She stared at the opposite wall. "You said it cost him a packet. How much exactly?"
"A lot."
"How much, Miles?"
"I don't know," he said sulkily. "All I know is it comes damned expensive."
She shifted her gaze lazily to look at him. "You don't know anything, do you? You're talking about what you wish Adam had done, not what he actually did. I suppose it makes you feel better to think of your father as a murderer." She laughed suddenly. "You know, I really feel quite sorry for you. Presumably you've spent the last ten years justifying all your shabby little deceits against Adam's guilt, so how the hell are you going to cope when it turns out he's whiter than white?" A movement at the windows caught her eye, and as she looked inquiringly towards the two uniformed policemen blocking the light, there was a peremptory knock on the door behind her. She frowned as WPC Blake walked in uninvited. "Can I help you?" Jinx said politely, looking beyond her to Superintendent Cheever, Maddocks, and Alan Protheroe, who were standing in the open doorway.
Blake glanced at her briefly before transferring her attention to the brother. "Miles Kingsley?" she asked.
He nodded.
She proffered her warrant card. "WPC Blake, Wiltshire police. Miles Kingsley, I have reason to believe you can assist us in our inquiries into the grievous bodily harm and indecent assault of Mrs. Flossie Hale on the evening of the twenty-second of June last at number fifty-three, Lansing Road, Salisbury-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" he broke in angrily. "Who the fuck's Mrs. Flossie Hale? I've never heard of the bitch."
*20*
WEDNESDAY, 29TH JUNE, THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-2:45 P.M.
Little Lord Fauntleroy, Blake thought, was a good description of Miles Kingsley, with his clean-cut face and his wide-spaced blue eyes. They weren't the sort of looks that attracted her-she preferred her men rougher and tougher-but she could imagine Flossie finding them appealing. "She's a prostitute, Mr. Kingsley. She was brutally attacked on the evening of the twenty-second. She has identified you as her assailant, as has Mrs. Samantha Garrison, another prostitute, who suffered a similar assault on March the twenty-third."
He frowned angrily. "They're lying. I've never been to a prostitute in my life." He rounded on Jinx. "What the hell's going on? Is this something Dad's set up?"
"Don't be an oaf," she snapped. She looked at the policewoman. "How could they identify him? Did the assailant give a name?"
Blake ignored her. "I think it would be better if we discussed the whole matter at the police station. Mr. Kingsley, I am requesting you to accompany me-"
"Look, you sour-faced cow," said Miles, surging aggressively to his feet, "I don't know what your game is-"
"Sit down, Miles," hissed Jinx through gritted teeth, grabbing his arm and forcing him into his chair again, "and keep your mouth shut." She took a deep breath. "You say you have reason to believe my brother can assist you, so please will you explain what those reasons are, in particular how both women came to identify their attacker as my brother."
Blake frowned. "I'm not obliged to explain anything, other than to say we have a positive identification of the man two women say attacked them. We would like him to answer some questions on the matter and to that end we are asking him to accompany us to the police station. Do you have a problem with that, Miss Kingsley, bearing in mind the assaults were serious enough to put both women into hospital?"
"Yes," she said curtly, "I think Miles should refuse to go with you. You obviously have nothing more concrete than this inexplicable identification or you'd have come with an arrest warrant." She glanced at Maddocks. "My guess is, you're trying to pick us off one by one to answer questions on Meg's and Leo's murders. I'm even doubtful if these prostitutes exist."
Miles sneered. "That's the stuff, Jinxy. Give 'em hell."
The young policewoman eyed him curiously for a moment, then addressed herself to his sister. "I'm Wiltshire police, Miss Kingsley, and I've spent the last week investigating the attack on Flossie Hale. She's forty-six years old. She sustained severe injuries to her head, face, and arms, and, but for her own courage in getting herself to hospital, would have died in her bed. She has identified your brother as the man who injured her. I will admit that the publicity surrounding the death of your fiance and your best friend led indirectly to her identification of him, but that's as far as the connection goes. I am not interested in you or your relationship with the Hampshire police. I am merely interested in preventing any more women suffering as Flossie did."
"Okay," said Miles cockily, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs in front of him, "then arrest me. You won't get me any other way. Have you any idea what sort of fuss my father's likely to kick up about this? Sacking will be the least of your worries once his solicitor gets onto it."
Jinx pressed fingers to her throbbing head. "Shut up, Miles."
"No, I bloody well won't," he snapped, whipping round to look at her. "You bug me, Jinx, you really do. You can say anything you like because you're so fucking clever, but not stupid Miles. He's got to sit here with his mouth shut." He slammed his fist into his palm. "Jesus, I wasn't even in Salisbury on the twenty-second and I can prove it."
"You visited your sister here at nine o'clock last Wednesday night, Mr. Kingsley," said Maddocks bluntly, "last Wednesday being the twenty-second of June, and the Nightingale Clinic being in Salisbury. Both your sister and the staff on duty will testify to that. Mrs. Hale was attacked at eight-fifteen, which would have given you plenty of time to sort yourself out before you presented yourself here."
His face took on a pinched look. "Okay, so I forgot. It's no big deal. I drove straight here from Fordingbridge. My mother and brother will swear I was at Hellingdon Hall till eight-thirty."
Blake looked at Jinx. "Is that what he told you when he got here?"
She didn't answer.
Miles darted her a frightened glance. "Tell them I told you."
"How can I? I don't remember you saying it."
"The black nurse said it when she brought me in. 'Here's your brother from Fordingbridge.' You must remember that."
"I don't." She could only remember him saying he'd been gambling that night. But had he?
"Oh, shit, Jinxy," he begged, "you've got to help me. I swear to God I never hurt anyone." He reached out a hand and clutched at her arm. "Please, Jinx, help me."
Meg is a whore ... Please ... please ... please ... help me, Jinx ... such fear ... oh, God, such terrible fear ... "I'll talk to Adam and ask him to send Kennedy out," she said shakily. "Just don't say anything else till he gets there. Can you do that, Miles?"
He nodded and stood up. "As long as you don't let me down."
Blake put a firm hand on his arm and steered him towards the windows. "This way, Mr. Kingsley. We've a car waiting outside."
"What about my Porsche?"
She held out her hand. "If you'll give me your keys, I'll have one of these officers drive it for you." She nodded towards the two Salisbury policemen. "He can follow along behind us."
Miles fished them out of his pocket and thrust them into her palm with bad grace. She looked at the fob, a black disc with gold lettering, then led him away.
With shaking hands, Jinx reached for her cigarette packet off the arm of her chair, then retreated to the dressing table and its firm, supportive edge. She looked briefly towards Alan Protheroe, who was leaning against the wall by the door, then turned her attention to Frank Cheever. "I recognize you from the television," she told him, lighting a cigarette with difficulty. "You gave a press conference the other day, but I'm afraid I can't remember your name."
"Detective Superintendent Cheever," he told her.