"That's right."
"But just now you said she wanted him kept prisoner in the hall."
"Well, yes. Same difference."
"Can you remember her actual words, Mrs. Helms?"
"Oh Lord. It's nearly three weeks ago." She screwed her face in concentration. "Let me see now. It was all over in half a second. 'You remember I said we were going to France, Mrs. Helms?' That's how she began. Well, of course, she'd never said anything of the sort but I was too polite to say so. 'And you promised you'd look after the cat?' she said next. Which annoyed me because I hadn't. I'd have said so, too, except she shoved the key and tin at me, and never gave me a chance to answer. 'The cat's imprisoned and will want to get out. Please be careful how you open the doors. I don't want any more damage done.' And that was all she said. And that's what I've done, though for the life of me I can't imagine why it was necessary. Damage never worried her before."
"She said 'the cat' and not 'Marmaduke'?" The woman nodded. "And you were outside on the doorstep?"
"That's right. She wouldn't come in."
He pictured the little porch under the basement steps, and reali:zed then what had happened. Someone had been down there, listening, he thought. He tapped his pencil against his teeth. For Leo, read lion, read cat. 'Leo is imprisoned. Please be careful. I don't want any more damage done.' Jesus! What despair Meg must have felt, knowing her only chance resided in this irritatingly stupid woman. But if he was honest, would anyone have understood so cryptic a message?
"Okay." He turned back to Mr. Helms. "What did they do on the Saturday and Sunday. Do you know? Did you notice anyone coming to the door?"
His mouth worked. "Her friend came," he blurted. "The tall one. Saturday night." He raised a weak hand and dropped it onto his thigh. "Banged on the door. Said: 'You must be mad. What the hell are you doing?' "
"Was it a woman?"
"Yes."
"Jinx Kingsley?"
"Tall, dark. Drives a Rover Cabriolet. JIN 1-X."
"When did she leave?"
But Mr. Helms shook his head. "Anthea likes television. I'm not allowed to sit here all the time."
"I should think not," said his wife sharply. "The neighbors would get quite the wrong idea if you did. They'd say I was neglecting you."
Fraser flicked the man a sympathetic glance. "Not to worry," he said. "Did you happen to notice any other visitors?" But Mr. Helms had told him all he could.
"We're on our way now," said Detective Superintendent Cheever on a mobile link to his colleague in the Wiltshire police. "It looks as if he's heading for the Nightingale. Got that? You'll send backup to the clinic. Agreed? We'll only talk to him about the murders after you've charged him on the assaults ... No, Adam Kingsley's on hold at the moment. I'm more interested in hearing what Miles has to say."
THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-2:30 P.M.
Miles stormed through Jinx's open French windows and flung himself into the vacant armchair with the sullen expression of a thwarted five-year-old. "I suppose you've heard what he's done."
"You mean his resignation?"
"Of course I mean his resignation," he said in a mimicking falsetto. "What the hell else would I mean?" He drummed his feet on the ground. "God, I'm so angry. I don't know which of you I'd rather strangle at the moment. You realize you've buggered everything between you."
"No," she said calmly, lighting a cigarette. "I can't say I do realize that. What exactly is buggered, Miles?"
"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" he yelled, his eyes narrowing to unattractive slits. "We've lost everything, the house, everything."
She gazed at him through the drifting smoke. "Who's we?" she murmured. "I haven't lost anything. The shares have risen ten points since Adam resigned, which means I've already made a tidy paper profit on my morning's investment alone. I hope you're not going to tell me you sold your shares, Miles. When Adam gave them to us, he said, sell everything else but don't sell these. You should have had more faith in him."
"I had to," he said through gritted teeth. "Fergus, too. We borrowed money on the back of the damn things and the bastard we were in hock to made us sell out to cover the debts."
She shrugged. "More fool you."
He was as tightly strung as a new bow. "Oh Jesus-if you knew how much I hated you. It's all your fault this has happened-'' His voice carried a tremor of despair.
She arched a sardonic eyebrow. "How do you make that out?"
"Russell ... Leo-they were both shits."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"If you'd picked someone halfway decent-we wouldn't be in mess.
She watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the arms of the chair. After all, what did she really know about this brother of hers? "You were only sixteen when Russell was murdered," she said slowly. "Betty swore you and Fergus were at the Hall all day."
He stared at her with hot, angry eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I thought-never mind."
"You thought I did it?" he sneered. "Well, sometimes I wish I had. The old man would have bent over backwards for me after that. I'd have done it for free, too, because I'd have enjoyed doing it. I loathed Russell. He was almost as arrogant and patronizing as you are." He surged out of his chair in one violent movement and trapped her in hers by leaning over and gripping the arms. "It cost Dad a packet to get rid of him, you silly bitch, and another packet to do for Leo and Meg. And now Fergus and I are in the shit because of it. The police are parked all round the Hall, just waiting to arrest him, and the minute they do, Mum, me, and Fergus will be out in the sodding street. We're wiped out-don't you understand? Mum, too-she sold her shares months ago. There's nothing left."
"You've still got your jobs," she said, gazing steadily up at him so that he wouldn't guess how frightened she was.
He threw himself petulantly back into his chair, his anger spent. "God, you're so naive," he said. "John Normans won't keep us on. We're only there because of Dad. You know that. Everybody knows it. Christ, it's not as though either of us is even needed. All I have to do is make sure the site-security contracts are kept up to date. Any moron could do it." He banged his fist against the chair arm. "I get a moron's salary because of it. Do you know what I do? I engage night watchmen and put my signature to the standardized contract that comes off the sodding word processor.
"Then why aren't you doing it now?" she asked him. "Surely this is the time to prove that you're worth keeping."
His anger flared again. "You stupid, patronizing BITCH!" he screamed. "IT'S OVER! Dad's made sure you're okay, because you're his fucking darling, but he's dropped all the rest of us in it. Can't you get that into your thick skull?"
She blew a stream of smoke towards the ceiling and watched the patterns it made in the draft from the open windows. "How do you know Adam had Russell killed?" she asked quietly.
"Who else could have done it?"
"Me," she suggested.
Miles looked amused. "Little Miss Perfect. Come off it, Jinxy, you haven't got the guts."
"And you think Adam has?''
He shrugged. "I know he has."
"How?"
"Because he's bloody vicious, that's how. Look at the way he treats me and Fergus."
She formed her lips into an approximation of a smile. "I want proof, Miles, not impressions. Can you prove Adam had Russell killed?"
"I can prove he wanted him killed. He said afterwards that Russell had got what was coming to him. Your precious husband was shafting your best friend. Dad hated him for it."
"What did he say when he heard about Leo and Meg?" Even to Jinx her voice sounded strangely remote.
Miles shrugged again. "That he hoped your memory loss was permanent; then he shut himself in his office and called his solicitor. He's paranoid about you starting to remember things, so we reckon you saw something you shouldn't have done."