Carole steamrollered on, ‘I thought we needed help from someone who knows more about the case than anyone else.’
‘You don’t mean you’ve been in touch with the police?’ Jude was appalled. If there were any rules in the business of being an amateur detective, the predominant one was never to consult the police. The ‘proper authorities’ had no place in the world of untutored sleuthdom.
‘No, of course I haven’t,’ said Carole curtly. ‘I have enlisted the help of my journalist friend, Malk Penberthy.’
‘Oh.’
Jude must have sounded underwhelmed because Carole went straight into reassurance mode. ‘He covered the case at the time she actually disappeared. He talked to all the relevant people. He really does know more about it than anyone else.’
‘Possibly. So, what have you actually told him?’
‘I’ve told him that we know the identity of the person who holds the key to the case,’ said Carole enthusiastically.
‘Have you actually said it’s Glen Porter?’
‘No. I said I’d wait until I talked to you before I gave him the name.’
‘Thank God for that,’ was Jude’s immediate thought. What she said, though, was, ‘Can you hold fire till after the weekend?’
‘Why?’ Carole sounded miffed and disappointed.
‘Just, please do. There are a couple of things I need to sort out.’
‘“Things” that will take you the whole weekend? I thought we were doing this investigation together.’ Carole was moving into full martyr mode.
‘Please, Carole. If I can get them sorted sooner, I’ll let you know immediately.’
‘Very well.’ The words were said in Carole’s unique way of saying that things were far from ‘very well’.
After their call ended, Jude didn’t feel comfortable. It was a kind of role reversal. Usually, Carole was the one who was hypersensitive about potential slights, about the idea that she was being excluded from any part of their investigation. But now Jude was getting something of that feeling.
She knew her neighbour well enough to understand what was going on. Carole had cultivated Malk Penberthy as her own private source, someone separate from Jude. She hadn’t suggested even introducing the two of them.
Jude still felt uneasy about their recently acquired information being shared with a third party.
But then a thought came to her of how the situation could be used to her advantage.
Shortly after, came the call she had been expecting. Her conjecture had been proved right. Her mention of Anita Garner had prompted Lauren Givens to contact her lover immediately.
‘Hello, Jude. This is Glen Porter.’
‘Hello.’
‘I gather you’ve been stirring things up again.’
‘Ooh, I don’t think I’d go as far as that.’
‘I would. More meddlesome talk about Anita Garner.’
‘Did Lauren say why I’d raised the name?’
‘Yes. She was stupid. Something I mentioned to her in confidence – and then she goes and tells her bloody husband!’
‘So, you’re not denying you said it?’
‘No, I’m not. But I am telling you to put a stop to all this destructive gossip.’
‘I’m not sure that I can.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s already a journalist sniffing round the case.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘A very pertinacious journalist. One who won’t rest until he finds out the truth.’ This was perhaps bigging up Malk Penberthy excessively, but Jude knew what she was doing. She wasn’t going to spoil her little plan by mentioning the journalist’s age or the fact that he had been long retired.
It worked. ‘Can you come to the beach hut?’ asked Glen Porter.
There had been a sprinkling of snow that morning. It hadn’t settled on the sand, just dusted the rooftops of the village. It certainly accentuated the Chekhovian look of the beach hut. The cold stung Jude’s cheeks as she crossed Fethering Beach.
She had half-expected Lauren to be there, but Glen was on his own.
No offers of coffee this time. Straight to business.
‘This journalist you talked about … what’s his name?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’
‘Why not?’
‘He asked me not to.’ Jude was not above telling the odd white lie in the cause of justice.
‘Lauren swore blind to me that Fred was the only person she’d told that I’d said I knew what happened to Anita Garner.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he tell you anything more than that?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely sure. But it was sufficient to spark my interest.’
‘Yes,’ said Glen wryly. ‘I’m getting the impression it doesn’t take much to do that.’
‘Maybe not.’
‘So, Jude, what’s the current state of play? Should I be preparing myself for a call from said journalist?’
Time for a bit of tactical white lying. ‘That may not happen for a while. May not happen at all.’
‘Sorry, what do you mean? You said he was “sniffing around” Anita’s disappearance.’
‘Yes. Let me explain. I haven’t met him. He’s known to my neighbour Carole. Do you know who I mean?’
‘Oh yes. Fethering’s other menopausal meddler. I know about her.’
Jude didn’t react to the insult. Time for another white lie. ‘Because Carole’s journalist friend knows we’re interested in the case, he’s offered to help us. It was through her that I got the message he didn’t want his name bandied about. It’s certainly a name you’d recognize,’ she lied blithely. ‘He’s got quite a reputation for investigative journalism.’
‘Has he? And your friend Carole asked him to help solve Anita Garner’s disappearance?’
‘She hasn’t yet said definitely whether she wants him to or not.’ Another lie easily slipped in. ‘That’s why I said his intervention may not happen.’
‘Ah.’ A light of hope came into Glen Porter’s eyes. ‘So, he could still be headed off, could he?’
‘Might be possible,’ said Jude, deliberately capricious.
‘I would be very grateful if you could head him off,’ said Glen firmly.
‘How grateful?’
‘What do you mean? For God’s sake! Are you asking me for money?’
‘No.’ Jude was shocked that he might think that. But then she reflected that someone chiefly known locally for being rich must get many such requests. It would be reasonable to assume that money was what everyone was after.
‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I’m asking for information. You’re not about to deny that you know what happened to Anita, are you?’
‘No. But I have reasons for keeping that information secret.’
‘Really? I wonder what they could be …?’
‘I don’t think it’s really your business, Jude.’
‘Perhaps not. But I can’t stop myself from being intrigued by it.’
‘Evidently not,’ Glen said drily. ‘I imagine there are few things you can stop yourself being intrigued by.’
‘You’re probably right. But listen, your reasons for keeping the information you have about Anita Garner secret …’
‘Yes?’
‘The way I see it, either you’d want secrecy to avoid incriminating yourself …’
‘Oh, last time it was Harry Lasalle I was supposed to have bumped off. You’re accusing me of murdering the girl now, are you?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘I’m relieved to hear that. There were so many nasty allegations going round just after her disappearance, I don’t want all that starting up again.’
‘All right, Glen, but just bear with me a moment. If you had murdered her and knew where the body was hidden, then fine, that’d be a reason for keeping the facts secret.’
‘I would go along with that.’ In spite of the potential seriousness of the situation, he was enjoying this intellectual sparring. ‘And if – just to offer a more charitable interpretation of my behaviour – I didn’t murder her … what then?’