by Graham Ison
Gaffney laughed. “Some people, I’m told, do their Christmas shopping in the January sales. Somehow, I’ve never managed it.”
“It was rather embarrassing, actually. It was only a couple of weeks after I’d told him to leave my flat. I didn’t really know what the outcome of that was going to be; I was still wondering about asking for a move. Anyway we all three came face to face…”
“And how did Geoffrey react to that?”
“Oh, he was the perfect gentleman. He introduced us, very formally. It was all very civilized. He just told Julia that I was his secretary, and she made some trite response like, We’ve spoken on the phone, and I said, Yes, I thought so, and how nice it was to meet the voice.” She smiled again. “You know the sort of silly things you say on occasions like that?”
“And what did you think of Julia?”
“She was charming, and very attractive, too. Not at all like the picture I had of her, from what Geoffrey had told me. I was expecting a dragon, but she was well dressed and… and really beautiful. We stood chatting for about five minutes, talking about all the usual things, like how expensive everything was this year, and what a silly idea Christmas was, and so on. Then we split up and went our separate ways.”
“Did he mention it, afterwards?”
“No, not at all. I half expected him to ask me what I thought of her, or to say something about her having been pleased to have met me, but nothing. I suppose it was because it was that awkward period immediately after our splitting up…”
“And you said nothing either, I presume?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t think it was a very good idea. I was still feeling a bit upset really, about his treatment of me; I didn’t want to renew out intimate conversation. I just left it, and so did he.”
“And how long did your affair with him last?”
“A matter of weeks, that’s all.”
“And you say it was nearly two years since all this happened?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve no way of knowing whether the marriage deteriorated even further? Or perhaps improved?”
“No. He never mentioned his wife again. I don’t somehow think it improved, though, otherwise he wouldn’t have continued to get phone calls from other women.”
“You’re sure that they were other women, in the sense that they didn’t work in the building?”
“Pretty sure. I know most of the women who regularly ring him up on business, and in any case they always say who they are and usually ask if he’ll ring them back. No, they were definitely outsiders.” Quite suddenly, she said; “Would you mind if I had a cigarette?”
“Good heavens no,” said Gaffney. “I didn’t realize you smoked.”
She opened her handbag and moved the contents around until she found a packet of cigarettes, and accepted a light from Gaffney.
“Were you at work the day before he died?” asked Gaffney.
“Yes, I was.”
“And did he seem any different? What I mean is, had there been any indications that he was getting more depressed, or more angry even?
She gazed levelly at Gaffney. “Are you suggesting that he may have committed suicide?” she asked.
“It’s one of the possibilities I have to consider, yes.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. I’d imagined it to be an accident, or a heart attack, something like that. Frankly, I was astounded earlier on when you hinted that he might have been murdered.”
That came as no surprise to Gaffney. The news reports had carefully avoided any reference to the plastic bag that had been over Hodder’s head when his body had been found; had merely stated that he had died in the toilets at Waterloo Station. “I was interested to know whether there had been any noticeable change in his demeanor.”
“No. He was still upset about the Dickson case, but he seemed quite all right the night before. He left the office at about half-past five, and said good night. He also said he’d see me in the morning, but he always said that.” She thought for a moment. “Except on Fridays,” she added. “Then he would always say something like, Have a nice weekend. That’s what made it worse, I think. It was so unexpected. I couldn’t believe it when I heard the next morning. It was so unlike Geoffrey to be late, or not to arrive. He always told me what he was doing.”
*
“And what d’you make of all that, Harry?”
“Comes as no surprise, sir, after what Hodder’s military friends had to say about him, well two of them, anyway. What do we do now? Try and find these women of his?”
“What’s the point?” asked Gaffney. “What will they tell us? They’ll tell us they knew him; tell us reluctantly, I suspect. And they’ll either say they knew he was married or they didn’t know. Either way we’ll be no further forward, so what’s the point?”
“I think you said at some stage of this enquiry, sir, that you never knew whether you were wasting your time until you’d wasted it. But I agree with you; there’s not much point. What about Julia Hodder? Are you going to see her again, and put it to her?”
“Put what to her?”
“About her old man having it off with his secretary?”
“About him nearly having it off. I think we might do that, Harry, just to see what happens.”
*
Gaffney had intended to take Claire Wentworth with him again, and had told Julia Hodder so when he had telephoned to make the appointment; but only because she had asked. In the event, he changed his mind and took Tipper, considering, at the last minute, that Harry’s penetrating and ruthless logic might be quite useful; provided that Julia didn’t frighten him to death.
Her clothes reflected her expectation of the arrival of the woman officer again, and she wore a demure black dress, a combination of modesty and, Gaffney presumed, mourning. “I am sorry to have to bother you again, Mrs Hodder…”
“It’s no trouble,” she said, but her eyes were on Tipper as she spoke, and her right hand fluttered aimlessly near the high neck of her dress. “I thought you said that you were bringing the young lady…”
“That was my intention,” said Gaffney, declining to elaborate, “but I’ve brought Mr Tipper instead.”
“Well,” she said, arranging herself in her usual seat in the center of the settee. “How can I help you?”
“I hope that my questions will not seem too irrelevant,” said Gaffney, “but I am anxious to learn as much about your late husband as possible, in the hope that it may shed some light on his death.” She inclined her head to one side and folded her hands in her lap. Gaffney noticed that she was no longer wearing a wedding ring. “I have been told that he was having an affair, Mrs Hodder.”
“Oh?” There was a hint of a smile on her face. “And who told you that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Well I’ll tell you. Caroline Farrell, his secretary.”
“You knew her, did you?”
“I met her once, in Harrods it was. She was having an affair with my husband.”
“How did you know? Did he tell you?”
“He didn’t have to. A woman can tell, in a variety of ways. A man will take a little more care about his appearance, and he’ll suddenly start wearing after-shave to work when he’s never done it before. Or he’ll be especially solicitous to his wife, and bring her flowers when he hasn’t done it since they got married.” She smiled. “You can always tell.” She glanced at Tipper who smiled in return and nodded gravely. “But in this case, I didn’t need to take note of those things. I only had to look at her, at Caroline Farrell. I could see it in her eyes; absolute adulation.”
“She was his secretary,” said Gaffney. “Most secretaries seem to reserve that sort of look for their boss; either that or out-and-out contempt.”
“Ah, but that wasn’t all,” said Julia triumphantly. “I saw them together in the West End, going into a theater.”
“Oh, I see,” said Gaffney. “And who were you with?”
&
nbsp; She gazed at him for some seconds before answering. “You’re really quite shrewd, Mr Gaffney,” she said. He wasn’t quite sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or not. “As a matter of fact you’re right, but I’m not telling you who it was. But it served Geoffrey right anyway, because he had telephoned me earlier and said that something difficult had cropped up at the office and he would be late, very late.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to sit at home, so I telephoned someone in town and went up to meet him.”
“And the something difficult at the office was Caroline, was it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t recognize her at first. When I met her in Harrods, she looked a typical Sloane. In fact, she looked dreadful. She was wearing some awful woolly hat, down over her ears, and one of those coats that people wear when they go to shoot pheasants. And no make-up. But when I saw her going into the theater, she was really done up: elegant dress, high-heeled shoes, black stockings. And she was made-up, and her hair was loose – shoulder length.”
“This theater trip; was it after you’d met her in Harrods?”
“Yes, two or three weeks afterwards. Why?”
“I just wondered. Did you tackle your husband about it, later on?”
She pouted and shook her head casually. “No point,” she said. She leaned forward, frowning slightly. “Look, Mr Gaffney, I’ll be perfectly honest with you. Our marriage was at an end. We just lived in the same house, that’s all. We went our own ways; it was quite amicable, really. We kept up the pretence, although I don’t know why. When he rang me to say he was working late, I don’t think for a moment that he expected me to believe it, but it was just for the sake of form. It was a bit childish in a way.”
“How long had this amicable sort of arrangement been going on, may I ask?”
“A long time.”
“What started it?”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t quite…”
“The mere fact that he, a married man with children, should have made the running almost as soon as I arrived here. And he was practised at it, too. If you have an affair with a man who has never committed adultery before, he’s shy, nervous, and worrying what’ll happen if he gets caught. There was none of that with Geoffrey. He’d done it all before; he was smooth and accomplished. He knew all the tricks, all the devious things you have to do, like answering the phone when his wife’s in the room and pretending that you’re someone from the office. He was very good at that. I’m afraid that my husband was an old hand at deluding his wife, both of us in fact.” She smiled in a resigned way.
“How come that you got caught out by Elizabeth then, his first wife, if he was such an accomplished deceiver? And you were caught out, weren’t you? Elizabeth said that she had a phone call and walked into your house, Raven Cottage, through the back door which had been left unlocked.”
Julia Hodder looked up with interest. “So that’s how she got in. I never did know; I must admit that I was a bit too taken aback to wonder.”
“Well did you lock the back door, or did you leave it to Geoffrey?”
She smiled. “It’s a long time ago, Mr Gaffney. I can’t possibly remember after all this time. It must have been my fault. As I said, Geoffrey was very good at that sort of thing.”
“Did he tell you off about it afterwards?”
“Now you come to mention it, yes. He said it shouldn’t have happened. Well I knew that; it was obvious it shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and that was that.”
“Anyway, how does that have a bearing on his other affairs?”
“It was obvious to me when I sat down and thought about it. If a man can deceive his wife to have an affair with me, and when it’s apparent that he’s done it before, he’s not going to stop just because he gets married for the second time.”
“But you married him just the same.”
“Yes, Mr Gaffney,” she said with a dreamy faraway look in her eyes. “I married him just the same.”
“Did you ever think of leaving him, or he you?”
“Not really. We were both quite happy. As I said, we went our own ways. This is a comfortable house, and this is a nice village.” She swept a hand round the room. “Why change it? Apart from anything else there was his job.”
“What did his job have to do with it?”
“Apparently the civil service are a bit funny about such things and he thought that a second divorce might cause problems.”
“What sort of problems?”
“Oh, I don’t know, except that because of what he was doing – and I never knew precisely what that was – he had to be checked up on every so often. I can’t remember what he called it now.”
“Positive vetting?”
“Yes, I do believe that was it. It always struck me as an unnecessary intrusion into one’s private life, but I suppose it’s something one has to live with these days.”
“And he told you nothing about his job?”
“I think you asked me that the last time you came down.” She held his gaze with her clear blue eyes. “Other than that it was the Ministry of Defence, no, I have no idea what he did. I don’t even know what he earned. Not that that mattered; I’ve some money of my own.”
“I see. Well thank you again, Mrs Hodder,” said Gaffney as he stood up.
“Are you going to be able to tell me what really happened to Geoffrey soon, Mr Gaffney?” she asked.
“I hope so.” At the door, he paused. “Mrs Hodder, do you know any of the other women with whom your husband had an affair?”
She dropped her chin, as if deep in thought. Eventually she looked up. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “It’s not the sort of question one asks, even in a marriage as loose as ours was.”
Gaffney nodded. He didn’t believe her. Come to think of it, he hadn’t believed much of what she had told him, except perhaps her account of her meeting with Caroline Farrell. The interesting thing about that was Julia Hodder claimed to have seen her husband taking his secretary to the theater after the liaison was said by Caroline to have been over. It had to be that way round otherwise Julia would not have recognized Caroline Farrell. Either Julia Hodder or Caroline Farrell was lying. Gaffney knew that he would have to find out which of them it was. It was a depressing thought; he seemed to have been sidetracked into investigating adultery, but he didn’t know at this stage where that might lead.
On the one hand, there was Julia Hodder openly acknowledging that her husband was having an affair with his secretary, and appearing not to care; while on the other, Caroline Farrell stated that she had refused to go to bed with Geoffrey. Gaffney couldn’t help feeling that it was all inconsequential rubbish, and probably had nothing to do with Hodder’s death. Even less, he thought, was it likely to help him with his enquiries into discovering the leak he had been tasked to find.
Chapter Fifteen
“We’re not making much progress, sir,” said Gaffney.
“What’s your next move going to be then, John?” asked the DAC.
“With your approval, sir, to apply to the Secretary of State for intercept warrants for the five members of Hodder’s team. We’ve interviewed them all, and they’re boxing-and-coxing; closing ranks. I’m pretty sure that they won’t think I’ll apply for warrants, much less get them, but I reckon it’s the only way to break this conspiracy of silence.”
“D’you think that’s what it is?”
Gaffney shrugged. “Difficult to say. I suspect that there’s an element of resentment that police are investigating something they see as their preserve; on the other hand they might just be scared of the outcome.”
“Not without cause,” said the DAC quietly, “but do you think that they are deliberately withholding information?”
“It’s either that, or they really didn’t know too much about it. It doesn’t ring true, though. Hodder’s the team-leader, and he forms up the usual five to assist, and then tells them nothing. I don’t like it.”
“Do you think
that intercepts will tell you anything? After all, the job’s over – blown. I suppose if you’d put them on before friend Dickson did a runner, you might have learned something.” Logan looked doubtful. “On the other hand, if they, or he, are professionals, I don’t suppose you’d have learned anything. Nor, I suspect, will you now. Still if that’s all you’ve got…”
“There is one glimmer, sir, and that’s Selby; no one seems to fancy him too much. Maybe it’s because he’s unmarried, which makes them think he’s a queer, or it could be his supercilious manner. Either way, he gets right up their noses. Probably nothing in it, other than a desire to shift the limelight somewhere else. The obvious ones aren’t usually the ones who finish up in the dock.”
“Will warrants for the five be enough? Postal and telephone, presumably?”
Gaffney grinned. “Enough to be going on with, sir,” he said.
“Right, John. Get your papers prepared and get them across the road. Incidentally, what about Hodder’s wife – his second wife – d’you fancy her?”
“No, sir. At least, not as a suspect.”
Logan grinned. “Like that, is it?”
Gaffney grinned too. “She’s some woman that, but I’m going to get Harry Tipper to do a few background enquiries. To be honest, I don’t think she’s anything but man-hungry; on her own admission she’s put herself about a bit. Harry’s got this theory that she’s a high-class West End tom, a call-girl, but I doubt it somehow. Still, you never know. I’ll let him find out; he likes proving me wrong, does Harry. It’s interesting that she should have married Hodder; there’s got to have been more to him than meets the eye. From what the military have told us about his Berlin days as a youngster, he was a bit of a goer. I’d like to find out more about him, but I suspect it’s too late now.”
“What did his first wife have to say? You’ve seen her, presumably.”
“Yes, sir. She’s bitter, not unnaturally; but I got the impression that her only regret is money, or lack of it. He left her in somewhat straitened circumstances; but it may be worth having another word with her, just to see if she’ll open up a bit more.”
