SIXTY

Basil Young led Priya Kapur along a passage with a flickering ceiling light and a worn beige carpet. ‘I very much want you to meet my colleague Ursula Yates,’ he told her, turning around every pace or two for her to see his face, as though she were hard of hearing. ‘She works mostly in family and contract law these days, but she also has an extraordinary gift for crime.’ He gave a dry chuckle to make sure she realised that this was just his little joke, then stopped outside an unmarked door and listened for a moment. There was only silence from within, so he knocked gently and then opened it, revealing a formidable grey-haired woman sitting on the other side of a long conference table of polished oak, a pair of fat law books open while she made notes with a red pen on a brief of some kind. She was wearing large, thick tortoiseshell glasses that both magnified and blurred her dark brown eyes. ‘Basil?’ she said, as though she were his disapproving aunt, and had caught him in some mischief.

Young touched Priya on her elbow before she could flee. ‘Ursula,’ he said, ‘I’d like you to meet Ms Priya Kapur. Ms Kapur works at the King John Hotel. That’s right, isn’t it, Priya?’ he asked, though only, she suspected, to force her to find her tongue.

‘Yes,’ said Priya. Then, when she saw Ursula Yates’s continued puzzlement, she added: ‘It’s the property next door to Warne Farm.’

‘Ah,’ said Yates, half rising to her feet. ‘I see.’

‘Ms Kapur has some important information to share about the dreadful recent events there,’ said Young. ‘However, thanks to the… delicate and personal nature of this information, I believe she’ll find it easier to share it with another woman rather than with a man.’ He turned back to Priya. ‘Isn’t that so, Priya?’

‘Yes,’ said Priya gratefully.

He nodded, pleased with himself. Then he touched her elbow one final time in encouragement or support before leaving again, closing the door firmly behind him.

Ursula clearly realised her skittishness, for she hurried around the table to take Priya by her arm and lead her to the pair of green velvet armchairs in the corner. ‘Sit with me a moment,’ she said. ‘Take your time. Tell me what you know.’

It still didn’t come easily. But Priya had no choice now. Hesitantly, with her eyes fixed upon the floor and her cheeks flushing almost purple, with numerous backtracks, pauses and qualifications, she explained herself, her situation and what she knew. Ursula listened patiently until she was done, then commended her for coming forward. She asked a few follow-up questions to clarify one or two small points, then buzzed her assistant to have her reschedule her appointments for the next three hours. That done, she led Priya out the back way to a private car park where she kept a silver Audi A3, in which she drove them the short distance to Wisbech Police Station. Then, holding Priya lightly by the arm once more, she made her way up to the desk and demanded in her most imperious voice to speak to WPC Maria Quinn.