Alicia Forrest, Anthony’s wife, met them at the door of Gosling’s End, the Queen Anne house that had been in her husband’s family for several centuries.
‘You got here sooner than we expected,’ she murmured softly after she had greeted them warmly and hugged them both. They were very old family friends, and close.
‘The traffic was light,’ Robert explained. ‘Thanks for having us for the night, Alicia. You’re very kind to put us up like this on such short notice.’
‘Don’t be so silly, darling. As if we’d let you stay in a hotel. Come on, Anthony’s waiting in the library with the inspector and … a sidekick.’ Turning to Ambrose, she asked, ‘How’s Anne?’
‘She’s well, Alicia, and she sends her love. Now, what’s this chap like, the inspector, I mean?’
‘Seems rather nice, actually, low-key, well spoken, polite. Probably Eton or Harrow, in my opinion, for what it’s worth. He’s a gentleman, that’s obvious.’
‘One of the new breed of cops, I’ve no doubt,’ Ambrose volunteered.
‘Perhaps.’ Alicia said, and a moment later opened the door to the panelled library, saying as she did, ‘Here are Robert and Ambrose, sooner than we expected, Anthony.’
Robert and Anthony had been close friends for many years and greeted each other warmly with a big bear hug, and then Anthony shook hands with Ambrose. ‘Nice to see you again,’ Anthony said to Robert’s older brother. ‘Sorry it’s not under happier circumstances, old chap. Now, come and meet Inspector Lawson and Sergeant Fuller of the Gloucestershire police.’
Once everyone had shaken hands they sat down, and the inspector addressed Robert. ‘It’s my understanding that you and your late wife were separated, Mr Dunley. That’s correct, isn’t it?’
‘It is. For five years, a little more, actually.’
‘And was it an amicable separation?’
‘Yes, Inspector, it was. We’d married young and we’d grown apart –’ Robert cut himself off abruptly, suddenly remembering Francis’s advice: don’t volunteer anything; only tell them what they need to know; just answer the questions and that’s all. Please keep your trap shut the rest of the time had been Francis’s last admonition to him.
‘You work at Deravenels as the Chief Operating Officer. That is your position isn’t it?’
Robert inclined his head, studying Colin Lawson, whom he figured to be in his early forties. Nice looking, well spoken, and just as Alicia had said, he was a gentleman.
‘And you’ve held this position for how long, Mr Dunley?’
‘Since 1996, Inspector Lawson.’
‘That is when Miss Turner took over the company, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘But you have worked for the company for many years, haven’t you?’
‘Off and on, at the London office and abroad.’
‘In fact, you are following in the footsteps of your father and grandfather, aren’t you?’
‘And so you’ve known Miss Turner for a long time, have you not?’
Robert understood where the inspector was leading him, and he decided that he would have to ignore Francis’s advice on this particular matter. His relationship with Elizabeth was a well-known fact, documented by many magazines and newspapers and for quite some time now. Leaning back in the chair, feeling perfectly relaxed, Robert now volunteered, ‘Elizabeth and I have known each other since we were eight years old, Inspector Lawson. We were childhood friends, and also when we were growing up. So the answer is, yes, I have known her for a very long time.’
‘When did you last see your late wife, Mr Dunley?’ Lawson gave Robert a long stare.
‘It was in August. On the sixth, I believe. I suggested that I drive down to discuss our divorce, and Amy agreed.’
‘I understand. As you just said, your separation had been amicable, so therefore your divorce was going to be amicable, too? Am I correct in thinking this?’
‘Yes, you are. It was friendly on every level.’
‘And so you came to a satisfactory agreement with Mrs Dunley? There were no problems?’
‘No, Inspector, there were no problems at all regarding the divorce. My wife and I had agreed to it, and we were working with Mr Forrest regarding a settlement as well as alimony.’
‘And you never quarrelled about the divorce or the settlement?’ the policeman probed, albeit gently.
‘Certainly not. And if you’ve heard otherwise it’s not true.’ Robert glanced at Anthony. ‘I think you can bear me out on that point, can’t you?’
Anthony nodded and said emphatically, ‘Mr Dunley is telling you the truth, Inspector Lawson. There was no disharmony between the Dunleys about their divorce, none at all. Nor was there any during their long separation. I knew Mrs Dunley well, as did my wife, and she was absolutely content with her way of life in the country, here in Cirencester. I think everyone who knew her will bear me out on that. And anyone who might suggest otherwise would be … lying.’
‘Thank you, Mr Forrest, for clarifying that again.’
Robert said, ‘Inspector Lawson, when Mr Forrest rang me this afternoon he said that Mrs Dunley broke her neck when she fell. That is correct, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is, sir. There were other injuries. She had a deep cut on her head and bruises on her body.’
‘Would those injuries be due to her falling down the stairs? Which is my understanding of the way she died. By falling.’
‘They might be, yes,’ the inspector agreed.
‘When we spoke on the phone earlier, you said you would tell me where my late wife’s body is when we met here this evening.’
‘I did indeed, and her body is at the mortuary, Mr Dunley, with the medical examiner. You can view her body tomorrow.’
‘I wish to do that. I’m making the assumption there will be an inquest,’ Robert now said, giving the policeman a hard penetrating stare. ‘I was wondering when it would take place?’
‘I’m not quite sure of that at the moment, Mr Dunley. But within the week. That would be normal given the circumstances and providing all the evidence has been pulled together.’
‘I understand. And will it be held here in Cirencester?’
‘There is no Coroner’s Court in Cirencester. It will have to be held in Cheltenham, Mr Dunley. Now, just a couple of other questions. When is the last time you were in contact with your wife? Did you see her again after August the sixth?’
‘No, I didn’t. But we did speak on the phone. Several times in the last few weeks. I don’t have the exact dates in my head.’
‘In August or September?’
‘I spoke to Amy in late August, and the first or second day of September.’
‘And there were still no problems between you? All was harmonious.’ Lawson sat back, studying him.
‘Yes, Inspector Lawson, it was.’ Robert frowned, seemed puzzled. ‘Are you suggesting otherwise? Or is someone else suggesting that there were problems between us regarding the divorce or the money?’
‘No, no, Mr Dunley, no one is suggesting anything of the sort.’ Colin Lawson stood up, and so did Sergeant Fuller who had been silent the entire time.
‘Do you think that Mrs Dunley might have been despondent about the divorce?’ the sergeant now asked.
Robert was not only startled to hear him speak, but also taken aback by the question. ‘No, I’m sure she wasn’t,’ he managed to say. ‘Why?’
‘It suddenly occurred to me that she might have thrown herself down the stairs, not fallen at all. That it was suicide and not an accident.’
‘She wasn’t despondent at all!’ Alicia Forrest exclaimed, infuriated by this sudden suggestion, walking closer to the group of men. ‘I knew her extremely well, and she was perfectly normal.’
‘I understand, Mrs Forrest,’ Sergeant Fuller said.
The two police officers thanked them and finally took their leave, after Inspector Lawson had told Robert he would be in touch about the inquest.
Alicia showed them out and went to the kitchen to check on supper.
Anthony walked over to the drinks table once they were alone, saying as he did, ‘What we all need is a bloody stiff drink! What would you like, Robert, Ambrose?’
‘A glass of white wine, please, Anthony,’ Robert responded and walked over to join his friend.
Ambrose said, ‘I’ll have the same,’ and followed in his brother’s wake, saying in a truly puzzled tone, ‘What the hell was all that about anyway?’
As he poured the Chablis into three large crystal goblets, Anthony answered him. ‘It was a bit of a fishing trip, in my opinion. On the other hand, I think that Connie Mellor might have said something about Amy not being a happy woman. I’m not absolutely certain of that, mind you. But she made an odd remark to me, weeks ago now, regarding the divorce, and she just might have said something similar to Lawson. She’s always been a bit of a busybody. I know he was over at the house earlier today, and spoke to Connie.’
‘What was the remark she made to you, Anthony?’ Robert took the glass of wine from him, and held his friend’s gaze.
‘Connie’s remark to me was that she didn’t think Amy was happy about divorcing you, that she enjoyed being Mrs Robert Dunley and that she’d only agreed because you’d pressured her. Connie said Amy told her she wanted to please you, because she still loved you even though you didn’t love her.’
‘What utter bloody codswallop that is!’ Robert exclaimed angrily, his face flushing. ‘First of all, I never pressured Amy ever, and secondly, she didn’t want to please me at all. What Amy wanted was money. She told me she had every intention of buying a flat either in Paris, the south of France, or somewhere fun. That was the way she put it. Furthermore, she didn’t still love me, as Connie claimed she’d said.’
‘I believe you, Robert, honestly I do. I told Connie at the time that she was barking up the wrong tree. But, you know, she may well have repeated those words to Lawson. Cheers.’ He clinked his glass to Robert’s, as did Ambrose.
The three men ambled over to the sofa and chairs clustered around a coffee table, and sat down. There was a short silence between them, as they sipped their glasses of white wine, and relaxed.
Suddenly Robert exclaimed, ‘I couldn’t believe it when Fuller finally spoke out. And I am absolutely positive that Amy did not throw herself down the stairs. She wasn’t the suicidal type.’
Ambrose, who had been reflective for the last few minutes now said, ‘You’re forgetting something, Robert. Amy and her love of high-heeled shoes, her Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos in particular. She fell down those stairs. It was an accident, I’m as positive as you.’
‘The press is going to have a field day with this,’ Cecil said, staring across the dinner table at Francis, and then turning to Elizabeth seated next to him on the banquette. ‘And you both know it. You’d better prepare yourself for it, Elizabeth, steel yourself.’
‘They’ll certainly create a few sensational headlines,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘I can just see them now … and they’ll trash Robin, and me as well. It’s going to be another scandal. But there’s nothing much we can do about it. We just have to grin and bear it. And rise above it.’
Francis took a sip of champagne, and looked from Cecil to Elizabeth. ‘If the police make any suggestion at all that Amy Robson Dunley’s death was somehow suspicious, then there will be headlines. Damaging headlines. But fortunately we’re surrounded by lawyers.’
Neither Elizabeth nor Cecil said anything. Like Francis, they sat silently savouring their champagne. Elizabeth focused on the wall opposite. It was filled with beautiful dog pictures, many of them old, all of different shapes and sizes. Mark Birley, the owner of Mark’s Club in Charles Street where they were dining, had been an avid collector for years. And the watercolours and oils of all kinds of dogs were a unique feature of the club that everyone loved.
Tearing her eyes away from the wall of paintings, Elizabeth focused her gaze on Francis. ‘You can’t possibly think that someone, i.e. the police, will try and pin Amy’s death on Robin, do you?’
‘They can’t do that if there’s no evidence of foul play, and I’m sure there isn’t. Try not to worry, Elizabeth. In a few days all of this will blow over.’
‘I hope so.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Somebody in the press might try to insinuate that Robin had Amy killed so that he could marry me. But, of course, the two of you know how little their divorce mattered, because I don’t want to get married.’
‘No one can write anything like that,’ Cecil assured her. ‘There are such things as libel laws in this country, you know. And Francis is right, not only are the two of us lawyers, but we are indeed swamped with them at Deravenels. Just keep a low profile, and don’t go rushing down to Cirencester. Promise me that, Elizabeth.’
‘I promise. Anyway, Robin doesn’t want me around at the moment. He thinks it’s better we don’t see each other for the time being.’
‘A wise man,’ Cecil said, and silently thanked God that he was.