The Ten Commandments

by Anthea Fraser

  'And you're suggesting one of those opinions or courses of action might have threatened the killer?'

  'It's a possibility.'

  'That's a very interesting thought, Paul. Did you by any chance go one step further, and come up with what it might be?'

  Blake grinned. 'I'm afraid not. That's more your line – and the police's.'

  When Frederick remained silent, still staring down at the photograph, he asked, 'Is there anything else you'd like me to do?'

  'Not at the moment, thank you, but after tomorrow evening I'll start work in earnest. There's a slight problem, though; as you know, the first five cases corresponded with the breaking of the first five Commandments. But as we don't know the motive in the Philpott case, it follows that we don't know which broken Commandment lay behind it.'

  Paul closed his briefcase. 'After speaking to his widow, which would you plump for? Adultery?'

  'That, or coveting his neighbour's wife.' He thoughtfully tapped the photograph. 'I doubt whether either applied in Judd's case, though of course I could be wrong.'

  'Thou shalt not be stubborn and hold to thine own opinions?' Paul suggested, getting to his feet.

  'Go on with you! At least I don't need to worry about him for the book, thank God. And don't forget I leave myself a loophole: I'm willing to concede that about five per cent of murders don't fit my theory. His could be one of those.'

  'Good luck with the talk,' Paul said as he let himself out of the room,

  Frederick merely grunted and returned to his papers.

  'Oh – Gilly.'

  Not the most enthusiastic of welcomes, but nor had she expected one.

  'Hello, Alex. Any chance of a coffee?'

  'Of course. Come in.'

  Gillian followed her sister to the kitchen. 'Are the boys out?'

  'When are they not?'

  'Be thankful they don't need entertaining.' Gillian watched Alex as she prepared the coffee, noting the set of her shoulders, the way she held her head. Both indicated tension, but then she'd have guessed the purpose of the visit.

  She came back to the table with two steaming mugs and sat down opposite Gillian. 'I suppose you've come to lecture me,' she said.

  'No, to ask if there's any way I can help.'

  'Help me behave better than I did yesterday? I'm aware that I blotted my copybook.'

  'Alex, what is it? Surely you can tell me?'

  Her sister's outburst took her completely by surprise.

  'How can I tell you?' Alex flared. 'Big sister, who's always done everything right? Life's been pretty uncomplicated for you, hasn't it? You sailed through exams, came top of the class at art school, married the year's most eligible bachelor, and built up a successful career, which just happens to be doing what you most enjoy. And to crown it all, as is patently obvious, you and Hugh are as much in love as the day you married. Probably more so. But it doesn't always work out like that.'

  She fished for a handkerchief and angrily blew her nose.

  'Oh, Alex, love, you've nothing to be defensive about. You've also got a husband who loves you, and two super kids – you've gone one better than me there! As for a career, you know you love working at the bookshop – it's even tailored to school holidays.'

  Alex's face remained closed.

  Gillian went on gently, feeling her way. 'There's something wrong, though, isn't there? I thought perhaps if we could talk it over, we might –'

  'You,' Alex interrupted forcefully, 'are the last person I could talk to – or almost. No, don't look like that, I didn't mean – oh, what the hell.' She sat back in her chair and stared defiantly at her sister.

  'I'm having an affair with Patrick Knowles. There – that's shocked you, hasn't it?'

  Gillian gazed at her, eyes widening in disbelief. 'Oh, Alex, no!'

  'Oh, Gilly, yes!'

  'But – how? I thought you barely knew each other.'

  'It started at the Country Club. One New Year kiss, and my goose was cooked. I can't even say I fought against it, because I didn't. Patrick's the most exciting thing that's happened to me for years. But there's no need to look so stricken – we don't intend to hurt anyone. We're not planning to run away or get divorced or anything. No one need ever know.'

  'Sonia does already,' Gillian said flatly.

  'What?'

  'That there's someone else, I mean. And Roy's only too aware, from the way you've been behaving, that something's seriously wrong. If you think you can keep it quiet much longer, you're living in cloud-cuckoo-land.'

  Gillian shook her head despairingly. 'Oh, Alex, how could you? To Sonia, of all people? She really doesn't deserve this.'

  'Don't ask me to give him up, because I can't.'

  'That's nonsense, and you know it.'

  Alex smiled. 'You see, you have come to lecture me.'

  Gillian leant forward, taking one of her hands. 'Have you thought it through? It wouldn't be very pleasant being labelled The Other Woman, quite apart from the effect on Roy's career, and the boys having to face snide remarks at school.'

  'It's not as though we're celebrities, for God's sake. Who cares what the hell we do?'

  'Celebrities or not, the family's well-known in the town. Of course there'll be gossip. And just listen to yourself. You say you're not planning a divorce: analysed, that means you want to hold on to your marriage, while you continue to amuse yourself with Patrick. If you were really in love with him, that wouldn't be enough.'

  Alex said slowly, 'Who said anything about love?'

  Gillian drew a quavering breath. 'I see.'

  'Animal instincts, sister dear. Not so pure and not so simple, but pretty basic. We just can't keep our hands off each other.' She gave an involuntary shudder.

  'And you're prepared to risk everything for that?' Gillian asked incredulously. 'For something that, once the excitement wears off, will just fizzle out?'

  Alex leaned forward, her voice low and intense. 'Look, Gilly, I don't like this any more than you do. It's an uncomfortable feeling, you know, not being in control of things. I know we're behaving badly and people might get hurt. I keep telling myself it's got to stop, but then when he – when we –'

  'Forbidden fruits.'

  'That's it, I suppose. The guilt adds to the excitement. And things had been getting a bit stale with Roy. Since his promotion he's working longer hours and away overnight quite often. And when he is home, he falls asleep in his chair! All the sparkle seemed to have gone out of life. You must admit Patrick Knowles is a dangerous man to meet in those circumstances, specially when the attraction is mutual.'

  'Does he make a habit of it?' Gillian asked stiffly. 'Providing – sparkle – to jaded wives?'

  'Don't be vile – of course not. He's always avoided married women up to now, and he'd not had anyone since he met Sonia.'

  'Bully for him.'

  Alex pushed back her chair. 'It's a waste of time trying to explain.'

  Belatedly, Gillian remembered the purpose of her visit, to help rather than condemn. She was here, after all, as Alex's sister, not Sonia's friend.

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm not trying to judge you. I'm just asking you to take stock and decide if this is how you want your life to be.'

  'Not indefinitely, no.'

  ‘Lord, make me good, but not yet?'

  'Exactly,' Alex agreed, and had the grace to smile. 'Oh, Gilly, I'm sorry I shocked you. I don't like myself very much at the moment, and you forced me to admit it. You won't tell Hugh about this, will you?'

  'Not if you don't want me to. What about Roy? Do you still love him?'

  'Of course I do,' Alex said impatiently. 'That's not the point.'

  'I'd have thought it was very much the point.'

  'Then you haven't understood anything. Look, Roy's part of my life, my husband and the father of my children. I can't imagine life without him.'

  'You might have to,' Gillian said shortly.

  'How do you mean?'

  'What do you think he'll d
o, if – when – he finds out? Let you continue your fling with Patrick till you tire of it, then welcome you back with open arms? I shouldn't count on it.'

  Alex said – but with less certainty – 'He's not going to find out.'

  'The longer the affair continues, the more likely it is.'

  'That's blackmail!'

  'No, just common sense. And you're all coming to dinner on Thursday, don't forget.'

  'Perhaps we'd better drop out, in the circumstances.'

  'Oh, no. I want you to see for yourself the state Sonia's in – but for God's sake don't wear your Chanel perfume.'

  Alex stared at her, stricken. 'Is that how-?'

  'One of the things. Look, Alex, I'm not trying to lecture you; all I'm asking is that you weigh up which is more important to you – all this' – she waved her hand to encompass the house and garden, symbolizing the status quo – 'or a bit of forbidden excitement with someone who's cheating on his wife. And then take the appropriate action.'

  'And here endeth what I sincerely hope is the last lesson.'

  'Yes, it is, I promise. I've said all I want to say. The rest is up to you. Now I'll go and leave you in peace. Thanks for the coffee.'

  Alex followed her to the front door and opened it. 'I suppose Roy asked you to speak to me?'

  Gillian hesitated, then nodded. He's pretty desperate.'

  'What will you tell him?'

  'That you're going through a bit of a crisis, but you still love him. That's true, isn't it?'

  Alex nodded. 'Thanks, Gilly.'

  Gillian leant forward and kissed her. 'Be a good girl, little sister,' she said, 'and I'll see you at Pop's talk tomorrow.'

  Webb spent most of that morning on paperwork. There were cases he'd been working on before the pub killing which still needed his attention, and he'd temporarily pushed Judd to the back of his mind when the telephone rang and Harry Good's voice said in his ear, 'Geronimo!'

  With his attention elsewhere, it took Webb a moment to identify the voice, let alone grasp its content. But as Harry continued talking, his brain slipped rapidly into gear.

  'We've tracked down a Ford Escort matching the description given by the witness at the Nutmeg. Local garage says it fills up there from time to time, and one of the lads remembered doing an MOT on it a few months back. He went through the certificates, and there it was, complete with registration.'

  'Excellent!' Webb said, as Good paused for breath. 'And the owner?'

  'Swansea duly obliged: Lee Baring of Grange Road, Fallowfield. What's more, he's got form – mostly breaking and entering, though the last time he got five years for aggravated burglary. He was released a few months back after the usual remission.'

  'Minor league, wouldn't you say? It hardly equates with premeditated murder. Have you brought him in?'

  'That's where the good news runs out; at the moment, he's travelling round the country selling agricultural machinery.'

  'Great! Don't his employers know where?'

  'Only within a certain radius. He gets the business, so they allow him a bit of leeway as long as he rings in twice a week with orders and to report progress. The last call was from Cirencester on Friday.'

  'When did he set off on this odyssey?'

  'Tuesday, but the trip had been scheduled for some time.'

  'All the same, he could have topped friend Judd before he went. The million-dollar question is, when's he due back?'

  'Any day now. As I said, they don't monitor him too closely. As long as he achieves a steady turnover, they leave him to his own devices.'

  'Did they want to know why we're interested?'

  'No, we took the precaution of using one of the women officers; without anything specific being said, they assumed she was a girlfriend.’

  'Is he married, this Baring?'

  'Was last time we had dealings with him, but there's no one at the house. Susie didn't ask, since a girlfriend would have known.'

  'So it's back to the waiting game. Sounds promising, all the same. Thanks, Harry; keep me in touch.'

  Webb replaced his phone and sat for a moment, tapping his pen on the desk. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to the less interesting papers that awaited him.

  'Hannah?' It was Gwen. 'Are you by any chance free this afternoon?'

  Since Hannah's plans had progressed no further than a book and a cold drink in the garden, she admitted that she was.

  'I've had a chance now to go through the things you left for me, and I think it's time we had a discussion.'

  Hannah sighed. After a strenuous year standing in as headmistress, she was still revelling in the freedom of the summer holidays, and the thought of having to turn her mind back to school matters held no appeal. Still, they obviously needed to talk sometime, and perhaps the sooner the better, while it was all relatively fresh in her mind.

  'Certainly, Gwen. I'll come over, shall I?'

  'If you would. About two-thirty?'

  'See you then.' Hannah scooped up the marmalade cat which, while she'd been talking, had appropriated her chair. She held him for a moment, rubbing her face against his silky fur and listening to his deep-throated purr. Then she reseated herself, settled him on her lap, and picked up the local paper which she'd been reading when the phone rang.

  The Arts Page was devoted to the Broadshire Festival of Literature, with a list of venues and the eminent speakers who would be taking part. In one of the boxes, under the heading 'Ashmartin Central Library', she read: Tuesday 30th July. Mr Frederick Mace, the well-known writer and criminologist, will be speaking on 'Murder Under the Microscope' at 8 pm. Tickets £5 to include a glass of wine and canapés.

  That, she reflected, might be interesting. Perhaps he would expand on some of the ideas he'd mentioned on television. Also, while David could hardly go to the talk himself, she might learn something of interest on his behalf.

  The decision taken, Hannah laid aside the paper and picked up pen and pad to make notes for her discussion with Gwen.

  The house had lost its musty smell, but in the sitting-room there was the unmistakable scent of old age. Hannah, shown in there on her arrival, chatted for a minute or two with Mrs Rutherford, happily restored to her own armchair after almost a year with her elder daughter.

  'There's nothing quite like your own,' she commented contentedly. Beatrice and John couldn't have been kinder, but as the song says, there's no place like home.'

  Hannah smiled across at Gwen, and surprised an expression on her face that she couldn't interpret. Then it was gone, and Gwen said briskly, 'Well, if you'll excuse us, Mother, we'll move to the dining-room and get down to business. We'll join you for a cup of tea later.'

  The dining-room was at the front of the house, and from its open window sounds from the park reached them sporadically as they worked. To her dismay, Hannah found she was becoming increasingly irritated as, one after another, the modest innovations she'd introduced over the last year were systematically ruled out. Gwen made no particular criticism of them; it was more a case of, 'I can't see that would be much advantage,' or, 'Well, now that I'm back –'

  Once, Hannah was stung to interject, 'Actually, it worked very well. The girls –'

  But Gwen, smiling vaguely, had moved on to the next point, and Hannah's annoyance slowly deepened to anger. It was so totally unexpected; she and Gwen had worked admirably together for years, in almost total harmony. As long, Hannah thought with a flash of insight, as Gwen was head and she herself mere deputy. And she realized, again with a small shock, that Gwen, though she'd rather die than admit it, resented the efficiency Hannah had shown while she'd been away.

  She was still coming to terms with that when she realized uncomfortably that there was another side to the coin: Gwen's attitude had brought home to her just how much she'd enjoyed running the school herself, implementing new ideas and being free – within reason – to direct things in the way she considered best.

  It did not help that during all this negating of her ideas, Gwen had
made no comment on Hannah's safe handling of the school through what she knew to have been a far from easy year. Hannah found herself wondering with asperity how Gwen would have handled the suicide of a member of staff, the insidious spread of a dangerous cult, the scandal which drove a school governor to take his life.

  She had always known that behind the flapping, disorganized exterior, there was a ruthless streak in Gwen which ensured that she got her own way. It was simply that this ruthlessness had never before been directed at her, and she did not enjoy the experience.

  Having disposed of everything Hannah had initiated, Gwen moved on to what was obviously the main reason for their meeting – the changes she herself wished to implement, based on her experience of the Canadian system.

  Some, Hannah mentally dismissed as scarcely worth incorporating – no doubt as Gwen had viewed her own. Others she conceded might be an improvement, but there were several major changes that she was convinced would be wrong for Ashbourne.

  'Don't you see the upsets they'd cause?' she asked urgently. 'The governors would never accept them, let alone the parents.'

  'I'm quite confident of bringing them round. Unlike the rest of you. I've had the advantage of seeing them in operation.'

  'But Canada's very different from England, Gwen. The whole system is. It just wouldn't work here.'

  Gwen fixed her with eyes that were no longer either shy or diffident. 'Don't you think I should be the judge of that?'

  Hannah forced a smile. 'Well, don't let's argue about it. We can bring it up at the next board meeting and see what the reaction is.'

  'Of course.' Gwen closed the file in front of her. 'But I wanted to talk it over with you first, as a matter of courtesy.'

  'I appreciate that.'

  There was a pause as they regarded one another, each aware of the shift in their relationship and uncertain how to deal with it. Then Gwen said in half-apology, 'A year's a long time, Hannah. It will take me a while to settle back into things.'

  'I know; that's why I feel it would be as well to take things slowly.'

  'We'll see. Now, if you'd like to go and rejoin Mother, I'll put the kettle on.'

  That evening, Hannah tried to explain her worries to Webb.