‘And where will I find him? Is there a Catholic church in Mardle?’
‘He’s C of E. Priest of the church over the road. St Bartholomew’s. But that’s what he calls himself.’ Kate could hear the antipathy in her own voice and wondered if the detective would pick up on it. Instead Vera made a show of looking around the room, at the pile of school books on the dresser and the music stand in the corner.
‘How old are your children now?’
‘Chloe’s fourteen and Ryan’s just sixteen.’
‘Could we speak to them, please? Nothing formal, just a quick chat here in the kitchen, to find out when they last saw Margaret. Joe here can ask the questions. He’s got bairns of his own, similar sort of age. That’s right, isn’t it, Joe?’
The good-looking sergeant smiled. ‘A bit younger,’ he said. ‘Sometimes they behave like teenagers, though. Not a stage I’m looking forward to.’
So Kate had no choice but to call the kids in, although by now all she wanted was food and more wine. It felt like some sort of conference, all of them round the table, everyone a bit tense and serious. But the children did her proud. Ryan answered the questions politely and even Chloe gave the detectives her full attention. ‘Tell me about Margaret.’ That was how the sergeant started off. The kids stared at each other, and in the end it was Ryan who answered first.
‘She was lovely,’ he said. ‘When we were little she’d take us out. And I still liked spending time with her.’
‘Doing what?’ the detective asked.
‘She was into good causes,’ Ryan said. ‘Sometimes I’d help her collect. Rattle the collecting boxes outside the supermarket.’ He paused. ‘Old ladies like me, and they were always willing to give.’ Kate thought that was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. Ryan felt safe with Margaret. When he was younger she’d sat with him through the nightmares.
And then Chloe chipped in with a story of her own, about Margaret taking them to the theatre in Newcastle, their first trip to a grown-up play. ‘She knew about stuff. Plays and films. Most Saturdays when Mam was busy she’d take me to the library. She encouraged me to do well at school. “Women can be anything they want.” Didn’t she say that all the time?’
Kate nodded.
‘What about now?’ Joe Ashworth asked. ‘Now that you’re older. Were you still close?’
A pause.
‘We didn’t spend so much time with her,’ Chloe said. ‘But we knew she was there. If we needed her.’
‘I still helped out,’ Ryan said, ‘but not so much. I’ve got this part-time job at the boatyard now.’
They had never considered of course that Margaret might have missed their company or their confidences. That the older woman might have needed them. Kate thought adolescents were the most self-centred people in the universe.
The sergeant was moving on to more detailed questions. ‘Did you see Margaret today?’
‘I did,’ Ryan said. ‘I saw her on my way out to school.’
‘Where was she?’
‘She was clearing the tables in the guests’ dining room after breakfast. There were only a couple of people staying last night and they’d already left by then. She saw me through the open door and shouted out to me to have a good day.’
‘Where do you go to school?’ The policeman leaned back in his chair. Kate thought he looked tired.
‘Mardle High,’ Chloe said. ‘It’s just over the Metro line.’
‘The local comprehensive,’ Kate added, wondering again if they would have done better at a different school, somewhere with smaller classes. If she’d continued in her career, perhaps she’d have afforded it.
Vera interrupted then, a question directed to Kate. ‘These guests? You’ll have their contact details?’
Kate could tell the sergeant was used to her butting in. ‘Of course. Claire Gordon was on her way to Edinburgh to collect her son from university. She’s a regular, lives in Hertfordshire somewhere, and stays the beginning and end of every term to break her journey. The other was Mike Craggs, Professor Craggs. He’s a marine biologist at Newcastle Uni and he always stays here when he’s doing fieldwork. Claire left early. The weather forecast had said there might be snow and she wanted to be on her way. Mike’s always out of the house before anyone else, when he’s working.’ Kate wondered if this was more information than the inspector needed, if she was coming across as a nosy landlady. But Vera Stanhope nodded and seemed pleased.
‘And you?’ Joe turned to Chloe. ‘Did you see Margaret today?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I left the house before Ryan. I didn’t see her at all.’
Then the detectives stood up and Kate thought they’d finally go away, so that she could eat supper, drink the wine and think about Margaret in peace. She wanted to check her phone to see if Stuart had called her back. But still, it seemed, they wanted more from her.
‘That chap we met earlier,’ Vera said. ‘He’s a regular, is he?’
‘Oh yes.’ Kate smiled. ‘George comes once a month and stays for two nights. Then again for another night when he’s finished working in Scotland. He’s regular as clockwork.’
‘I wonder, then, if we might have a word with him.’ Vera smiled too, apologetically. It was as if she knew that Kate wanted to be rid of them. ‘Then I promise I’ll leave you in peace.’
But Kate thought there’d be little peace in Harbour Street until this was all over. Until they knew who’d killed Margaret Krukowski.
Chapter Six
Following the women down the corridor and up the stairs, Joe Ashworth was troubled by a sense of déjà vu, a feeling that he’d met this family before or conducted a similar interview on a previous occasion. It was as irritating as when a word was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t remember it. Perhaps something about the kids – polite enough, but wary and watchful – reminded him of his own children when they had something to hide.
They’d arrived at Enderby’s room and the man had the door open almost as soon as Kate had knocked. It was clear that the detectives wouldn’t be invited in, though. Enderby seemed pleasant and rather shy, but also experienced at getting his own way.
‘The lounge would be best for a chat, I think, don’t you, Kate? I’ll switch on the fire again and make it cosy. And I’ll bob down to the kitchen and make us some more tea, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition. No need for you to do anything.’
So that’s where the interview took place, in the impressive lounge with its gleaming dark furniture and smell of beeswax polish. Enderby lit some of the red candles and switched off the main light, so Joe almost expected him to take their hands and call up the dead, as if this was a séance.
Kate Dewar had returned to her own flat. The three of them drank tea and ate biscuits and sat for a minute watching the gas flames. While they’d been waiting for Enderby to bring in the tray, Joe had pulled back the curtains to look out of the window and seen that the snow had stopped. The sky was clear now and there were stars, a huge white moon. Still he replayed the interview with Kate Dewar and her family, wondering what he’d missed, what had been so familiar.
Vera was asking the questions and already there seemed to be an understanding between her and Enderby. She wasn’t exactly flirting, but there was a sense that they could get on. He was charming, Joe could see that. People didn’t usually make an effort to charm Vera, and Joe thought she was flattered by it.
She smiled now, over her cup, dunking her third home-made biscuit into the tea. ‘So what brings you to Northumberland, Mr Enderby?’
‘George, please.’ A wide, easy smile. ‘Work, I’m afraid. I keep promising myself time in the county to explore properly, but my wife thinks anywhere north of the Wash is wild and uncharted territory, and I spend so much time away from home that I wouldn’t want to come up on holiday without her.’