‘Are you talking meditation? Because I’ve done classes in that and—’
‘Classes, no. Classes are with other people. They still have expectations of you. You want to be alone when the only person who has expectations of you is you.’
‘I have very high expectations of myself.’
‘Of course you do. And that’s good. All I’m asking is that you carve out for yourself half an hour a day to think about those expectations. Are they realistic? Would it really matter that much if you let your guard slip for a moment? Why not allow a little imperfection into your life? You’re a human being. All human beings have flaws.’
There was an even longer silence while Sam Torino took this in. Then she said, ‘Do you know how much you’re asking?’
‘I know exactly how much I’m asking.’
‘Hm.’ More silence. ‘I’ll give it a go. More “Me Time”.’
‘Don’t think of it as “Me Time”. Think of it as “Nothing Time”. Just time when you stop feeling the pressure to be Sam Torino. See where it takes you.’
‘OK.’ She flexed her long legs. ‘The pain’s easing, you know.’
‘Yes. A little bit longer and it’ll be gone . . . for the time being.’
‘And whether or not I keep it away is up to me, huh?’
‘Sure is,’ said Jude, dropping into a parody Canadian accent.
‘Right.’ Sam Torino looked around the interior of the treatment yurt. ‘Funny, this place doesn’t have any ghosts . . . considering what happened here so recently.’
Jude was shocked. ‘I didn’t know you knew about that.’
‘Ned told me.’
‘You know Ned?’
‘Sure.’
‘Can I ask how?’
‘No problem. There are a lot of events which people with a certain level of income get involved in. Charity fund-raisers, that kind of stuff. I can’t remember the first one I met him at, but we kind of got on and stayed in touch.’
‘So is that why you’re here for the Walden launch?’
‘Sure.’
‘I thought Gale Mostyn had organized your participation.’
Sam Torino let out a haughty laugh. ‘Gale Mostyn are not big players. I have my own personal PR company. Sure, Gale Mostyn can organize a line-up of reality TV hopefuls, but they don’t have access to the A-list.’ Somehow her words didn’t sound arrogant. She was just describing the realities of celebrity life. ‘And, incidentally . . .’ She reached into her back trouser pocket and produced a neat card case. ‘If you ever need to contact me, use this mobile number. If you try going through my PR people, they won’t let you near me.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jude, pocketing the card she’d been given. ‘So, Sam, I assume you heard from Ned about what happened to Fennel?’
‘Sure. I also heard that you were the one who found the body.’
‘Yes.’ Jude had a sudden thought. ‘Was that why you wanted to talk to me?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Is that why you asked me to stay behind after the launch?’
Sam Torino looked puzzled. ‘Hell, no. I asked you to stay behind because you’re a healer. Because you’re doing wonders for the pain in my hip.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘Why would I want to talk to you about Fennel?’
‘I don’t know. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘Ned’s in a terrible state about it.’
‘I know.’
‘He always was besotted with that girl. Fathers and first daughters, you know . . .’
‘Whereas Sheena . . .?’
‘Hell, who knows what goes on in a mind like hers?’ Sam Torino clearly had less time for Fennel’s mother than she had for her father.
‘Did you know Fennel?’
‘I met her a couple of times. Ned brought her along to a few charity things. I think the idea was to promote her career as an artist . . . you know, get her some wealthy contacts who might commission stuff from her. I don’t think it paid off. Ned can sometimes be a bit naive in the workings of the celebrity circus.’
‘How did Fennel strike you when you met her?’
Sam Torino shrugged. ‘Pretty. Nice kid. If I hadn’t heard from Ned about her mental problems I’d never have guessed there was anything wrong.’
‘Has he talked to you much about her illness?’
‘Not a lot. He told me when she made the first attempt.’
‘You already knew him then?’
‘Sure.’
‘Did he give you much detail about what happened?’
‘No, he just told me that she’d done it. Up until then, like I said, I wouldn’t have known there was anything wrong with her. But from that time on I could see how much it got to him. Worrying about Fennel was a constant anxiety to him, and a constant drain on his energy.’
‘Did Ned tell you about her death before today?’
‘Sure. He called me the weekend it happened. He was in a hell of a state.’
‘Yes. I saw him soon after.’
A new shrewdness came into Sam Torino’s eyes. ‘He was also worried about local gossip.’
‘Oh?’
‘Even the suggestion that some people thought it wasn’t suicide at all. That Fennel was murdered.’
‘When something like that happens in an area like this,’ Jude responded breezily, ‘you’re bound get a lot of crackpot theories doing the rounds.’
‘Ned said there were a couple of things you thought were odd when you found Fennel’s body.’
‘Well, really only the fact that there was no sign of her mobile.’
‘Hm.’ The famous eyes were turned searchingly on to Jude. ‘So does that mean you’re one of the people who thinks it might have been murder?’
Jude was torn. Part of her wanted to admit the truth, in the hope perhaps of getting more information out of Sam Torino. But she knew the dangers of spreading suspicions and allegations. She also got the feeling that anything she said would get straight back to Ned Whittaker. And she didn’t want to do anything that might add to his misery.
So all she came up with by way of reply was: ‘I suppose I just didn’t want to think it was suicide, so I considered all of the other options.’
‘And are you still considering them?’
‘Maybe a bit.’
Sam Torino nodded slowly. ‘But the police took the suicide at face value?’
‘Oh yes. Sam, don’t you worry about what I’m thinking. I’ve allowed myself to get rather emotionally involved.’
Another slow, thoughtful nod.
‘No, really, I’m sure it was suicide,’ Jude lied. ‘When Ned talked to you, did he have any idea what might have tipped Fennel over the edge?’
‘No. But she’d been ill for a long time. And I can’t think getting involved with that little shit Denzil Willoughby can have helped.’
‘You know Denzil?’
‘Sure.’
‘Why, have you bought stuff from him?’
Sam Torino’s fine nose wrinkled with disgust at the suggestion. ‘Hell, no. If I buy art, I go for the real McCoy. If I want a Damien Hirst, I get a Damien Hirst. Not Denzil Willoughby’s kind of imitative rubbish.’
‘So how did you meet Denzil?’
Through his father.’
‘Oh?’
‘Addison Willoughby. You heard of him?’
‘I’ve heard the name.’
‘Founded one of the biggest advertising companies in the world. Another of the super-rich mafia.’
‘Whom you have met at charity events?’
‘Exactly. He brought Denzil along to a few, maybe trying to do the same service as Ned was for Fennel.’
‘Was that when the two of them met?’
‘I don’t know about that. They may have known each other before. All I know is that when I heard from Ned they were an item, I thought: “Uh-oh, that’s going to mean trouble.”’
‘Why did you think that?’