‘Can I get you anything?’ Martell asked. ‘I know you’re driving, but I’m sure a small port or sherry wouldn’t do any harm.’
‘Tea, please, if you’ve got any,’ said Annie.
‘Do you have herbal?’ Gerry asked.
‘What a healthy pair of coppers,’ said Martell. ‘Peppermint? Chamomile?’
They agreed on peppermint, and Martell disappeared into the kitchen to make it. Annie glanced around the room, its mullioned windows offering a fine view of the open fields across the lane, a range of mountains rising beyond, their summits lost in cloud; the hiss and crackle of logs burning; whiff of woodsmoke and warm leather in the air. Annie shifted her legs away from the heat. She felt that she could almost fall asleep here.
Martell came back in no time with a teapot and mugs on a tray, along with a glass of amber liquid. ‘Whisky,’ he said. ‘I’m not driving anywhere today.’ He gestured to the window. ‘I was supposed to be playing a round of golf later, but it looks like rain.’
A golfer, then, Annie thought. Still, nobody’s perfect. ‘You never know around these parts,’ she said.
‘Too true.’ Martell sat down and crossed his legs. Annie noticed that his jeans had creases, which meant they must have been ironed. Which meant he was married, after all.
As if to confirm her suspicions, Martell went on, ‘I’m sorry my wife Françoise isn’t here to greet you, too, but she’s gone into Carlisle to do some shopping.’
Françoise, Annie thought. Shopping. She tasted the bitter ashes of defeat. Françoise had no doubt borne him two adorable children and still managed to keep her gorgeous figure without exercise or diet. Or maybe she was the replacement model, the trophy wife he took up with after he dumped his first wife, the one who helped him pay his way through dental college? She decided to banish any further speculation from her mind and stick with Nick Fleming. He might be a bit humdrum, but he was handsome enough, they had a good laugh, and he did take her to the pictures and to plays and galleries and nice restaurants in York and Harrogate. They had even been to the First Direct Arena in Leeds once to see Morrissey. Nick would do. For now.
‘I don’t suppose your wife knows a great deal about your dental practice, or about your partner Martin Edgeworth,’ Annie said.
‘Ex-partner. And no. Not a lot. Though Françoise did know Martin, of course. We had many good times with him and Connie before they split up.’
‘How long were you in partnership?’ Gerry asked.
‘It must have been about twelve years.’
‘And before that?’
‘We each had our own private practice. Martin in Eastvale and me in Durham.’
‘The partnership worked well?’
‘Very well,’ said Martell.
‘So there was no particular reason for packing it in?’ Annie asked.
‘No. It was just time. We had both made plenty of money. In addition to some NHS work, we had private patients, too. Martin specialised in cosmetic dentistry, and the NHS doesn’t cover a lot of that, of course. And I’m afraid it’s also a matter of the old cliché. It really does get rather dull poking and prodding about in people’s mouths day after day. Unpleasant, even.’ He smiled. Dazzling white. He leaned forwards and passed them their tea from the table and picked up his whisky. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘The other dental cliché doesn’t apply. I’m not an alcoholic. I just enjoy a dram or two of whisky before lunch.’
Annie shrugged to indicate that she didn’t care whether he liked a tumbler or got pissed to the gills. Maybe he had a cylinder of nitrous oxide in his den, too. ‘I understand that you and Martin Edgeworth also remained friends after you gave up the partnership?’
‘Yes,’ said Martell. ‘We didn’t see one another every day, of course, like we used to do at work, but we’d get together every now and then for a couple of drinks or a meal, or a trip to Headingley for the cricket. We’re both big cricket fans. Were. I mean, he was.’
‘This was during the last three years?’
‘Yes. After the practice wound down, and after Connie left him, which was a little over two years ago.’
‘I should imagine he was devastated by the break-up?’
‘Not really. By the time it happened, I think he’d prepared himself for the worst, strengthened his defences. Deep down, he knew he was better off without her.’
‘What was wrong with her?’
‘Connie? She was manipulative, unfaithful, a spendthrift and a liar.’
‘And those are just her good points,’ said Annie with a smile.
‘I’m sure you get the idea.’
‘I do. You didn’t like her very much.’
Martell laughed. ‘Actually, that’s not completely true. Connie was also a lot of fun. A great hostess, wonderful conversationalist, and she had a wicked sense of humour. People are complicated. Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. But surely Connie doesn’t have anything to do with all this?’
‘No, not at all. I suppose we’re still trying to build up a picture of Martin Edgeworth. He seems rather elusive.’
Martell laughed. ‘Elusive? Martin? He was one of the most open and honest people I’ve ever met.’
‘Perhaps it’s just my suspicious nature. I always get the impression there’s more hidden beneath the surface.’
‘Not with Martin. And I’ve known him for nigh on twenty years. That’s why I can’t believe any of this.’
‘Any of what?’
Martell tasted the whisky and seemed to enjoy it. ‘The shootings. That Martin could have had anything to do with them.’
‘But he did like his guns?’
‘In the same way I like my golf clubs.’
‘You could kill someone with a golf club, too.’
Martell laughed. ‘True, but that’s not what I mean. It was a sport, for each of us. Something we enjoyed and, if I say so myself, were good at. When you spend every day doing what we did, you appreciate something that takes you far away from it. And Martin had a very competitive nature.’
‘Shooting never appealed to you?’
‘No. I’ve nothing against it, per se, but I never felt the inclination to get involved.’
‘What we’re thinking,’ Gerry said, leaning forwards, ‘is that Mr Edgeworth may have had some sort of accomplice, perhaps even someone who tricked, forced or blackmailed him into doing what he did. This is in complete confidence, of course. We have no evidence. We’re just trying to cover every possible angle.’
‘Well, that’s very open-minded of you, I must say. Naturally, it makes far more sense to me than the idea that Martin simply decided it would be a good idea to go and shoot a few people.’
‘If there was someone who forced him or blackmailed him, have you any idea who this person might have been?’
‘You think I would know?’
‘One of the possibilities we have to consider,’ Annie said, ‘is that it was someone he met while he was practising, or at least someone who had befriended him in the last while and whom he might have mentioned to others. A patient, perhaps, or another dentist, a supplier. We thought that seeing as you spent quite a bit of time with him he might have mentioned someone?’
‘Not that I can think of.’
‘Do you know whether anyone would have had reason to blackmail him?’
‘Martin? You must be joking.’
‘Just trying to get things straight, that’s all.’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Nothing odd or unusual happened over the past while, the period leading up to the shootings? No sudden new friends? He wasn’t worried or upset about anything. Distracted? Concerned?’
‘Not as far as I could tell. Everything seemed normal the last time I saw him.’