‘How can I help you, Chief Inspector?’
‘We hoped,’ Webb said steadily, ‘that you might have remembered something.’
‘Nothing at all.’ She held his gaze and despite himself, his pulse quickened. Come, come! he thought with amused impatience. Can’t go lusting after the suspects!
‘Such as, for instance, a phone call to London?’
The shot went home, he was sure of it. There was a second’s stillness, then, control regained, she said lightly, ‘To Nancy, you mean? Now why on earth should I do that?’
‘I don’t know, Miss Pendrick. I hoped you’d tell me.’
‘We weren’t on such cosy terms. I thought you knew that.’ She pushed back her hair and the movement loosened the robe, exposing a smooth mound of breast.
Webb said sharply, ‘Fasten your gown, please.’
Smilingly she did so. ‘Doesn’t the Bible say not to hide one’s light under a bushel?’
Thank God for Ken! Webb thought with unaccustomed fervour. This one’s a man-eater!
‘Are you saying categorically that you did not phone Mrs Pendrick last week?’
‘I am.’
‘Then did she phone you, or anyone here?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
Liar! Webb thought, but outwardly he accepted it. ‘One last question, Miss Pendrick. What struck you most about your stepmother?’
‘Her bossiness,’ Rose answered promptly. ‘She was always telling people what to do.’
‘Thank you, that’s all. Sorry to interrupt your sunbathing.’
‘Any time, Chief Inspector.’
Out on the path, Jackson sucked in his breath. ‘Know what I’d like for my birthday, all tied up in pink ribbon?’
‘It was overdone, Ken. Didn’t you feel that? She was laying it on to distract us. And damn near succeeding!’ he admitted with a grin.
‘If she was like that downstairs, just imagine if we’d gone to her room!’
‘Stop imagining, lad. I need your full attention. We are now going to The Gables to inquire of Monsieur whatever his name is why he confirmed Henry’s story of being in the kitchens. And he’d better have a damn good explanation, or in my present mood, I’ll clap him in irons for obstruction.’
CHAPTER 9
The receptionist looked up as they walked into the hall. It wasn’t the girl they’d seen previously.
‘Good afternoon, can I help you?’
Webb produced his card. ‘We’d like a word with one of your chefs, please. Monsieur — Bouvier, is it?’
‘Yes, of course. Would you like to go to the kitchen, or shall I send for him?’
Webb glanced round the reception area and the lounge beyond. It was deserted. ‘It would be easier to talk here.’
‘Certainly. I won’t keep you a moment.’
Jackson looked about him. The hotel was furnished like a country house. There were landscape paintings on the walls and the furniture, though elegant and decorative, looked comfortable. ‘Plush, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘It should be. People think nothing of driving out from London, never mind Bath or Gloucester, for the pleasure of eating here. The M4 upset the farmers, but it was the making of this place.’
The pastry chef was coming warily towards them. He was a small man and to Jackson seemed typically French. He had dark hair, mostly hidden under his tall hat, large brown eyes like an unhappy spaniel and a comically drooping moustache. Had he been playing the part on stage, he couldn’t have been more in character.
‘Messieurs?’
‘Good afternoon, Chef. There’s a point in your statement we’d like to check, please. You informed us that Mr Henry Pendrick spent Wednesday afternoon under your supervision.’
‘Oui. That is correct.’
‘The whole afternoon?’
‘Not entirely, monsieur. He was for a while with his father.’ The chef had the usual Gallic difficulty with his ‘th’. ‘His father?’ Webb frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
A shrug. ‘Well, monsieur, I assumed — ’
‘Why did you assume, Chef?’
‘Because Monsieur Henri tell me he go out for a while. And when later I go to speak wiz Monsieur Pendrick, he is not there. Two, three times I return and still his office is empty. So I assume he is gone out with Monsieur Henri.’
‘You’re saying,’ Webb said slowly, ‘that Mr Pendrick senior was not in his office on Wednesday afternoon?’
‘Oh, assuredly he was there at one time. But not, as you say, the ’ole afternoon.’
‘What time was it that you looked for him?’
Bouvier raised his shoulders. ‘At five, again at the quarter, and at almost six o’clock.’
‘I see. And when did Mr Henry Pendrick leave you?’
‘At four, I think. He had done what was required. I did not expect his return.’
‘Thank you, Chef. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘De rien, monsieur.’
He walked quickly away and Webb and Jackson followed more slowly.
‘We’ll have a word with Mr Pendrick now,’ Webb told the receptionist.
‘Shall I see — ?’
‘Never mind, we know the way.’
The door was heavy, of polished mahogany. Webb knocked firmly and Pendrick’s voice called, ‘Come.’ Jackson grinned to himself and followed his superior into the room. It was large and attractively decorated, more like a study than an office, with easy chairs and a drinks cabinet. During the interviews on Saturday, the Governor had been behind the desk. Now, Pendrick was seated there, but he rose as they went in. He did not look pleased to see them. ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. Any news?’
‘Nothing concrete as yet, sir. In the meantime, I’ve a few more questions.’
‘You’d better sit down, then.’
Webb settled himself in a chair and regarded the man behind the desk. ‘Mr Pendrick, as you’ll appreciate, the most important person in this inquiry is the victim. We need to know all we can about her — her likes and dislikes, her virtues and vices — everything that will throw any light on her character. The more we know about her, the more chance we have of finding her killer.’
Pendrick spread his hands. ‘Naturally I’ll help all I can.’
Webb asked his question for the fourth time. ‘What would you say was your wife’s outstanding characteristic?’
He thought for a moment. ‘Her independence, I suppose. I certainly underestimated it.’
‘How was that, sir?’
Pendrick clasped his hands on the desk. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been told about my marriage, Chief Inspector, but the truth is that although I was fond of my wife, and am naturally appalled at what’s happened, our marrying was a mistake.’
Now we’re getting there, Webb thought.
‘When we met I was very lonely, and since she was divorced and living alone, I thought she was, too. I was wrong. I also assumed we’d an interest in common. Wrong again. She didn’t want to hear about the hotel, or my hopes for it. All that concerned her were Dean Catering and the school. They were her babies, and she’d no time for anyone else’s.’
‘Does that include your son and daughter?’
‘I was speaking metaphorically, but it does. She made no attempt to be a mother — insisted they call her by her first name, and so on. Of course, they were almost grown-up — sixteen and nineteen at the time, and they resented her. It wasn’t easy for Nancy, either.’
‘When did you realize your marriage was a mistake?’
‘When she made it clear she wouldn’t live with me.’ He laughed harshly. ‘And I was marrying for companionship! Pathetic, isn’t it? But I’d proposed and she’d accepted. It only emerged later that she meant to spend half her time in London. I should have finished it then, but by that time — well, we’d spent weekends together, and so on and I felt I couldn’t back down. And at first it was a more reasonable division. She was here Friday afternoon to Monday lunchtime. But it gradually shrank and sh
rank till I wondered why she bothered coming at all.’
‘Which was the cause of the argument at New Year?’
‘Yes.’
Webb said casually, ‘Where were you on Wednesday afternoon, sir?’
There was a fractional pause and Pendrick’s fingers, playing with a pencil, stilled. ‘I told you. I was here, working.’
‘Not, I think, the entire afternoon.’
A longer pause, which Webb finally broke. ‘I’m sure you realize, sir, that this question is crucial to our inquiries?’
Oliver Pendrick spoke quietly. ‘Yes, I do realize, and I’m extremely sorry, but I can’t answer it.’
Jackson looked up from his notebook, blue eyes suddenly alert.
‘I’d advise you, sir, to consider very carefully. We’ve established that you were absent from your office from at least five o’clock until after six. Possibly a margin on either side. That coincides very closely with the time of your wife’s death.’
Pendrick had gone pale, but his eyes held Webb’s steadily. He made no reply.
‘I put it to you again, sir. Where were you between those times?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.’
‘You mean you refuse to?’
‘Regretfully, yes.’
‘Very well. It’s your right, of course.’ He paused. ‘To go back a bit, I believe your first wife also died tragically?’
Pendrick’s mouth twisted. ‘Tactfully put, but I get your drift. To paraphrase Wilde, losing one wife may be regarded as unfortunate; to lose two smacks of carelessness.’
‘She was killed in a fall, I believe?’
‘Correct. She fell downstairs and died instantly.’
‘Were you in the house at the time?’
The old bugger! Jackson thought admiringly. He’d gone over the case with DCI McLean, now retired, and read all the reports. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about it.
Pendrick answered him steadily. ‘I was. In bed, as a matter of fact. My wife was late home.’
‘You were asleep?’
‘No, I never slept till she came in.’
So she made a habit of going out, Jackson noted.
‘Where had she been, sir?’
His mouth twitched. ‘To dinner with friends.’
Jackson felt a surge of sympathy. Poor devil, the memory of that death hurt more than the recent one. He could have pushed her: the police were suspicious at the time, but then we’re a suspicious lot. And according to the inquest, she was pooped to the eyeballs.
‘Did you see her fall?’
The pencil snapped between Pendrick’s fingers. In the still room, the crack sounded very loud. He sat staring at the two pieces. Then he laid them neatly side by side on the blotter, and looked up. A nerve twitched at the corner of his eye.
‘Yes, I did. I heard a sound and opened the bedroom door. As you know, it’s at the top of the stairs. Our eyes met briefly, then she teetered and fell backwards. Don’t you think I’ve asked myself time and again whether my opening the door startled her, made her lose her balance? I’ll live with that possibility for the rest of my life.’
Webb cleared his throat. ‘Your car’s been returned from Forensic, I believe?’
‘It has.’
‘Can you explain the presence of a dark, female hair on the passenger seat?’
Pendrick stared at him. Possibly the abrupt switch of topic confused him. Then he said quietly, ‘I often give people lifts, Chief Inspector; several of them ladies with dark hair.’
‘Could I have their names, please?’
The question seemed to throw him. After a moment, he said haltingly, ‘Mrs Bartlett, Mrs Piper — ’
‘Mrs Frayne?’
He said stiffly, ‘I’ve never given Mrs Frayne a lift.’
It would be easy to check. ‘I believe, sir, that you and she were once engaged?’
‘My word, Chief Inspector, your bloodhounds have been busy! I wonder what other useless information they’ve unearthed.’
‘You deny it?’
‘Of course I don’t deny it, man. It’s common knowledge. The point is, I treated Mrs Frayne — or Miss Jarvis, as she then was — very badly in the past, and have the grace to be ashamed of it. That being so, I don’t go out of my way to seek her company.’
‘She was at your party.’
‘Nancy’s doing rather than mine. She insisted we couldn’t invite the Cudlips without the Fraynes.’
‘How long have Dr and Mrs Frayne been here?’
‘About six weeks, I suppose.’
‘Did you know before they arrived who Mrs Frayne was?’
‘No. Mrs Bartlett met her in the village. She came and told me.’
‘And you told your wife?’
‘Of course. If I hadn’t, somebody else would have done.’
‘How did you feel about her living locally?’
‘Embarrassed, frankly. As I say, I’d behaved badly.’
‘And you’d not met till your wife asked her to the party?’
‘No.’
‘Mrs Pendrick had no qualms about the invitation?’
‘Of course not. She wasn’t given to petty jealousies.’
‘And you still can’t inform us of your movements on the afternoon of the fourth?’
‘No.’ No regret this time. Webb accepted that he’d forfeited the right to it.
‘Very well, Mr Pendrick. We won’t take up any more of your time.’
Pendrick hesitated, curiosity overcoming his hostility. ‘Did you have any luck tracing Dean?’
‘No, sir. He was staying in Shillingham, but he’s left now.’
Pendrick rose slowly to his feet. ‘When did he leave?’
‘Last Wednesday. A lot going on that day, wasn’t there, sir, one way or the other?’ And nodding pleasantly at Pendrick, he left the room, Jackson at his heels.
*
Rose lay full length on the sofa, eating an apple. She was still in her bathrobe and the sash had loosened again, which was causing a degree of agitation to the young man perched on the arm. To disguise it, he said lightly, ‘So you’ve been grilled by the Fuzz? How very entertaining.’
Henry said shortly, ‘They knew all about you.’
‘My life’s an open book, Henny, as well you know.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Sorry. Old habits die hard.’ He drew on his cigarette. ‘What were they like, these arms of the law?’
Rose’s small teeth crunched into the apple and the juice spurted on her chin. She wiped it away, gazing down the length of the sofa at Robert Lingford. Damn it, he thought angrily, she knows bloody well the effect she’s having. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘the Chief Inspector’s rather dishy.’
‘A bit uncouth,’ Henry protested.
‘That, brother dear, is part of his charm. Gamekeepers are thin on the ground this season.’
‘She’s going through one of her slumming phases,’ Henry told his friend. ‘You should have seen — ’
Rose swung her feet to the floor and sat up quickly. ‘Robert darling, pass me another apple — they’re in the bowl behind you. You didn’t tell me the police mentioned Robert, Henry. What’s he been up to?’
‘Nothing, I swear.’ Lingford tossed her an apple. ‘It’s Henry — Henry — who nearly got nabbed, but thanks to my good offices he’s in the clear.’
‘Oh Henry, you’re not still gambling?’
‘I won almost a grand,’ he said defiantly.
‘And lost it — and more — the next week.’
‘Henry, you didn’t! However will you manage?’
He said unwillingly, ‘I’ve hocked some things, my video among them.’
‘Does Father know?’
‘Not yet.’
‘He’ll be livid.’
Henry’d had enough of the conversation. ‘How about a round of golf, Robert? I’m not on duty till eight. Front of the house tonight.’
‘If you like.’ Lingford’s eyes
were still on Rose.
‘I’ll go and change. Shan’t be a tick.’ Brightening visibly, Henry hurried from the room and Lingford slid down to the sofa beside Rose.
‘How about being kind to an old friend?’
‘Don’t be silly, Robert.’
The bloom on her averted cheek, the faint perfume of her skin, started his heart pounding. He put an arm round her but she resisted. ‘I’ve told you before, you’re like my brother. I’ve known you all my life.’
‘I don’t feel like a brother, believe me.’
She looked into his eyes and smiled slowly. ‘You’re supposed to be playing with Henry, not me.’
‘God, Rose, if there’s a chance — ’
‘There isn’t. At least — ’ it was amusing to keep him dangling — ‘not at the moment. I’ll think about it.’ His eyes were close together, she reflected dispassionately, and his hands clammy. The thought of them on her body was displeasing. The Chief Inspector, now, was another matter, and she’d caught the leap of awareness in his eyes before officialdom closed down. If she could get rid of the little Sergeant, she might be in with a chance.
The idea excited her. Young men were so boring, like over-sexed puppies, whereas someone older —
Unwelcome memories swamped her without warning. Scarcely knowing what she did, she pulled the startled Robert against her, savaging his mouth with hers. Concentrate on this — and this — and this. Don’t, for God’s sake, think of anything else.
Henry’s voice reached them, calling to Mrs Foldes. ‘I’m off for a round of golf now. Tell Dad I’ll be over by eight.’
Rose pushed Robert away and stumbled to the window. Before he could follow her, Henry’d arrived.
‘OK, my clubs are in the hall … Robert?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m coming.’
He was waiting for her to turn. She stood motionless, gazing out at the frost-lit garden where blackbirds hopped on the crisp grass.
‘See you, Rosie.’
‘See you,’ she repeated woodenly.
Robert said hoarsely, ‘Goodbye, Rose.’
She didn’t reply.
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