‘Did you tell anyone what she’d told you?’
‘Why should I? Who should I tell?’
‘The police?’
‘I’ve always kept clear of the police, thank you very much. They were never much help when I was running the Cat and Fiddle. Getting involved with them is just asking for trouble.’
‘But, surely, knowing the fuss there was in the media about Anita Garner’s disappearance … didn’t you think what you knew was relevant?’
‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. As I said, I was a bride of wickedness back then. It was before I had invited Jesus into my life.’
Before the Jesus litany started up again, Carole asked, ‘So, you reckon Anita did go out to Cádiz?’
‘Of course she did. It seems I’m the only person in the world who knows what happened to Anita Garner. She went out to Cádiz to join up with Pablo. She’s probably still out there. He was Catholic too. Chances are they got married and started producing lots more deluded little Catholics. Anyway, I’m sure that’s what happened. That’s the solution to the mystery of the missing Anita Garner.
‘But,’ Shona went on, warming to her theme, ‘Carole, I can tell you’re unhappy. Don’t despair, it’s not too late to find happiness. Jesus will never turn you away. If you were to invite Jesus into your life, happiness would spread through you like …’
It had taken a while for Carole to extricate herself from the proselytizing Shona Nuttall. Clearly finding God had been a major event in the woman’s life, but Carole did wonder whether God was equally pleased at being found.
As she drove the Renault thoughtfully back to Fethering, she considered the great flaw in the former landlady’s theory.
Anita Garner may have intended to go out to Cádiz and be reunited with Pablo, but she never made the trip. Her unused passport remained in her handbag, immured in an alcove at Footscrow House.
‘Is that Jude?’
She admitted it was. The voice at the other end of the phone was female, mature and aggressive.
Saturday evening. Jude had had a little zizz after she got back from Fethering Yacht Club, then cooked her main meal of the day, and was settling down for the evening to read a book that a friend had just published on the subject of chakras.
‘I’m Veronica Lasalle,’ said the woman, ‘and I hear you’ve been stirring things up about Anita Garner.’
‘What do you mean – “stirring things up”?’
‘People around Fethering are talking about her again.’
‘So? Why do you think I have anything to do with that?’
‘You mentioned her to my husband at the yacht club.’
‘Yes, all right, I did, but that was simply—’
‘And that nosy neighbour of yours has been digging it all up again.’
‘Carole is a—’
‘Just stop it – right? There were a lot of lies told about Harry at the time. It was very hurtful to him. Had a bad effect on the business, too, for a while. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a long time ago and everyone had forgotten about it until you and your friend started digging.’
‘All that happened was that Anita Garner’s handbag was found and—’
‘Listen, my husband’s not in a good place at the moment. All this stuff coming up again is not going to help him. So, just lay off Harry – all right!’
And the line went dead. Jude got the impression that Veronica Lasalle was not a woman who was used to being crossed.
She had another unexpected call around eleven thirty on the Sunday morning. From Ted Crisp. Asking, rather shamefacedly, for the mobile number of Brandie Neville.
What the hell was going on there?
Then, early Sunday evening, Pete rang.
No, no problems about him starting work the following morning. But he thought she’d like to know; he’d just heard bad news from a friend at Fethering Yacht Club.
One of the members had noticed that morning that Harry’s Dream was no longer on the hardstanding in front of the clubhouse. The club member had gone out in his own boat to an area where he knew Harry Lasalle had always enjoyed fishing. He’d found Harry’s Dream anchored in the usual place.
But there was no sign of anyone about.
Having boarded the boat and opened the hatch to the cabin, the yachtsman had found Harry lying on the floor.
There was an empty whisky bottle beside him.
He was dead.
SEVEN
‘Carbon monoxide poisoning,’ said Pete.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, that’s what killed him. After the alarm had been raised, the coastguard towed the boat back to the yacht club, then the police took over.’
‘There’s your coffee.’ White with one sugar. Jude’d get used to that order over the week ahead. Pete’s working life was fuelled by coffee. First day on a new job he’d bring his flask. Best to be prepared. With some clients he continued bringing the flask every day. He had reckoned Jude would have offered to make cups for him, but you could never be sure, working for a new client. However well you thought you knew them. People, Pete knew, were unpredictable.
As agreed, he’d arrived at Woodside Cottage at eight, let himself in and got started washing down the sitting-room walls. Jude had descended some forty-five minutes later, dressed in a voluminous, multi-coloured towelling robe. Though the central heating was on at full blast, the cold outside air somehow still infiltrated the house.
Her normal instinct, having made her cup of tea, would have been to take it back under the duvet, but that Monday morning she was much more interested in the news from Fethering Yacht Club.
‘Where did you hear it from, Pete?’
‘In the club, yesterday evening. No one was talking about anything else.’
‘I bet they weren’t. So, when did Harry take his boat out?’
‘Early in the morning. Before it was light, they reckon.’
‘Is that unusual, for people to take their boats out that early?’
‘Unusual, yes. But it still happens quite a lot. Particularly with owners going on long trips, to France or wherever. A matter of getting the tides right, you see.’
‘Of course. But, so far as you know, Harry wasn’t planning a long trip?’
‘No. They seemed to think he was just going out fishing. He did sometimes go out early for that. Harry used to be very keen on his fishing. Hasn’t done so much of it recently, though. Probably because of his back problems. But there’s an area about a mile out where he usually goes. Got some good catches out there, over the years. That’s where Harry’s Dream was found.’
‘Hm.’ Jude took a pensive sip of tea. ‘And the carbon monoxide … where did that come from?’
‘Heater in the cabin. He’d got that on full blast. If it wasn’t properly ventilated … or there was a faulty valve … one or the other. You keep reading of these tragedies of kids in caravans and, you know …’
‘Sure. When we saw Harry on Saturday, he said he’d done all the conversion work on Harry’s Dream himself …’
‘Yes. He was really proud of that boat.’
‘Right.’ Slowly, Jude pieced things together. ‘So, an experienced builder like Harry Lasalle would have known all about the dangers from faulty heaters, wouldn’t he?’
‘Certainly would.’
‘And he’d have known the safety precautions that had to be taken when installing them … and he’d have been particularly careful when he was doing the installation on his own boat …?’
‘You betcha.’
‘So, if there was a fault in the system, Harry would have known about it.’
‘He’d have known all right,’ said Pete.
‘Could he actually have caused the fault?’