It was past eight in the morning, and Felix was still in his dressing gown, freshly shaven and his hair damp from the shower. He sat across the table from Nancy and buttered a piece of toast.
‘Aren’t you going in to work this morning?’
He looked up briefly, then put marmalade onto the toast and took a small, crisp bite, crunched it for several seconds, swallowed.
‘No,’ he said eventually. He took another bite, wiped his mouth with a square of kitchen towel, took a sip of tea. ‘I’m working from home for the time being. I’ve cleared it with my boss, who is being very sympathetic. Aren’t you going to ask me why?’
‘All right. Why?’
‘I am not going in to work because I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you not to lie to me and I don’t trust you not to do something stupid and harmful. Do you know how near I am to calling your doctor and telling him what you’ve done?’
Before she had time to stop herself, Nancy opened her eyes wide and pincered her thumb and forefinger so they were almost touching.
‘This near?’ she said, instantly wishing she hadn’t.
‘Are you laughing at me?’
‘No, of course not. I was just – oh, I don’t know. Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Do you know how much you’ve hurt me, Nancy? Do you have any idea of what I’ve done for you, what I’ve given up?’
‘Why don’t you just leave me then?’
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘And I’m responsible for you now. You don’t realise it at the moment, but you need me, Nancy. You’re standing on the edge of another disaster. You understand that, right?’
‘Right,’ she said.
‘And it’s true.’ He held up his thumb and forefinger. ‘I am that near.’
He bit into the toast again. Crunch crunch crunch. There were crumbs on his chin, a smear of butter on his upper lip.
‘Do you know what we haven’t done for a very long time?’ he asked.
‘What?’
‘Not since Friday the eleventh of November, to be precise.’
‘Very precise.’
‘That’s a long time to go without any sex.’
‘Lots of things have happened,’ she said.
‘Not even a proper kiss,’ he said. ‘As if you don’t desire me anymore.’
‘The drugs,’ she said. ‘They change things.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘And I’ve been very sympathetic. But I think it will be a way of rebuilding trust. I’ll be gentle, Nancy. You can tell me what you want me to do. And we can we have the whole evening, the whole night.’
He smiled at her. She smiled back. He finished his toast.
She would not, could not. Not ever again. Not even a kiss. Not even to save herself from wreckage.
Maud looked at the front of the house. It was an elegant Georgian facade opposite Ealing Common. Very nice. Very expensive. He lived in better style than his tenants did. She walked up to the glossy dark blue front door and pressed the bell. She heard a chime from inside. There was a pause and footsteps approaching. The door opened, revealing a large, bald man, dressed in a lilac-coloured tracksuit that didn’t look as if it was used for much actual sport.
‘William Goddard?’ she said.
‘The office rang,’ he said. ‘I know who you are.’
‘Good,’ said Maud.
But she took out her identification anyway and showed it to him. He leaned forward and examined at it.
‘Detective inspector,’ he said.
It wasn’t clear whether this was a statement of fact or an expression of doubt.
‘Can I come in?’
Goddard seemed to be seriously considering whether the interview could be conducted out on the doorstep.
‘I haven’t got long,’ he said. ‘I’ve got work to do.’
He led Maud through an elaborate hallway, black and white tiles on the floor, a curved staircase in front of them. Maud smiled as she thought that the whole of Kira’s flat could fit into this one entrance hall.
‘Is something funny?’ Goddard asked.
‘Big place,’ Maud said.
‘I’ve got four children. They’re away at school at the moment but when they get back for Christmas, the house’ll feel a lot different, I can tell you.’
‘Boarding school?’ said Maud. ‘Business must be good.’
‘You sound like that’s something to be ashamed of.’ He led Maud into a vast living room decorated entirely in white: oversized sofas, a white fluffy carpet, a vast mirror over the fireplace. ‘I got all this through sheer bloody graft.’
He gestured Maud towards one of the sofas. It was very soft, and she almost sank into it. She had to perch on the edge to feel safe.
‘We’re having another look at the death of Kira Mullan.’ Maud waited for Goddard to reply but he remained impassive. ‘Do you have any response to that?’
He just shrugged.
‘You just do what you have to do.’
‘I’ve been talking to your tenants, looking at the files. There are a lot of mentions of you. People talking about the damp and things not being fixed that need to be fixed.’
Goddard gave a loud sigh.
‘Are you another of those people who moan about landlords like everything is our fault? I’ve got no interest in discussing this with you. The tenants are always bloody complaining. What I do is follow the rules. If they think I’m not, then they can contact my solicitor.’
That would be a tort, Maud thought to herself, almost amused by her new legal knowledge.
‘My point was that your dealings with your tenants can be a bit combative, a bit angry.’
Goddard clamped his hands on his knees.
‘I’m always fair,’ he said. ‘Whatever the provocation.’
‘What about Kira Mullan?’ Maud asked. ‘What were your relations like with her?’
‘You’ve been talking to that mad woman in the house, haven’t you?’
‘I’ve been talking to everyone.’
‘Do you know what she did? She bloody snuck into the flat when someone left the door open and she got caught. And then she snuck in again, pretending that she wanted to rent it. If I were you, I’d have a look at that fruitcake. You know how they talk about the murderer returning to the scene of the crime?’
‘Why do you think it was murder?’
He was taken aback for a moment.
‘You said it was a murder inquiry.’
She hadn’t said that, but she let it go.
‘What did you make of Kira Mullan?’
‘Nothing much. She was a tenant, like any other.’
‘You don’t seem to like your tenants. You say they make false complaints. Was she like that?’
He hesitated.
‘Not that I remember,’ he said.
‘Did she ever complain or ask for something to be repaired?’
‘I’d have to check the records at the office. I can’t recall anything in particular.’
‘What was she like when you met her?’
‘I’ve got twelve properties I’m dealing with. I can’t remember every time I talk to one of them.’
William Goddard was saying absolutely nothing. But Maud had learned one thing: he knew how to talk to legal authorities. Don’t take the risk of being caught in a lie. Never say no, unless there is absolutely no risk in saying it. Instead say, I can’t remember, not to my recollection, I’ll have to check.
‘Now, the keys to each flat: how many copies do you give each tenant?’
‘One,’ he said without hesitation. ‘But of course, they can get more cut if they want.’
‘And to the front entrance?’
‘One Chubb and one Yale. I think they often forget to Chubb it though.’ He tutted.
‘And Kira’s keys – did you retrieve them after her death?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just those, or were there multiple copies?’
‘Just those. To the best of my recollection.’
‘Do you know if anyone else had keys to her flat at the time of her death?’
‘No.’
‘Except for you, of course.’
He looked at her for a beat and then nodded.
‘Obviously,’ he said. ‘I’m the landlord. I have to have access to the properties.’
‘And did you often use them?’
‘You mean, let myself into the flats?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s normal practice to go round when they are at home, with prior warning.’
‘That’s not really an answer.’
‘I don’t recall,’ he said. ‘It would not be my usual behaviour is all I can say. I like to give my tenants privacy, and that is what I do unless they are in breach of their contract with me.’
‘I told your office that I would need a set of keys for Kira’s flat. Do you have them?’
‘One of my employees will be there to let you in,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘They might already be there.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘What were you doing on Sunday the thirteenth of November?’
He stood up.
‘I’ve got to go to the office now. When I’m there I can check my work diary.’
‘Do you work on a Sunday?’
‘Sometimes,’ he said, but his colour was high and she could tell he was angry.
‘I was hoping you could tell me now,’ said Maud. ‘To the best of your recollection.’
‘It’s better if I check,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want to mislead you.’