A Shroud for Delilah (DCI Webb Mystery Book 1)

by Anthea Fraser

  When she reached the office an hour later, Lana, a faint colour in her cheeks, was opening the mail while Richard Mowbray talked on the telephone. Martin arrived just as he finished.

  ‘Hello there — welcome back. You’ve met Kate, I take it?’

  ‘Indeed yes. In the middle of the night.’

  Though she didn’t look up, Lana’s fingers paused briefly as Martin, looking from one to the other, exclaimed, ‘Oh God! Don’t tell me! Didn’t I—?’

  ‘No, you bloody didn’t!’ Richard said amiably. ‘I burst into the flat at one a.m. and — Kate — assumed I’d come to cut her throat.’

  ‘I did try to tell you on the phone, but you cut in about the Royal Worcester. So what did you do?’

  ‘It was too late to go elsewhere, so she kindly allowed me use of the sofa. But she’d a nasty few minutes, hearing me crashing up the stairs.’

  Martin turned to her and spread his hands. ‘What can I say? I’m really very sorry.’

  ‘The bolt on the door is stuck,’ Kate said levelly, ‘which was why Mr Mowbray was able to get in. Could you have a look at it?’

  ‘So that he can’t again?’ Martin suggested with a grin. ‘Certainly. It probably only needs a spot of oil. Now,’ — he turned to Richard — ‘you’d better fill me in before old Carruthers arrives. How much is this stuff worth?’

  ‘Hell, I was going to entertain him upstairs. We’ll have to take him to The George.’

  ‘It’s quite tidy up there,’ Kate said. ‘You’re welcome to go up if you’d like to.’

  ‘I think I’ve imposed enough.’

  ‘All the same,’ Martin put in, ‘it would be far more convenient if Kate doesn’t mind. Everything we want to show him is here.’

  ‘Old Carruthers,’ an elderly military-looking gentleman, arrived at ten o’clock and the partners duly took him upstairs. Kate could hear them moving about and the low murmur of their voices. At eleven, Lana took up a tray of coffee.

  ‘It must have been a shock,’ she commented on her return, ‘hearing someone come in the middle of the night.’

  Kate sipped her coffee. ‘It wasn’t too pleasant.’

  ‘How very brave of you to go downstairs.’

  ‘Actually, I was downstairs. In the living room, that is. I was about to make myself a drink. But why does Mr Mowbray use the flat? Hasn’t he a home of his own?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s up on the Gloucestershire borders. In Chipping Claydon.’

  ‘I think he mentioned it. Not very convenient, surely?’

  ‘He spends most of his time travelling to sales and auctions, and he’s abroad a lot, so it doesn’t make much difference.’

  ‘He’s divorced, isn’t he?’

  ‘I suppose Mr Bailey told you. It’ll be two years ago now.’

  ‘Did you know his wife?’

  ‘She came here once or twice. I didn’t care for her.’

  ‘I gather he was pretty upset when she left.’

  Lana didn’t reply and when Kate glanced at her, she was surprised to see her lip trembling. Could she be nursing a secret passion for Richard Mowbray? After a moment Lana said quietly, ‘The end of a marriage is always sad. At least Mr Mow-bray was able to weather it. Other people aren’t so strong.’

  ‘You know such people?’ probed Kate gently.

  ‘My brother.’ The long fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. ‘It was a combination of things. He hadn’t been well, he was made redundant, then his wife left him.’

  ‘It must have been the last straw. What happened?’

  ‘He — took his own life.’ She bent her head.

  ‘Oh, Lana — no! I’m terribly sorry. When did this happen?’

  ‘Six months ago. It nearly killed Father. That’s when he took permanently to his bed. Ralph was the apple of his eye, you see.’

  ‘Are there any children?’

  Her mouth tightened. ‘Yes, Judy. A lovely little girl. Six, she is now — not much younger than your Josh. Since her mother went off without her, Father and I thought we’d be granted custody, but no. She came back and claimed her and the court gave in. But a child needs two parents, Mrs Romilly.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate said numbly.

  Lana raised her head. ‘Forgive me — I’ve no right to say this — but I’d assumed you were a widow. It was only when Josh came to tea and started chatting about his father that I realized — well—’

  ‘That I’d left him? Nothing’s really settled yet. We’re just having a cooling-off period.’ Why had she said that? Was that really how she regarded it, or was she simply trying to placate Lana, who was clearly upset?

  ‘I hoped it might be that. Josh seems to be expecting his father this weekend.’

  ‘Yes, he’ll be down in connection with the murder, anyway.’

  ‘The murder? Your husband’s in the police?’

  ‘No, he’s editor of the local paper. He—’

  ‘Michael Romilly?’ Lana exclaimed, as Martin had before her. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I make the connection?’

  ‘Probably because you thought I was a widow.’

  ‘Yes, I can see it would be difficult, living up to a man like that.’

  Only when Kate thought about it later did that last remark imply she was herself to blame.

  ***

  Madge telephoned the next morning. ‘Sorry to ring you at work, Kate, but Michael’s here. Or rather, he’s just left on his way to you. I tried to persuade him to wait, but he wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.’

  Kate briefly closed her eyes. ‘All right, Madge. Thanks for the warning.’ She put down the phone and went out into the shop, looking round it like a general sizing up the battlefield. Richard and Martin were out, Lana still closeted in the office. And Josh, when last seen, had been flat on his stomach on the living-room floor, a comic spread out in front of him.

  ‘Of course I’ll be all right,’ he’d said indignantly as she left him. ‘If I want you, I’ll come down.’

  So she was alone, which was just as well. How much had Madge told him? She had no time to wonder. The door rocked open and Michael, his shoulders wet with rain, came briskly into the shop. He stopped on seeing Kate, and he too glanced quickly round to make sure they were alone.

  ‘So there you are. Have you finished playing games?’

  ‘I’m not playing, Michael. I told you that.’

  ‘I grant you’ve gone further than I expected. I thought you’d be staying with Madge till I came for you, but she tells me you’ve not only a job but a flat as well. Isn’t that overdoing it?’

  ‘I need both.’

  ‘My dear girl’ — she was always his “dear girl” when he was most annoyed with her — ‘you know perfectly well you’ve no intention of carrying this through. When you judge I’ve pleaded and cajoled enough, you’ll come back all right.’

  Her head lifted. ‘Is that what you’re doing, pleading and cajoling? I can’t say I noticed.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Pack your bags. I’m taking you both home.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Michael, but you’re not.’

  ‘Then I’m taking Josh.’

  ‘Wrong again. Josh is at school here. How could you look after him when you work such irregular hours?’

  ‘Damn it, he’s my son.’

  ‘You can see him. In fact, he’s expecting you. But I advise you not to do anything high-handed like taking him back with you, because then things would get really unpleasant.’

  He stood considering, head bent slightly as he weighed the possibilities. It was such a typical stance, so familiar, that Kate’s body, not realizing its changed status, gave a little jerk of longing. Michael exuded virility like a male animal, confident and self-aware. No wonder she had rivals.

  ‘As it happens,’ he said, coolly looking at her, ‘this could be quite convenient. I’ll be spending some time here while this murder story holds and I’ll need a base.’

  ‘You can’t stay here, Michael. I didn’t come—’
>
  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kate. You’re my wife and I have every right to sleep with you.’

  Heat flooded over her, and the old treacherous desire. ‘It’s quite impossible.’ She heard her voice rise, but before she could continue the doorbell sounded its warning and Martin came in, pausing as he saw them facing each other.

  ‘This is my husband,’ Kate said woodenly. ‘Martin Bailey, my boss.’

  Martin’s tone was smooth. ‘If you’d like to talk somewhere, I can hold the fort for a while.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Since she’d no wish to parade Michael through the office in front of Lana, Kate went out of the shop door and in the next one. She hadn’t looked again at Michael, but he followed her closely. They went in silence up the stairs. Josh was still engrossed in his comic, an open box of crayons beside him.

  Kate said with forced brightness, ‘Look who’s here, darling.’

  Josh raised his head, one strand of hair falling over his forehead. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  ‘Hi there.’

  No exuberant hugs, no flinging his arms round Michael’s knees. He was a very self-contained little boy. Was that her fault? Or should it rather be considered an achievement?

  ‘How’s school going down?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘He’s enjoying it very much,’ Kate enthused, ‘and having Tim with him is a great help.’

  ‘The Netherbys are proving indispensable.’

  Josh, opting out of the long words, returned to his comic. Kate said in an undertone, ‘Do you want to take him out somewhere?’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I work all day Saturday.’

  ‘Well, that’s just great, isn’t it? When the hell are we going to talk?’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

  ‘Kate, for God’s sake!’ He paused. ‘Please come home.’

  ‘This is home. For the moment, anyway.’

  Michael sighed with exasperation. ‘All right, we’ll postpone our discussion till this evening.’ He glanced at his son stretched on the floor. ‘What on earth can I do with him all day?’

  Kate felt a tinge of sympathy. She didn’t doubt Michael was fond of Josh, but he wasn’t gifted with patience and found it hard to limit his keen, analytical brain to the compass of his son’s understanding.

  ‘Take him to a Chinese restaurant and then to the cinema. By the time that’s over I’ll be free.’

  ‘Right.’ Michael’s face mirrored his relief. ‘Come on then, Josh. Get your mac and we’ll go out for some Chinese.’

  ‘Great!’ Josh scrambled happily to his feet and ran up the stairs. His father’s eyes followed him.

  ‘How many bedrooms are there?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘So he’s not in with you?’

  ‘No.’ She met his eyes steadily. ‘And nor will you be.’

  He didn’t reply. No doubt he felt that after a meal and a bottle of wine — which he’d be sure to bring back — she’d be more accommodating. Josh reappeared fastening his raincoat and the three of them went downstairs and out to the pavement. The rain had almost stopped.

  ‘Family reunion?’

  Kate turned to see Richard Mowbray approaching, and perforce introduced him to Michael, who said easily, ‘I’ll be down here for some days covering the murder. I take it there’d be no objection if I join my family upstairs?’

  Richard glanced at Kate, and almost imperceptibly she shook her head.

  ‘Awfully sorry, old man.’ His tone was as nonchalant as Michael’s. ‘Can’t be done. There are all kinds of subletting clauses and we have to stick with them. Fire risks and so on.’

  ‘Fire risks? But surely—’

  ‘Sorry. Nice to have met you.’ And Richard passed into the shop.

  Kate avoided her husband’s eye. ‘See you about five-thirty.’ She followed Richard inside and he turned from the vase he was studying.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

  ‘Any time.’

  ***

  That afternoon was the busiest of the week. Possibly people came in out of the rain, but their shelter proved profitable and the cash register was kept busy. Kate tried to concentrate on her work, but her mind was on the evening ahead. Children need two parents, Mrs Romilly.

  By the time Michael and Josh returned from the cinema, she had the meal well in hand. She’d reverted to the established Saturday formula: beans on toast for Josh, and when he was in bed, a leisurely meal for herself and Michael. She noted, without comment, that the expected bottle of wine had been placed in the kitchen.

  Josh had his meal. Michael bathed him and put him to bed. Routine the same, only the setting different. No, Kate corrected herself, straightening her shoulders. Not only the setting.

  By unspoken consent they kept off personal matters as they ate, talking instead of the murders Michael was covering.

  ‘I suppose you didn’t know this second woman?’ Kate asked him.

  ‘No,’ he replied drily. ‘It’s not only my acquaintances who are murdered.’

  ‘We had a constable round asking questions. He wouldn’t even commit himself to its being the same murderer, but surely it must be?’

  ‘God, I hope so! We don’t want two nuts rushing about stabbing people and scrawling on mirrors. There must be a connection, if they can spot it. Oddly enough, we reported on the divorce cases of both women.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘Poor Bob got a fair grilling.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Bob Preston, who was living with Linda. Prime suspect, of course, most murders being domestic, but luckily for him he was at work at the time, surrounded by people. In any case, if he had done it, you’d think he’d have faked a break-in or robbery or something.’

  ‘Unless he was in a state of shock or being very clever — a double bluff.’

  ‘It wasn’t Bob, Kate. Even the police seem satisfied with that. Anyway, he’d no connection with the last one.’

  ‘No known connection.’

  Michael smiled crookedly. ‘You’re beginning to sound like my friend Webb.’

  ‘How is the Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Under extreme pressure, especially after the second murder. Fleming’s in charge, and he’s not one to let the grass grow. He sits in the Incident Room rapping out a constant stream of instructions. He’s got them hopping like fleas, according to Dave.’ He laid down his knife and fork. ‘However, enough of all this. It’s time we turned to more personal matters. Do I gather you’re really not coming back with me?’

  ‘Not immediately, certainly.’

  He lit a cigarette and leant back in his chair, exhaling slowly. ‘I seem to have misread the situation. I imagined you’d shot off to Madge’s in a fit of pique and I only had to promise to be a good boy for you to come home again.’

  ‘But you’ve been here during the week, covering the murder. Why didn’t you contact me then?’

  ‘I decided to let things ride till the weekend, by which time I thought you’d be ready to see sense. But now that you’ve found yourself a flat and a job — a new life, in fact — I’ve had to do some rethinking.’

  ‘Did you reach a conclusion?’ Kate’s mouth was dry as she waited for his answer.

  ‘Nothing concrete.’ He met her eyes through the curling smoke. ‘Do you want a divorce?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then what’s the point of all this?’

  Kate drew an unsteady breath. ‘It was the only way of showing you how I feel. You wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain.’

  ‘So tell me now. How do you feel?’

  ‘That if it’s to survive, our marriage will have to change drastically.’

  ‘It’s no worse than thousands of others. In some respects, a damn sight better.’

  ‘But it wasn’t enough, was it?’

  ‘Meaning the “forsaking all others” bit? I admit I’ve played around. It was nothing serious.’

  ‘It was to me. I was the
one sitting at home, waiting and wondering and having to avoid the pitying looks everyone was giving me. And when you actually refused to support Josh’s swim so you could be with that girl—’ She choked to a halt.

  ‘Very well, you’ve made your point. You won’t come back but you don’t want a divorce, at least not yet. So we’ll regard this as a breathing space, a weighing of pros and cons. At the end of six weeks or six months or whatever, you’ll have to decide whether or not to come back. And I, whether I’ll have you.’

  Kate said shakily, ‘That sounds fair enough.’

  ‘In the meantime, we’re both free agents. We can’t reach a decision unless we know how it will be if we plump for divorce. I’ll see Josh every weekend, and when we meet we’ll behave in a civilized way, no recriminations or hashing over old hurts. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Kate echoed numbly. It was typical of Michael that he had in a few hours completely adjusted to the situation over which she had agonized for months. It was a challenge, an opening up of new directions, and Michael thrived on both. She suspected that, having accepted the position, he was beginning to enjoy it. But would she?

  She said, ‘What will you tell everyone? The family, and so on?’

  ‘The truth. That we’re going through a sticky patch and decided on a trial separation. Nothing irrevocable, just a waiting period.’

  ‘The family’ was all on Michael’s side. Kate had been the only child of only children, and both her parents were dead. She’d had no mother to run home to, which, she thought ruefully, was no doubt why she’d turned to Madge.

  ‘In the meantime,’ Michael continued, ‘I’ll speak to Keith about arranging an allowance.’

  Kate said stiffly, ‘There’s no need. Your parents’ policy covers Josh’s fees and I have my salary.’

  ‘There’s the rent for this place for a start, and of course you must have maintenance. We’ll do things according to the book.’

  It was no use arguing once Michael had made up his mind. Ten years of marriage had certainly taught her that. Half an hour later, with everything apparently cut and dried between them, he took his leave. But Kate stood where he had left her for a long time after the sound of his footsteps and the bang of the street door had faded into silence.

  CHAPTER 7