The Hanging in the Hotel

Chapter Thirty-Five

The task was not one Jude relished, but she knew she had to do it. And not on the phone; this had to be face to face.

At least she had an excuse. Her promise to contact Wendy Fullerton was overdue. She left a message on the girl’s mobile, but got no reply on the Sunday. Wendy rang back the next day from the building society.

She thought it odd and probably ominous that Jude didn’t want to tell her on the phone, but agreed to meet her after work. The rendezvous was a small wine bar behind her office.

Jude got there first and was halfway down a glass of wine by the time Wendy appeared, once again neat in her building society uniform. The girl chose a vodka and tonic, expecting to need bolstering for the news she was about to receive.

‘All right, tell me,’ she said after she’d taken a long swallow. ‘Was it another woman?’

‘No. It was a man.’ But Jude couldn’t allow time for the relief to flood in; she pressed on. ‘Which means I’ve got to ask you a very awkward question, Wendy.’ The girl looked puzzled. ‘Do you know if Nigel ever had any gay experiences?’

The answer did not come immediately. Wendy looked pale; the idea was clearly not new to her. ‘I don’t know, Jude. I really don’t. I sometimes wondered. Nigel was certainly screwed up about sex . . . but then he was screwed up about a lot of other things too. I don’t know. I think he really loved me.’ She clung to this thought, the last piece of the wreckage left to her.

‘I’m not asking out of prurient curiosity. There are two reasons. The first – the man whose mobile he kept ringing. His name was Karl Floyd, by the way – I don’t know if that means anything to you?’

The girl shook her head. ‘Does sound vaguely familiar, but no, nothing to do with Nigel. He never mentioned anyone called that.’

‘And the second reason is that a suggestion has been made that Nigel might have been in a relationship with his boss at work.’

‘His boss?’ Wendy was incredulous. ‘You mean Donald Chew?’

‘It was suggested.’

‘No. Well, I don’t know whether there was any attraction on Donald Chew’s side. I got a general feeling that round the company they thought he was gay, but pretty much still in the closet. Still, the suggestion that he and Nigel—’ The idea was too much for her. ‘No. No.’ Though forceful, her reaction was one of logic rather than distaste.

‘You said Nigel was screwed up about a lot of things.’ Jude prompted gently.

‘Yes. I think it was part of the depression. I’ve never been depressed. I’ve been down or miserable – I’m not great at the moment – but I’ve never had it the way he described . . . the sort of self-hatred thing. Sometimes he just worried about everything so much, about who he was, what he was doing, whether he should be doing it.’

‘You mean professionally, Wendy?’

‘I suppose so, yes. In his work. He did have worries in his work, but I’m sure they had nothing to do with Donald Chew coming on to him. It was more . . .’

‘More what?’

‘He kept saying he was worried about the ethics of what he was doing.’

Jude smiled. ‘Unusual for a solicitor to worry about that. But rather heart-warming, I suppose. Was it anything specific? Any particular part of the job – or any particular case that was worrying him?’

‘I honestly don’t know. Nigel talked so much about everything, after a time it was difficult to keep up. I remember he kept saying there was nothing illegal. “That’s what so wrong,” he’d say. “No laws are being broken. It’s not illegal.” But it still worried him.’

‘You can’t think of any more details?’

Wendy Fullerton gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘Sorry. He did just go on about it not being illegal. “There should be a big exposé,” he said. “People should know what’s going on” and then he’d go back to the fact that it wasn’t illegal.’

There was a silence. Behind her mask of make-up, the girl was thinking things out. ‘I’m sure Nigel wasn’t gay. I’m sure, whatever his connection was with this Karl person, it wasn’t that. And he certainly wasn’t in any kind of emotional relationship with Donald Chew.’

She looked at her watch. ‘Sorry, I must go. Get home, change, put on my make-up. Then go out.’

Jude found it hard to imagine that Wendy Fuller-ton’s face could take any more make-up. ‘Are you going somewhere nice?’

The girl grimaced. ‘Oh yes. Very nice restaurant. I’ve been invited out. I’m getting back into the business of dating.’

‘Good.’

‘I suppose so.’ But she didn’t sound convinced. ‘Has to be done, though. Have to move on. Meet men. Meet the man.’ She sighed at the effort of it all, downed the last of her vodka and stood up. ‘Though at the moment it’s as if I’m just going through the motions.’

As she watched the girl leave, Jude got the feeling that Wendy Fullerton would be going through the motions for a long time yet. Perhaps for the rest of her life.