by Clare Chase
‘Sounds fine.’
‘Do you fancy some lunch after all? I’ve kept you longer than I meant.’ He got up and fetched one of the laminated menus from the counter.
We ended up ordering sandwiches and chips. The acidic smell of the ketchup hit my nostrils, and I suddenly realised I was well ready for some food.
‘I like it here,’ Paul said. ‘I love watching the willows; their reflections in the river and their leaves as they’re stirred by the breeze.’
It was beautiful, something I hadn’t really appreciated properly since I’d arrived.
As we ate our chips, Paul said, ‘Did you hear Saskia tell Emily that Damien once made a pass at her?’
‘Bloody hell, no.’
‘She said she’d turned him down, and if Damien had seriously been making a play for Emily, then he was simply doing it to get back at her.’
‘What a lovely woman she is. If it had come from anyone else I’d hardly believe it.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you think it was just bluster? Would they have met?’
He shrugged. ‘Emily accused her of lying and made the same objection you just have, but Saskia said they’d met at a party at Oswald House, whilst her husband’s mother – Emily’s grandmother – was still living there.’
I suddenly remembered Samson mentioning attending a party there too, whilst River House had still been tenanted. Perhaps it had been the same one. ‘I suppose it is logical that any party there could have had both Saskia and Damien on the guest list.’
Paul nodded.
‘And Fi said Emily’s granny’s living abroad now, is that right?’ I asked.
‘That’s what they told me. Apparently one of her sons lives in Spain, and his wife’s just had another baby, so she’s spending some time out there to appreciate the younger grandchildren. Shame, because it’s really Emily that could do with some appreciation right now.’
We got up and made our way back towards River House. Someone was walking a dog the size of a small cow on the Common. Another dog – much, much smaller – was showing an interest. Couldn’t it see it might be in danger? The small dog attempted to sniff the big dog’s bottom, even though it was way out of reach.
I turned back to Paul. ‘When I saw Emily last she seemed not only upset, but worried. She was convinced the police seriously suspect her of having had something to do with Damien’s murder.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they don’t really,’ Paul said with a snort. ‘It was just that business of her trying to track him down. But there’s no evidence whatsoever that she actually managed to trace him. And anyway, can you imagine Emily doing something like that? Now if it had been Saskia we’d been talking about …’
I shivered. ‘Yes, I could certainly imagine her bludgeoning someone to death. It’s the kind of thing she’d have as a hobby.’
He laughed.
‘Not sure she’s actually got any motive though,’ I said.
‘I don’t think we should let that bother us. Besides, what about the business with her and Damien? What if it wasn’t she that turned him down, but the other way around?’
‘She made up to him and was rejected you mean?’ I let the idea play in my mind for a moment. ‘And now she’s taking it out on Emily. Being generally foul to her and lying in order to get her own back?’
‘Kind of thing I could see her doing,’ Paul said.
‘Certainly wouldn’t be out of character. And then Damien taunts Saskia with his preference for Emily and she kills him. Perfect; it sounds watertight. Only slight problem is that it’s based on stories we’ve made up, plus she wouldn’t have known where he was staying.’
‘Well, yes, but other than that …’
‘Anyway,’ I said as we reached the door of River House, ‘the place seems to be littered with people who might have had a motive for similar reasons. I should think the police are spoilt for choice.’
The following day, I went back to Damien’s list of chores and did several, aiming to work off the chip calories from my lunch with Paul. The bath scrubbing was positively energetic.
I made up a load of washing with a few towels I found in a dirty linen basket, together with some of my own stuff, and set the programme going before mopping the kitchen floor. Outside the sun was high in the sky, and a breeze had sprung up. With the back door open, I knew the tiles would be dry soon.
Next on my list, and rather less appealing, was emailing my publisher. Jackie, in legal, needed to get a contract over to me that had to come by post because of the sequence of signatures required. Since most of our communication was by phone or email, I’d so far neglected to tell her about my change of address. Of course, I didn’t have to confess why I’d upped sticks at this stage, but we were reasonably friendly, and I knew I’d have to come clean sooner or later. She’d be bound to ask after Luke when we spoke. It was one more little nudge that reminded me I would have to tackle this situation, either by keeping Luke’s actions as quiet as possible, or by brazening it out.
For now, I put it off, simply sending a message to say I was staying away for a few weeks to get some peace and finish my writing.
The thought of dealing with Jackie’s legal documents reminded me that I hadn’t done anything else about looking for the phantom will.
I went into the study, remembering the day that Samson had visited. If he had found any relevant papers, where would he have slipped them, in order to keep them safely out of sight until he took ownership of the house?
My eyes roved over the room. There was a bookcase right next to me, reaching from floor to ceiling. The possible hiding places seemed almost limitless. I felt along the top of the books I could reach, but none of them had anything substantial tucked inside. So either I was going to spend all evening in there, nipping up and down ladders, taking out every single book just to be sure, or I could leave it until I had a bit more energy; perhaps dream up a logical plan of campaign.
I was back in the kitchen within minutes. I made myself a coffee and took it and my laptop down to the basement, ready for a bit of gentle web browsing. I had emails from three different online clothing emporia. Clearly I’d been developing a bad habit. But rather than ordering anything new at this stage, I really needed to plan a trip back to Saxwell to pick up some of my stuff. Not appealing.
Maybe I could sneak over one day in the week whilst Luke was out at work. I knew I’d have to have a proper meeting with him eventually, but I couldn’t face visiting him at Bookman’s Cottage. The thought of going there at all left my insides pulled taut. My lovely home; where I’d lived happily for ten years. It was hard to think I would never sleep there again; never cook another meal or wallow in the bath.
This wasn’t mood enhancing. Time to look at something else. In the end I found my browser open at the Cambridge News page, checking for anything fresh, though that was hardly mood enhancing either.
There certainly was something fresh, however. It was the top story on the homepage.
‘Witness puts actress Maggie Cook at location of Newbold Murder.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ruby had come to find Nate in the kitchen, but now she was avoiding his eyes. Not unusual, but worrying all the same. She was holding her computer.
‘Have you looked at the news today?’ she asked.
‘No. Why, what’s happened?’
She turned her laptop screen to face him, and he read about the sighting of Maggie Cook in Little Boxham on the night Damien Newbold had been killed.
Nate went to the fridge and got them a Coke each. ‘That’s certainly quite significant.’
She nodded. ‘Nate, I’ve got a confession to make.’
He pulled the ring on his can. ‘Maggie told you what she was really looking for, that day when she claimed she’d left a shawl here.’
Her lips parted, and she finally met his gaze.
‘I may not be a great PI, but even I didn’t imagine Maggie Cook would be faffing around over a shawl.’ Nate t
ook a swig of his drink. ‘Doesn’t even seem likely she’d own one. A wrap, perhaps. I didn’t know whether she’d confided in you or not, but it was clear you were holding something back.’
She looked down again. ‘Well, you’re right. And I might have messed up.’
‘Care to elaborate?’
There was a pause. ‘I know she’s got a motive for Damien Newbold’s murder.’
Nate whistled. ‘Okay. And I presume that, as well as not telling me, you haven’t let those interfering police in on the secret either.’
Ruby put her head in her hands. ‘I was convinced that would be the wrong thing to do.’
‘What did she say to you?’
The story that came out showed Newbold had pushed Maggie Cook to the limit. If she hadn’t killed him, he couldn’t help feeling it was only because someone else had got there first. And then, on top of all of that emotional torture, she’d had the promise of money – a lot of money – dangled in front of her.
‘But when she said all this,’ Ruby went on, ‘I didn’t think, well that’s it then, Damien Newbold’s murderer is sitting right in front of me. Instead I thought, does she realise how bad this makes her look? I’d swear she’s not guilty, Nate. And she’s been through hell and back. Rushing straight over to the police station and ratting on her just seemed wrong.’
‘People who’ve been put through hell and back are just the kind who get tipped over the edge.’
‘I can see that’s logical.’ She pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘But she’s made of sterner stuff, I’m sure.’
‘How can you be?’
She shrugged. ‘Gut instinct? The way she talked? And her motive’s weak really. If she doesn’t even know the will was made for sure, it’d be pretty risky to go bumping him off straightaway.’
She looked down and suddenly Nate found he’d got one hand on her right shoulder and was raising her chin up with the other, so that her eyes met his. Bad move. He took his hand away again and sat back in his seat.
‘When are you going to stop treating me like an enemy?’ Nate said. ‘I think we’ve established that the appropriate moment for me to throw you off this job has long since passed. So if you’re not worried about losing the roof over your head any more, why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?’
When Nate had touched me I’d felt a jolt, a sudden electric crackle, reaching far down inside me. Given the conversation we were having, it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment for my body to start asserting itself like that. My face felt hot. Then it suddenly occurred to me that he’d just asked a question.
‘I suppose … Well, I suppose I knew what you’d say. And I didn’t want to hear it. I’ve been given a lot of shit to deal with by a bloke recently, and Maggie’s in the same boat. I think she’s suffered enough.’
‘And what would I have said?’
‘Tell the police.’
‘Yeah. And that’s what I’m saying now. Tell the police.’ He sighed, but the look he gave me was tired, rather than angry. ‘I’d come with you, only I’ve got to go back to Saffron Walden this afternoon. The bloody woman from yesterday rearranged. And then I have to drop in at Two Wells Farm and deal with a couple of things, so I’m likely to be back late.’ He waited for me to say something, and when I didn’t, he carried on. ‘I do understand, and you might well be right, but in a situation like this you just have to tell what you know and trust other people for a change. Especially now it’s clear Maggie Cook was on the spot the night Newbold was killed.’
‘She was probably over there stalking him every night since she found his address.’
He gave me a look. ‘Quite possibly, but I’m not sure the police would see that as a point in her favour.’
I felt awful, but I’d have to do it, just like he said. And the police would get Maggie in, and she’d know it’d been me that had told them. I was jolted out of my thoughts by a knock at the door. I was getting better at reading the sound now, and this instance came across as angry and impatient.
Nate stood behind me in the hall as I opened up. It was Emily Amos. ‘Paul came to see you yesterday, instead of me.’ She was standing on the doorstep, dressed in what looked very much like pyjamas, in spite of the summer storm that was now raging outside. I checked my watch: one fifteen. And it wasn’t just her clothes that gave away her state. Her hair was matted, and she had dark rings under her eyes.
‘He knows you need some space to get on with your life,’ I said. ‘And it was you he wanted to talk about, anyway.’ For some stupid reason I glanced at Nate. I could hear myself sounding defensive, as though I was covering up, hastily making excuses. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a look that said it all. Bugger, bugger, bugger.
‘He’s been frightened off by my bloody mother who can’t stand it when I get close to a member of the opposite sex,’ Emily said.
Hell. So that was the way the wind was blowing – as far as Emily was concerned at least. It had never occurred to me that that might be a side effect of Paul’s visits.
‘He’s your tutor, Emily. He badly wants to help, but he’s got other students to see too, and he knows, really, that you’ve had such a hard time you need someone with a bit of extra training to look after you now.’
‘If he’s got other students to see, then what was he doing here with you?’
Behind me I could hear Nate start to climb the stairs. I had the urge to leave Emily standing there and go and tell him it wasn’t as it looked. But why would he care, one way or the other? He was just going about his business. It was me that had the problem.
I focused on Emily and tried to keep my voice even. ‘He was explaining how hard it is to see one of his students going through a difficult time. And he was hoping I’d keep an eye out for you, once your friends have gone off for the holidays.’
‘He called me that? “One of his students”?’
I pretended not to understand the feeling behind her question. ‘Yes. And as for me, I’d have wanted to keep in touch anyway. You’ve been through so much recently.’ And perhaps it was just as well it was going to be me keeping an eye out for Emily from now on, rather than Paul.
‘Will he come back here to see you?’ She leant against the door frame as though she was barely able to stand.
‘He hasn’t made any arrangement to,’ I said, and then wilfully misunderstood again. ‘Why, did you want me to give him a message? I’m quite sure he’ll drop in on you again before too long.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course.’ It was probably the wrong thing to say. The dullness went out of her eyes for a moment and suddenly we were best friends again and she was terribly glad to see me. It sent a shiver down my spine.
Although I’d been cursing her arrival for my own selfish reasons, I now found it hard to send her on her way. Someone needed to take her in hand, in a practical way if nothing else. ‘I can’t have you in here,’ I said, ‘because of the house-sitting rules, but shall I come over to your place? Just for a chat?’
She nodded and I followed her through the rain to Oswald House.
It was the first time I’d ever been inside. The front door – if you could call it front, given that it was actually at the side – opened onto a large hallway with stairs turning their way up to the first floor.
Fi – complete with a mud-coloured face mask – appeared at the top and leant over the banisters. ‘You’re back. I didn’t know where you’d—’ Then she saw me. ‘Oh my goodness!’ she said.
‘I’m sorry! Wrong moment to drop by?’
Fi laughed. ‘College ball this evening. Just doing a bit of prep.’
‘You’re starting early.’
‘Needs must. There’s a lot of prep to do. Anyway, if you’ll excuse the face mask I’ll come down and make you some tea. And I do believe we’ve got some shortbread, which will give me the chance to provide for you for a change.’ She was descending the stairs now, her bare feet sinking into the green carpet. ‘What about you, Em? Fancy
some tea and bics?’
Emily shook her head.
‘Well, anyway, I’ll get you some,’ Fi said to me, sighing, and pushed open a stripped pine door to our right. Through the gap I could see a dresser, scrubbed kitchen table and butler sink. They must have been in that room when the row with Saskia had happened. It was opposite River House’s kitchen.
‘Where do you want to be?’ I asked Emily.
She nodded towards the stairs and I followed her up, and into a bedroom on the left, overlooking the Common. It was hard to see my way across the floor. The curtains were still drawn and everywhere I looked there were dark shadowy mounds to negotiate. Piles of clothes and books – which were normal features of student bedrooms in my experience – as well as heaps of dirty crockery, and some food that had gone off – which ranked as taking things to extremes. Emily had clearly given up since Damien had died. Perhaps for even longer – maybe since he’d gone away.
Next to my right foot, an uneaten orange sat on a plate, half of it green and – from what I could see in the half-light – hairy. A sickly-sweet smell with acidic overtones filled my nostrils. In fact the whole room stank of a mixture of unwashed clothes and rotting fruit. It made me gag for a moment and I dashed over to pull up one of the sash windows. The room must have been building up to this state for some time, and of course Paul wouldn’t have been aware of it, seeing her formally, downstairs in the sitting room. But letting the hair and clothes go seemed to be a more recent thing. I had a horrible feeling it might be in direct response to the fact that she felt Paul was now deserting her.
‘Things just got too much?’ I said.
She nodded. She had flopped down onto her unmade bed and was staring out of the window now that I’d pulled the curtains back, her chin resting on her hand.
‘I know you’ve been having a difficult time with your mum, too,’ I said. ‘It was hard not to overhear. I wasn’t meaning to pry.’
Emily still didn’t turn towards me. ‘She hates me.’
