William Goddard didn’t look pleased.
‘Can I come in?’ said Maud.
‘Isn’t there some legal requirement that you have to tell me in advance if you want to interview me?’
‘I’m just here to get some information.’
‘Am I legally obliged to answer your questions?’
Maud had to bite back a reply to this. This was the William Goddard who wouldn’t fix a leaking roof or an exposed wire or a crack in the wall until he was legally forced to and, because he had lawyers and his tenants didn’t, he never was forced to. There was a lot that Maud would have liked to say to Goddard and a lot she would have liked to do to him, but she needed information and, just now, that was more important than anything.
‘We could have a discussion about what you’re legally obliged to do,’ she said. ‘And discussions like that can turn a bit nasty. I just want to ask a few questions.’
‘I’ve got no problem with that,’ he said, in a softer tone. ‘I just don’t like being pushed around, that’s all.’
Yes, thought Maud. For Goddard, every conversation, every interaction, was about power. If you weren’t dominating, then you were being dominated.
As he led her into the house, he pointed out the details of the work he’d recently had done: the marble tiles, the bronze door handle.
‘Hand-cast,’ he said. ‘It’s more expensive but it’s worth it. You can feel the craftsmanship every time you turn a handle.’
He made coffee for the two of them from an industrial-size espresso machine. He slid a large French window sideways, and the two of them stepped out onto the patio that faced a long garden. He pointed at the huge tree at the far end of the garden.
‘It’s a hornbeam. It’s a hundred and fifty years old.’
‘I wanted to ask about the flat,’ said Maud.
‘I’ve told you everything,’ he said dismissively.
‘I don’t exactly mean the flat. I mean the contents, the stuff that was left behind.’
‘Her family came and took all of that.’
‘I’ve talked to them already. But there’s always stuff that gets left behind.’
‘Don’t I know it?’ said Goddard. ‘You wouldn’t believe the crap I’ve had to deal with over the years.’
‘What did Kira’s family leave behind?’
Goddard gave a sniff.
‘Just odds and ends. A washing-up brush, some tumblers, knives and forks.’
‘What about clothes?’
‘There were a few things left in drawers. Socks, tee-shirts, just random stuff.’
‘What did you do with it?’
‘What do you think I did with it? I put it in a bin bag and threw it away.’
‘Absolutely everything?’
He looked at her suspiciously.
‘What do you mean? You reckon I helped myself to something I shouldn’t? I can tell you that there was nothing worth stealing.’
‘What about a dress?’
‘I don’t remember any dress.’
‘Do you want me to describe it for you?’
He looked suddenly angry.
‘If I didn’t see a dress then there’s no point in describing the thing I didn’t see.’
‘I’m not making any accusation. If you took the dress, I’d just like to see it.’
‘I didn’t take the fucking dress. Is that all?’
‘Almost. Did you have the flat professionally cleaned?’
‘A couple of women went in there and did a basic clean.’
‘Not a thorough one?’
‘Why are you asking that? What business is that of yours? It’s usually the job of the old tenant to make sure the flat is in a presentable condition.’
‘Which clearly wasn’t possible in this case.’
‘It was a crime scene. I thought the police wouldn’t want it disturbed.’
‘A crime scene,’ said Maud. ‘That’s an interesting thing to say.’
‘Why’s it interesting? You’re a detective investigating a murder.’
‘I’m leading an inquiry that’s been reopened. But when you found a new tenant for the flat, there was no inquiry.’
‘I don’t get it. Are you criticising me for not cleaning the flat properly?’
‘Who’s criticising anyone? I was just asking a question.’
‘Well, the answer to your question is that – what with everything that was going on – I didn’t have the time to get the flat deep-cleaned. I think the young lady was happy to move in.’
‘And did the cleaners throw things away?’
‘I told them to get rid of any rubbish they found. I assume that’s what they did. You can ask them if you want, but I can assure you there wasn’t anything left except old magazines, gone-off food, empty beer cans, things like that. No dresses.’
‘Good,’ said Maud. ‘That’s all I needed to know.’
‘There should be a law about it,’ said Sadie Emerson.
She and Maud were standing in the main room of what had once been Kira’s flat and was now Sadie’s. She looked exhausted.
‘What do you mean?’ said Maud.
‘They should have to tell you in advance if something has happened. I can’t sleep. I actually think the flat’s haunted. When I’m lying in bed, I hear creaking in the walls and in the floorboards.’
‘I think that happens in old houses. There’s always movement.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to live here. I imagine her walking around the flat in her bare feet.’
‘I was wondering if she’d left anything behind. Clothes, perhaps.’
Sadie pulled a face.
‘Course not.’
‘Nothing at all?’
Sadie shrugged.
‘There were a few things in the bathroom cabinet, in drawers.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Oh, you know, stupid stuff. Like the things you stick between your teeth, whatever they’re called. I threw it all away. It just gave me the creeps, the thought that she might have touched them.’
‘But no clothes. I’m interested in a dress. Can you try to remember? It’s important.’
‘I don’t need to try. If there was a dress, of course I’d remember it. If I’d found a dress, I’d have given it to her family. Or I’d have burned it, just to make sure it was gone.’
‘But when you were cleaning, behind cupboards…’
‘I haven’t really cleaned properly and I’m not going to. I’m moving out as soon as I possibly can. I’m going to try and sub-let this place.’
‘Will you tell the person you sublet it to?’
Sadie flushed red.
‘As I said, it’s easy for you to say that.’