Dark Room

*18*

WEDNESDAY, 29TH JUNE, CANNING ROAD POLICE STATION, SALISBURY-9:00 A.M.

WPC Blake noted the thunderclouds on DC Hadden's face as he pushed past her and shouldered his way through the double doors. "What's up with Hadden?" she asked the Sergeant as she leaned her elbows on the front desk.

"Politics," he grunted, preoccupied with some notes he was writing. "He reckons the DC1 has given away the best case he's ever had."

"Who to?"

"Hampshire police. He handed over a prime piece of evidence last night on the Ardingly Woods murders and Hadden's furious about it, claims he's the one who cracked the case and now no one's going to credit him with it."

"What was the evidence?"

"The sledgehammer that was used to attack the doctor up at the Nightingale on Monday night," the Sergeant told her.

Blake watched his busy pen for a moment. "So what's the connection with Ardingly Woods? Sledgehammers come two-a-penny on building sites. What's so special about this one?"

"The dead man's fiancee is a patient at the Nightingale, and she appears to be in the habit of losing husbands and lovers to death by bludgeoning." He glanced up from his notes. "Jane Kingsley, daughter of Adam Kingsley. It's been all over the newspapers for the last couple of days."

"I've been busy."

He pushed a tabloid towards her and stabbed a double column with his pen. "Hampshire gave a press briefing yesterday. It's all there."

Blake took the paper and read the piece rapidly. "Well, I can see why Hadden's pissed off," she remarked, laying it back on the counter. "Who do you reckon did it?"

He shrugged as he signed his name. "All I know is I wouldn't want to be employed by Franchise Holdings if they arrest Adam Kingsley. According to the business pages, the shares are sliding already, and that's just on fears he might have been involved." He straightened up. "How are you getting on with the Flossie Hale assault?"

"Not bad." She gave him a rundown of what she'd discovered. "He was carrying a key ring with a black disc embossed with a gold F and H. Flossie thinks they might be his initials but I'm not keen to put that in the description in case she's wrong. What do you think?"

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment or two, then picked up the newspaper and leafed through the pages, looking for the business section. Inset into the article on Franchise Holdings was a picture of the company's logo-entwined initials against a black background. He showed it to her. "Something like that?"

"What are you, Sarge," said Blake in amazement, "a bloody magician?''

"Just a reader of newspapers. Would you believe, there are two degenerate sons as well as the hammer-wielding daughter?"

THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-9:30 A.M.

The floor around Jinx's feet was awash with newspapers when Alan Protheroe knocked on her door at nine-thirty. "I ordered the lot," she said with a weak smile. "Have you seen what's happening?"

He nodded. "I watched the breakfast news. The shares started sliding again as soon as the market opened."

"Poor Adam, it's very unfair," she said bitterly. "They've been dying to cut him down to size for years and now they've been given the chance." She clenched her hands in her lap. "You know what makes me maddest of all? It's this garbage about no obvious successor. It's a cheap way to parade the family failings. Three of the present board are perfectly capable of taking over if anything happens to Adam, and the City knows it. There was never any question of Miles, Fergus, or me stepping into his shoes. He wouldn't have it. He's worked too hard to watch his children destroy what he built." She sighed. "Well, we're destroying it anyway, between us. It wouldn't matter a tuppenny damn what I'd done if either Miles or Fergus could stand up and be counted."

"What have you done, Jinx?"

"How about this for starters?" she said sarcastically. "I managed to choose three murder victims as husband, fiance, and best friend. It does rather imply there's something rotten in the state of Denmark when three corpses litter the doorstep, don't you think?"

"Yes."

There was a short silence. "Do you know why I hated Stephanie Fellowes so much, and why I wouldn't engage in any of her psychocrap?" said Jinx coldly. "Because she couldn't believe I had nothing to do with Russell's death. Did she put that in her notes?"

"No."

"Are you putting your skepticism in your notes?" Would it hurt so much if she liked him less?

"No."

"But you are keeping notes?" He nodded. "Then what are you writing about me, Dr. Protheroe?"

"They're just private ones." The sexual fantasies of a man going mad from celibacy ... Okay, so Russell pressed the right buttons but did he turn you on?... What are you like in bed, Miss Kingsley?... "Yesterday, for example, I wrote: 'It's a pity Jinx doesn't smile more. It suits her.' "

She promptly frowned. "Instead of saying yes just then, why couldn't you have said: 'The odds against you or your family being involved aren't good, Jinx, but they do exist'? What makes you think I'm so fucking hard that I don't need reassurance, even if it is from a bastard like you?"

He grinned. "Because you'd probably have torn strips off me for being patronizing. We both know you're not a fool and we both know you're up against it. All I can do, in the absence of something concrete to work on, is to point out the pitfalls. It's up to you how you choose to negotiate them."

"It's patronizing to say smiling suits me."

"It wasn't intended to be, but if that's how you choose to see it, then so be it."

"I hate existentialism."

"Sure you do," he said. "Which is why you're such a master of it." He touched the newspapers with the toe of his shoe. "What will happen to Franchise Holdings?"

"If they can't stop the slide, then Adam will resign," she said matter-of-factly. "He certainly won't stand idly by while receivers are sent in. In fact, if you've any spare cash, now's the time to gamble on some shares. They're a bargain at the moment. I guarantee the price will start back up again the minute the panic subsides."

"What about the rumors of financial irregularities?"

"I'm certain there aren't any, or none that can be proved. Adam once said that if 'Nipper' Read of Scotland Yard couldn't get anything on him, then no one could."

"Are you going to buy some shares?"

Her eyes gleamed wickedly. "I already have. I phoned my stockbroker this morning. He's selling everything in my portfolio to buy into Franchise Holdings."

"What if you're wrong and you lose the lot?"

"It'll be in a good cause," she said. "At least I'll know I nailed my colors to the mast when it really mattered."

"Is the motive really as pure as that?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Veronica Gordon tells me your stepmother came last night. I just wondered if there was a little malice mixed in with the altruism." Veronica had been shocked by Jinx's cruelty, far more than she had by Betty's drunkenness: "I think I've underestimated her, Alan. My guess is, she's as ruthless as her father."

"What sort of malice?"

"The sort that jumps up and down and says: 'Look at me, Adam, I'm supporting you. Look at her, she's not.' "

Jinx lit a cigarette. "Chance would be a fine thing, wouldn't it? Will I ever get the opportunity to do that? I don't remember Adam coming here, but perhaps that's something else I've forgotten."

"Have you invited him?"

She gave her faint smile. "I didn't invite Simon Harris, but he still came. I didn't invite Miles or Fergus, but they came. Why does Adam require an invitation, Dr. Protheroe? Surely loving fathers visit their sick daughters as a matter of course."

"Perhaps he's afraid of rejection, Jinx."

"I doubt it. If he were, he wouldn't be so quick to reject everyone else." She returned to his questioning of her motives. "In any case, malice would be redundant where Betty's concerned. She's burned her boats and she's drowning, and I'm not going to lift a finger to help her."

Then why do you look so sad? he wondered.

14 GLENAVON GARDENS, RICHMOND, SURREY-10:30 A.M.

The requestioning of everyone connected with Jane Kingsley, Leo Wallader, and Meg Harris was planned as a rolling program throughout that Wednesday, with questions specifically geared to building a clear picture of their movements and whereabouts each day from the Bank Holiday Monday through to the evening of Monday, June the thirteenth. DS Fraser was assigned to London and interviews with the Clanceys, Josh Hennessey, Dean Jarrett, and Meg's neighbor Mrs. Helms. He began with the Clanceys in Richmond, first explaining the purpose of the questions and then taking them back to Monday, the thirtieth of May, two weeks before Jinx's car crash. "We understand from Leo's parents that he and Jinx returned to London sometime during the late afternoon or early evening. Can you confirm that?" As he spoke, he tickled Goebbels's ears. The tiny little dog had stretched itself along his knees, chin hanging over the edge, and Fraser, thoroughly seduced, was grateful that Maddocks wasn't there to pour scorn on this simple affection.

Colonel Clancey pursed his ancient lips. "I remember seeing Jinx on the Saturday morning but not on the Monday," he said at last. "I was in the garden and she came out to talk to me. She was hopping mad, far as I recall. Her two brothers were sleeping off hangovers upstairs, and Leo hadn't come home the night before. She asked me if I knew where he'd gone, because they were supposed to be going down to Guildford together, and I said I hadn't seen him for a couple of days." He glanced briefly at his wife. "I also said," he went on firmly, "that she was making a mistake with Leo and she said, 'Don't worry, Colonel, I've already come to that conclusion myself.' Then she went back inside and a little while later, Leo himself showed up."

"You never told me you said that," said Mrs. Clancey.

"Thought you'd be angry," he barked. "You were always so keen on her marrying again."

"Nonsense. It was you kept telling her she owed it to society to have babies. 'A woman like you with brains and initiative,' you kept saying, 'you've got a responsibility to pass on the genes. Can't be doing with all these teenage nitwits producing hundreds while the clever people don't produce any. End up with idiots running the planet.' "

Hastily, Fraser forestalled the development of this argument. "When did you next see either of them?"

"I saw them leave together on the Sunday morning," said Daphne helpfully. "Jinx was wearing a baseball cap because Leo would insist on driving his car with the top down, and I remember thinking how much prettier she'd look in a straw bonnet."

"Why was she going away with him if she'd already decided he wasn't for her?" asked Fraser thoughtfully.

"She has lovely manners," said Mrs. Clancey.

"The Wednesday after," said the Colonel baldly, who had been thinking hard. "We were in the garden, six o'clockish, G and T time anyway, and Jinx came down the path from the garage." He gestured towards the window. "Runs along the fence, don't you know? She was happy as a sandboy, singing her head off, and I called out: 'Who's won the jackpot?' And she popped her head over the top and said: 'How's tricks?' "

"Yes," agreed Daphne, "and I said: 'You're obviously looking forward to your week in Hampshire,' and she said: 'Got it in one, Mrs. C. A change is as good as a rest.' "

Fraser waited for a moment while Goebbels turned on his back and offered his tummy for scratching. "Was that all?" he asked, crooking a sly finger and plucking at the golden fur. They nodded simultaneously.

"You didn't ask her about Leo and how the weekend went?"

The Colonel looked offended. "Good Lord, no," he said. "None of our business. Doubt she'd have told us anyway. Private sort of person, Jinx." He scowled at Goebbels, whose erect penis was showing pinkly through his fur. "Filthy little beast. Kick him off if it upsets you."

Fraser, who hadn't noticed, smiled weakly and uncrooked his finger. "Did you see Leo that day?"

"No. Matter of fact"-the Colonel paused for thought-"I don't recall seeing him at all after the Saturday morning. Hadn't really considered it, to tell you the truth, but now you ask..." He looked inquiringly at his wife. "Do you remember seeing him?"

"For me it was the Sunday," she reminded them.

The Colonel snorted impatiently. "Afterwards, woman, afterwards."

"Well, I wouldn't expect to see him, not as a general rule," she said, addressing her remarks to Fraser. "He never went out of his way to be particularly pleasant. The odd 'good morning' once in a while, and that was the most one could expect. I think he resented us because we'd known Russell and he was afraid we were making comparisons, but we didn't like Russell very much either, and it was a bit of a disappointment to find Jinx had picked the same type again."

Her husband fixed her with a basilisk glare. "The question was, you silly old thing, did you see him after the Sunday?"

She smiled absentmindedly. "I don't think I did, no."

"Not even during the week Jinx was away?" Fraser prompted.

"Definitely not," barked the Colonel, fluffing his mustache, "but then he wasn't supposed to be there. Jinx popped in on the Friday night-that'd be June the third-to say she was off to Hampshire in the morning and he'd be spending the week in Surrey. She said not to bother about watering the house plants but yes, please put some water on the garden when I had the hose running. Back the next Sunday, she told us."

Fraser frowned and leaned down to flick through some papers he'd placed on the floor beside his chair. "I was under the impression she came back on the Friday, June the tenth."

"Well, yes, matter of fact she did. Not that we knew until the next morning. Came looking for me on the Saturday-that'd be the eleventh-and said: 'Guess what, Colonel, the wedding's off as of last night. The bastard's jilted me, and the only bugger is he beat me to it.' " He pursed his lips again and frowned. "And let me tell you, Sergeant, she was pleased as punch about it, looked as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. Then she went back inside to phone her father, telling me to keep my fingers crossed that he wouldn't make her pay for the cost of the canceled wedding."

"According to her parents, she came home earlier than she'd planned after a phone call on the Friday afternoon. When she got here, she caught Leo packing his belongings, at which point he told her he was going to marry her best friend and left. The implication was that he had been here all the time."

"No," said the Colonel stoutly, "and I'm damn sure he didn't put in an appearance on the Friday, either. I was in the front garden all afternoon so I'd have seen his car."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I certainly am. We have a strict routine. Tuesdays and Fridays, the front garden; Mondays and Wednesdays, the back; Thursdays, shopping. Never varies."

Fraser glanced towards Daphne Clancey, who nodded. "Never varies," she agreed. "I blame the Army for it." A sly smile crept around her mouth. "I blame the Army for a lot of things."

Fraser chewed the inside of his lip in thought. "Why didn't you tell the Richmond police this when they interviewed you after Jinx's accident?" he said.

"Because they were only interested in why Jinx would want to kill herself," the Colonel pointed out. "So Daphne told 'em Leo jilted her, and before I could explain that she didn't seem too unhappy about it, Daphne starts weeping and wailing about the incident on the Sunday. False conclusions being drawn all over the place, if you ask me."

"What's your explanation for the incident on Sunday, sir?"

"It was an accident," he said. "Door blew shut. Goebbels was onto it like a shot. Me, too, for that matter. Hauled her out of the garage and she was right as rain in no time."

"The silly old fool nearly killed himself," said Mrs. Clancey fondly.

Fraser nodded again. "Did she give you an explanation after you got her out of the garage?"

"Just agreed it must have been an accident," said the Colonel, "then begged Daphne to stop fussing. 'I'm all right,' she said."

Fraser had observed the outside of the garage when he arrived. Like the Clanceys', which was separated from it by a narrow pathway beside the four-foot wall that divided the properties, it was part of a two-story side elevation at the rear of the house with access from inside. The front doors faced each other under discreet porches halfway between the corners of the houses and their garages, leaving an enviable stretch of ground between the gates and the front elevations. Jinx's was full of shrubs and small trees, masking the ground floor of the house from the road; the Clanceys' was rather more formal, with rose beds around a small area of lawn. After all, thought Fraser, it wasn't surprising Tuesdays and Fridays were given over to its care. A view of the back garden through their sitting room window showed an area of equivalent size.

"Did Miss Kingsley drive off in her car after you rescued her?" he asked Colonel Clancey.

"Not immediately."

"But she did go out?"

He nodded. "She made a phone call first, then shooed us out, saying she was fine."

"Who was she phoning?"

"No idea. Made the call from her bedroom. Presumably whoever she was going to visit, to explain why she was delayed."

"Do you think it was wise to let her drive in the circumstances?"

"Matter of fact, no, but there wasn't much we could do to stop her."

"Did she come back later?"

The Colonel looked at his wife. "Couldn't say, to be honest, but I would imagine so-she wasn't one for staying out."

Fraser tugged one of Goebbels's ears. "So were the garage doors bolted or unbolted when you went to see why Goebbels was barking?"

"Unbolted," said the Colonel.

"Oh, Eric!" scolded his wife. "Where's the sense in lying? It won't help Jinx. They were bolted," she told Fraser. "Eric looked through the garage window, saw what was happening, and came to me for the spare key. Frankly, it's a mercy she hadn't bolted the front door as well, otherwise he'd have had a terrible job getting in."

The old man pushed himself out of his chair and moved across gaze out over the garden. "Known Jinx since she first moved in here with Russell," he said shortly, "thirteen, fourteen years, give or take a year. She's a fine woman, a little remote perhaps, too independent sometimes-thinks she can do anything a man can do, then finds she's not as strong as she thought she was. Rescued her once from under a bag of cement because it was too damn heavy for her." He paused on a low chuckle. "Wedged under it like a great floundering crab-haven't laughed so much in years." He paused again. "Saw her through that terrible business over Russell, watched her put her life back together again and make a success of her photography. And with no help from her father, I might add. She wouldn't have it. 'I'll make it on my own, Colonel, or not at all.' That's what she said." He turned round with his beetling white brows drawn together in a ferocious frown. "Woman like that doesn't commit suicide, or even think about doing it. And if she did, she'd do it right. She'd have run a hose pipe from the exhaust and plugged the gaps in the window where it came in. Wouldn't rely on the fumes in the garage to kill her."

"Perhaps she wanted to be rescued," suggested Fraser.

The Colonel snorted derisively. "Then she'd have wept her heart out afterwards and told us how unhappy she was," he argued. "Seems to me, the important question is why. Before anyone knew Leo and Meg were murdered, the police latched onto Jinx's unhappiness at losing Leo as the reason. Two suicide attempts when you're depressed make some sort of sense." His eyes narrowed. "But what's your thinking now that you know Leo's dead? You suggesting she knew about the murders and tried to kill herself afterwards?"

Fraser thought about this for some time, his eyes searching the old man's face closely. It was a good point, he admitted to himself. There was an inherent paradox if the first suicide attempt happened before Meg and Leo were murdered, because it was a peculiarly complicated psychology that led you from suicidal despair to murderous anger and back to suicidal despair again.

He cupped his hands around the little dog, turned him over and set him on his feet on the floor, then he picked up his notes and sorted through them. "I spoke to her yesterday," he told them. "She talked about her car crash, said she didn't think she'd been trying to kill herself." He isolated a page. "She said: 'It seems very out of character.' Then she went on: 'If I wasn't trying to kill myself, someone else must have been trying to kill me.' " He looked up. "Did you see anyone come to her house that Sunday? Did you hear anyone? Did you notice anything when you let yourself in through the front door?"

Colonel Clancey shook his head regretfully. "No," he admitted.

Fraser felt oddly disappointed. "Okay," he said, "then let's move on to Monday, June the thirteenth."

"I did," said Mrs. Clancey, with a faraway look in her eyes. She drew them back from whatever memory she was observing to gaze with fixed concentration on the Sergeant. "I did," she repeated. "How very strange-I'd forgotten all about it. I was so worried about Eric having a heart attack when he was pulling Jinx out of her car that it quite went out of my head." She leaned forward, her pale old eyes suddenly alight with excitement. "Goebbels went into the house with Eric," she said, "and I could hear him barking his little head off. Well, of course I thought he was with Eric, but the next thing I knew, he was rushing up the path from the back garden, barking and snarling as if he were looking for someone. Well, you know the noise dogs make when they're after an intruder. He must have jumped out of the window in the drawing room, and that means," she said firmly, "that someone had jumped out before him, probably when Goebbels first raised the alarm. Certainly the drawing room window was open when we took Jinx inside. I closed it myself when she was making her phone call."

"Well done, old thing," said the Colonel approvingly. "Bound to be what it was all about. Some bastard was trying to do away with her. Nothing else makes sense."

"Then why didn't Jinx tell you that?" said Fraser reluctantly. "She wasn't suffering from amnesia then."

"Made a big fuss of Goebbels, you know, after I told her he was the one who alerted us to what was happening. Nearly squashed the poor little bugger."

"Still..." The whole scenario was idiotic, Fraser told himself, but he felt drawn to continue. "Look, you don't put a conscious person in a car and start the ignition in the hopes of them being silly enough to sit there until they die? She'd have to be unconscious."

"She said her head was hurting."

"Then someone must have hit her first. So why didn't she report it to the police?"

There was another silence.

"Because," said Mrs. Clancey stoutly, "she knew the person very well and couldn't believe they had meant to hurt her. No harm had come to her, after all, and Eric went on and on about it being a silly accident. It's human nature to assume the best, you know."

"Or," said Colonel Clancey reflectively, "she had more important things to do than answer police questions. As I said, very independent woman, Jinx. Probably thought she had the situation under control. I mean, who was the telephone call to? Seemed perfectly straightforward at the time, but now-well worth looking into, I'd say."

Fraser made a note. "When did you next see her?"

The old man looked at his wife. "I don't remember seeing her again. The next we knew, the police were banging on our door on the Tuesday, telling us she was in hospital."

Fraser eyed them both thoughtfully. "Your neighbor tried to commit suicide and you didn't check up on her?"

"Suicide wasn't mentioned until the Tuesday," said the Colonel sharply. "Far as we knew, it was a silly accident. Kept an eye out, naturally, but there was nothing untoward happening. Weren't going to make a nuisance of ourselves when the poor girl probably felt like a prize ass."

HARRIS & HENNESSEY, SOHO, LONDON-12:30 P.M.

Josh Hennessey, who, despite his threats on Meg's answering machine to withdraw from the partnership, was still working to keep the business alive, greeted Sergeant Fraser with little enthusiasm. "I've already told you everything I know," he said, ruffling his hair into a crest and staring sourly at the man in front of him.

Fraser explained the purpose of his visit. "If you have a business diary," he suggested, "it might speed things up a little. I need as accurate a timetable of Meg's movements as possible."

With bad grace Hennessey took a book from his desk drawer and rustled through the pages. "Okay, these are Meg's appointments. Monday, May thirty: nothing. It was a bank holiday. Tuesday, May thirty-one: blank. But it's crossed through with a blue pencil, so that means she'll have been working in her office."

"Do you remember her being here, sir?"

"No," said Josh curtly. "It was three weeks ago and Meg and I have worked together for years. How am I supposed to remember one day amongst thousands? In any case, if I was out I wouldn't have known."

"Were you out?"

He glanced at the diary. "According to this I was in Windsor, recruiting."

"Are the blue lines reliable? Would she cross a day through even if she hadn't been in the office?"

"Yes, if it suited her."

"Okay, go on."

"Wednesday, June one: ten o'clock, Bill Riley, Twelve Connaught Street. All-day meeting. Thursday-"

"One moment, sir," Fraser broke in. "Did she keep that appointment?"

"It's crossed through, which, in theory, means it was dealt with." He shrugged. "Okay, yes. Considering the amount of time I've spent since on that one customer, she was probably there until midnight sorting out his personnel problems. Mind you," he admitted grudgingly, "it's keeping us afloat at the moment. Precious little else is."

"Fair enough. Thursday," Fraser prompted.

"Thursday, June two: blank in the morning, meeting with bank manager at three-thirty. Both crossed through."

"Would that be the partnership's bank manager or her personal bank manager?"

"Probably the partnership's. We've been through a rough patch during the recession and Meg has fairly regular meetings with the bastard who holds our loans. Had," he corrected himself bleakly. "I keep forgetting she's dead. Friday, June three: blank but crossed through. Monday-"

"I'm sorry to keep interrupting, sir, but have you any idea what she did over the weekend of the fourth and fifth?''

"We had a business relationship, Sergeant, as I explained the last time I spoke to you. What she did at weekends was a closed book to me, unless it involved the partnership. Monday, June six: ten o'clock, Bill Riley again. Crossed through. Tuesday-"

"Perhaps it would be easier if I just made a photocopy," said Fraser. "I suspect it's a waste of both our times to go through it like this if there's nothing you can add to the written entries."

Hennessey pushed the book across the desk. "There's nothing. I checked after the last time you lot came, and bar a couple of meetings with Riley and the bank manager's demands for a business plan on the tenth, she seems to have spent most of that week skiving. You're farting about in cloud-cuckoo-land, frankly, if you think there's anything I can tell you."

"You're being very unhelpful, sir," said Fraser mildly. "Do you not want your partner's murderer found?"

Josh reached for a pack of cigarettes at the side of the desk. "I thought I'd kicked this fucking habit until all this happened. Now I'm back with a vengeance." He lit a cigarette and tossed the match into an ashtray, gazing moodily at the twists of smoke that rose from the spent head. "I don't know what I want, Sergeant. Meg was a good friend. Jinx is a good friend. Heads you win, tails I lose."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I can read," said Josh curtly. "The newspapers are full of it and, unless they're way off beam, you're aiming to arrest Jinx or her father because of the way Russell died."

"Did you know Russell?"

"Not very well. Jinx brought him to the office a couple of times when Meg and I were still with Wellman and Hobbs."

"Did he ever come to see Meg without Jinx?"

Josh shook his head. "Not that I remember."

"Did you know she was having an affair with him?"

Josh drew heavily on his cigarette. "Not at the time. I heard about it afterwards."

"Who told you?"

Josh didn't answer immediately. "I don't remember," he said flatly. "Either Meg or Simon, I should think." He seemed to make up his mind. "It was Meg. She was really cut up about Russell's death, kept bursting into tears for no apparent reason, so I asked her why and she told me."

Fraser didn't believe him. "I think it was Miss Kingsley who told you."

Josh looked at him for a moment. "I don't remember," he said again. "It was a long time ago."

Fraser gave a pleasant smile. "It's not particularly important, but we're trying to tie up a few loose ends. Can you recollect how soon after Russell's death she told you?"

"Look, I haven't said it was Jinx, okay?" Fraser was fascinated by Hennessey's hands, which seemed to have a life of their own, Twitching, plucking, always fidgeting.

"Understood. Can you remember when you first heard about it, sir?"

"I think it was after she lost the baby."

"Thank you," said Fraser easily. "I don't need to keep you much longer. I'd be grateful if we could just run over the last conversation you had with Meg, which I believe was the telephone call to your home on Saturday, June the eleventh. According to what you told us before, she said Leo and Jinx's wedding was off, that she was going to marry him instead, that they were leaving for France on the Tuesday but that she would pop in before then to bring you up to date with office affairs."

"That's right."

Fraser consulted the business diary. "Yet, according to this, she returned to the office on the Friday afternoon following an appointment with the bank manager. So why didn't she tell you then? That's a bit odd, isn't it?"

"Too bloody right, it's odd," he growled. "Damn it, I get this phone call out of the blue saying she's pissing off to France, leaving me to hold the fort till she gets back. I gave her absolute nell and told her I'd swing for her if she didn't get in here and sort her desk out before she left."

"So it was your idea and not hers that she come in on the Monday?"

Josh frowned as he thought back. "Probably. I was damned angry about her leaving me in the lurch without any warning. Who the hell's going to have confidence in a business where one partner buggers off at the drop of a hat? I sank every cent I own into this sodding venture." He shook his head. "Does it make a difference?''

"It might," said Fraser. He paused to think about it. "Perhaps you made her feel guilty enough to keep them hanging around longer than they meant to."

"I don't get it."

"Meg made all her phone calls on the Saturday morning," said Fraser slowly. "I wonder if the idea was to make the announcements and then leave for France immediately. Let's face it, she knew better than anyone what had happened to Russell Landy."

"Are you saying they'd still be alive if I hadn't laid a guilt trip on her?" asked Josh harshly.

"I don't know, sir. I think we need some idea of where they were on the Monday before we come to any conclusions. I mean, it's you who put pressure on them to delay their departure." Fraser looked at the other man closely before continuing. "As things stand, I only have your word for it that she and Leo didn't come here as promised."