Death on the Downs

Forty-Two

Jude thought it odd that she hadn’t heard from Carole after she got back from Sandalls Manor on the Wednesday evening. There was so much she wanted to discuss. But she knew her neighbour was sometimes spikily unpredictable and assumed that an early night had seemed a more attractive option than staying up late over a bottle of wine spinning theories of murder.

Jude had been mildly surprised, but unfazed. It was not in her nature to be judgemental about other people’s behaviour. If Carole didn’t want to talk that evening, her decision should be respected.

Still, perhaps she should make an official report about what she’d heard. Carole had given her Detective Sergeant Baylis’s number. Jude tried it. He didn’t answer. She was invited to leave a message. She asked him to ring her. Nothing else she could do at that point.

So, although Jude’s mind was seething with the implications of what she had heard from Tamsin Lutteridge, she put those thoughts away and spent the late evening dealing with a much more difficult problem. She’d had a letter that morning from the man she’d met in London the weekend before. He claimed to have seen the error of his ways and claimed to want her back. Though she knew the idea was insane, Jude could not pretend that she wasn’t tempted.

Couching her reply to his letter in words that were neither dishonest nor misleading took a long time and a lot of concentration.

She woke the next morning, tired and a little wistful. But she was still convinced that she’d made the right decision. Her long-term sanity demanded that the relationship should be over for good.

She knew she must post the letter before any hairline cracks appeared in her resolve.

It was on her slightly melancholy way back from the postbox that Jude decided she would shift her mood by talking to Carole.

No reply when she rang the doorbell of High Tor. Probably out taking Gulliver for a walk on Fethering Beach.

Jude had turned back down the path to return to Woodside Cottage when she heard the whimpering. It was the sad sound of a dog who not only hadn’t been fed, but had also, deprived of his morning walk, done what he knew he shouldn’t on the kitchen floor.

Jude went straight across the front garden to open Carole’s garage. There was no sign of the Renault.

She wasn’t prone to panic, but she knew this was serious. Before even sorting out Gulliver’s needs, Jude rang Ted Crisp.

They stood by the Renault in the car park behind the Hare and Hounds.

“Doesn’t look good.” Ted Crisp bent down to pick something up off the ground. He held it out. Jude recognized the bunch of keys immediately.

“She’d never just have dropped them. Carole’s far too organized for that. Someone must’ve surprised her by the car and…”

“And what?”

“I don’t know. Taken her off somewhere.”

“Did she tell you she was going to come up here yesterday evening?”

“No. I guessed. I knew she’d been doing a lot of thinking about what’s been happening in Weldisham. It seemed a reasonable assumption that she’d come up here to continue her investigations…You know, to meet someone.”

“Who? Her boyfriend?”

The hurt in Ted Crisp’s voice was so overt that Jude looked at him curiously. “Boyfriend? Carole hasn’t got a boyfriend.”

“Yes, she has. Don’t pretend you don’t know. She’s been going round with some local solicitor.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“She has. His name’s Barry Stillwell. Look, Jude, I know Mario, guy who works as a waiter in an Italian restaurant in Worthing. This Barry bloke took Carole out for dinner there last week.”

“Yes, he did, but…” A thought struck Jude. “Is that why you were so standoffish to Carole last time we were in the Crown and Anchor?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ted Crisp mumbled. He had his pride.

“Ted, we haven’t got time to go into all this now, but I can assure you Carole thinks Barry Stillwell is the most boring man on God’s earth.”

“Oh. Oh, does she?” And he couldn’t help a little grin appearing through the foliage of his beard.

“Anyway, time enough for that. What we’ve got to do now is to find her. Better check whether she actually was in the pub last night.”

They couldn’t avoid seeing the blackened shell of Heron Cottage, separated from the road by the police plastic tapes. Neither said anything, but the same dark thoughts were in both their minds as they rang the bell of the Hare and Hounds opposite.

Though the pub wouldn’t open for another half-hour, Will Maples was already there. He opened the door, but didn’t invite them in. “Don’t open till eleven,” was all he said.

“I know.” Jude turned on her full charm, which few men could resist. “But a friend of ours has left her car in your car park and we just wonder where she might be.”

“Usually, when a car gets left overnight in the car park, it’s because someone’s had a skinful and been sensible enough to order a cab. I expect your friend’ll be back later in the morning to collect the car.”

“I don’t think so in this case.”

Ted Crisp held out the bunch of keys. “She dropped these by the car.”

“Are you asking me to look after them until she comes in?”

“No,” said Jude. “We just want you to confirm that she was in the pub last night.”

“Well, since I don’t know who you’re talking about, that could be a bit difficult.” Will Maples wasn’t being exactly uncooperative; but equally he wasn’t making things easy for them.

“Her name’s Carole Seddon…”

He shrugged. “Not a name I know. Not one of my regulars.”

“Thin. Glasses. Grey hair. Light blue eyes. Wears a Burberry raincoat. My sort of age.”

“Oh right, I think I know the one you mean. Yes, she came in before we opened yesterday evening. To talk to Lennie Baylis.”

“The detective?”

“Mm.”

“Do you know what she talked to him about?”

He was affronted. “What do you take me for? I don’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations!”

The response was so vehement that Jude wondered whether the manager was protesting a little too much.

“And did she leave with Sergeant Baylis?”

“No. She stayed and had a drink.”

“On her own?”

“At first, yes. Then a man joined her.”

“Who was that? Did you recognize him?” asked Ted.

“Yes. Name’s Barry Stillwell. Comes into the pub quite often. He’s a solicitor…in Worthing, I think.”

“Ah,” said Ted Crisp, deflated. Then, unwillingly, he asked, “Did they leave together?”

“I didn’t notice,” Will Maples replied smugly.

“But they didn’t stay in the pub all evening?” asked Jude.

“No. I remember they were sitting in the Snug, and when I looked a bit later, there were some other people in there.”

“What time are you talking about?”

“They must’ve both been gone by seven, seven-fifteen.”

“Well, thank you.” Jude got out a piece of paper and wrote on it. “That’s my mobile number. Could you give me a call if Carole comes back to collect her car?”

“Yes, all right,” Will said grudgingly. “But I probably won’t get a chance to look till after three. We tend to be pretty busy at lunchtime.” He smiled at Ted Crisp in a way that must have meant he knew who his visitor was. “I’m running a very successful pub here, you know.”

The landlord of the Crown and Anchor nearly snapped something back, but was quelled by an urgent look from Jude’s brown eyes.

“If that’s all,” said the manager of the Hare and Hounds briskly, “I’ve got a lot to get on with.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much for your help,” said Jude charmingly to the closing door.

They stood for a moment in front of the pub, both still avoiding looking at the wreckage of Heron Cottage.

“So what do we do now?” asked Ted Crisp.

“I think you try to contact Detective Sergeant Baylis. Tell him we’re worried about Carole. Try and find out what she talked to him about last night.”

“I’ll track him down. And what do you do meanwhile?”

“I talk to some people here in Weldisham,” Jude replied mysteriously.

Behind the bar of the Hare and Hounds, Will Maples punched in the number of a mobile phone. “Hi,” he said. “Two people came looking for her.”