‘Not that” far-fetched”. Adultery,’ Carole insisted, with the confidence of someone who’d had no experience of it, ‘can stir strong emotions.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ agreed Jude, who did have some experience of it, from both sides of the blanket, as wife and mistress. ‘But at the moment, I’m more interested in Pete.’
‘In connection with what?’ asked Carole. ‘Anita Garner’s disappearance? Or Harry Lasalle’s death?’
‘Either. Or both,’ Jude replied vaguely. There was some relevant detail somewhere in the depths of her mind which she was having difficulty bringing to the surface.
‘Well,’ said Carole logically, ‘why don’t you analyse the basis for your suspicion of Pete, the Paragon of Fethering?’
‘It’s things other people have said. There is clearly bad blood between him and Veronica Lasalle. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. And she described him as “a right little troublemaker”. Not the image most people in Fethering have of him.’
‘No, but Veronica has just lost her husband. She must be in a state of shock. Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘Hm.’ The reference to Pete’s image reminded Jude of Roland Lasalle’s words: ‘Pete’s done worse than skiving.’ She relayed them to Carole.
‘The Lasalle family certainly seem to have it in for him.’
‘But Harry was perfectly friendly last Saturday at the yacht club.’
‘Yes. I’ve no idea what’s going on there.’ Carole looked thoughtful. ‘And then, of course, there’s what Brenton Wilkinson told me … about Pete thinking Anita was “a bit of all right”.’
‘Mm. That worried me when you told me. Mind you, it was a long time ago. He was only a boy. And there’s a long history of young men fancying young women. No, the thing that worries me most is Pete actually lying to me.’
‘About the rooms he was painting at Footscrow House when Anita Garner disappeared?’
‘Exactly. Pete told me he was working downstairs, but you say Brenton Wilkinson said he was working upstairs.’
‘He was very firm about that.’
‘And also, Pete swore blind he’d never before been in the room where we found Anita Garner’s handbag.’
Carole’s lips pursed with suspicion.
‘But, Carole, why would Pete lie?’
‘Hiding something?’
‘Yes, that’s the usual explanation, isn’t it? To put me off the scent. But what scent?’
‘Also,’ Carole continued deploying her logic, ‘if Pete knew that Anita Garner’s handbag was hidden behind that panel, why on earth would he open it up with you there as a witness?’
Jude shook her head. She had no answer to that question either. And she wasn’t enjoying being suspicious of Pete.
With a positive effort, she redirected her thoughts. Glen Porter … There was something Glen Porter had said when she saw him at his beach hut dacha. What was it? Was that the elusive memory that was nagging at her?
‘I was just thinking,’ she said, piecing it together, ‘I told you what Glen Porter said when I went to see him …’
‘Yes.’
‘He was talking about you and me “digging into things” which didn’t concern us.’
‘Huh.’ Carole Seddon’s Home Office soul was offended. ‘We’re only behaving in the way any public-spirited person should behave.’
Jude wasn’t entirely convinced by that, but she let it go. ‘And Glen said that our investigations were likely to cause pain to someone … to some woman.’
‘If wrongdoing has occurred,’ Carole insisted stoutly, ‘then inevitably revealing it is going to cause pain to someone.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, when he was talking, I thought it was about Anita Garner … that she – or more likely her surviving friends and relations – might be hurt by having the whole story dug up again …’
‘Mm?’
‘But now, given what we know about Glen and Lauren, I wonder if it was her he was worrying about getting hurt.’
‘Which would mean, Jude, that he thought we already knew about the affair …’
‘Yes.’
‘Which we certainly didn’t at that point.’
‘No.’
‘So,’ said Carole slowly, ‘where would he have got that idea from?’
‘Guilty conscience?’
‘Glen’s certainly feeling guilty about something.’ Jude rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what it is …?’
Jude felt awkward about being faced with Pete when she got back to Woodside Cottage, but she needn’t have worried. There was a note propped up on the mantelpiece of her sitting room. ‘HAD TO LEAVE THE GLOSS TO DRY. A BIT OF TIDYING-UP NEXT TWO DAYS, THEN WE’LL BE DONE. ALL THE BEST, PETE’.
He’d said he’d finish within the week. And the next day was Thursday. Pete was being true to his word. If only she could be certain he was true to his word in all areas of his life.
TWELVE
Jude’s phone rang about half past five that afternoon. It was a rather secretive and excited-sounding Vi Benyon.
‘Listen, Jude, Leslie’s away. He’s visiting his sister in Aberystwyth.’
‘Oh.’ This sounded like a bit of gratuitous information.
But its relevance soon became clear. ‘And, the thing is, Jude, that means I can talk more freely. Leslie’s a wonderful man but there are some things he doesn’t like me to talk about.’
‘Things you want to talk about?’
‘Yes.’
Jude didn’t just believe in synchronicity. She believed in other divine forces, possibly even a God. But she didn’t believe in coincidence. When, apparently fortuitously, things worked out, they were meant to work out. And, at that moment, they seemed to be working out wonderfully.
‘I was very shocked,’ said Vi Benyon, ‘to hear about Harry Lasalle’s death.’
‘I’m sure we all were.’
‘And it got me thinking about all that Anita Garner business again.’
‘Me too.’
‘So, I wondered if we could meet and talk about it …? You sounded very interested when we were in the Crown and Anchor last week.’
Jude couldn’t believe how serendipitously things were turning out.
‘Yes, I was very interested. Well, still am very interested.’
‘And, you see, Jude, with Leslie being away, as I say, I could talk about things more freely.’
‘That would be wonderful.’
‘So … what? Back in the Crown and Anchor?’
‘Perfect. Do you mind if my neighbour Carole comes along too?’
‘No. She was as interested as you were, wasn’t she?’
‘You can say that again.’
Mercifully, when Carole and Jude got to the Crown and Anchor round six, Barney Poulton was not present. Maybe his wife had dragged him back to the bridge table. Maybe it was the only way she knew of shutting him up.
In fact, apart from Ted Crisp behind the bar, there was only one other customer. Sitting demurely on a stool the customer side was, much to Carole’s annoyance, Brandie Neville.
She greeted Jude with a fulsome hug. About to offer the same to Carole, the potential recipient’s body language decided her against the idea. She sat back on her stool. The landlord looked at her soupily.
‘Have you been using your precious gift today, Jude?’ asked Brandie.
‘What, you mean healing? No, I’m having my treatment room decorated.’
‘“Treatment room”?’ Carole couldn’t stop herself from echoing. ‘You mean “sitting room”.’
Jude grinned easily. ‘Whatever.’
‘It is not the name of the room that matters,’ said Brandie. ‘It is the power that emanates from it.’
‘Yes, that’s so true.’ Carole couldn’t believe it – the words had come from Ted Crisp.