He nodded. "We'll need a key."
"Try saying: 'Thank you, Jinx, you're a sodding brick. We owe you one.' "
"Thank you, Jinx, you're a sodding brick. We owe you one." He smiled sheepishly. "We'll still need a key."
"The Clanceys have one. I'll phone them and ask them to give it to you when you arrive. There's probably enough food in the freezer to keep you going till I get back." She glared at him. "And you're not to run up phone bills. And you're not to tell Adam where you are. I won't have my house turned into a war zone. Got that?"
"Sure." He rose to his feet. "I knew you'd be okay about it."
"It won't be forever, Fergus."
"I know. Hey, we'll take care of the house, I promise. I'll make sure Miles and Mum behave. And no phone calls. We'll lie low till you get back."
She nodded.
He paused by the door. "To be honest with you, I wasn't really sure you'd say yes. You're not so different from Dad, you know. I guess you were right the other day. You got the good genes and we got the bad ones." He checked himself in case she changed her mind. "But look, I'm grateful. You won't regret this, honestly."
She smiled suddenly. "I know I won't. I'd have had far more to regret if you hadn't asked me, Fergus. I was really afraid this afternoon that I was never going to see any of you again."
He looked surprised. "Why?"
"I didn't think you'd bother with me if Adam chucked you out."
"That's what we thought about you," he said. "I guess we never learned to trust each other. That's pretty sad, really. I mean, if you can't trust family, who the hell can you trust, Jinx?"
*22*
WEDNESDAY, 29TH JUNE, ROMSEY ROAD POLICE STATION, WINCHESTER-10:00 P.M.
Superintendent Cheever gave a small shake of his head as he replaced the receiver. "They've tailed Fergus's Porsche, containing Fergus, Mrs. Kingsley, and Miles, from the Nightingale Clinic to Jane's house in Richmond," he told Maddocks and Fraser. The old boy next door has just let them in, switched on the lights, and left. They've got several suitcases between them, and as many boxes stuffed with bits and pieces as they could cram into the Porsche. According to the tail, they look like staying for the duration." He tapped his pen thoughtfully against his teeth.
"That's interesting, don't you think?" Maddocks prowled irritably towards the window. "It's all over the news that Kingsley senior's about to lose Hellingdon Hall, so I guess he's told the three of them to bugger off. She's given them a roof over their heads. What's so odd about that? She's their sister."
"I said interesting, not odd," snapped Frank, pulling off his bow tie and slapping it on the desk. He unbuttoned his shirt collar and ran his finger round the inside. "Obviously Jane's family doesn't share your low opinion of her. Would you move into her house, believing what you do about her?''
"Miles and Fergus lived under their father's roof long enough, believing he was a killer. Same difference, wouldn't you say?"
"No." Frank jabbed his finger angrily at the air. "There's no comparison. If Kingsley's responsible, then he's kept a healthy distance between himself and the killings. If the daughter's responsible, then she's done them herself and she's bordering on the insane. So I repeat, would you move into her house if you had doubts about her?"
Fraser cleared his throat. "Look, sir, with the best will in the world this isn't getting us anywhere. The truth is, we need more evidence or it'll be a rerun of the Rachel Nickell murder inquiry, or the Russell Landy one, if it comes to that."
"Jesus, Fraser," said Maddocks, rounding on him furiously. "How the hell did you pass your sodding sergeant's exams?" He raised his hands to heaven. "More evidence, he says. Where do you expect us to find it, for Christ's sake? We've put everything under the microscope-Ardingly Woods, Leo's possessions. Leo's house, his cars, his garage, Meg's possessions, her flat, her car, Jane Kingsley's car. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. We've got a heel mark on a bank which may or may not have been made by a woman's shoe, and we might be able to argue that because Miss Kingsley's clothes were disposed of by the hospital after the accident, some of the blood on them might have been Leo's and Meg's." He paused to draw breath. "It's not much, I agree, but what we have in abundance is circumstantial evidence pointing in one direction, and one direction only. Towards the woman who had both motive and opportunity. I say we go with that and persuade her to talk."
"Explain why the blood on her clothes failed to get into her car," said Frank. "Bob Clarke's team have taken it apart and there's not a spot in there, not even her own."
"She was wearing a jacket when she was found. She put that on over her bloodstained clothes when she got into the car."
"That's fantasy, not evidence. Explain how the sledgehammer got to the Nightingale Clinic on Monday night."
"It was a setup, courtesy of her father. 'Get me off the hook, Daddy'-and Daddy obliges. Fake attack on Dr. Protheroe with pristine sledgehammer, and finger points to an outsider being involved."
Frank jerked his chin at Fraser. "Your turn," he said curtly.
They'd been round this circle a hundred times already, and with a sigh, Fraser set out on it again. "Okay, the DI reckons she's manipulating events because she's guilty. I think she's manipulating them because she's innocent and scared. I'm guessing Leo left her on the night of Monday, May the thirtieth, to move in with Meg and I'm also guessing that she didn't give a shit about losing him. What concerned her was how her father was going so react. I think she was terrified of him because she shared her brothers' view that he'd had Russell murdered. But no one could prove it, so she did her best to keep her distance from him and cut him out of her life. All she achieved in the process was to ratchet up his rather peculiar obsession with her. Dean Jarrett describes Adam as sitting staring at her as though he couldn't believe she was really his. My guess is, she became so paranoid about it that she persuaded Leo and Meg to leave for an indefinite stay in France in case her father reacted badly to the news of Leo's desertion."
Frank drew a cupid on the pad in front of him and stabbed an arrow through its heart. "Except that the ideal time for them to go was June the fourth, the day she went down to stay at the Hall. Why wait till the following weekend?"
"Because they didn't share her paranoia. Look, as far as they were concerned, Russell was killed by a burglar." Fraser glanced at Maddocks, saw his sardonic smile. "We're talking about two very egocentric personalities here, and that's on the word of their own families. Self, self, self, in other words. Leo thought principally in terms of money and possessions; Meg thought principally in terms of money and sexual gratification. Do you seriously believe either of them would dwell on the death of Miss Kingsley's husband? Meg was probably upset for a while, but as I recollect, her diary recorded her going to bed with a complete stranger less than a month later, and there's no evidence Leo even knew Russell. Frankly, if they ever thought about him at all, it was almost certainly in terms of a burglary gone wrong."
He went on. "The only one haunted by the wretched man's death was his widow, but even she got over it eventually. Sure, she's kept herself to herself rather more than most, but she's made an independent life, refused any help from her father, who she suspects is a murderer, and she's come out on top at the end of it. Then the nightmare starts all over again. She embarks on another attempt at marriage, only to find that Leo's no different from Russell and that she's making another mistake." It was his turn to smile maliciously at thrice-married Maddocks. "Which isn't so unusual in all conscience. People tend to be attracted by the same type every time. What is unusual is that her first marriage ended in murder instead of divorce, and Meg was involved with both men."