‘How are you feeling, love?’ Hawthorne asked. From the way he spoke, she could have been recovering from a bad cold.
‘Who are you?’ Lynda asked – her voice little more than a whisper.
‘We’re helping the police,’ Dudley said. ‘We want to find out who killed your husband.’
‘They all hated him!’ Fresh tears followed in the tracks of the old ones. ‘I told him it was a mistake, the moment we came here. They were stuck-up and snobby, the whole lot of them.’
‘So you didn’t get on with the neighbours,’ Dudley remarked.
‘It wasn’t our fault!’ She reached for a tissue, pulling it out of a box embroidered with a gondola on a Venetian canal. ‘We never did anything wrong. They were always trying to find fault. Everything we did! Nothing was ever right.’
Hawthorne and Dudley waited until she had calmed down.
‘Would you say there was anyone in Riverview Close who had a particular animus towards your husband?’ Hawthorne asked.
‘I’ve just told you. They were all the same. They’d made up their minds about us before we even moved in.’
‘Had there been any recent incidents that you might want to tell us about?’
Lynda used the tissue to dry her eyes, at the same time wiping away some of the blusher on her cheekbones. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
‘Had anyone threatened your husband with violence?’
‘Well . . .’ She thought for a moment. ‘Giles was always fighting with Dr Beresford,’ she said. ‘He and his wife live next door and they never stopped complaining about our cars. Why can’t we park our cars outside? It’s our drive, our house, and it wasn’t as if we were deliberately blocking the way. If Dr Beresford hadn’t been such a bad driver, he could easily have got past.’ She stopped herself as she remembered what had happened. ‘The two of them had a proper set-to about a week ago and Dr Beresford threatened to kill Giles!’ Her eyes widened. ‘He used those very words!’
‘What did he say, exactly?’
‘I’m going to kill you!’
‘You heard him?’
‘No. Giles told me.’
Hawthorne and Dudley exchanged glances. They both knew that a lot of people argued about parking rights; it was one of the things that always came close to the top of neighbourhood disputes. But even if Dr Beresford had made the threat, a parking dispute would be an unusual motive for murder. ‘Anything else?’ Dudley asked.
Lynda gazed into the distance. ‘I already told him all this,’ she said, referring to Detective Superintendent Khan, who had been listening to the conversation from a distance.
‘Tell us.’
She swallowed. ‘Well, he had a falling-out with Sarah.’
‘Who’s Sarah?’
‘She’s the gardener. That was on Friday,’ she added.
‘And what happened on Friday?’
‘Giles went into his study and there she was, standing in front of his desk. She had no right to be there. She’d come in through the French windows. And she was looking at his computers. Giles was very sensitive about that. He’d had a hack at his office just a few weeks before – someone trying to get into his database. It was the reason we couldn’t go to that drinks do at The Stables. It hadn’t worked that time, but he didn’t have the same security at home so he had every right to ask her what she was doing. Sarah was just horrible and abusive and he fired her on the spot – and quite right too. I said he ought to report her to the police.’
‘What for, exactly?’
‘What do you think?’ It was remarkable how quickly Lynda could switch between desolation, indignation and malice. ‘Do you know how much information there was on those screens about money markets and investments and all that stuff? She could have been working for someone!’ Lynda drew herself up against the pillows. ‘Giles wouldn’t even let me into his office because of all the sensitive stuff he had in there and I wouldn’t have understood a word of it if he had. So what did Sarah think she was doing in there?’
‘You think your gardener was involved in . . . what? Financial espionage?’
‘She might have been. She was certainly a thief. All sorts of things had gone missing. Giles lost a Rolex watch. I’d bought it for him myself when we were in Dubai. And I had fifty pounds taken from my bag. Giles said I left it at the hairdresser, but I know it was Sarah. We only gave her the job in the first place because she was doing the gardens for everyone else in the close. I always said she was trouble. We should have found someone of our own.’
She fell silent, dabbing her eyes.
‘Is there anyone else you employ in the house?’ Dudley asked. ‘I understand you’ve got a Filipino cleaner. I bet she’s a treasure!’
‘She’s lazy and she’s never there when you need her. In fact, she’s away right now. Every summer we have to give her the whole month off so she can see her family, but getting any sort of help is so difficult these days. Jasmine hardly speaks a word of English and getting her to do anything is always an uphill struggle.’ She paused. ‘And there’s Gary. He’s Giles’s driver, but he’s only part-time. He doesn’t live here.’
‘How did you meet your husband?’ Dudley had changed the subject, perhaps hoping the question would cheer her up.
Instead, it brought fresh tears. ‘On a British Airways flight to New York. He was in first class. I was one of the cabin crew. I served him a mai tai and we hit it off immediately. He was so kind to me. He invited me to his hotel next to Central Park. We had so many laughs!’
‘So where were you last night?’ Hawthorne cut in.
That stopped her. ‘I was seeing a friend.’
‘Can we have his name?’ Dudley had produced a small notebook, which he was holding in front of him. He had somehow assumed that the friend was male and Lynda didn’t disappoint him.
‘What’s that got to do with you?’
‘You’re going to have to tell us sooner or later, love.’ It was always a mistake taking on Hawthorne. When he was at his sweetest and most reasonable, that was when he was most dangerous. ‘You got back after eleven o’clock. That’s time for a lot of laughs.’
‘It was horrible! The door was open. And he was lying there . . . !’
‘Who were you with?’ Hawthorne insisted.
Lynda reached for another tissue. ‘His name is Jean-François. He’s my French teacher.’
‘You’re learning French?’
‘Giles was talking about buying a place in Antibes.’
‘Mais malhereusement, cela n’arrivera pas,’ Dudley muttered.
Lynda stared at him. ‘What?’
3
Khan was unimpressed with the interrogation he had just witnessed. It seemed to him that Hawthorne had been unnecessarily hostile and had learned very little that Khan didn’t already know.
‘I’ve got things to do, so I’m going to let you get on with it,’ he said as they left the Kenworthys’ house. ‘We allowed Dr Beresford to leave for work . . . NHS doctor and all that. And the two old ladies – May Winslow and Phyllis Moore – own some sort of gift shop in Richmond. I thought they were better off out of it too.’
‘Not on your suspect list?’ Hawthorne asked.
Khan ignored him. ‘All the others are at home and you can talk to the whole lot of them, but I think it would be better if you didn’t mention you’re freelance. Just say you’re part of my support team or something. And maybe you could try to be a little more sympathetic? These people are in shock.’