The Liar in the Library

TEN

Jude’s first client wasn’t booked till two p.m., so she didn’t hurry to get up in the morning. The world beneath her duvet was a comfortingly warm one. And her evening with Oliver Parsons had done much to restore the spirits brought down by her encounter with Megan Sinclair.

Though she had not realized until getting home, her mobile had stayed on her bedroom table while she was at the Hare & Hounds. There was another message on it from Detective Inspector Rollins. And one on the landline. Jude didn’t feel inclined to answer them in a hurry.

Around eight-thirty in the morning she went down to the kitchen for long enough to make herself a cup of coffee and then crawled back to bed with it. She didn’t read or put on the radio, she just enjoyed the snugness.

This feeling was increased when, on the dot of nine, she had a call from Oliver. He said how much he’d enjoyed their evening. ‘And, what’s more, I have made a positive move following it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Left a message with Steve Chasen. Said I’d like to meet.’

‘Do you think he’ll get back to you?’

‘I’m certain he will. I said I had some other ideas of publishers to whom he could offer his science-fiction novel.’

‘You’re a crafty bastard.’

‘Thank you. I take that as the compliment I’m sure it was meant to be. I’ll let you know when I hear back from him. You must come along too when we meet up.’

‘And how will you explain my presence?’

‘I’ll say you’re a literary agent.’

She must have gone back to sleep again, because when she was wakened by the ringing of the doorbell, her watch told her it was nearly ten.

She tugged on a woollen dressing gown and went downstairs. When she opened the front door, she found herself confronted by Rollins and Knight.

‘Good morning, Mrs Nicholls,’ said the Detective Inspector.

‘I told you “Jude” was—’

‘I left a series of messages, to which you didn’t reply.’

I know. I—’

‘Didn’t it occur to you that not getting back to me might make it look as though you had something to hide?’

And didn’t it occur to you that I might have other demands on my time? Jude was shocked by how near she had been to saying the words out loud. The last thing she needed to do at that moment was to antagonize the police any more.

‘May we come in? We need to talk to you.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Jude moved back into the hall. ‘Do you mind if I just go up and put some clothes on?’

‘Very well,’ said Detective Inspector Rollins. ‘This may take some time.’

‘Do sit down. I’ll make you some tea or coffee when I’ve—’

‘We don’t need any, thank you,’ said Rollins.

‘No, we don’t,’ confirmed Knight, not willing to be left out.

It was not in Jude’s nature to feel guilty. In her personal and professional relationships, she was scrupulous about her honesty towards other people. And, unlike some people, she never felt the necessity to feel responsible for events over which she had no control.

But, as she quickly dressed in her customary layers of floaty garments up in her bedroom, she could not deny that she felt uneasy. She didn’t need convincing of her own innocence, but she feared that bringing Detective Inspector Rollins round to the same view might be an uphill struggle.

So it proved. Having once again refused the offer of a drink, Rollins sat strictly upright, iPhone on lap, resisting the cushioned comfort of one of Jude’s quilt-shrouded sofas, and said, ‘Further evidence that has emerged means we are now seriously considering the possibility that Burton St Clair was murdered.’

Jude contemplated some remark about the people of Fethering being way ahead of the Detective Inspector in that conclusion, but decided it wasn’t the moment. Instead, she stayed silent and listened as Rollins went on, ‘The cause of his death seems to have been anaphylactic shock. Do I need to explain to you what that is?’

‘No, I know. It’s a violent allergic reaction.’

‘And do you know what Burton St Clair was allergic to?’

‘Walnuts.’ There was no point in lying.

Rollins and Knight exchanged looks, as though something they had discussed earlier had been confirmed. ‘So you knew about his walnut allergy?’

‘Well, I’ve known since lunchtime yesterday.’

‘When you met Megan Sinclair?’ the Detective Sergeant contributed.

‘Yes.

‘You are saying,’ asked Rollins, ‘that until yesterday you did not know about Burton St Clair’s walnut allergy?’

‘That is exactly what I am saying.’

The Detective Inspector touched her iPhone to wake up the screen and looked down at it. ‘That is not what Megan Sinclair says.’

‘So, what does Megan Sinclair say?’

‘She says that you’ve known about it for a long time. Twenty years? She says Burton told you about it very soon after you first met.’

‘I have no recollection of that.’

‘Don’t you?’ Rollins’s tone made Jude realize how unconvincing her assertion sounded.

‘Megan Sinclair recalled very distinctly the occasion when he told you about it.’

‘It’s not something I remember.’

‘Are you saying you’ve forgotten being told that piece of information?’

‘No, I am saying that, so far as I can recall, I was never given that piece of information.’

‘“As far as I can recall”,’ came the sceptical echo. ‘So, you’re saying you might have been given that information and you might have forgotten about it?’

Jude’s cool was being severely tested, but she was determined not to lose it. ‘I am saying that when Megan mentioned the allergy yesterday, it was news to me. I hadn’t heard about it before.’

‘I see.’ It was amazing how much reproach Rollins could get into two words.

Detective Sergeant Knight took up the baton of interrogation. ‘Knowing that he had a walnut allergy, what precautions would Burton St Clair have taken to safeguard his health in the event of his inadvertently eating something contaminated with walnut?’

‘I assume he would have had an EpiPen.’

‘A what?’ asked Detective Sergeant Knight

Jude wasn’t sure whether he was feigning ignorance to prompt some indiscretion on her part, so she replied in a level voice, ‘An EpiPen is an adrenaline auto-injector which is used by allergy sufferers to counteract the effects of anaphylactic shock.’

‘You seem to know a lot about them. Did you know Burton St Clair always carried one?’ asked Knight eagerly.

But Jude wasn’t going to be caught in such a simple trap. ‘No, I didn’t know that. But for someone with an allergy like his, carrying an EpiPen would have been a normal precautionary procedure. And the reason that I “seem to know a lot about them” is that in my work as a healer I come across a lot of clients with allergies. And most of them carry an EpiPen.’

‘Hm. Thank you, Jude.’ The Inspector’s use of her first name was accompanied by a manufactured smile. ‘Could we move on, please, to talk about your relationship with Burton St Clair …?’

‘Of course. But nothing has changed since we last spoke.’

‘I would still like to ask you a few more questions.’

‘Very well, Inspector.’ Meekness did not come naturally to Jude, but she knew that was what her current circumstances required.

‘When we last spoke, I had not then spoken to Megan Sinclair.’

‘I remember. The call from her came while you were here.’

‘Exactly. So I am now in a better position to check what you tell me with the evidence that she provided.’

‘Yes, but I would point out that Megan’s recollection of things could be inaccurate.’

‘I will, of course, take that into account.’

‘I mean, she was wrong about my knowledge of Al’s walnut allergy, so she might—’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘If you could allow the Inspector to ask her questions without interruption, that would be very helpful, Jude.’ Knight looked across to his superior for approval of his intervention. He didn’t get any.

‘Jude,’ said Rollins, ‘when we last spoke, you told us that you and Burton St Clair had never had a romantic or sexual relationship.’

‘That’s as true now as it was when I said it before.’

‘But you don’t deny that he “came on” to you in his car on Tuesday night?’

‘No, I don’t deny that. That is what happened.’

‘But why, having not seen you for “fifteen … twenty years”? I believe that was the time-scale you suggested?’

‘Yes. Nearer fifteen. He and Megan got married twenty years ago. It was round the time of their divorce that I stopped seeing them.’

‘Thank you for clarifying that. Why would Burton St Clair suddenly “come on” to you, if there had never been any previous relationship between you?’

‘Because that was the kind of man he was. He regarded himself as fatally attractive to women. Every woman he met was a challenge to him. Surely you’ve met men like that, Inspector?’

‘I don’t think my experiences are really relevant in this situation.’

‘Very well. All I’m saying is that, whatever woman had got into his car, Burton would have made a pass at her.’

‘And you know this … why?’ asked the Detective Sergeant. ‘Because he had made passes at you on previous occasions?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you had never responded to them? Never agreed to take things further?’

‘Never, Sergeant.’

‘Well, here again,’ said Rollins, once again looking down at the screen, ‘we have a discrepancy between your recollection of events and Megan Sinclair’s.’

‘Do we?’ asked Jude wearily.

‘When we spoke to her on Wednesday afternoon, she told us that you and her husband had started an affair very soon after you first met him.’

‘Did she?’ In the Kafkaesque situation where Jude found herself, there seemed very little point in making further protest.

‘Megan Sinclair said it was your relationship with her husband that broke up their marriage.’

Jude knew her friend had always been mentally unstable, but hadn’t realized it had gone that far. Was it really possible that Megan believed the fabrications which she had elaborated during her years of loneliness?

Or worse – a new thought invaded Jude’s mind – was it a case of deliberate lying? Had Megan made these accusations against her former friend in revenge for some imagined slight?

‘It is a pity, Inspector,’ she said bleakly, ‘that Burton St Clair is no longer alive. He could at least have corroborated my story that the two of us never had an affair, however much he may have wished for such an outcome.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Jude.’

‘Oh?’

The Detective Inspector’s expression was implacable. ‘According to Megan Sinclair, it was her husband who told her about the affair you’d been having.’

Jude’s reserve finally broke. ‘Then he was lying!’ she burst out. ‘Either Burton lied or Megan lied.’

‘Yes.’ Rollins smiled grimly. ‘There is, of course, a third possibility, Jude. And that is that you lied.’