She had remembered to spend some time in front of her dressing-table mirror, as Vanda had told her that she must. She hadn’t bothered with much make-up — she felt out of practice and afraid of overdoing things. She didn’t want the CID to put her down as a tart who didn’t give a damn about her husband’s death. But she brushed her hair carefully and applied a pale rose shade of lipstick. When these men had gone, she’d perhaps telephone to arrange to have her hair cut later in the week, as her new friend had suggested she should.
Before she was really ready for them, she saw the police car turn into the drive. She watched Detective Chief Superintendent Lambert climb rather stiffly from the passenger seat and look up at the front of her house. They came most carefully upon their hour. That was a quotation, she thought. The opening of Hamlet, if she remembered it right. That recognition gave her a tiny thrill of pleasure; perhaps Vanda was right and she could afford to cut down on the tablets. Martin had been so insistent, and she realized now that she had got out of the habit of resistance to him. It would be good if she could manage with less medication, perhaps eventually with none at all. Things were going to be different now. Different and better. She still had a lot of her life left to live, hadn’t she?
Both Lambert and Hook were surprised by the change in Jane Beaumont’s appearance. She seemed to have got younger by several years in four days. A nice trick if you could manage it, and one which would make you a swift and certain fortune if you could market it.
Lambert was emboldened to say, ‘You seem much better today, Mrs Beaumont. Perhaps you were still in shock from your husband’s death when we saw you on Friday. That would be entirely understandable.’
Entirely understandable, but neither of them really thought it was just the passage of time. Jane gave him a tight smile to show that they were at one in this. She said, ‘I’m glad that I seem healthier to you. I suppose I am, but I doubt whether I shall be able to add much to what I told you on Friday. I expect I shall have to make funeral arrangements for Martin quite soon, won’t I?’
It was always a moment of embarrassment, this. But this woman didn’t look as if it would add anything to whatever grief she was feeling. ‘I am afraid it will not be possible to release the body for burial or cremation at the moment, Mrs Beaumont. The law does not allow us to do that.’
‘No. My friend told me that and I should have remembered it. It’s because it’s murder, isn’t it? When you eventually charge someone, the defence has a right to a second post mortem. Is that right?’
‘That is exactly right, Mrs Beaumont.’ She seemed so little distressed that he felt he should really give her a little formal bow to acknowledge her knowledge.
As if she read his thoughts, she said abruptly, ‘I identified him, you know.’
‘I did know, yes. It must have been quite an ordeal for you.’ She gave him no reaction to this, but sat composed as a Renaissance madonna, with the trace of a smile upon her lips. ‘You are no doubt aware that the coroner’s inquest returned a verdict of Murder by Person or Persons Unknown.’
‘Yes. They said there was no need for me to attend the coroner’s court unless I wished to. I didn’t see any point.’ She looked at him with her first sign of real interest. ‘Are you any nearer to turning this Person Unknown into a person known?’
Her evident enjoyment of this little play on words reinforced Lambert’s view that there was no need for him to treat Jane Beaumont with the kid gloves he normally donned for a grieving widow. ‘Neither DS Hook nor I was aware that you had a long-term illness when we spoke to you last week. I apologize if we were insensitive because of our ignorance.’
‘No. I don’t think you were insensitive. I do not recall all the details of our conversation, but I’m sure both you and your sergeant behaved impeccably.’ She nodded an acknowledgement towards Hook, much as Queen Victoria might have acknowledged a competent manservant. ‘As a matter of fact, I rather think my condition has been much exaggerated in the past.’
‘That is good to hear. As I say, there is no way in which we could have been aware of this on Friday.’
Jane afforded him a more generous and genuine smile. ‘There is no reason why you should pussyfoot your way around this, Mr Lambert. I have what is usually called a bipolar disorder. Martin was always anxious that I should take all the latest drugs, and occasionally incarcerate myself in medical institutions, when the condition was at its worst. I went along with his wishes. I resisted him less over the years, as my energy declined. I now feel that I might have been wrong to do so.’
Lambert wanted to arrest this flow of medical speculation, to tell her that he was grateful for her frankness but didn’t need to know anything more. He said stiffly, ‘It’s good to hear that you’re feeling better.’
‘I am indeed. I told you last week that I was planning to divorce Martin, so I feel that I do not need to pretend to any great grief for his death. Frankly, I feel better already. I now believe that he added to rather than alleviated the degree of mental suffering I have endured over the last few years.’
‘Thank you for your honesty. But whatever your feelings about your husband, you no doubt wish us to arrest and charge the person responsible for his death.’
Jane Beaumont seemed to weigh the proposal for a moment before she answered. ‘I cannot deny that his death has given me a feeling of release, because that has become more pronounced with each passing day. But the good citizen within me says that the law must be upheld and his killer brought to book.’
Her colour had risen. She seemed to be positively enjoying herself now. It appeared that the shaping of her replies and the declaration of her new-found health were giving her pleasure. Perhaps it was a feature of her condition, but she seemed to be almost surfing the wave of her own excitement now, to be waiting eagerly to discover what they might raise next for her in this novel situation.
Lambert was ill at ease with this unnatural reaction in a newly bereaved widow. He said rather desperately, ‘You mentioned a friend earlier, who advised you that you would need to delay the funeral. It is good that you have someone to help you in this situation.’
He was fishing, and she knew it immediately. But she was not at all put out. ‘There is no reason why you should not know the identity of my new friend. It will probably surprise you almost as much as it does me, Mr Lambert. It is the woman whom, until a fortnight ago, I was proposing to cite as Martin’s co-respondent in my divorce proceedings. It is Vanda North.’ She paused for a moment and seemed delighted by their reactions. ‘It isn’t a likely combination, is it? But Vanda and I hit it off from the first. I should perhaps add that it is many years since she had anything other than a business relationship with Martin. I fear we both felt the same about him by the time of his death. He could be charming and attractive in the early stages of a relationship, particularly when he was younger. But both of us had long since had our eyes opened to his vices.’
Jane wondered whether she was talking too much, whether she should be speaking so openly about her friendship with Vanda. But she was so cheered by it that she wanted to tell others about it, wanted to be open and cheerful about this startling new presence in her life. It wasn’t startling any more, not to her. She was amazed by how quickly she had come to accept it and she felt that Vanda was too.
Lambert was certainly surprised by the depth of her feelings, though training and long experience had taught him to show no more than he wished to reveal. There was something a little febrile in her happiness. He would also have been less than human and a poorer detective if he hadn’t wanted to shake this new-found confidence in someone who was still a suspect. He said calmly, ‘Are there any revisions you would like to make to what you told us on Friday, Mrs Beaumont? It would be understandable if you were confused by the shock of this sudden death.’