But it wasn’t Samuel. It was a car she didn’t recognize. She felt a sudden disquiet, then saw the big female detective from the night before struggle out from the driver’s seat. There was the moment of quiet superiority she always felt when she saw a woman of around her own age who had let herself go. The detective’s face could even be attractive if she made more effort. Her clothes were shapeless, her hair badly cut. Did she really not care what she looked like? Felicity couldn’t understand it. Somehow it made Vera Stanhope invulnerable. She’d always enjoyed being admired. She couldn’t imagine not caring what other people thought.
‘Inspector’ She checked that her hand was clean and held it out. The woman took it with a brief, sharp grip, but her attention was on the garden.
‘This is lovely,’ she said. ‘It’ll take a lot of work.’
‘Oh,’ Felicity knew she was being flattered but was still pleased. ‘We have help, of course. An elderly man from the village.’
‘Of course,’ the detective said.
Felicity heard the sarcasm, wasn’t sure how to respond.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Just a few more questions. You know how it is. Things come up.’
How can I know how it is? Felicity thought. I’ve never found a body before.
‘Your friends have gone?’
‘Yes, they had to get away. I think Gary is working tonight.’ She felt awkward standing there, grubby and unprepared.
‘What do they do? Gary told us, but what about the others?’ Vera had moved into the shade of the house and Felicity followed.
‘Samuel’s a librarian. Also a rather fine writer. Short stories, mostly. Clive works as an assistant at the Hancock Museum. The natural history section.’
‘Does he? I loved it in there when I was a kid. My dad used to take me. It had a smell all of its own. I haven’t been there for years.’ Vera seemed lost for a moment in the memory. ‘Is your husband at home?’
‘He’s in the office,’ Felicity said. ‘Come through.’
‘Is he working too?’
‘On his research, yes.’
‘I understand he’s a botanist. That must be useful when it comes to gardening.’ The voice was jolly, impressed. Felicity didn’t know what to make of it. She decided not to explain about the seabird book. It might be considered a hobby, not work at all, and she wanted the detective to take Peter seriously.
‘We often stop for tea at about this time. Perhaps you’ll join us? I’ll give Peter a shout.’
Felicity wouldn’t have been surprised if the detective had insisted on disturbing Peter in his office, but it seemed she’d decided to be conciliatory.
‘Why not? I’m gasping.’
‘We could sit outside, make the most of the sunshine.’
‘I’d rather not, pet. I have this allergy. Direct sunlight. Makes me come out in lumps and blotches.’
So they sat up to the kitchen table. Felicity had made to take the tea things through to the living room on a tray, but Vera had touched her arm to stop her. ‘Eh, we don’t want any fuss. I’m more the hired help than visiting gentry.’
Felicity knew the detective was playing with her and wasn’t quite sure how to take it. She just nodded her agreement, sliced the scones she’d fetched out of the freezer the afternoon before and spooned homemade jam into a pot. When Peter came out from his office, Vera had her mouth full, and spattered crumbs over the table as she tried to speak. Felicity wanted to say to Peter: Don’t be taken in by this woman. She wants you to believe she’s a clown. She’s brighter than she looks. But she could tell that Peter had already dismissed her as a fool. As she choked and coughed and swilled tea, he raised his eyes to the ceiling.
At last the pantomime was over and Vera began to speak.
‘I got interrupted last night,’ she said. ‘There are a few questions. You’ll understand. Formalities.’
‘Of course.’
‘You work at the university, Dr Calvert? Miss Marsh was a student there. On the post-graduate education course. You’re sure you didn’t know her?’
‘What did she take for her first degree?’
‘English. She did that at Newcastle too.’
‘However, I never met her, Inspector. My subject is botany. Our paths never crossed. I’m afraid it must be a coincidence. Her teaching our son, enquiring about accommodation and then our stumbling across her like that on the shore.’
A random occurrence, Felicity thought. Like sea watching. Like birds flying past just when you’re there to see them. Except, of course, it wasn’t chance which connected the birders and the birds, as Peter had described it in the watch tower the night before. They took steps to make sure they were there at the right time. They listened to the shipping forecast every night to hear which way the wind was blowing. They consulted tide tables.
‘The girl was murdered,’ Vera said suddenly. ‘Strangled. But you know that already. I told you last night. Something that elaborate, staged, you’d think it’d be easy to find out who did it. They’d leave traces. A jilted lover, maybe.’ She paused. ‘Jilted. That’s an old-fashioned kind of word. And it seemed like an old-fashioned sort of crime, at first. Something from a gentler age. Looked peaceful, didn’t she, lying there. The flowers. But there was nothing peaceful about her dying. I can’t believe she wanted to go.’
Felicity felt tears in her eyes. As if, somehow, she was being held responsible. She was pleased that Peter seemed moved too, that he kept quiet.
The detective continued. ‘And there are other complications. There was another victim. A lad was killed two days earlier. Name of Luke Armstrong.’ She looked at them both. ‘Are you sure you don’t know the name?’
‘You mentioned him before,’ Felicity said. ‘And I saw it on the local news. He came from Seaton.’
‘What I didn’t tell you was that he was put in a bath. Covered with flowers. Like I said last night, it could hinder our investigation if something like that became common knowledge. But you do see what I’m saying. It’s not simple any more. A jilted lover isn’t going to kill a sixteen-year-old boy as a sort of practice run. Why take the risk? Far too elaborate. I’m looking for links here. The mother’s name is Julie. Julie Armstrong.’
‘Wasn’t that woman Gary was raving about called Julie?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth Felicity regretted them. It was such a stupid thing to say. Why point the inspector in the direction of Gary, who wouldn’t hurt a fly? She could feel Peter glaring at her and tried to rescue the situation. ‘I mean, it’s a really common name. I’m sure it doesn’t mean…’
‘Why don’t you tell me anyway, pet?’
‘He met this woman, that’s all. Some gig he was doing the sound for. A local band in a pub in North Shields. That place with the view over the river. Bumped into her in the bar after. They got talking and found out they’d been to school together. You know how it is.’
‘I’m not sure I do. Why don’t you explain?’
‘He talks a big game, Gary. I mean, to hear him, you’d think he had women all over the country. But since his fiancée left him, I don’t think he’s had a real girlfriend. He loved Emily, really loved her. When she went off with someone else, he was devastated. I just got the impression that he clicked with this Julie. He hoped to meet her again.’
‘Did he say any more about her? Like whether she had kids?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘What about you, Dr Calvert? Did he talk to you about this woman?’
‘I’m sorry, Inspector. It’s not really the sort of thing men talk about.’
‘Isn’t it?’ As if she was genuinely surprised. ‘Well, I can ask Gary about it, can’t I? Get it straight from the horse’s mouth.’