He studied her for a moment, wondering if she was quite as naive as her words made her sound. "Did they?" he asked her. "Kate's dead, don't forget."
She sobered immediately. "I know. It's a bugger. But there's nothing I can tell you about that. I haven't seen her since she moved."
"All right. Tell me what you do know. Why did your story about Wendy Plater insulting James Purdy remind you of Kate?" he asked her.
"What makes you think it did?"
He quoted from her letter. " 'She'-meaning Wendy-'had to apologize, but she doesn't regret any of it. She says she's never seen Purdy go purple before! I thought of you immediately, of course...' " He laid the page on the bench between them. "Why that last bit, Polly? Why should Purdy going purple make you think of Kate Sumner?"
She thought for a moment. "Because she used to work at Pharmatec?" she tried unconvincingly. "Because she thought Purdy was a prick? It's just a figure of speech."
He tapped the copy of Kate's draft reply. "She crossed out, 'You promised on your honor' in this before going on to write 'The story about Wendy Plater was really funny!' " he said. "What did you promise her, Polly?"
She looked uncomfortable. "Hundreds of things, I should think."
"I'm only interested in the one that had something to do with either James Purdy or Wendy Plater."
She removed her arm from the back of the seat and hunched forward despondently. "It's got nothing to do with her being killed. It's just something that happened."
"What?"
She didn't answer.
"If it really does have nothing to do with her murder, then I give you my word, it'll go no further than me," he said reassuringly. "I'm not interested in exposing her secrets, only in finding her killer." Even as he spoke, he knew the statement was untrue. All too often, justice for a rape victim meant that she had to endure the humiliation of her secrets being exposed. He looked at Polly with unexpected sympathy. "But I'm afraid I'm the one who has to decide whether it's important."
She sighed. "I could lose my job if Purdy ever finds out I told you."
"There's no reason why he should."
"You reckon?"
Galbraith didn't say anything, having learned from experience that silence often exerted more pressure than words.
"Oh, what the hell!" she said then. "You've probably guessed anyway. Kate had an affair with him. He was crazy about her, wanted to leave his wife and everything, then she blew him away and said she was going to marry William instead. Poor old Purdy couldn't believe it. He's no spring chicken, and he'd been rogering himself stupid to keep her interested. I think he may even have told his wife he wanted a divorce. Anyway, Kate said he went purple and then collapsed on his desk. He was off work for three months afterward, so I reckoned he must have had a heart attack, but Kate said he couldn't face coming back while she was still there." She shrugged. "He started work again the week after she left, so maybe she was right."
"Why did she choose William?" he asked. "She wasn't any more in love with him than she was with Purdy, was she?"
Polly repeated the gesture of rubbing her thumb and fingers together. "Dosh," she said. "Purdy's got a wife and three grown-up children, all of whom would have demanded their cut before Kate got a look in." She pulled a wry face. "Like I said, what she really wanted was an unmarried guy without children. She reckoned if she was going to have to bust a gut to make some plonker happy, she wanted access to everything he owned."
Galbraith shook his head in perplexity. "Then why bother with Purdy at all?"
She hooked her arm over the sofa again and thrust her tits into his face. "She didn't have a father, did she? Any more than I do."
"So?"
"She had a thing about older men." She opened her eyes wide in flirtatious invitation. "Me, too, if you're interested."
Galbraith chuckled. "Do you eat them alive?"
She looked pointedly at his fly. "I swallow them whole," she said with a laugh.
He shook his head in amusement. "You were telling me why Kate bothered with Purdy," he reminded her.
"He was the boss," she said, "the guy with the loot. She thought she'd take him for a few bob, get him to pay for improvements on her flat, while she looked around for something better. The trouble was, she didn't reckon on him getting as smitten as he did, so the only way to get rid of him was to be cruel. She wanted security, not love, you see, and she didn't think she'd get it from Purdy, not after his wife and children had taken their slice. He was thirty years older than she was, remember. Also, he didn't want any more kids, and that was all she really wanted, kids of her own. She was pretty screwed up in some ways, I guess because she'd had a tough time growing up."
"Did William know about her affair with Purdy?"
Polly shook her head. "No one knew except me. That's why she swore me to secrecy. She said William would call the wedding off if he ever found out."
"Would he have done?"
"Oh, for sure. Look, he was thirty-seven years old, and he wasn't the marrying kind. Wendy Plater nearly got him up to scratch once till Kate put a spanner in the works by telling him she was a lush. He dumped her so quick, you wouldn't believe." She smiled reminiscently. "Kate practically had to put a ring through his nose to get him to the registry office. It might have been different if his mother had approved, but old Ma Sumner and Will were like a couple of old folks, and Kate had to work her socks off every night to make sex more attractive to the silly sod than having his laundry done on a regular basis."
"Was it true about Wendy Plater?"
Polly looked uncomfortable again. "She gets drunk sometimes but not on a regular basis. Still, as Kate said, if Will had wanted to marry her, he wouldn't have believed it, would he? He just seized on the first good excuse to get out."
Galbraith looked down at Kate Sumner's childish writing in the draft letter she'd written to Polly and wondered about the nature of ruthlessness. "Did the affair with Purdy continue after she married William?"
"No," said Polly with conviction. "Once Kate made up her mind to something, that was it."
"Would that stop her having an affair with someone else? Let's say she was bored with William and met someone younger-would she have been unfaithful in those circumstances?"
Polly shrugged. "I don't know. I sort of thought she might have something going because she hadn't bothered to phone me for ages, but that doesn't mean she did. It wouldn't have been serious, anyway. She was pleased as punch about moving to Lymington and getting a decent house, and I can't see her giving all that up very easily."
Galbraith nodded. "Have you ever known her to use feces as a means of revenge?"
"What the hell's fee-sees?"
"Crap," Galbraith explained obligingly, "turds, dung, number twos."
"Shit!"
"Exactly. Have you ever known her to smear crap over anyone's belongings?"
Polly giggled. "No. She was much too prissy to do anything like that. A bit of a hygiene freak, actually. When Hannah was a baby she used to swab the kitchen down every day with Dettol in case there were any germs. I told her she was crazy-I mean germs are everywhere, aren't they-but she still went on doing it. I can't see her touching a turd in a million years. She used to hold Hannah's nappies at arm's length after she'd changed her."
Curiouser and curiouser, thought Galbraith. "Okay. Give me a rough idea of the timetable. How soon after she told Purdy she was going to marry William did the wedding actually take place?"
"I can't remember. A month maybe."
He did a quick calculation in his head. "So if Purdy was off for three months, then it was two months after the wedding that she left work because she was pregnant?"
"Something like that."
"And how pregnant was she, Polly? Two months? Three months? Four months?"
A resigned expression crossed the young woman's face. "She said as long as it looked like her it wouldn't matter, because William was so besotted he'd believe anything she told him." She read Galbrai
th's expression correctly as one of contempt. "She didn't do it out of malice. Just desperation. She knew what it was like to grow up in poverty."
Celia's adamant refusal to go with Harding in the helicopter and her inability to bend at the hip meant that she was going to either have to walk home in extreme pain or travel flat on her back on the floor of Ingram's Jeep, which was full of oilskins, waders, and fishing tackle. With a wry smile he cleared a space and bent to pick her up. However, she was even more adamant in her refusal to be carried. "I'm not a child," she snapped.
"I don't see how else we can do it, Mrs. Jenner," he pointed out, "not unless you slide in on your front and lie facedown where I usually put my fish."
"I suppose you think that's funny."
"Merely accurate. I'm afraid it's going to be painful whatever we do."
She looked at the uncomfortable, ridged floor and gave in with bad grace. "Just don't make a meal of it," she said crossly. "I hate fuss."
"I know." He scooped her into his arms and leaned into the Jeep to deposit her carefully on the floor. "It's going to be a bumpy ride," he warned, packing the oilskins around her as wadding. "You'd better shout if it gets too much for you, and I'll stop."
It was already too much, but she had no intention of telling him so. "I'm worried about Maggie," she said through gritted teeth. "She ought to be back by now."
"She'll have led Stinger toward the stables not away from them," he told her.
"Are you ever wrong about anything?" she asked acidly.
"Not where your daughter's knowledge of horses is concerned," he answered. "I have faith in her, and so should you." He shut the door on her and climbed in behind the wheel. "I'll apologize in advance," he called as he started the engine.
"What for?"
"The lousy suspension," he murmured, letting out the clutch and setting off at a snail's pace across the chewed-up turf of the valley. She didn't make a sound the entire way back, and he smiled to himself as he drew into the Broxton House drive. Whatever else she was, Celia Jenner was a gutsy lady, and he admired her for it.
He opened the back door. "Still alive?" he asked, reaching in for her.
She was gray with pain and fatigue, but it took more than a bumpy ride to kill the spark. "You're a very irritating young man," she muttered, as she clamped her arm around his neck again and grunted with pain as he shifted her along the floor. "But you were right about Martin Grant," she admitted grudgingly, "and I've always regretted that I didn't listen to you. Does that please you?"
"No."
"Why not? Maggie would tell you it's the closest I'll ever come to an apology."
He smiled slightly, hefting her against his chest and stepping away from the Jeep. "Is being stubborn something to be proud of?"
"I'm not stubborn, I'm principled."
"Well, if you weren't so"- he grinned at her-"principled, you'd be in the Poole hospital by now getting proper treatment."
"You should always call a spade a spade," she said crossly. "And, frankly, if I was half as stubborn as you seem to think I am, I wouldn't even be in this condition. I object to having my arse mentioned over the telephone."
"Do you want another apology?"
She looked up and caught his eye, then looked away again. "For goodness sake, put me down," she said. "This is so undignified in a woman of my age. What would my daughter say if she saw me like this?"
He took no notice of her and strode across the weed-strewn gravel toward her front door, only lowering her to the ground when he heard the sound of running feet. Maggie, flustered and breathless, appeared around the cornet of the house, a walking stick in each hand. She handed them to her mother. "She's not allowed to ride," she told Nick, bending over to catch her breath. "Doctor's orders. But thank God she never takes anyone's advice. I couldn'l have managed on my own, and I certainly couldn't have got Stinger back without Sir Jasper."
Nick held supporting hands under Celia's elbows while she balanced herself on the sticks. "You should have told me to get stuffed," he said.
She inched forward on her sticks like a large crab. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered irritably. "That's the mistake I made last time."
*18*
STATEMENT
Witness: James Purdy, Managing Director, Pharmatec UK
Interviewer: DI Galbraith
Sometime during the summer of 1993, I was working late in the office. As far as I was aware, everyone else had left the premises. On my way out at approximately 9:00 p.m., I noticed a light shining in an office at the end of the corridor. The office belonged to Kate Hill, secretary to the services manager, Michael Sprate, and, because I was impressed by the fact that she was working late, I went in to commend her on her commitment. She had been drawn to my attention when she first joined the company because of her size. She was slim and small with blond hair and remarkable blue eyes. I found her very attractive, but that was not my reason for going into her office that night. She had never given any indication that she was interested in me. I was surprised and flattered, therefore, when she got up from her desk and said she had stayed late in the hope that I would come in.
I am not proud of what happened next. I'm fifty-eight years old, and I've been married thirty-three years, and no one has ever done to me what Kate did that night. I know it sounds absurd, but it's the sort of thing most men dream of: that they'll walk into a room one day and a beautiful woman, for no reason at all, will offer them sex. I was extremely worried afterward because I assumed she must have had an ulterior motive for doing it. I spent the next few days in fear. At the very least I expected her to take liberties in her dealings with me; at the worst I expected some sort of blackmail attempt. However, she was extremely discreet, asked nothing in return, and was always polite whenever I saw her. When I realized there was nothing to fear, I became obsessed with her and dreamed about her night after night.
Some two weeks later, she was again in her office when I passed, and the experience was repeated. I asked her why and she said: "Because I want to." From that moment on, there was nothing I could do to control myself. In some ways, she is the most beautiful thing that has ever happened in my life, and I do not regret one moment of our affair. In other ways, I look back on it as a nightmare. I did not believe hearts could be broken, but mine was broken several times by Kate, never more so than when I heard she was dead.
Our affair continued for several months, until January 1994. For the most part it was conducted in Kate's flat, although once or twice, under the guise of business trips, I took her to hotels in London. I was prepared to divorce my wife in order to marry Kate, even though I have always loved my wife and would never do anything willingly to hurt her. I can only describe Kate as a fever in the blood that temporarily upset my equilibrium, because once exorcized, I was able to return to normal.
On a Friday at the end of January 1994, Kate came into my office at about 3:30 p.m. and told me she was going to marry William Sumner. I was terribly distressed and remember little of what happened next. I know I passed out, and when I came around again I was in the hospital. I was told I had had a minor heart attack. I have since confessed to my wife everything that happened.
As far as I am aware, William Sumner knows nothing about my relations with Kate before their marriage. I have certainly not told him, nor have I led him to believe that we were even remotely friendly. It did occur to me that his daughter might be mine, but I have never mentioned it to anyone as I would not lay claim to the child.
I can confirm that I have had no contact with Kate Hill-Sumner since the day in January 1994 when she told me of her decision to marry William Sumner.
James Purdy
STATEMENT
Witness: Vivienne Purdy, The Gables, Drew Street, Fareham
Interviewer: DI Galbraith
I first learned of my husband's affair with Kate Hill some four weeks after his heart attack in January 1994.1 cannot remember the precise date, but it was either the day she married William Sumner or t
he day after. I found James in tears, and I was worried because he had been making such good progress. He told me he was crying because his heart was breaking, and he went on to explain why.
I was neither hurt nor surprised by his confession. James and I have been married a long time, and I knew perfectly well that he was having a relationship with someone else. He has never been a good liar. My only emotion was relief that he had finally decided to clear the air. I felt no animosity toward Kate Hill-Sumner for the following reasons.
It may sound insensitive, but I would not have regarded it as the worst misfortune that could have happened to me to lose the man I had lived with for thirty-three years. Indeed, in some ways I would have welcomed it as an opportunity to start a new life, free of duty and responsibility. Prior to the events of 1993-94 James was a conscientious father and husband, but his family had always taken second place to his personal ambitions and desires. When I realized that he was having an affair, I made discreet inquiries about the financial position should divorce become inevitable, and satisfied myself that a division of our property would allow me considerable freedom. I renewed my career as a teacher some ten years ago, and my salary is an adequate one. I have also made sensible pension provisions for myself. As a result, I would certainly have agreed to a divorce had James asked for one. My children are grown up, and while they would be unhappy at the thought of their parents separating, I knew that James would continue to be interested in them.
I explained all this to James in the spring of 1994, and showed him the correspondence I had had with my solicitor and my accountant. I believe it concentrated his mind on the choices open to him, and I am confident that he put aside any thought of attempting to rekindle the affair with Kate Hill-Sumner. I hope I don't flatter myself when I say it came as a shock to him to realize that he could no longer take my automatic presence in his life for granted, and that he took this possibility rather more seriously than he took his relationship with Kate Hill-Sumner. I can say honestly that I have no lingering resentment toward James or Kate because it was I who was empowered by the experience. I have a great deal more confidence in myself and my future as a result.
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