‘Which was?’
‘That Harry Lasalle had done more than “come on” to Anita Garner. That they were in a relationship. That she was his mistress.’
‘And do you think that was true?’
‘Absolutely not!’ The old man looked affronted by the very suggestion. ‘All right, Harry’s “wandering hands” may have wandered where they shouldn’t, but I’m sure it didn’t go further than that. What the girls said was just fabrication and rumours.’
‘Presumably fabrication and rumours that the police would have followed up on?’
‘Presumably.’
‘Did you hear their conclusions?’
Malk Penberthy smiled wryly, ‘No, I’m sorry to say I didn’t. In detective stories, the police seem to be very generous sharing all their findings with amateur sleuths. Real life, I believe, is rather different … not least because amateur sleuths do not exist. They are a complete and convenient figment of crime writers’ imaginations.
‘And I’m afraid the same holds true for the relationship between the press and the police. Again, in fiction, the latter are far more open-handed with information than they are in the real world. Journalists in books always seem to have a friendly source in the police force who keeps them up to date with the progress of their enquiries. Whereas, in the real world, journalists are fed what the police want them to know at press conferences. Apart from that, the “appropriate authorities” tend to play things rather close to their chests. So, the detectives looking into Anita Garner’s disappearance – surprise, surprise – did not go out of their way to confide in me the results of their investigation into the relationship between Harry Lasalle and the missing girl.’
‘No, Malk, but you must have been talking to lots of other people, apart from the police. You must have formed your own opinion on the subject.’
‘Yes, that’s true. And I did briefly entertain the idea that the two might be involved in some ongoing affair.’
‘“Briefly”?’
‘Yes. Because I soon found out that, whatever was the cause of Anita’s disappearance, her murder or any other outcome, Harry Lasalle could not have had anything to do with it.’
‘Oh?’
‘He had an alibi for the relevant days. He was with his wife Veronica, on a sailing trip to Northern France in his boat.’
‘Harry’s Dream?’
‘The very same.’
‘So, the police would have found out about that alibi too?’
‘I can only assume so. Once again, they were not magnanimous enough to vouchsafe me that information.’
‘Ah. Right.’
Carole must have looked as crestfallen as she felt, because Malk Penberthy said, ‘I’m sorry. I can only wish you better luck with your investigation than I had with mine.’
‘Thanks,’ said Carole ruefully.
He looked at his watch. ‘I must be on my way.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m due to do a guided tour of the Fedborough Wetlands Centre.’
‘Ah.’
‘Birding has always been a big thing with me.’
‘More coffee?’
Jude had just come back in from her walk. It had done the business. Her body, underneath its many layers, felt warm again. But she was glad to be back in the central heating of Woodside Cottage.
‘Never say no to a cup of coffee,’ said Pete. ‘My drug of choice. Need constant fixes.’
Jude went through to the kitchen to put the kettle on and called back, ‘While I was out, I was thinking about Harry Lasalle.’
‘Me, and all. Felt sorry for the old bugger. He sounded so down on Saturday. Wondered whether I should have said something or, I don’t know, called Veronica to ask her to look out for him.’
‘We weren’t to know what would happen.’
‘No, you’re right.’ Pete had reached the stage of sanding down uneven bumps on the sitting-room wall.
‘I was asking myself whether I should feel guilty about what happened and decided I shouldn’t.’
‘But why should you feel guilty, Jude? You only met Harry on Saturday.’
‘Yes, but, if he did take his own life … and if that was because people had started talking about Anita Garner again … Here. White with one sugar.’
Pete took the proffered cup. ‘Thank you. Still don’t see what it’s got to do with you.’
‘Well, I was the one who took Anita Garner’s handbag to the police station, and that’s what started everyone talking about her.’
‘You was just doing your civic duty, Jude. A public-spirited act. Nothing to feel guilty about.’
She still couldn’t quite convince herself. If she and Carole hadn’t started “stirring things up” again …
‘Pete, were you aware of any talk about something going on between Anita and Harry Lasalle?’
But he wasn’t to be drawn. ‘There’s always talk about stuff like that. After she went, the poor kid’s name was linked to virtually everyone in Fethering.’
‘Including you?’ asked Jude cheekily.
The decorator grinned. ‘Probably. It’s always a problem when what’s being talked about is something nobody knows a blind thing about. Not, of course, that ignorance of the facts has ever stopped the gossips of Fethering.’
‘True.’ Jude took a sip of her coffee. It continued the warming-up process.
‘They come up with more theories than you’ve had hot dinners,’ Pete continued. ‘Particularly when the subject might be murder. Generally speaking, I reckon the people of Fethering spend far too much time watching television. That’s where they get all their theories from. If you ask me, there’s too much bloody crime on television. Particularly now there’s all that forensic stuff. People used to watch the box to learn how to cook. Then they started on decorating, house makeovers, all that … which, let me tell you, didn’t help me doing my job. Nothing worse than a client who reckons they know how to do it better than I do. “Ooh, on the telly, they were doing this rag-rolling and they were using stencils and they …” If they’re so clever, why don’t they just bloody get on with it, rather than bringing me in just to listen to their criticism?’
For a moment, Pete sounded uncharacteristically angry, but then he relaxed into the familiar grin. ‘Anyway, now everyone watches so much bloody forensics on telly, half of them reckon they could conduct their own post-mortems. As I say, too much crime, people think they know it all.’
‘Of course,’ said Jude, ‘one of the clichés of crime on telly, and in books, is the old theory that the first suspect is always the person who finds the body.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve heard that one a few times.’
‘So, Pete, you said it was someone from Fethering Yacht Club who went out and found Harry’s Dream on Sunday.’
‘Right.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Glen Porter,’ said the decorator.
EIGHT
It was Jude’s suggestion that they should go for an early evening drink at the Crown and Anchor. The weather was so miserable, with icy rain sheeting down from the dark heavens, that she wanted the comfort of sitting by an open fire. She couldn’t do that at Woodside Cottage because Pete had covered all the furniture with paint-spattered sheets. As for open fires at High Tor … well, they only happened when its owner had guests. And Jude was too frequent a visitor to count as a guest.