‘I think we should talk to Kenneth Wilcox again,’ Trudy said casually the next morning. She was in the coroner’s office, waiting for him to finish writing up some notes. For once it wasn’t raining, and as she stared out of the window, she wondered what she could get her mother for Christmas.
Her father was always easy to buy for – a pot of his favourite Brylcreem and some warm socks.
Perhaps she could find some of her mother’s favourite Pears soap …
‘Why Wilcox?’ Clement’s voice interrupted her mental shopping, and she shrugged nonchalantly.
Taking a deep breath, she finally told him about meeting Duncan – making no mention of the tea and cream cake – and was off-hand and casual as she relayed the gist of their talk.
‘He seemed sure that Kenneth was someone of interest, so I thought we might as well do a follow-up interview and see if anything comes of it,’ she concluded. ‘Why, did you have something else in mind?’
Clement, not sure that he liked her casual tone of voice, looked at her over his paperwork, but merely smiled and shrugged when she finally looked at him. ‘Sure, why not?’ he said.
But as they collected their coats and headed outside, he wondered why she hadn’t told him about meeting up with this reporter chap before. And more especially, why she’d hadn’t asked for his company at their cosy teatime chat.
Always before, they’d discussed every aspect of their cases, and had mutually agreed on how to proceed, and he was not sure that he liked being kept out of the loop in this way. He was going to have to make it clear, as tactfully as possible, that it wasn’t a good idea for her to keep things from him.
As they drove towards Kenneth Wilcox’s shop, Clement’s mind went back uneasily to his talk with Sir Basil. Obviously, the man had been biased and prejudiced against his least favourite reporter, but then Clement wasn’t sure that any man would be deemed good enough for Sir Basil’s only child. And as a father himself, he knew how protective he was when it came to his own daughter’s wellbeing and happiness. So, when the newspaper owner had been going on about Duncan Gillingham’s many faults, he’d listened, but had tended to take it all with a pinch of salt.
Now, though, he began to wonder. Sir Basil had been convinced that the man didn’t care tuppence for his fiancée, and was only marrying her in order to gain all the advantages that came with being the boss’s son-in-law. By his account, Gillingham had not only deliberately set out to seduce his daughter, but was both smarmy and manipulative and generally an underhanded, sly, untrustworthy dog.
When he’d finally walked away from his lunch with the still fuming newspaper man, Clement had felt both sympathetic and amused in equal measure. He’d felt genuinely sorry that the man was so unhappy, but he also couldn’t help but feel as if Sir Basil’s woes were more imagined than real.
Now though, he was beginning to feel uncomfortably as if his cavalier reaction to Sir Basil’s troubles might be coming back to bite him. It seemed possible that Trudy too might have fallen for Gillingham’s dubious but charming ways, and he wasn’t feeling anything like so sanguine.
Of course, it was possible that he was worrying for nothing. As he negotiated Cowley’s streets, he cast her a quick but comprehensive glance. She was looking innocently out at the streets, but hadn’t yet said a word.
‘So, how did you come to meet up with the reporter?’ he asked. ‘Did he phone the station?’
Trudy, taken by surprise by the question, found herself blurting out ‘Yes, that’s right,’ before she’d even stopped to think. And the moment the lie was out of her mouth, she found herself regretting it.
What made her even angrier with herself was the fact that she couldn’t understand why she’d done it. After all, what was wrong with simply telling Clement the truth? That Duncan had met her at the bus stop …
Suddenly, her thoughts came to a crashing halt, as for the first time, she began to think, really think, about that first meeting. She knew what she’d been doing at the bus stop … but why had he been there? It seemed too much of a coincidence to suppose he’d just run into her. Besides, he’d already known who she was.
At this realisation, she gave a little internal grimace at this evidence of her naivety. Of course he’d known who she was – he was hot on the trail of investigating a story, after all. Probably one of the first things he’d have made a priority was to find out which police officer was looking into Hughes’s case, and then … what … staked out the police station? Lain in wait for her …
She let her breath out slowly, feeling more and more of a fool.
Of course he’d waited for her to appear and then followed her, and when she’d stopped at the bus stop, he’d made his move. And she, gullible twit that she was, hadn’t questioned any of it, even agreeing to meet him at a café later to talk some more.
‘I’m surprised that he got past the switchboard, or the officer on duty,’ Clement said mildly, jarring her already jolted equilibrium even further. ‘Surely DI Jennings doesn’t approve of his officers fraternising with the press. Well, at least without his approval?’
Trudy felt herself go cold as she realised that Dr Ryder, as quick and intelligent as he was, already suspected that she had been lying to him. The thought made her feel slightly sick.
And now how was she supposed to get herself out of this mess? Because he was right – normally, reporters on the scrounge for news were given short shrift by the police station’s personnel.
So did she compound the lie by saying that he’d just got lucky, and been put through to her? Or did she come clean?
As the silence lengthened, she felt more and more awkward. How could she confess to Dr Clement Ryder of all people, that she had wanted to meet a witness on her own because … well, admit it, she told herself grimly, because she rather fancied him!
It was pathetic. And it would make her sound so … silly. And Dr Ryder was always so competent and able and superior.
She shifted in her seat and wriggled internally, but in the end she knew she’d just have to bite the bullet. ‘He didn’t ring the station, you’re right. He came up to me whilst I was waiting at a bus stop and told me he had some information on the Hughes case. So I agreed to meet him to discuss it.’
Her voice came out clipped and cool, but she knew her face was flaming with shame and anger. Just wait until she saw Mr Duncan Gillingham again. She was going to give him what for! Making a fool of her, tricking her …
‘Sounds as if he wants to be able to quote you as his police source,’ Clement said mildly. But although he was careful to keep his voice light, inside he felt a hard knot of anger forming in his stomach. ‘You need to be careful about that,’ he added the warning even more emotionlessly.
She was obviously hiding something, and her high colour was a tell-tale sign of strong emotion. He thought she was mostly embarrassed and angry, and hoped that was all. But clearly Sir Basil had been right to suspect his soon-to-be son-in-law’s character, if he could persuade Trudy Loveday to forget her police training.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Trudy said grimly. ‘I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be giving him any information about an on-going investigation. And I didn’t,’ she added truthfully and with intense satisfaction. It felt wonderful to be able to say something in mitigation.
‘Good for you,’ Clement said genially. But his lips were grim as he began to look around for a parking space. From now on, he was going to be keeping a weather eye out for Mr Duncan Gillingham.
Because if that young man thought he could take advantage of his young friend, he was soon going to learn differently – and in no uncertain terms.