‘I have no wish to revise it. You can’t change the truth.’
‘And you’re still telling us that your car didn’t leave the garage on that night.’
‘I am.’
Peach glanced at Northcott, who said immediately, ‘Your car was seen at eight fifty-five on Friday night, Mrs O’Connor. It was reported as being less than a mile from Dominic O’Connor’s house at the time.’
‘There must be a mistake. Did your observer note the number of the car?’
‘A blue BMW Z4 was reported. It is a very distinctive motor car.’
‘Yes. That is one reason why I was attracted to it. Distinctive, but not unique. My car was safely garaged here on Friday night, DS Northcott. And now, unless you have any more relevant questions, I shall bid you good day.’
‘I think we should go to the Lake District. Have a long weekend together to celebrate our freedom. I’m a good walker, you know. You’d be surprised. You might think I’m a fragile little thing, but I can put on my boots and tackle the fells. You haven’t seen that side of me yet!’ Ros O’Connor stretched her slim legs out in front of her in the passenger seat of the car and inspected them.
‘I’m sure I will, my darling. And I can limp along with the best of them on the hills: it just takes me a little longer. But not yet. We don’t want to excite too much interest, do we?’ John Alderson tried not to look as nervous as he felt.
‘I don’t see why not. Let the old biddies gossip all they want! Give them something to occupy them, I say. Father Brice might not approve of the way we got together, but he’ll have to marry us in church, when we choose to ask him. I shall enjoy watching his face!’
John grinned. He would rather enjoy upsetting Father Brice and any other representatives of Holy Mother Church. But it was too soon for that. ‘We need to be confident the police have finished with us before we make any moves, don’t you think? And I was divorced, you know. It’s a long time ago, but the Catholics might not want me to have a church wedding.’
‘Oh, things have changed a lot in the last twenty years. I’m sure I’ll be able to square it. If Father Brice doesn’t cooperate, we’ll go over his head. Perhaps I should sound him out now, so that we know where we stand.’
‘I don’t think you should do that, Ros. Really I don’t. I want you to trust me on this.’ He took her hand in his and looked earnestly into the small, feline face, trying to still the round eyes which were so mobile. ‘We’ve nothing to lose by waiting. The police are anxious to make an arrest. If we excite their interest, they won’t leave us alone. And who knows, they might even decide that one of us killed Dominic, if they can’t get anyone else for it.’
‘Oh they wouldn’t do that, I’m sure. This is England, not Russia, you know.’ The blue-green eyes fastened on his, the small, humorous mouth creased into the winning smile he found so hard to resist. ‘I feel quite guilty. I’m glad Dominic’s dead and out of our way, you see, and I don’t really care who knows it.’
‘You mustn’t go round saying things like that. You really mustn’t.’
‘Only to you, my darling. Those thoughts aren’t for public consumption.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But it’s better that you don’t voice them at all. Better that you don’t even think them.’
She took his hand. ‘You’re a cautious old thing, aren’t you? But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t change anything about you.’ She rubbed her small, chiselled features hard against his shoulder.
The sun was setting brilliantly over the sea twenty miles west. They were sitting in John Alderson’s car on Jeffrey Hill, high above the vale of Chipping, which looked at its serene best in the light of evening. He looked round, making sure they were unobserved, that they had the spot to themselves. Then he slid his arm round Ros’s shoulder and held her hard against him. ‘I wouldn’t change anything about you, either. Except maybe your impulsiveness. I’m just afraid you might get yourself into trouble if you celebrate our freedom too obviously. We live in an imperfect world, you know.’
‘You sounded almost like a priest when you said that, John. But you’re right, of course, you always are.’ She kissed his cheek softly, then looked at the long, soft shadow on the other side of the valley. The late spring night was stealing in slowly over a scene which had changed little in centuries.
Ros O’Connor allowed a small, silent giggle to shake her slim body, to show this was not a serious thought. ‘It wasn’t you who put Dominic out of our way, was it, John?’
FIFTEEN
Jean Parker surveyed herself in the mirror and decided she looked as composed as ever. That was the way a good PA should always look, and she was jealous of her reputation as a good PA. You should be like a swan moving serenely along, Dominic O’Connor had once said. However frantically your limbs were working beneath the surface of the water, you shouldn’t let the watchers see them.
It was strange that the image should come back to her now, when she was trying to put Dominic out of her mind. The police would be here again soon, though what they wanted to come back to her for she couldn’t imagine. The woman who’d arranged the time with her on the phone had refused to give her any details. No idea what it was about, that neutral voice had said. Jean had used the tone and the idea often enough herself to recognise that she wasn’t going to learn anything. She opened a sales file on her computer and busied herself solemnly with its details.
They came precisely at nine thirty, the time that impersonal voice had specified. The bouncy little man with the bald head and the tall black man, the same pair who’d come here on Monday. She wished obscurely that different officers had come. That would have made it seem more impersonal and more safely distant, as if they were starting again. She said breezily, ‘Here after more information? I’ll help in any way I can, of course. I suppose I’m not allowed to ask how the case is going?’
‘You’re allowed to ask. We might be more inclined to answer if you’d been frank with us four days ago.’ Peach’s refusal was calm but uncompromising.
‘I can’t think what you mean by that. I gave you all the information about Dominic O’Connor which I had available.’
‘Maybe you didn’t tell us lies. But you withheld certain facts. That can impede an investigation just as effectively as lies. You intended to deceive.’
‘I was frank with you. You have taken away my computer files which relate to Dominic’s business dealings, as well as the contents of my filing cabinet. And I told you that he had conducted a series of affairs — I gave you whatever I could of his private life.’
‘But not of yours.’
The grey eyes hardened beneath the soft brown hair. ‘I am entitled to my privacy.’
‘I’m afraid that isn’t so. No one is entitled to privacy during a murder enquiry. Not if his or her private life has a bearing on the case. Whatever the rules say, that’s the way it works out.’
‘What I choose to do away from here has nothing to do with your case.’ She was trying desperately to keep calm; it was a long time since anyone had spoken to her so aggressively.
‘We need to be satisfied about that before we leave you to get on with your life. When you take a deliberate decision to conceal things, it excites the suspicion of cynical coppers like DS Northcott and me.
She suddenly hated this odious little man, with his immaculately creased trousers and his highly polished shoes and his confident, overbearing manner. Yet she was obscurely conscious that he might be delighted by that. If she lost her temper, she was likely to give him more than if she remained calm. ‘Perhaps you had better make yourself clear instead of speaking in riddles. What is it that I am supposed to have concealed?’
‘I think you know that perfectly well. I think you’re playing a little game with us. I should warn you that the stakes for you might be dangerously high. And also that you might endanger Mr Jacobs rather than help him by trying to conceal his involvement in this.’