Rebecca allowed the open admiration of her legs when she crossed them, otherwise sitting demurely with her hands in her lap in the secretary’s side office, inwardly-steeling herself against looking in the direction of Lomax’s adjoining room. Plastic sheeting had been draped completely over the outsides of the vast windows, hiding everything, but she didn’t need any reminder of the scene inside that still needed the police release to be cleaned.
She hoped she didn’t break down, although there was a perfectly understandable reason if she did, having witnessed a murder and now being questioned about it for a second time. Like it was perfectly understandable for her to have shivered when she’d entered, so close to the unseen horror. They shouldn’t have done this here, in the building itself. If they had to do it at all it should have been somewhere outside, a police station even.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you again.’ Bentley, who prided himself on his adjustable interrogation technique, was sure he knew just how to handle this haughty bitch. Nice legs though, all the way up to her ass: good tits, too.
‘I’ve already told your sergeant what I saw.’
‘Inspector,’ corrected Bentley, nodding sideways to the other man. ‘Rodgers is an inspector, not a sergeant.’
Rebecca sighed. ‘Inspector then.’
‘I’m just filling in the gaps: trying to fit things together,’ said Bentley, the tone still apologetic.
‘What is it you want to know?’ demanded Rebecca, impatiently.
‘You’re very busy, of course?’
‘Of course. But I want to help if I can. Although I don’t see how.’
Bentley appeared to study Rebecca’s initial statement, open before him. ‘You’ve been at Enco-Corps now for…?’
‘Ten years,’ Rebecca supplied, when the pause stretched.
‘… Quite so, ten years.’ Bentley smiled up. ‘You’re American?’
‘I transferred from the New York office six years ago. I’ve already told your inspector this, as well.’ Bentley – Detective Superintendent Bentley – was thick, all mouth and trousers: it wasn’t going to be too difficult at all.
‘Indeed you have. Did you know Gerald Lomax in New York, before he came here?’
Rebecca hesitated. ‘Not before he transferred here to run the operation, no.’
‘But you did know him?’
‘We met during his home visits.’
‘Home visits meaning when he went back to New York?’
‘Is this important?’ There was another sigh.
Bentley regarded her blank faced. ‘What, Ms Nicholls?’
‘I don’t see what relevance there might be upon his murder in how and when I met Gerald.’ She shouldn’t have made the challenge.
‘Gerald?’
‘What?’ Smart-assed fucking car salesman.
‘Is that what you called him, Gerald? He was your boss.’
Rebecca uncrossed her legs, knowing she was in control. ‘You ever been to America, Superintendent? ’ It was silly using his sort of emphasis on the rank but she couldn’t help it.
‘Wonderful country.’
‘But you haven’t noticed that in America people call each other by their given names?’
Bentley smiled, contentedly. ‘Slipped my mind. But hasn’t how and when you met Gerald any relevance, Miss Nicholls?’ She wouldn’t be haughty in bed: probably went like a steam train.
‘I’ve told you, I can’t see any.’
‘Everything is relevant in a murder investigation, Ms Nicholls.’
Rebecca was disconcerted by the way the man kept stressing the ‘Ms’. ‘I would have hardly thought what happened here yesterday requires much investigation: we’ve all told you what we saw.’ She shivered again.
‘Like I said, I’m just fitting the parts together.’
Rebecca breathed out again, heavily. ‘I’ve worked for Enco-Corps for a total of ten years. Quite obviously I would meet Gerald Lomax during his trips to New York. He was a colleague.’ The bastard was groping: maybe guessing- maybe someone down below had an inclination – but that’s all there was. All there could have been. They were waiting for her to admit something and there was no way she was going to do that.
‘Gerald Lomax came to London nine years ago?’
‘I’m not sure of the precise date.’
‘You’re not?’ queried Bentley, appearing surprised.
‘I told you I wasn’t.’
Bentley paused, looking down at the scattered papers on the desk in front of him. ‘Gerald Lomax was transferred from New York?’
‘I believe so.’
‘You’re not sure of that, either?’
‘No.’
‘You worked for Enco-Corps for ten years and Gerald Lomax was only transferred nine years ago. Surely there was a year’s overlap in New York, when you would have worked together?’
Rebecca smiled, stretching the indulgent pause as long as possible. Patiently, speaking slowly as if for someone who needed simple words to understand simple things, she said, ‘I joined Enco-Corps in their Paris office. I worked there for two years before going to New York. By which time Gerald Lomax had been moved here. I worked in New York for two years before coming to London. Does that fit your parts together?’
Bentley made an expansive gesture with spread-apart hands. ‘Perfectly. So you met first during his visits to New York?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘A business colleague?’
‘What else?’ Rebecca’s growing confidence dipped.
‘There weren’t any social occasions?’
She shrugged. ‘There may have been situations in New York that could be described as social. Business receptions, things like that.’
‘May have been? None that you can specifically remember?’
‘No.’
‘What about Mrs Lomax?’
‘What about her?’
‘Do you know Mrs Lomax?’
Rebecca gestured behind her, to the trading area below. ‘We worked on the floor together before she married Gerald.’
‘So you knew her as a business colleague, like you knew Mr Lomax?’
‘We were friends.’
‘ Were? ’
‘Are. We don’t – haven’t – seen as much of each other since she had Emily and moved to the country.’
‘You’re Emily’s godmother, aren’t you?’
‘Who told you that?’ demanded the woman, actually turning to stare down at the working floor.
Bentley made a vague gesture. ‘Someone said it, in one of the statements. You are, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you know Mrs Lomax very well?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘You sound reluctant?’
‘It depends upon what you mean by very well.’
‘What do you mean by very well, Ms Nicholls?’
Damn the ‘Ms’. Rebecca said, ‘We really haven’t seen as much of each other in the last couple of years… longer maybe… as we once did. That’s what I mean. That we’ve kind of drifted apart.’
‘You were much closer when she worked here? When she lived in London?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you know of her affair with Gerald Lomax, when she worked here?’
‘That’s an impertinent question!’
Bentley smiled. ‘That’s what policeman do, Ms Nicholls. Ask impertinent questions. Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because you were close friends? Or because in these working surroundings…’ Bentley gestured to the open-plan, all-glass working area. ‘… it’s difficult to hide anything?’
‘As a friend, first. Then it became pretty much common knowledge.’
‘How did you feel about it?’
‘Feel about it?’
‘Gerald Lomax was a married man.’
‘It was their business, not mine.’
‘You didn’t have any moral feeling?’
‘I said it was their business!’
‘Why did Jennifer Lomax kill her husband?’
Rebecca didn’t have to feign the surprise at the abrupt, hard demand. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea! How on earth should I know?’
‘She’d found out, hadn’t she? About you and Gerald?’