‘Let’s go in the kitchen. I could murder a cup of tea,’ Sukey suggested.

  Fergus drew away from her, brushed a hand over his eyes and gave a thin smile. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said.

  ‘Good lad.’

  ‘So, who’s the old friend you met up with?’ he asked as he reached into a cupboard for the teapot. There was a note of reproach in his tone, as if he suspected her of having put his father’s plight to the back of her mind in favour of some trivial social encounter.

  ‘Not exactly a friend, just one of a crowd I used to go round with at college. We got chatting in the sauna and after we’d showered and changed we went for what was meant to be a quick drink. And guess what, she got tight and let drop that her husband’s a director of Maxford’s – and hinted that Myrna was blackmailing him.’

  ‘No kidding!’ A spoonful of tea missed the pot and scattered over the table.

  ‘And possibly some of his colleagues as well,’ Sukey added. She went on to repeat June’s somewhat garbled remarks, while Fergus listened with his eyes and his mouth stretched to their limits, the kettle steaming unheeded behind him until Sukey took charge and switched it off. She made the tea and poured it out while he peppered her with questions.

  ‘This could help Dad, couldn’t it?’ he said eagerly. ‘You must tell Jim right away.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that on the way home, trying to decide what to do. You know I’ve been told in no uncertain terms to keep my nose out of the case. Jim made it clear last night he wasn’t prepared to discuss it with me, and he’s been taken off it anyway.’

  ‘Yes, but this is important new evidence.’

  ‘It isn’t evidence, it’s hearsay and from a total lush who’ll almost certainly deny having told me anything, even if she remembers, which is doubtful. She said she’d been warned to keep her mouth shut, remember. I just wish I’d managed to worm a bit more out of her. I don’t even know her married name, or the names of the other directors she mentioned.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask?’

  ‘I’d have had to tell her mine. She might have recognised it and I didn’t want that.’

  ‘Mm, I see your point.’ Fergus thought for a moment, then said, ‘Dad will know.’

  ‘That’s not much help at the moment, is it?’

  Fergus’s shoulders, which had straightened in excitement over his mother’s news, slumped again. ‘No,’ he muttered. After a moment he said, ‘They’ll be in Myrna’s files, though… their names, I mean.’ He spoke thoughtfully, as if an idea had struck him.

  Sukey looked at him curiously, but he avoided her eye. ‘Sure they will, but that’s no use to us,’ she pointed out. ‘We can hardly go banging on Maxford’s door demanding to see them.’

  ‘Her files aren’t at Maxford’s.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re at the Manor. She worked from home – she had a fantastic office there, with a computer and everything. Dad took me into it once, when she was away. I had to promise not to let on, or she’d have been furious. He was only supposed to go there when she sent for him.’ He spoke rapidly, between mouthfuls of tea, still not looking directly at his mother.

  ‘That’s very interesting, but I don’t see how it helps. We can’t get into the Manor, and even if we could, the files are probably all locked away.’

  ‘They’re most likely on the computer. I might be able to access them.’

  Something in her son’s manner told Sukey he was about to suggest something preposterous. ‘Gus, if you’re thinking of breaking in, forget it!’ she said.

  ‘No need for that,’ he said smugly. ‘I’ve got a key.’

  Fifteen

  ‘Hang on, I’ll go and get it.’ Fergus dashed upstairs and returned with a single key dangling from a brass ring.

  Sukey stared at it in astonishment. ‘Where on earth—?’ she began.

  ‘It’s the back door key,’ he explained. ‘A spare one. Dad gave it to me when I was staying at the Manor during half-term and Myrna was away on some business trip. He’d taken the week off, but he got a call from his office one day, something about a problem over a client’s account that he had to go and sort out. He offered to take me into town so we could meet for lunch, but I didn’t fancy that so I decided to stay behind and get on with some school work. He gave me the key in case I wanted to go out for anything.’

  ‘Wasn’t Mrs Little there?’

  ‘No. Her sister was ill and she had the day off to visit.’

  ‘How come you’ve still got it?’

  ‘Dad said I might as well hang on to it. I wasn’t to let Myrna know, of course, she’d have gone bananas,’ Fergus added with a hint of malicious glee. ‘I think he enjoyed feeling he’d put one over on her now and again. Well?’ he went on as Sukey remained silent, ‘how about it? The police must have finished there – they’ll probably be gone by tomorrow.’

  ‘You could be right about that,’ she admitted.

  ‘They might even have left the place already. Why don’t we go now and suss it out? It’s only nine o’clock.’

  ‘No, Gus, I’m not going to let you rush me into doing something daft. I want time to think – and anyway, we’re both tired.’ Sukey felt herself being torn in two directions. If what June had hinted was true, it meant that Myrna could have been blackmailing up to three people, every one of whom would have a motive for killing her. She had gone on to suggest that there was a conspiracy of silence, to which she had been made a party. But what store would the police set by a second-hand report of the maunderings of a jealous, alcoholic wife, especially when it came from someone known to have a personal interest in their prime suspect? Yet, if Fergus was right and there was incriminating information about Myrna’s employees stored away in her computer, it might put a whole new slant on the case. Whoever brought it to light would deserve Brownie points… but on the other hand, if she allowed him to persuade her to go along with his scheme and they were caught in the act… the situation bristled with complications.

  ‘Even if the cops are still there, it’s perfectly legit,’ Fergus went on, as if reading her thoughts. ‘We can always say I’ve come back to collect some stuff I left last time I stayed at the Manor.’

  ‘You don’t imagine they’d let you go poking around in Myrna’s office, do you?’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ he begged. ‘Mum, you promised you’d do what you could to help Dad.’

  ‘All right, I’ll think about it, but we’re not going tonight, that’s for sure. If we go at all, it has to be in daylight. No, be reasonable,’ she went on as he started to protest. ‘We can’t work in the dark, and if the place is supposed to be empty and someone sees all the lights on—’

  ‘You’ve got a point there,’ he admitted grudgingly. Then another thought struck him. ‘Those people you mentioned – the ones you think Myrna might be blackmailing – they could be after the files as well. They might have already got at them and destroyed them.’ Enthusiasm gave way to gloom.

  ‘They’d have to find some way of getting into the Manor,’ she pointed out. ‘I don’t suppose anyone dished out keys to them.’

  He brightened again. ‘That’s true. And they wouldn’t know how to get past the security system.’

  ‘Do you?’ For a moment, Sukey detected an escape route, but Fergus firmly closed it.

  ‘Of course,’ he said complacently. ‘Dad showed me.’

  Thursday was marginally more productive in terms of information than Wednesday had been. For the second day running, Sukey had no direct contact with Jim Castle; although he greeted her pleasantly enough when he came into the office to speak to George Barnes, he made no attempt to seek her out or speak to her personally. It was Mandy Parfitt who told her that the death of Emily Willow was now officially being treated as murder. ‘She was felled by a single blow from a chopper,’ Mandy informed her as they drank the mugs of tea with which the SOCOs habitually began their day. ‘It was found outside her own back door, next to a pile of logs. We’re assuming it belonged to her; there were smudgy prints on the handle and they all seem to be hers, so the killer must have worn gloves.’

  ‘Do they reckon it was Myrna’s killer who did it?’

  ‘It looks very much like it – there was no sign of forced entry. Her TV is missing, but it could have been taken to make it look like robbery.’

  ‘The back door wasn’t locked when I got there,’ Sukey recalled. ‘I suppose whoever it was just knocked and she opened up and let him in.’ And Paul was seen coming away from the cottage at about the right time… it does look black for him. But I simply can’t believe…

  Mandy broke into her thoughts. ‘She quite likely knew him,’ she pointed out. ‘I suppose the poor old thing must have seen something that could have helped identify him. A different MO, of course, so I doubt if it was premeditated.’ She paused for a moment and glanced across at George, who was speaking on the phone, before saying quietly, ‘The grieving widower’s still in custody – I guess you know that.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sukey kept her voice level and tried to appear unconcerned, but she found Mandy’s direct gaze disconcerting and switched the conversation to the day’s assignments.

  When she returned to the office at the end of the afternoon, she found it temporarily deserted. She settled down at her desk to process the samples and photographs from the day’s cases: a series of break-ins, apparently related, and a stolen car found abandoned and partially cannibalised. She was just sealing up the final envelope when the door opened and Jim Castle looked in. ‘Any idea where George is?’ he said.

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. I haven’t seen him since I got back half an hour ago. He finishes at four and he hasn’t cleared his desk, so he can’t be far away.’

  ‘I see. Thanks.’

  He was about to leave when she said quickly, ‘Jim, can we have a word?’

  With evident reluctance he came into the room and closed the door. ‘I thought I’d made it clear—’ he began.

  ‘You made it clear you were angry with me for going to Dearley on Tuesday, but I took that as an official reprimand,’ she said. ‘Does it have to mean we’re no longer friends as well?’ She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but she could hear her voice wobbling.

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘In the circumstances, until this case is wrapped up, I think it’s advisable that we keep our personal relationship on ice,’ he said. His manner was stiff; it sounded as if he had rehearsed the speech for just such a moment as this.

  ‘You don’t want to risk being suspected of colluding with a potential witness for the defence, is that it?’ Sukey said. She felt suddenly desolate; she had hoped and believed that their estrangement was a temporary one, borne out of their confrontation of two days ago.

  He seemed to read her feelings and his manner became marginally more conciliatory. ‘You have to understand the position I’m in—’

  ‘Oh, I understand your position all right,’ she snapped in a quick burst of resentment. ‘You’re worried about your career prospects. Just for a moment, try and understand mine. My son’s father is being held on suspicion of murder, and I’m convinced of his innocence, but DCI Lord thinks he’s got the case sewn up so I have to keep quiet and not rock the boat or do anything to upset his precious theories—’

  ‘That’s enough!’ He spoke in a low voice, one eye on the door. ‘Do you want the whole section to hear you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She knew she had overstepped the mark; so far from healing the breach between them, she had made matters worse.

  ‘When all this is over, we can have a proper talk about it,’ he said.

  ‘Presumably, by “it” you mean “us”?’

  ‘What else?’

  She choked back the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. ‘There might not be anything to talk about,’ she said through her teeth, and deliberately turned her back on him.

  Without another word, he went out and closed the door.

  When Sukey and Fergus arrived at Dearley Manor soon after five o’clock, they were relieved to find the gates standing open and no sign of a police presence. Just the same, she made a point of driving round the back of the house and parking the Astra well out of sight of the road to avoid the risk of some curious villager noticing the car and deciding to investigate.

  ‘Mrs Little’s not here either,’ Fergus commented as he turned the key in the back door. The broken panel had been replaced with a piece of wood, but the lock was intact. ‘There’s no sign of her bike.’

  ‘It never occurred to me that she might be,’ said Sukey. ‘I suppose she’s still officially employed here. I wonder what’ll happen to the house – did Myrna have any relations, do you know?’

  ‘Dad said something once about cousins in Australia, but surely, won’t it go to him? I thought—’

  ‘It depends whether she left a will, or the property might be entailed in some way.’ He certainly won’t inherit if he’s convicted of her murder, she added mentally but, knowing how much the thought would upset Fergus, she kept it to herself.

  He opened the door to the accompaniment of a succession of loud bleeps and they hastily stepped inside. ‘Keep your fingers crossed,’ he said as he stabbed a series of buttons on the control panel. The bleeping ceased and he grinned in triumph. ‘Stage one accomplished.’

  ‘Better lock it again,’ she suggested and he complied before returning the key to his pocket.

  ‘Good thinking,’ he said. ‘Right, I’ll lead the way.’ He strode out of the kitchen; for the moment, he had taken charge. She followed him along the passage, across the entrance hall and up the stairs. On all sides were the traces of the police investigation: surfaces liberally dusted with aluminium powder, gaps on the floor where rugs and the stair carpet had been removed for forensic examination. ‘Gosh, what a mess!’ he exclaimed. ‘I suppose poor Mrs Little will have the job of getting this lot cleaned up.’

  ‘I hope she’s got over the shock,’ Sukey commented. ‘She took it pretty badly.’

  ‘She might be out of a job. I hope someone will look after her.’ They had reached the landing and he turned to give his mother a sly grin. ‘I think Ezra fancies her – or maybe it’s just her cooking.’

  ‘Let’s get on with what we came for, shall we?’ They were standing a few feet from Myrna’s bedroom and the memory of what she had found there was like a punch in the stomach. She had a sudden desire to get away, out of this cold, silent house where that dreadful deed had been committed and into the fresh air. For two pins she would have turned tail and left, but it was obvious that Fergus had no such inhibitions.

  ‘Right, this way.’ He set off along the landing and tried the handle on a door at the far end. For a moment Sukey found herself praying that it would be locked, that they would have no alternative but to give up this crazy enterprise she had allowed herself to be talked into. Her heart sank as he pushed open the door and beckoned to her. ‘Come on!’ he said and reluctantly she obeyed. ‘It doesn’t look as if this room’s been searched,’ he remarked.

  ‘I’ve no doubt the police came in here to have a look round, but if nothing had been disturbed there’d have been no need to dust for prints.’ Sukey glanced round at the well-appointed office with its elegant furniture and commanding view. ‘Myrna certainly knew how to make herself comfortable,’ she commented.

  Fergus made no reply. He went straight over to the computer, sat down and switched it on. ‘Wish me luck,’ he said. They watched in silence as a series of symbols came and went on the screen. He pressed keys and after a second the single word Password? appeared. ‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘Have to see if I can find it. I’ll start with the company’s name.’ He tried keying in ‘Maxford’, ‘Domestic’ and ‘Fittings’, then various combinations based on the words, but with no success.

  ‘What about trademarks?’ Sukey suggested. ‘Don’t they call their products Maxi something? Maxiflow, Maxispray—’

  ‘Good idea.’ He keyed the names in, then gave a little groan of frustration as yet again the message, Not recognised, try again, flashed up on the screen. ‘Guess I’ll never make a hacker,’ he said disconsolately.

  ‘Never mind, it was worth a try.’ A stab of acute disappointment made Sukey realise how much she too had been pinning on this enterprise, despite her earlier reservations.

  At that moment, the telephone on Myrna’s desk rang and they both jumped. ‘What do we do?’ asked Fergus.

  ‘Nothing. Leave it. We’re not supposed to be here.’ They waited as the ringing went on, then stopped as the answering machine clicked into life and a woman’s recorded voice invited the caller to leave a message.

  ‘That’s Myrna,’ said Fergus shakily. He had gone very pale. ‘Creepy, isn’t it.’

  ‘Shush, listen.’

  ‘Hi gorgeous, this is your very own favourite sleuth, just got back from my week in little old LA.’ It was a man, speaking with an American accent that Sukey had a feeling was assumed. ‘I spent the flight dreaming about that wonderful body of yours, so how about a little moving and shaking this evening?’ the caller went on, confirming her suspicion as it gradually reverted to an English pronunciation. ‘I’m here in the office until around six, then I’ll be at home… and all yours.’ The final words were spoken in a lascivious growl; there was a further click and the message ended.

  ‘The filthy cow, I had a feeling she was cheating on Dad!’ Fergus exclaimed, his expression a mixture of indignation and disgust that quickly turned to alarm. ‘If the police find out, they’ll use it against him, say he knew about it and that’s why—’

 

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