It took surprisingly little time to convince Carter that Trudi knew nothing of Janet’s whereabouts. Just as violent rage was too foreign to his make-up to be sustainable for long, so the need for the comfort of sympathetic conversation was too strong to be long denied.
They sat and drank coffee round the kitchen table and Carter talked.
‘It came second post so I didn’t get it till I got home last night. Janet was out. She goes to a townswomen’s group on Mondays. So she says.’
He looked at his listeners with the dark-ringed bitterness of a man into whose life doubt has just come.
‘I just sat looking at the photo from time to time. I couldn’t believe it, you see. I’d just sit and have a drink and after a while it didn’t seem possible, then I’d take it out and have another look, and then it started all over again!
‘She came home after nine. I’d drunk quite a lot. I’m not a big drinker.’
He glanced at Trudi as if for confirmation. She nodded and said, ‘No, you’re not.’
‘I started soon as she got in. I asked her where she’d been, who she’d been with. I was yelling. Pretty soon she was yelling back. You know Janet.’
He fell silent for a moment as if studying that assertion.
‘I said … all kinds of things. I told her I should’ve known that only dirty tarts would let themselves get picked up through a dating agency.’
He passed his hand over his face. Trudi felt Dacre glance towards her at this revelation, but she did not meet his eyes. She was watching Carter who was now fingering the photograph, face down on the table, as if to draw the strength of self-justification from it.
‘She said I must be having a brainstorm and she was going to ring the doctor.
‘Then I showed her the photo.
‘It was a real shock to her, I could see that. She went white. She didn’t say anything. I yelled at her. She still didn’t speak. I hit her.’
He looked at the palm of his right hand as if it didn’t belong to him.
‘That’s when she left. I heard the car drive away. I just sat and drank some more. It got to midnight. She hadn’t come back. I knew she wasn’t going to come back. I wanted to know where she was. I was …’
His face screwed up in the effort of recalling his feelings.
‘I was worried,’ he said. ‘I was angry. I felt sick. I wanted to know that she was OK, I wanted to yell at her some more, I wanted to … I wanted to hear her say it was all a mistake. Not her. A fake. I don’t know …
‘Anyway, all I could think of was, she might be here. With you. Because of what it said on the back of the photo.’
His fingers touched the message.
Trudi said, ‘Did Jan see what was written there?’
‘What? I don’t know. Maybe. Perhaps not though. I don’t think she turned it over. What’s it matter? I looked up your number. It was in the address book by the telephone. And I tried to ring. All I got was the engaged signal. I tried for an hour. Nothing!’
Trudi glanced at Dacre who said, ‘It was me. I left the phone off the hook. Didn’t want to risk you being disturbed.’
Then in his stern voice, he added to Carter, ‘Mrs Adamson was ill last night. The doctor said she had to rest.’
Carter regarded him indifferently.
‘Is that so? I tried again at six this morning. Still engaged. So I thought I’d come and see for myself. I just wanted to talk.’
‘Yes, you looked and sounded like a man who just wanted to talk,’ said Dacre ironically. ‘Well, now you’ve searched the house and talked to Mrs Adamson, I hope you’re happy that she knows nothing about your wife’s whereabouts or indeed any of this business.’
He tapped the photo with his index finger. Carter looked up from it to Trudi who said, ‘Honestly, Frank, there’s been nothing like that when Jan visited me. Nothing.’
‘She’s stayed the night often enough. Last Friday she rang up and said she was staying with you. Did she?’
‘Oh yes. That’s right.’
‘And what did you do that night, eh?’ he asked harshly.
We went to Eyam and found a body, thought Trudi.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘We just sat and talked. Really, Frank.’
Dacre intervened again.
‘The man in the picture, do you know who he is?’
‘Oh yes. Well, at least I’ve seen him.’
Trudi, despite being seated, felt the wave of faintness sweeping over her again.
‘Who? Who?’
‘It’s her brother,’ said Carter, amazingly. ‘No, it’s probably not, that’s just what she said, the bitch. But that was my first thought. Her own brother! You see how easy I was to fool!’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ said Trudi.
‘Shortly after we started going out together, I ran into the two of them in Manchester,’ said Carter. ‘They were having a drink together. I remember she was surprised to see me. Well, she sort of hesitated, I recall, and then introduced this man as her brother, Jack. There was no reason to lie, not then anyway. We hadn’t got ourselves fixed up properly then. We were both free agents. But I see now she was looking ahead, planning for the future. A great planner, Janet!’
He laughed and said, ‘When we were making our wedding arrangements, I remember I said, “Hey, what about your brother Jack? Shouldn’t we ask him?” and she looked at me as if I was daft for a moment and then said, “Oh no, he’s working abroad just now, he couldn’t possibly make it.” God, what a fool I’ve been! Here, do you know him? Come on, Trudi, you can at least tell me that? Have you ever seen him around when you’ve been with Janet?’
He stared half accusingly, half appealingly, at Trudi. She felt James Dacre’s gaze on her too.
‘No,’ she said with an effort she hoped was concealed. ‘I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him in my life.’
And suddenly she recalled how very much Trent disliked having his picture taken and how assiduous he had been at removing photos of himself from display.
Perhaps if I asked nicely, Frank would let me have a print taken from this one, she found herself thinking madly.
Finally Carter left, mainly because James Dacre practically shepherded him through the door.
‘If she gets in touch, you’ll let me know?’ he pleaded as he went.
‘If I hear from Janet, I’ll certainly tell her she ought to let you know,’ said Trudi.
Finally he went. James Dacre, who had gone to his car with him, came back into the kitchen.
Trudi said, ‘I’m sorry. You must be convinced you’ve strayed into a madhouse now. If you decide that this is the last straw, I’ll understand.’
He regarded her steadily and said, ‘You knew him, didn’t you?’
‘Who?’
‘The man in the photograph. You knew him. I could tell.’
‘Could you?’ she said, with as much indifference as she could muster. ‘I must get dressed before the next act begins.’
‘Who was he, Trudi?’ said Dacre sternly. ‘Who was that man?’
She said wearily, ‘James, you’ve had two orgasms inside me and I’ve had a very pleasant feeling, but that doesn’t mean you own me.’
He looked ready to accept her challenge for a moment then he relaxed and said, abashed, ‘I’m sorry. I was just … I’m sorry. I’d no right to ask that question.’
‘Well, as long as we’re agreed about that, I’ll make you even sorrier by answering it,’ said Trudi, as she went by him through the door. ‘It was my husband, James. My dear departed husband, Trent.’