves round on their buttocks when emerging from a car, in order to be able to stand up elegantly and to allow their skirts to fall immediately into place. Whether or not this was true, it was certainly a talent that Jane Halliwell had perfected. Tim remained in the driver’s seat for a minute and then realised that she was waiting for something.
“May I have my bag?”
“Oh, of course,” he said. “I was forgetting.” Jane had packed a large leather holdall while he had been talking to Patti. “Let me help you with it.”
“There’s really no need,” she said in her gracious voice. “I can easily run for the hotel porter.”
“I’ll carry it to the reception area for you,” said Tim levelly. “The porter can take over from there.” Of course she had intended that he should do this. Not for the first time he found her disingenuousness irksome.
The bag was heavy. She must have stuffed it very full of clothes. He wondered what she had put in it. It had crossed his mind at the time to ask Jo or Patti to accompany her when she was packing it, but he knew that she would certainly have objected to this and it was important to keep her on side, at least for the moment. Patti had searched her room thoroughly before her visit and said that it contained nothing but clothes and books. If there had been something incriminating in the bag, only she would have understood its significance. But I’m being absurd, thought Tim. There is no reason to think that she was implicated in Dame Claudia’s disappearance. She hadn’t even been in the country at the time. She had a cast iron alibi. Maybe that had been the whole point of the Norwegian excursion?
“You’re looking very disapproving, Chief Inspector,” said Jane lightly. “I suppose you think it is frivolous of me to want to have my hair done at such a time. But the fact is I’ve been brought up to take care of my appearance and I’m certain that the newspapers are going to catch up with me sooner or later. I don’t want to be photographed looking like a fishwife. Oh, you needn’t worry – I won’t tell them anything that you don’t want me to. Besides,” she added in a lower voice, “even if it is frivolous, it’s a diversion. It helps to take my mind off all of this.” Tim thought he saw her lip tremble.
Despite the play for sympathy, he took his leave of her rather brusquely.
“I’ll leave the bag here,” he said, as they reached the hotel entrance. “Thank you for coming to the cottage today. I know that it must have been difficult for you. I realise you didn’t think anything was missing or out of place, but something may come to you later. If it does, please get in touch. You have my card?”
She nodded.
“Goodbye, then. Of course, we’ll let you know if there are new developments or if it is decided that you can return home.”
Jane Halliwell nodded again and disappeared into the hotel, leaving the bag outside the door. Tim turned to see the porter emerge to retrieve it as he walked back to his car.
Tim looked at his watch. It was not quite four-thirty. It had been his intention to go back to the office to see if Juliet had made any progress, but he realised that, unless she’d had a breakthrough, she would have left for the day by the time he arrived. He sat in the car and called her number.
“Juliet? It’s me. I’m at Welland Manor. I’ve just dropped Jane Halliwell off. What? No, no help at all. I’m calling because I wanted to know if you’d got anything more out of Forensics. Tomorrow? Are you absolutely certain about that? Well, I’d hoped for something today, but I suppose we’ll just have to wait. What about the ferry company? Tomorrow as well? OK, well, thank you. And well done,” he added, belatedly aware that Juliet would blame hersel
f for disappointing him.
“There is one other thing, sir.”
“Oh?” She could hear Tim sounding hopeful.
“It’s nothing to do with the case. In fact, it’s personal to you, sir, so if you think it’s none of my business, just stop me. It’s about your wife.”
“Katrin? Has she been in touch with you?”
“Not intentionally. She called you shortly after you left. She seemed very upset about something. I suggested that she left a message on your mobile, but of course you will know whether she did or not.”
“I haven’t checked it for messages,” Tim said. “I’ll do it now.”
He rang off, leaving Juliet uncertain whether or not he was grateful for her interference. He dialled 1 for his mobile voicemail service. There were no messages. He speed-dialled Katrin’s mobile number, then thought better of hitting the green button. He needed to see her. Whatever it was that was upsetting her it had been going on for too long now. He decided to go home and make her talk to him about it. If he drove straight there now he and she would probably arrive more or less together.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After Edmund drove her home from their assignation in Scotland Alex did not see him again for almost a week. She did not try to contact him, partly because she had yet to make the first move in their new relationship, but mainly because she was embarrassed about the night that they had spent together. In retrospect, she did not feel that it had been the modest success that she had at first believed and she suspected that Edmund took a similar view. He had not asked when he could see her again as they parted – though admittedly this was probably because he had insisted on walking her to the outside gate of her flat after she had told him of her fright the last time he had dropped her there; as soon as she had inserted her key in the lock, the external light was switched on and Tom had appeared at the top of the stairs. Edmund had given her a chaste kiss on the cheek and departed precipitately.
Tom ran down the steps to take her case. He kissed her briefly on the lips.
“Was that Edmund?” he asked off-handedly. “He didn’t hang about, did he?”
“He wants to get back to his wife. She’s been depressed – it’s something she suffers from every so often, apparently.”
“I’m not surprised. It must be tedious, being married to him. Poor woman.”
Alex didn’t reply. She couldn’t decide whether Tom was behaving strangely or not. Tom didn’t know Edmund very well; he had no reason to dislike him, nor could she recall that he had shown any antipathy for him in the past. She prayed that Tom had not become suspicious of their relationship.
“How’s work?” she asked, as soon as they reached the kitchen. “Has any more happened in that child drugs case that you told me about?”
Tom brightened visibly.
“It’s funny you should mention that, because, as a matter of fact, I have been working on it again today. I think I told you that the police and my colleagues and I failed to get much more sense out of Thobias Padgett. It was decided to take him to a safe place until more evidence could be gathered about the drugs gang. He’s staying at Herrick Old House for a while. Apparently, he’s doing well there. It just demonstrates to me what a bad influence the older brother, LeRoy, has been on him. Marlene Padgett herself says that she has no control over LeRoy. But she may have more in future, because LeRoy was found badly beaten up in the graveyard of St Mary’s church at Surfleet yesterday. He’s been taken to hospital and a police guard put on his ward. If I was spooked by how frightened Thobias was, his reaction was minor compared to how scared LeRoy is. One thing’s for sure, he’s not going to say who hit him. He’s almost out of his mind with fear. He’s been heavily sedated and I’ve been advised that he’ll be prescribed Xanax when he wakes up. But I’ve never seen anyone so disturbed. I think he may be permanently damaged mentally.”
“Poor child,” said Alex automatically, half her mind elsewhere. “Will he come under your care?”
“Probably not. The Padgett family as a whole has been assigned to me, but LeRoy will need specialist care. He’ll probably be put on probation, too. Eventually he may have to stand trial. I don’t know. As I’ve said, he may not be up to it mentally.”
Inwardly, Alex felt a huge surge of relief. Those first few minutes had been dangerous, but she had succeeded in diverting Tom’s attention elsewhere.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” she said. “I seem to have been awake forever.”
“You go up. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve locked the door.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next few days passed tranquilly enough. Alex spent most of her time beginning to consider exhibits for the series of open days that would be held at the Archaeological Society the following summer. It was the Friday afternoon of the week following the conference in Scotland and she was just thinking of tidying her desk and going home when the outside buzzer rang. She turned on the intercom.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Alex, I hoped you’d still be there. Can you let me in? I’ve got some good news.”
Feeling apprehensive about the nature of Edmund’s ‘good news’, Alex pressed the button that released the door-catch. Edmund was with her in a moment. He kissed her hairline quickly, but it was evident that further pursuit of their romance was not uppermost in his thoughts. He sat heavily in the Victorian studded-leather captain’s chair that faced her desk, the twin of the one in which she herself was seated.
“I’ve just come from the trustees’ meeting,” he said.
“Oh,” said Alex. She had forgotten about the trustees’ meeting or, to be more accurate, she had blotted it from her memory. The trustees of the Archaeological Society met three times a year. She attended two of the meetings, but not this one. Ostensibly, one meeting was held without her annually so that matters relating to her salary and performance could be discussed freely, but the fact that the trustees still chose to keep up this tradition after she had been several years in the post made her feel both vulnerable and resentful. She was certain that they used the meetings to criticise, probably at length, and she knew them to be such a crabbed bunch, with such arcane prejudices and priorities, that she would probably want to hand in her notice if she were privy to some of the notions that they chewed over when she was not there to defend herself.
“Was it a useful meeting?” She eyed Edmund warily.
“Very useful.” He chuckled. “You don’t need to look like that. I know you’re paranoid about what we might say behind your back, but all the comments about you were very complimentary. And what was said about me, too, as it happens.” He preened a little. “That’s why I’ve come.”
“Go on. I’m all ears.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you. I told them about your idea – the business idea, I mean. And they agreed to it. For both of us.”
“That’s wonderful news!” said Alex. She got up and came round the desk to give him a swift embrace. Inwardly, she was already dreading the prospect of telling Tom. “But how soon can we take it on? I’ve started work on planning the summer opening programme now. And you must be planning all the heritage activities for next year yourself. I can’t see that we will be able to resign until next autumn now.”
“That’s all taken care of, too,” said Edmund triumphantly. “They’ve agreed that you can spend up to one day per week of your salaried time on it and as much time as you like during evenings and weekends. I doubt that the council will want to release me in the same way, as there won’t be anything in it for them, but the Archaeological Society is also happy for me to contribute as much as I can at evenings and weekends.”
“I’m not sure that I understand,” said Alex slowly. “The idea was to set up a business that would generate enough profit to pay us. I wanted to use the Archaeological Society as a first customer, perhaps offering them a discount, but
not to provide the service free. And what do you mean by ‘there won’t be anything in it’ for the council? What will there be in it for the Archaeological Society – besides getting the benefit of work done in our personal leisure time free of charge?”
She stopped talking until Edmund would meet her eyes and she saw that he finally did so with difficulty. She also saw that he was about to bluster. She sighed.
“Oh, Edmund,” she said. “What have you let us in for?”
“I haven’t ‘let us in’ for anything that you don’t want to do,” he said crossly. “You haven’t given me time to explain properly. As I said, the trustees were very complimentary about you and they made it clear that they don’t wish to lose you. What they’re offering is actually quite generous: they are prepared to pay you for one day a week to pursue this idea of yours. Naturally they expect a bit of a quid pro quo . . .”
“Which is?” Alex interrupted. Edmund cleared his throat.
“They’d like a stake in the business, if it’s successful. In fact, they’d like to become its major shareholder – allowing you and me some shares, as well, of course. Then, if the proposition can be translated to other societies and museums, they’d like you to continue to run it as a business but also to continue your work here, with an assistant secretary to help you.”
“But that isn’t what I meant to happen at all, and certainly not what we agreed!” exclaimed Alex, dismayed. “Effectively speaking, it means I’ll just carry on being an employee, presumably with a bigger salary and also a dividend from the new business, but an employee nevertheless. It isn’t what I want to do!”
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