The dogs performed their routine cavorting in the field, with moderate enthusiasm. Thea had the impression that they were all equally weary of the same procedure, day after day. It would come as a welcome change when one of them came into season and got herself mated, she supposed. There would be a litter of adorable little pups joining in the games, at least for a few weeks. She left them to get on with their exercise, after ten minutes of rather forced participation, watching them from the back window of the living room. Without the death just outside the house and the ensuing complexities, she thought she might well have gone crazy with boredom. This was only the fourth day of it and it already seemed like purgatory.
Hepzie shared her restlessness, jumping on and off the sofa, mooching around the kitchen, eyeing the front door with a pathetic optimism. The trip to the forlorn little garden centre had been a sad disappointment to a dog expecting some proper exercise. Her mistress’s mood had taken a turn for the worse, too. The salukis were tolerant at best, and hopeless for a proper exchange of canine civilities. They sniffed at Hepzie suspiciously every morning, as if they’d never met her before, and for the rest of the day behaved very much as if she didn’t exist. The fact that Thea observed all this and did nothing to help was even more dispiriting. How much longer is this going to last? was the question she really wanted to ask.
The pursuit of Imogen Peake had not been in vain, from Thea’s point of view. She had learnt a lot, if only she could sort it into a proper shape. And then, from hard facts she could make deductions and theories, which might well begin to form a pattern. Such logical thinking did not come easily to her, unfortunately. She was better at making sudden leaps and guesses, putting herself in the right place at the right moment, and extracting damaging confessions from unsuspecting individuals. At which point the image of Jake Milner floated into her head. The first of the bereaved relatives to approach her, albeit escorted by Barkley, he had left an impression that could well be false. He and Thea had both been functioning below par, knocked sideways by the shock of Gabriella’s death. Perhaps a second encounter would throw up very different revelations from the first. Thinking back to Tuesday morning, there were actually no memorable revelations at all. The man was brother to the deceased – he had to know her at least as well as anybody else in her life. And discovering more about Gabriella felt like a high priority.
But she had no idea of his address, or where he worked, or what his status was in terms of a partner. Even if she did, it would be considerably more difficult to justify descending on him than it had been with Imogen – which in the event had needed no explanation at all.
‘Let’s ask Caz,’ she muttered aloud. Hepzie flattened the tops of her ears in an agreeable doggy smile. It sounded as if they might be going out again, which would suit her very nicely.
Caz answered her phone quickly, but sighed tiredly when Thea broached the subject of having another chat with Jake and therefore needing to know his address. ‘I’m really not sure that’s a good idea,’ she demurred. ‘And you definitely can’t say it has anything to do with the police.’
‘I wasn’t going to. It wouldn’t be so strange for me to find out how he’s doing, would it? He seemed like someone who’d be open to something like that.’
‘So when he asks how you knew where to find him, what’re you going to say?’
‘Um … phone book?’
Caz laughed. ‘You know better than that, don’t pretend you don’t. I really can’t tell you where he lives. What if he killed his sister, and I send you into his den to get killed as well?’
‘He didn’t, though – did he?’
‘Might have done,’ said Caz. ‘It could have been just about anybody.’
‘No progress on finding the car, then?’
‘We’re onto the ferries and Shuttle now. Have you any idea how many there are? Channel Islands, various bits of France, Ireland, Isle of Man, Holland – they’ve all got car ferries going back and forth every day. If I wanted to get my car out of the country without being noticed, that’s how I’d do it.’
‘Even with broken headlights?’
‘Absolutely. It’s not a requirement that the thing be in perfect order. Nobody checks. But it might show up on CCTV, which is why we’ve got a dozen plods trawling through endless hours of the stuff. They’ll find it eventually, I suppose.’
‘Umberto went on the Shuttle,’ said Thea inconsequentially.
‘I doubt if that’s relevant,’ said Caz, before adding, ‘Although it might be, I suppose.’
‘Haven’t you checked his booking and whether he really showed up as scheduled?’
‘We have. He was on one that went at something like four o’clock Monday afternoon.’
‘And it really was him? He had the right passport, did he?’ Thea found herself focusing on precisely how a person might devise a clever scheme whereby it looked as if he was under the English Channel when really he was mowing down a helpless victim in the Cotswolds. ‘They do check passports, presumably.’
‘Of course they do. Haven’t you ever been on it?’
‘No, actually. I prefer to go on an aeroplane when I leave the country.’
Caz merely tutted impatiently.
‘So can I go and see Jake? Just give me a hint as to where I should start to look for him.’
‘I can’t disclose anyone’s address, even to you. See if Umberto has an address book,’ came the minimally helpful reply. ‘Or see what Google can tell you.’
‘All right, then. I’ll do that.’
Umberto had no discoverable address book, but he did have a very messy list of phone numbers stuck on the wall by the landline phone. He had printed out a column of names and numbers, down the middle of a sheet of A4, and then scribbled at least as many again on every available inch of blank paper, trying to keep it all vaguely alphabetical. After minutes of close scrutiny, Thea found Jake M somewhere in the middle, to the left of the original column. There was a mobile number next to it. Without giving it any further thought, she sent a text to the number.
‘Hello, this is Thea at Positano. How are you now? It would be nice to chat a bit more.’
Would he regard that as intrusive, even slightly sinister? That depended, she supposed, on whether he felt guilty. His attitude could be anything from a fierce desire to catch his sister’s killer to a terrified paralysis in case he was identified as having done it himself. The latter seemed impossibly unlikely. Jake had been too limp to be a murderer. And was there ever a case of a brother hating his sister badly enough to kill her? Undoubtedly there must have been, but Thea couldn’t think of one.
Jake replied within moments: ‘That’d be great. I’ll be with you in 20 mins.’
‘Help!’ Thea muttered aloud. What had she done? Wasn’t there something she should have borne in mind about death and sex? Did Jake think she’d invited him round for a restorative bit of coitus? He was fifteen years younger than her, which might give him pause, but equally well might not.
Or was she being ridiculous?
She could keep him outside, perhaps. Take him for a walk up to the old church, with her dog for good measure. Or sit him out in the field watching the salukis. The weather was barely warm enough for much idle sitting, but it was at least dry. The next rain wasn’t due until late afternoon.
Would she have to find him some lunch, was the next worry. Which led to an obvious solution to the various dilemmas. They would walk the half-mile or so to the Horse and Groom in Upper Oddington, find a cosy corner in one of the bars and engage in meaningful dialogue in perfect safety. Again, she reproached herself for entertaining ideas of personal security, with words like ‘safe’ almost a taboo in her lexicon. When Timmy had once casually stated ‘Better safe than sorry’, Thea had lectured him on the implications of such a timid attitude. ‘Much better take a risk, even if it makes you sorry. Keeping safe is for wimps,’ she told him.
After some thought, the little boy had nodded. ‘After all, we’re all going to die in the end, aren’t we?’ he said.
‘Precisely,’ Thea had congratulated him.
‘But they say it all the time at school,’ he added. ‘It’s like a sort of religion. They would think you’re a heretic if they heard you.’ Timmy had been watching purportedly educational videos about heretics, somewhere online.
‘I’m afraid that might be true,’ Thea had sighed.
So now, having allowed herself to worry about an assault from a man who was almost certainly entirely harmless, she gave herself a shake. ‘Even so,’ she told her dog, ‘I think the pub’s still a good idea.’
Jake Milner arrived promptly, and she suggested the walk to the neighbouring village and he acquiesced without a murmur. The dog automatically went too. The weather would have graced the middle of March quite adequately, but being June, it was very disappointing. Jake Milner shivered and remarked that he should have brought a coat.
‘It’s not really that bad,’ said Thea bracingly. She was feeling flickers of remorse at having enticed him out for her own not-so-altruistic reasons. ‘The pub will be warm, I’m sure.’
He said little as they walked, and winced every time a car went past. The manner of his sister’s death had evidently gone deep, imbuing everything with its violence. Thea tried to decide whether this was a sure sign of guilt or innocence, but concluded it could equally well be either. Anyone of even minimal sensitivity would relive the crunching crushing impact of metal on flesh, time and time again for months or years. If he himself had caused it, the reverberations would be immense. If it was no more than imagination, having heard the basic facts, then the wincing would be born of grief and horror and a strong sibling bond. ‘You and Gabriella were close, were you?’ she asked, sounding fatuous in her own ears.
‘About averagely so, I suppose. Nothing special. At least that’s what I would have said a week ago. Now I feel as if the person who knows me best has gone, and I’m left all untethered and misunderstood.’
It was a much more lucid reply than she had expected. ‘Untethered’ she repeated slowly. ‘That’s a good word to use.’
He threw her a glance that suggested he might feel slightly patronised. ‘It’s how I feel,’ he insisted.
Thea said nothing, giving totally unnecessary attention to her dog for a few seconds.
‘Why did you want to see me?’ Jake asked, his voice suddenly sharp. ‘I thought we were going to have a mutual debriefing session. You asked me how I was, in your text. I’m happy to tell you, but I don’t want it to be all about me. You saw it, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Yes I did. But it’s hard to explain how it affected me, and how I am now. I can’t claim to have lost anything, like you have. I thought I’d cope all right, given that I’ve been around all sorts of death for a while now. I think for me, it’s just shock. Nothing very emotional about it – and it’s wearing off already.’
They were walking along a section of road with nothing but grass and trees on either side. Ahead was a bend, beyond which lay the pub. Nobody could hear them, and very little traffic passed by. Talk began to come more easily. ‘My main difficulty on Tuesday was believing it. That police person was very good about that. She seemed to understand.’
Thea listened hard to every word. There was something about being understood that felt important to the man. ‘She’s quite special, I think. People like her. Trust her, to be more exact. She doesn’t seem capable of deception or anything like that.’
‘She said she knew you. She said people trust you, as well.’
‘Did she?’ It had never occurred to Thea to wonder at her own level of trustworthiness. She tucked the thought away for future consideration.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘Well … it’s not something you often hear, I suppose. Anyway,’ she changed the subject briskly, ‘tell me how your mother’s coping. Have you seen her much?’ She wanted to add And what about your father? And one or two more unacceptably intrusive questions. The hope was that the answers would emerge spontaneously, without direct questioning.
‘I saw her one evening. Must have been Tuesday. She’s gone all quiet and stiff. They tell me that’s not unusual. It’s not very helpful, either. I’m assuming she’s assessing the way she and Gabriella were with each other and trying to find a way of describing it to herself that doesn’t sound too awful.’
‘Oh?’
‘They never really got on. Gabriella was too intelligent and impatient and righteous for poor old Mum. She’s a bit dim sometimes. And not a person you’d trust with anything important. She loses things and gets things wrong, and tries to get out of pickles by telling very obvious lies. All that made Gabby furious. She’d yell at her to make at least some effort to be a better person. Actually, she seemed to think the whole family lacked moral fibre. She gets it all from our grandmother, of course. I mean got. Past tense.’ He sighed.
‘Oh?’ said Thea again. They were at the pub, walking up the sloping driveway, and past the empty outdoor tables. She hoped the conversation would not be sabotaged by the hassle of choosing a place to sit and ordering some lunch. ‘Let’s find a quiet corner.’
He followed her and Hepzie into the haphazardly arranged building, and settled without argument into a seat in one of the bars. ‘What do you want to drink?’ she asked him.
‘Beer, I suppose. And a sandwich or something. Let me know what I owe you.’
His passivity was probably the result of shock and grief, Thea guessed; although it might easily be how he always was. It was impossible to know. His descriptions of his sister and mother had been compelling and insightful and Thea was eager for more. There had been all too little information about Gabriella so far. A brother was likely to be an excellent source, if she could keep him on the subject.
She hurried back to him carrying two pints of Doom Bar. Jake drank deeply from his, as if suddenly conscious of dehydration. He exhaled contentedly. ‘That’s better,’ he said.
‘Gabriella was younger than you, right?’ she prompted.
‘Right. Twenty-one months between us. I don’t remember a time when we didn’t have her. She’s always been there to straighten me out.’ He looked directly at Thea, who was sitting across the table from him. ‘You know the worst thing about all this?’ She shook her head. ‘The unfinished business. It’s as if we were halfway through a conversation, and I had ten crucially important things to say – and now I can’t. It’s probably the same for Ramon, but he and I never seemed to know how to talk to each other. And her work. She was in the middle of translating a book. How can anybody hope to pick that up and finish it now? They’ll have to start all over again. And her finances weren’t at all straightforward, either. She’s been mining bitcoins, for one thing. And getting involved with crowdfunding. I doubt if anybody’s ever going to manage to untangle all that.’
‘Mining bitcoins?’ echoed Thea, who had just about heard those words before, but had no concept of what was involved.
‘Don’t ask. I expect I’m even more ignorant than you on that subject.’ He noticed her expression. ‘And no, I don’t imagine it has anything to do with her being killed. The police already asked us that.’
‘Us?’
‘Me and my mother. And presumably Ramon. I got the impression the police don’t understand it, either.’
‘She sounds as if she was a busy person. Your sister, I mean.’
‘She certainly kept herself occupied. She was a sort of hub for the family, keeping in touch with them all and passing news back and forth. Especially fond of Uncle Umberto. Nagging me to find a wife and keep the whole thing going. We’re running a bit low on numbers, in her view.’
‘I noticed that,’ said Thea, thinking of Victor Rider’s book.
‘Did you?’ He frowned. ‘Noticed what?’
‘That there weren’t many in your generation. You and Kirsty, now Gabriella’s gone. Is that right?’
‘That’s what we thought until last year.’
‘Christian and Stefan!’ Thea remembered. ‘Didn’t you know about them before that?’
The answer was aborted by the arrival of their lunch, and Hepzie almost tripping the girl who was carrying the plates. A pickled onion from Thea’s ploughman’s rolled across the table. Two men came noisily into the bar, followed by a muddy Labrador. Thea forgot her question and Jake did nothing to remind her. ‘I could manage another beer, actually,’ he said, when the girl asked if she could get them anything else.
It dawned on Thea that he had not yet made any move to pay for his share of the meal, and she wondered what the chances were that he would get round to it. ‘We’ve got a tab,’ she told him. Her own beer was still barely touched.
The conversation seemed to have dried up for the moment. They ate in silence until the fresh drink was produced. ‘What about your father?’ Thea asked suddenly.
Jake looked up. ‘What about him?’
‘Is he with your mother?’
‘Oh – no. Not for ages now. They broke up when I was about twenty. He’s got some girlfriend he found on the Internet, who we all pretend doesn’t exist. Except Gabriella, who assured us she was perfectly nice. It’s always awkward, though, when that sort of thing happens. People don’t approve.’
‘Do you?’
He grinned, startlingly. ‘You have to admit he’s done all right for himself. But I know we’re not meant to say that. It’s beyond my comprehension, to be honest. I can’t imagine what she can possibly see in him.’
‘She’ll be after his money,’ said Thea rashly.
‘That’s what Kirsty says. And my mother, of course. She’s got good reason to be outraged, I know. But I’m not so sure. It’s lasted quite a while now, and they seem happy enough.’
‘And Gabriella liked her.’
He nodded, and gave Thea another close look. This time, she kept her face bland, hiding her suspicions that here could be another clue to why Gabriella had died. She considered Jake’s remarks about unfinished business, and how he had already told her about two or three topics on which ongoing discussions might well have been violently interrupted. Had loyalty to the objectionable girlfriend infuriated somebody? Had Gabriella been cheating over the bitcoins? Had she infuriated Ramon somehow? None of these felt especially convincing, but at least there was now a lot more to go on.
‘Have you talked about all this to the police?’ she asked.
‘All what?’ He looked genuinely bewildered.
‘The family stuff. Your father.’
‘I have a bit, as it happens. They just sat there and let me ramble on about cousins and aunts, but I don’t think they found it very interesting. I mean – what could it possibly have to do with her being murdered?’ He scowled at her as if she’d made an unwarranted accusation.
She shrugged placatingly. ‘Good question. They probably automatically want to know as much as possible about her background. It’s just part of the normal routine. I expect you were really useful in building up a picture. They can’t find anywhere to start the investigation otherwise.’
‘They’ve had three days already. Surely they’ve made a start by now.’
For the first time she detected a hint of anger. It made her wary. ‘Well, yes, they must have. But it’s mainly to do with the vehicle, I think. They’ll have checked what you all drive and where you all were on Monday.’
He snorted. ‘That was just about the first thing they did. My mother was not a bit impressed, I can tell you. She felt they were accusing her of killing her own daughter, just because she said she was lying on the bed reading, and then couldn’t remember which book it had been. I mean – after what happened, how could they expect her to?’
Thea cocked her head at him, not daring to ask a direct question.
‘And I was driving home. In my small black Ford Focus. I dare say they’ve found me on some cameras by now.’
He had drained his second beer and was starting to sound slightly slurred. ‘I expect they have,’ she nodded. ‘Are you going to be all right to drive after all that beer? Have you got to be anywhere?’
‘Compassionate leave,’ he said. ‘Two weeks off and whatever day the funeral is.’
‘So you don’t have to be anywhere.’
‘I said I’d go and see Aunt Imogen later on. I saw Aunt Penny one evening. She’s actually easier to talk to. Immy’s always on the defensive. And Ramon’s on leave as well, today and tomorrow. I might pop in. He sounds as if everyone’s steering clear of him.’
‘He teaches my stepdaughter,’ said Thea absently. ‘She’s very upset on his behalf. She met Gabriella, as well.’
‘Small world,’ said Jake Milner, equally absently.
‘Yes.’
Another silence fell as they each followed their thoughts. Thea was repeating the small world remark to herself, wondering how true it was. The Kingly clan made it seem so, clustered as they were in a small area of England. Thea was known to dozens of local people – perhaps hundreds – after her years as a house-sitter and accidental detective. Now she was also the wife of a famed alternative undertaker, her circle of acquaintances had spread even wider. So it was hardly surprising to find that there was a tight network that included the whole Kingly family – as well as her own Stephanie. But there were two notable exceptions, which now came back into view.
‘Will Christian and Stefan come to Gabriella’s funeral?’ she asked.
‘What?’ Jake’s thoughts had evidently not been following the same track. ‘I doubt it. Nobody really thinks of them as part of the family, as far as I know. None of us knew they existed until last year.’
‘Pardon?’ Thea frowned wondering whether she had been particularly dim not to have registered this odd fact earlier.
‘No – they were born in Austria and lived there ever since. I don’t even know what families they’ve got, if any. Nobody dares mention them to Aunt Immy. She’s ashamed of them, you see.’
‘Oh,’ said Thea, not at all sure she understood. Her morning conversation came back to her. ‘But she talked about them to me only today. There are five grandchildren. She thought Stefan might be the one—’ She stopped herself, before revealing the troubling phone message of the day before. There were too many undercurrents swirling about for that to be a sensible idea. ‘She said everybody thought she should be ashamed of them, but I don’t really think she is. I mean – how could anybody feel like that about their own children?’
‘Hardly children. They must be close to forty.’ Jake’s thought processes appeared to be slowing, the beer exerting an increasing influence. ‘They inhabit a very different world,’ he added poetically.
But did they kill Gabriella? Thea wanted to ask. For no logical reason that she could put her finger on, this began to seem a sneakingly credible question. She closed her eyes for a moment, straining to visualise the family tree and all its permutations. ‘Did your grandmother never meet them, then?’ she wondered.
Jake gave her a weary, bleary look. ‘Of course not. As soon as she found out about them, she went berserk at poor Imogen. It was what killed her – getting into such a massive rage.’