Ramon the boyfriend, the handsome Spanish teacher beloved of her stepdaughter, was dead. He had driven down a small track into a clump of trees and filled his car with lethal carbon monoxide. He was found just too late by a woman and her dog at ten o’clock that morning. Somehow the news was out by midday and anyone who knew the man was bleating about it online.
Stephanie was inconsolable. ‘They all say it means that he killed Miss Milner,’ she wailed.
Thea understood that the police would be very tempted to adopt this line and declare the investigation closed. She also knew that no such thing could be allowed to happen. Ramon had no access to Stefan Woltzer’s car, surely? And did he not have a bulletproof alibi? For the moment, Thea could not remember where he said he had been on Monday, or why she had so readily dismissed him from her list of suspects. Then it came back to her that he had in fact been unable to demonstrate precisely where he had been. He could all too easily have left school as usual, somehow got hold of the car in Cheltenham, used it and returned it, and nobody the wiser. If he hid his own vehicle somewhere out of sight, he might have done it and got away with it. Although there had to be cameras galore all along his route from Chipping Campden to Cheltenham that would have recorded his progress. And flakes of his skin or loose hairs from his head would have been left behind in Stefan’s car. And Thea now knew with utter certainty that the man was innocent. He was collateral damage, broken by the horror of his loss and all its implications.
‘It’s absolutely terrible,’ she told the girl on the phone. ‘The poor man.’
‘When are you coming home?’
‘Soon. Is Dad there?’
‘In the office. With a woman.’
‘For a funeral?’
‘I s’pose so.’
‘Well, try not to get too upset about Ramon. He must have been very unhappy. We might try and get Caz to come over tomorrow and talk to us about it.’ Stephanie had formed a devoted bond with the young detective, which Thea hoped was beneficial to them both.
‘But what if he did kill Miss Milner?’
‘He didn’t, Steph. I know he didn’t. Do you believe me?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Listen, I’m going now. There are only one or two more things to do here and then I’ll be home. What’s for supper?’
‘Fish and chips,’ said Stephanie. ‘It’s meant to be a surprise. Dad said if you’re not back by the time he fetches it, we’ll eat your share. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything, though. I feel all full – sort of choked.’
‘Oh, Steph. You poor thing. I’m coming as soon as I can, I promise.’
‘All right.’
She ended the call and faced the two men, who had been shamelessly listening. ‘The boyfriend died,’ said Umberto flatly. ‘Presumably by his own hand.’
‘The guilt too much for him,’ said Savage with an intolerable smugness.
Thea suddenly got up. ‘Come on, Heps,’ she said. ‘We’re going now.’ She looked at Umberto. ‘My bag’s all packed. If you’ll just give me my money, I’ll get out of your way. I’m needed at home.’
‘Let me have your bank details and I’ll do a transfer.’
‘No – we agreed you’d pay me in cash. That was part of the deal.’ The matter was not important, and yet she seized it as if it was crucial. It felt like a deliberate slight, on top of everything else she’d been forced to endure.
‘Was it?’
‘What sort of idiot uses cash these days?’ said Savage wonderingly.
‘Idiots like me. Oddly enough, I find it easier, quicker and more secure.’ It was true – only a few months previously she had had her own little epiphany, standing in a lengthening queue behind someone whose debit card wasn’t working. With an exasperated sigh, the person on the counter had said, ‘Is anybody paying in cash?’ And the fortunate few had shifted to a different till and escaped in moments.
Since then, the advantages had burgeoned. It was a revelation. She was almost at the point of boycotting any establishment that refused cash. She had written angrily to Timmy’s school, which had announced itself as cashless. ‘I’m going to get a T-shirt printed with CASH IS KING on it,’ she proclaimed. So far that had not happened.
‘Well, I haven’t got any on me,’ said Umberto, with implacable finality.
Thea became aware of a volcanic fury building inside her. Everyone she had met over the past week had been annoying, in retrospect. Even Gabriella Milner, being careless enough to get herself killed right under Thea’s nose. Her brother Jake was limp and pathetic. Penny Rider was bossy and cold-hearted. Clifford Savage was devious and sinister. But Umberto took the prize. Everything was very much his fault. She glared at him. ‘Don’t you ever keep your promises?’ she demanded.
He shrank away. ‘I’ll get some tomorrow, if it’s that important to you. You can come over and collect it.’
This did nothing to assuage her rage. ‘And find you’re out, or have forgotten all about it. No,’ she snarled, ‘do the bank thing. I don’t ever want to come here again.’ She fished in her bag for her wallet and provided the necessary numbers.
Then she and her dog marched to the front door, where she had left her bag. Making a suitable exit seemed to be important. The fact that she was unsure of the whereabouts of her car keys, and an uncertainty as to whether the outrageous gate would open at her command both slowed her progress slightly. As she rummaged again in her bag for the keys, and paused inside the gate, the legion of loose ends and unanswered questions caught up with her. Could she really just drive away from it all?
She could, she decided. There was a loving family waiting for her. The dog was gazing at her, wondering why the gate didn’t open. Gladwin would be sifting every detail and creating a case that would stand every kind of scrutiny.
But a case against who? Or should that be whom? Even though the identity of the killer had become crystal clear to Thea over the past hour, through the layers of treachery that comprised the Kingly family, she knew the police would have great difficulty in proving it. And she knew she had no choice but to ensure that Gladwin got it right.
The gate opened obediently and woman and dog passed through into the village street. At the same moment a car pulled to a halt right beside her, giving a toot on the horn as it did so. ‘Caught you!’ said Gladwin, jumping out of the driving seat. Given her line of work, this struck Thea as a trifle ill-chosen as a greeting.
‘Why? What have I done?’ she asked.
‘Nothing criminal, as far as I know. I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to Umberto – and you.’
The passenger eased herself out of the car much more slowly than Gladwin had done. ‘Imogen!’ said Thea, marvelling that she could still be surprised.
‘I’ve come to apologise,’ said the woman. Her face was even more haggard than it had been earlier in the day, her voice breathy. ‘I killed Gabriella. Stefan let me have his car, without knowing why I wanted it. I made sure there was no evidence against him – or me, if possible. We cooked up the whole thing between us.’
Thea kept her eyes on the woman’s face. ‘You didn’t, though, did you? You’re covering for Kirsty, now you’ve worked it all out, the same as I have. And it wasn’t you who cooked the whole thing up – you’re just saying that to try to convince the police. You think you’ve got nothing to lose.’
‘That’s rubbish,’ Imogen insisted. ‘I wanted to tell you I was sorry you had to witness it. That’s been nagging at me all along. You’re a nice person. You shouldn’t have seen such an awful thing.’
‘No, I shouldn’t.’ They were standing outside the gate, which had clanged shut behind Thea. She looked longingly at her own little car, parked barely thirty yards away. ‘But it wasn’t you. Nobody will ever believe it was.’
Imogen ignored her words. ‘I hated her, you see. She betrayed me to my mother, lost me this house, made sure the whole family ostracised me, and did her best to alienate me from my sons. She never showed a morsel of remorse about it, either. She deserved what she got.’
Thea turned to Gladwin. ‘Have you told her about Ramon?’
Gladwin gave her a bitter look and shook her head. ‘You never will mind your tongue, will you?’ she accused.
Imogen coughed painfully. ‘What about him? He’s better off without her – he’ll soon realise. He was far too good for her and never got any credit for anything.’
‘He killed himself today,’ said Thea flatly, without looking at Gladwin. ‘It’s difficult to see why, unless he wanted everyone to think he killed Gabriella. Which seems to be working, according to my stepdaughter.’
‘Oh!’ Imogen moaned and sank to the ground. ‘Not Ramon!’
‘Another victim of the killer,’ said Thea relentlessly. ‘My guess is that he just couldn’t face life without Gabriella. He seemed to have a fair idea of what she was like, and loved her anyway. He put everything into the relationship.’
Imogen shook her head weakly, while Gladwin hovered anxiously. ‘We should get her inside,’ said the detective. ‘She’s really not at all well.’
Imogen pushed away her hand, refusing to be helped. ‘No, you’ve got that wrong. Ramon was planning to leave Gabriella for Kirsty. They’d got together only a few weeks ago, and he was going to tell her on Sunday. She only confessed that to me today. She’s feeling very bad about it.’
Thea almost laughed. ‘That can’t possibly be true. Cliff Savage has just told me that he and Kirsty have every intention of living together here in this house. Your daughter is playing games with you – can’t you see?’
‘She’s had a very hard time, this past year,’ whispered the woman, before closing her eyes. ‘I can’t betray her after everything she’s done for me. She did it all for me, you see.’
Thea left Gladwin to deal with everything, once Umberto had come out to help manhandle Imogen into the house. ‘It was Kirsty Peake who killed her cousin,’ she said loudly, before turning away.
‘Yes, I know,’ said the detective superintendent.
She wanted desperately to get home, to the fish and chips and Friday evening lethargy. And yet she knew quite well that that was not how it would be. Stephanie was distraught. Drew would be disapproving and perhaps accusing. In her current frame of mind, Thea feared she would only make everything worse. She was sick, sad, sorry and very much on the brink of tears. Everybody she had met through the week had been knocked sideways, betrayed and battered by events. The details niggled at her, and there was still no cessation of the annoying questions. What had Stefan’s part been? What did the Riders make of it all? And Jake? Theresa? Gabriella was well out of it, viewed from one perspective. It had all been her own fault, some might say. Thea had a feeling Umberto might take such a view. The death of Jocasta had been Gabriella’s doing, and that in itself warranted some kind of justice.
But murder could never be excused.
She had to find a way to debrief herself before she could inflict her miserable presence on the family. On the outskirts of Stow-on-the-Wold she pulled off the road and parked beside a little row of shops. It was twenty to five. She could afford half an hour before showing up for the fish and chips. Time enough, perhaps, to pull herself together. Especially if she could recruit someone to help her.
Miraculously, Caz Barkley answered her phone quickly. ‘They’ve gone to arrest Kirsty Peake,’ she said. ‘I expect you know as much as I do about how that came about.’
‘It was horrible. Her mother—’
‘Yes, so I gather. Gladwin phoned it through ten minutes ago. It’s all moving really fast now. Those of us still here have been trying to piece it all together.’
‘Those poor people,’ Thea tried again. ‘I feel sorry for them all.’
‘Treacherous lot, from what I can work out.’
‘Not really. I’m still struggling with the motive. Kirsty and Gabriella were like sisters when they were small. How could one murder the other like that?’
‘Sisters can hate each other, you know.’
Thea gave that some thought. She loved her sister Jocelyn unreservedly and always had. But Emily – well, she was harder to love, or to understand. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that,’ she told Barkley. ‘It’s beyond my imagination.’
‘Why did you phone me? Is there something we’ve missed?’
‘I’m past trying to help your investigation. It’s down to you to make the case. It probably isn’t going to be easy, but my part in it is finished. I’m just left carrying a whole bucketful of crap. All the dark feelings and misery. It doesn’t really feel fair.’
‘Since when was anything ever fair?’ snapped Barkley. ‘Haven’t we agreed on that ages ago?’
‘Stephanie’s been caught up in it, as well. Her beloved Mr Rodriguez is dead, don’t forget. What’s that going to do to her?’
‘She’ll dump it on her father, I expect. Isn’t that what he’s best at?’
‘She’ll want to understand everything about the murder. Who and why and how. It might come best from you. Will you have a moment to come over, tomorrow or Sunday?’
‘No, Thea,’ said Caz with unusual firmness. ‘It wouldn’t be my place to do that, on a number of levels. You and your family have to deal with it in your own way. No good could come of police involvement at this stage.’
‘Oh,’ said Thea. ‘I might have to think about that.’
‘I’m not saying you can’t ask questions. All the loose ends and so forth need looking at. But you can probably figure most of it out at least as well as we can here. Email me with anything factual you want to know. Otherwise, trust me when I say you’ll manage fine on your own.’
Most of the drive home was done on autopilot, but when she took the final turn into Broad Campden Thea could no longer avoid the fact that Drew had been very angry with her when they last spoke. She was going to have to abase herself and do everything possible to propitiate him. She would be expected to spend all weekend putting him first and staying off the subject of murder or house-sitting. It was basically a rather depressing rerun of earlier occasions where he had been frosty about her activities.
All the doors and windows were open when she reached the house. The day had slowly got drier after the morning downpour, but it was still far from summery. Drew, however, believed in the value of fresh air and rural sounds and smells and welcomed them into his house. After the repressive levels of security in Oddington, it was a blessed relief. It was, however, unusual for the front door to be standing quite so widely open. Hepzie ran ahead to announce their return and all became clear.
An unknown female voice chirped, ‘Oh! And who might this be?’
‘Thea?’ came Drew’s familiar tones.
Two people came forward and stood together in the doorway. One was Thea’s husband and the other was a smiling woman in her early thirties, with dimples and curly hair. She was the same height as Drew. Standing side by side, they looked horribly like a couple.
Thea was six years older than him and had never once considered that to be a relevant factor in their marriage. She was pretty, small, intelligent and headstrong. And a lot more. Here was a tall, young, lovely woman who he obviously liked. Even Thea, confident and blithe as she might be, experienced a violent shock of fear and jealousy. Surely he wouldn’t? Surely of all the men in the world, she could at least trust Drew Slocombe? Or had she finally pushed him too far and here was his revenge? Could he possibly betray her in such a clichéd way?
‘This is Vicky,’ he said with a smile. ‘We’ve been arranging her grandmother’s funeral.’
Oh yes – it looks like it, Thea wanted to snarl. Anyone less grief-stricken or funereal would be hard to imagine. ‘Hello,’ she managed.
‘I’ve been here practically the whole afternoon,’ trilled Vicky. ‘I don’t know where the time went.’
‘Stephanie phoned me about her teacher,’ said Thea, holding nothing back. ‘He killed himself, and she’s very upset. I assume you haven’t been available for her to talk to?’
‘Good Lord!’ said Drew. ‘I had no idea.’
‘She’s been trained not to interrupt you when you’ve got a customer.’ She gave Vicky a look that she hoped made the word sound suitably scathing. Drew tried to avoid using either ‘customer’ or ‘client’ about the people who came to arrange a funeral. Mostly he called them ‘families’ or ‘relatives’.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘That’s my cue to get a move on,’ said the woman with outrageous aplomb. ‘Thank you, Drew, for everything you’re doing. It’s been a revelation, you know. An absolute revelation. What you’re doing is quite remarkable. Everything I heard is true, but only a tiny fraction of the whole business. And thanks for the way you introduced me.’ She laughed.
‘Till next week, then,’ he said, and watched her departure with an infuriating glow.
‘Bloody hell, Drew,’ said Thea when they’d gone back indoors. ‘What’s come over you?’
‘You’ve no idea who that was, have you?’
‘A person called Vicky with a dead grandmother. What else is there to know?’
‘She’s the Honourable Victoria Troutbeck, daughter of one of the oldest and richest families in the land. Her grandmother was from an even older and richer line. They want her to be buried in my field. Have you any idea what that’s going to do for the business? She thinks they’ll get masses of media coverage. It all went to my head a bit. I started burbling about black horses. She spent most of the time talking me down.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘Why? What’s the matter?’ He had forgotten his bad temper, forgotten what his wife had been doing or why it bothered him.
She couldn’t tell him. At least, not in any direct way. ‘She’s so young and beautiful,’ she mumbled. ‘And she seemed so smitten with you.’
He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake. ‘And I freely admit that if I was ever tempted to run off with another woman, she would be my ideal. All that lovely money! Big cars, fancy holidays. Sailing. Skiing. And silly old me – it never even crossed my mind.’
‘Ignore me,’ she said humbly. ‘I’ve had a week listening to one horrible betrayal after another, and it’s shaken my faith.’
‘Well, you needn’t lose your faith in me. I’m very happy indeed to have you home again. I believe I was rather cross with you, but that’s all flown away now. So, explain what’s the trouble with poor old Stephanie?’
‘I told you – her Mr Rodriguez died. But I should never have dumped it on you in front of Lady Whatnot. That can wait until later. A little mouse told me there was fish and chips on the menu this evening. Are you fetching it or am I?’
‘Neither. Fiona’s getting it. She’ll be here in about an hour.’
‘Oh. They’re eating with us, are they?’ The prospect of the Emersons’ company on her first evening home was not especially appealing.
‘Of course not. They’ve got more sense than to intrude on one of your homecomings. Fiona’s just being a delivery person. She seems to think it’s part of her job. Like taking Stephanie to school when it’s raining.’