"Do you remember her being here, sir?"
"No," said Josh curtly. "It was three weeks ago and Meg and I have worked together for years. How am I supposed to remember one day amongst thousands? In any case, if I was out I wouldn't have known."
"Were you out?"
He glanced at the diary. "According to this I was in Windsor, recruiting."
"Are the blue lines reliable? Would she cross a day through even if she hadn't been in the office?"
"Yes, if it suited her."
"Okay, go on."
"Wednesday, June one: ten o'clock, Bill Riley, Twelve Connaught Street. All-day meeting. Thursday-"
"One moment, sir," Fraser broke in. "Did she keep that appointment?"
"It's crossed through, which, in theory, means it was dealt with." He shrugged. "Okay, yes. Considering the amount of time I've spent since on that one customer, she was probably there until midnight sorting out his personnel problems. Mind you," he admitted grudgingly, "it's keeping us afloat at the moment. Precious little else is."
"Fair enough. Thursday," Fraser prompted.
"Thursday, June two: blank in the morning, meeting with bank manager at three-thirty. Both crossed through."
"Would that be the partnership's bank manager or her personal bank manager?"
"Probably the partnership's. We've been through a rough patch during the recession and Meg has fairly regular meetings with the bastard who holds our loans. Had," he corrected himself bleakly. "I keep forgetting she's dead. Friday, June three: blank but crossed through. Monday-"
"I'm sorry to keep interrupting, sir, but have you any idea what she did over the weekend of the fourth and fifth?''
"We had a business relationship, Sergeant, as I explained the last time I spoke to you. What she did at weekends was a closed book to me, unless it involved the partnership. Monday, June six: ten o'clock, Bill Riley again. Crossed through. Tuesday-"
"Perhaps it would be easier if I just made a photocopy," said Fraser. "I suspect it's a waste of both our times to go through it like this if there's nothing you can add to the written entries."
Hennessey pushed the book across the desk. "There's nothing. I checked after the last time you lot came, and bar a couple of meetings with Riley and the bank manager's demands for a business plan on the tenth, she seems to have spent most of that week skiving. You're farting about in cloud-cuckoo-land, frankly, if you think there's anything I can tell you."
"You're being very unhelpful, sir," said Fraser mildly. "Do you not want your partner's murderer found?"
Josh reached for a pack of cigarettes at the side of the desk. "I thought I'd kicked this fucking habit until all this happened. Now I'm back with a vengeance." He lit a cigarette and tossed the match into an ashtray, gazing moodily at the twists of smoke that rose from the spent head. "I don't know what I want, Sergeant. Meg was a good friend. Jinx is a good friend. Heads you win, tails I lose."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I can read," said Josh curtly. "The newspapers are full of it and, unless they're way off beam, you're aiming to arrest Jinx or her father because of the way Russell died."
"Did you know Russell?"
"Not very well. Jinx brought him to the office a couple of times when Meg and I were still with Wellman and Hobbs."
"Did he ever come to see Meg without Jinx?"
Josh shook his head. "Not that I remember."
"Did you know she was having an affair with him?"
Josh drew heavily on his cigarette. "Not at the time. I heard about it afterwards."
"Who told you?"
Josh didn't answer immediately. "I don't remember," he said flatly. "Either Meg or Simon, I should think." He seemed to make up his mind. "It was Meg. She was really cut up about Russell's death, kept bursting into tears for no apparent reason, so I asked her why and she told me."
Fraser didn't believe him. "I think it was Miss Kingsley who told you."
Josh looked at him for a moment. "I don't remember," he said again. "It was a long time ago."
Fraser gave a pleasant smile. "It's not particularly important, but we're trying to tie up a few loose ends. Can you recollect how soon after Russell's death she told you?"
"Look, I haven't said it was Jinx, okay?" Fraser was fascinated by Hennessey's hands, which seemed to have a life of their own, Twitching, plucking, always fidgeting.
"Understood. Can you remember when you first heard about it, sir?"
"I think it was after she lost the baby."
"Thank you," said Fraser easily. "I don't need to keep you much longer. I'd be grateful if we could just run over the last conversation you had with Meg, which I believe was the telephone call to your home on Saturday, June the eleventh. According to what you told us before, she said Leo and Jinx's wedding was off, that she was going to marry him instead, that they were leaving for France on the Tuesday but that she would pop in before then to bring you up to date with office affairs."
"That's right."
Fraser consulted the business diary. "Yet, according to this, she returned to the office on the Friday afternoon following an appointment with the bank manager. So why didn't she tell you then? That's a bit odd, isn't it?"
"Too bloody right, it's odd," he growled. "Damn it, I get this phone call out of the blue saying she's pissing off to France, leaving me to hold the fort till she gets back. I gave her absolute nell and told her I'd swing for her if she didn't get in here and sort her desk out before she left."
"So it was your idea and not hers that she come in on the Monday?"
Josh frowned as he thought back. "Probably. I was damned angry about her leaving me in the lurch without any warning. Who the hell's going to have confidence in a business where one partner buggers off at the drop of a hat? I sank every cent I own into this sodding venture." He shook his head. "Does it make a difference?''
"It might," said Fraser. He paused to think about it. "Perhaps you made her feel guilty enough to keep them hanging around longer than they meant to."
"I don't get it."
"Meg made all her phone calls on the Saturday morning," said Fraser slowly. "I wonder if the idea was to make the announcements and then leave for France immediately. Let's face it, she knew better than anyone what had happened to Russell Landy."
"Are you saying they'd still be alive if I hadn't laid a guilt trip on her?" asked Josh harshly.
"I don't know, sir. I think we need some idea of where they were on the Monday before we come to any conclusions. I mean, it's you who put pressure on them to delay their departure." Fraser looked at the other man closely before continuing. "As things stand, I only have your word for it that she and Leo didn't come here as promised."
*19*
WEDNESDAY, 29TH JUNE, 53 LANSING ROAD, SALISBURY - 12:00 P.M.
Flossie Hale examined the newspaper clipping with the Franchise Holdings emblem. "Oh, yes," she said, "no question, that's the key ring all right." Next she turned her attention to the grainy faxed photograph of Miles and Fergus Kingsley in the members' enclosure at Ascot, and after a brief hesitation, planted her finger on a face. "That looks like him, but it's not a very good picture, is it love? I don't recall his hair being as dark as that. The jacket's similar."
"What about the man next to him?' '
She held the page away from her, half closing her eyes, as if looking at an impressionist painting. "The trouble is, you don't look at their faces much, not when they're punching you. You're too scared. Yes," she said with sudden decision, stabbing at Miles again, "that's him all right. Little bastard. I said butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Who is he then?"
"His name's Miles Kingsley." WPC Blake retrieved the photograph and tucked it into her bag. Samantha Garrison had also picked out Miles, and if neither woman had been quite as decisive as Blake would have liked, she put it down to the poor quality of the photocopy and postponed her niggling concerns over whether or not this could ever result in a successful prosecution. If Flossie had been more cooperative at the start, allowed them in to dust for fingerprints or let them take swabs, they would have something more concrete to work on.