Peach said gently, ‘You were starting to tell us about John Alderson.’
‘I was, wasn’t I? Well, I was lonely and John was kind to me. Neither of us intended it, but over two or three months we became what used to be called an item. Can a married woman be part of an item?’
She stopped and looked at Peach in what seemed genuine enquiry, her small head with its perfect miniature features held a little on one side. But all he said was, ‘Carry on, please.’
‘We’ve been sleeping together whenever we could over the last six months — well, we’ve not managed to sleep together all that often, but we go to bed whenever we can. I’m sorry if that shocks you: I got used to the idea a long time ago.’
Peach gave her a wry smile. ‘Policemen are trained to be professionally unshockable, Mrs O’Connor.’
‘Ros, please. Well, there isn’t much more to tell. I realise now that I should be married to John, not Dominic.’ She lifted her curiously childlike visage and looked her examiner full in the face. ‘We’ll be able to do that now, won’t we? Get married, I mean. After a few months, that will be. Mustn’t shock Father Brice and the church folk, must we?’ Her laugh tinkled round the room again. The two men with her found it an uncomfortable sound.
Peach allowed silence to seep back into the room before he said, ‘Who do you think killed Dominic, Ros?’
‘I don’t know that. He was all right when I left him. And he ate his meal, so he must have been all right much later than that.’
‘You’ve said that your marriage wasn’t going well. Perhaps it was over, as you imply, but that isn’t our business. You still know far more about a murder victim than any of us and you must help us to find out who killed him.’
The kitten-like head nodded earnestly and repeatedly. ‘Yes, I can see that. But I can’t help you. I’ve thought about it ever since I heard Dominic was dead, but it’s a mystery to me.’ A contented smile stole over the delicate lips, as if she found that a satisfactory state of affairs.
‘We shall be questioning John Alderson in due course. Do you-?’
‘He won’t like that! John wanted to be kept out of all this. But it’s rather exciting, isn’t it? Much better to be part of it than left outside it. Well, that’s my view, anyway!’
‘I was about to ask you whether you thought Mr Alderson had anything to do with this death. I’d like you to answer that question, please.’
‘Sorry! My mind runs away from me sometimes — I’ve got that sort of brain. No, of course John had nothing to do with this. He’s not that sort of man at all.’
‘We shall speak to him and form our own opinions. But from what you have told us in the last few minutes, this death is very convenient for the two of you. It means that there is no longer any obstacle to you and Mr Alderson marrying, if that is what you wish to do.’
‘That’s true. We’ve both got a motive, haven’t we?’ Ros hugged her folded arms against her chest in what seemed like physical delight. ‘And Dominic was a practising Catholic who didn’t believe in divorce. He’d have made it very difficult for me to leave him.’
‘But you weren’t involved in his death. And as far as you know, neither was Mr Alderson?’
‘No, certainly not. And I can’t imagine who else might have done it, but I’ll go on thinking about that.’
As Peach drove back to the station, Clyde Northcott looked at the facts he had recorded in his notebook. Then he said in his deep, usually confident, voice, ‘I’m out of my depth with women like that. I’ve never had to try to make sense of an interview like that one before.’
Peach grinned as he conceded right of way to a cheerful-looking Brunton mongrel. ‘All part of your widening education, DS Northcott.’
‘Do you think she’s unbalanced?’
‘If that’s a technical term, you’d need to define it. But no, I don’t think she is. I think she’s a strange lady. I think she’d drive me up the wall if I had to live with her. But beneath the girlish mannerisms and the pretty face, there’s a brain at work and she’s used to getting her own way. We shouldn’t underestimate her, because that’s probably what she wants.’
Northcott nodded over his notes. ‘Well, she’s given us a time of death. All we have to do now is find out who was there last Friday night.’
Peach arranged to see John Alderson at three thirty. He was due to see Tommy Bloody Tucker to update him before then. Wednesday was becoming a bizarre day. When he climbed the stairs to meet his chief, it rapidly became more bizarre.
Tucker wasn’t there when he arrived, which was unusual in itself. Percy pulled up an armchair in front of the huge empty desk and sat down to wait in comfort. He wasn’t delayed for long. Tucker came to the top floor in the lift and bade a noisy goodbye to some anonymous fellow-traveller. He fumbled a little with the door handle, then half-fell and half-stumbled into the room.
He seemed glad to reach the haven of the big leather chair behind his desk and slumped thankfully into it. ‘Ah, Percy Peach!’ he said affably, belatedly sighting his DCI. ‘How the devil are you, sir!’
He’s pissed, thought Percy. Tight as Andronicus. Tommy Bloody Tucker’s pissed! There must surely be mileage in this.
But it was Tucker who took the initiative, as drunks often do. ‘Bloody awful job this, isn’t? Glad to get away from it ’casionally, tell yer the truth!’
‘It is a little taxing at times, sir. But you asked me to-’
‘Been saying goodbye to an old mate, Perce. Member of the Lodge anallthat! Movin’ away, you see.’
‘Yes, sir, I do. But if you remember-’
‘Did us proud.’ He leaned forward confidentially over the big desk. ‘Might just ’avad a bit too much, you know.’
Percy recoiled hastily from the spirit fumes. ‘Really, sir? I’d hardly have noticed. You carry it so well, you see.’
‘I do, don’t I?’ Chief Superintendent Tucker tried to lever himself to his feet, then thought better of it and slumped back contentedly into his pilot’s chair. A look of astonishment stole slowly over his face. ‘I feel bladdered, Percy.’
‘Pleasantly pissed, I’d say, sir,’ ventured Percy daringly.
‘Presently pissed, that’s about it!’ said Tucker contentedly.
‘Perhaps I’d better come back when you feel-’
‘We had some good jokes today. Private room, you see. Now listen to this, Perce. Man ’as a gorilla to work for him. Thirty bloody stone. Cleans the ’ouse, digs the garden, lifts the piano across the room for ’im. Where does it sleep?’
‘Anywhere it fucking likes!’ said Percy, with the air of a man answering a routine question.
‘You’ve ’eard it!’ said Tucker, deflated with a huge disappointment.
‘About 1993, sir, I think. It was a good one, in its time.’
‘Man said you need the swear word to give it the right ring. The proper effasy — no, the proper effany. .’
‘The proper emphasis, sir?’
‘Thassit! Whatyersaid. Thassit.’
‘Good. Now in the matter of the Dominic O’Connor case, sir. We-’
Tucker leaned across the vast acreage of his desk and made a frantic effort to grasp the lapels of his DCI. He failed by several inches. His wildly gyrating hand grasped empty air as he fell heavily back into his chair. ‘Bugger Dominic O’Connor, Percy! Bugger work! Bugger the Chief Constable, if it comes to it!’
‘I think I’d prefer the second prize, sir, if you don’t mind. Meanwhile-’
‘Meanwhile?’ Tucker was as outraged as if he had been accorded the vilest epithet know to man. ‘Meanwhile? There’s no bloody meanwhile, Percy Peach! You need to learn to live a little. Thassanorder, Perce.’