‘Yes. I know that. So where did you meet?’
‘At a Rotarian event,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Her late husband was a past president, like me.’
‘Oh?’ Carole hoped she sounded impressed. She was trying to.
‘But enough of—’
‘And does Pomme have children?’
‘Yes. Three. They’re all grown up now.’ Barry Stilwell was keen to dispel the hovering shadow of his wife from their dining table.
‘So how do you like being a stepfather?’
‘Well, it’s . . . well, it’s fine. I don’t really see a lot of them.’
‘Because, of course, you didn’t have any children with –’ damn, the name had gone completely ‘– with your first wife.’
‘No. Vivienne and I were not blessed.’
Thank you for the name check, thought Carole, as she went on, ‘So how’s married life second time around?’
‘Fine.’ The word was as thin as his lips. ‘And what about you? Any new men on your horizon?’
‘No.’ As she thought about it, Carole realized how little she regretted the fact. She liked the slightly antiseptic exclusivity of High Tor. A man’s presence would only impinge on her privacy. That was one of the reasons why her skirmish with Ted Crisp couldn’t have lasted. But she was not about to mention that to Barry Stilwell.
‘So I’m in with a chance?’ he responded with misplaced roguishness.
‘You’re married, Barry.’
‘Yes, but—’
Fortunately the appearance of Mario, flourishing menus the size of billboards, cut short the predictable litany about some men really liking women, his wife being very understanding and how, given the diminishing time available to them, people of their age should live life to the full.
The routine had been stalled once. Carole was determined not to give him another chance to run it before the end of the meal.
Exactly as he had on their last tryst at the restaurant, Barry Stilwell made much of ordering, indulging in a lot of coy consultation with Mario as to the quality of the day’s specials. Since the owner – as he would – said that everything on the menu was wonderful, this seemed a rather pointless ritual. But it was an essential part of the Stilwell restaurant protocol.
So was his elaborate tasting of the Italian Chardonnay he had persuaded Carole to share. ‘I enjoy my wine,’ he volunteered, as if she might be interested. ‘Never drink spirits – I don’t like the taste. But I do enjoy my wine.’
She’d told him if he ordered a bottle he’d have to drink the bulk of it, as she was driving, but the prospect did not seem to worry him. She got the impression he drank most lunchtimes, probably in the same restaurant, to ease the tedium of an afternoon of divorces, wills and conveyancing. And she would have put money on the fact that the lunch bills were somehow claimed as legitimate expenses. She wondered how her consultation with him would be described when it was put through the firm’s books.
About time, though, that she defined the real purpose of their meeting. ‘I always remember you saying, Barry, that your local connections were pretty good.’
He beamed, taking this as an undiluted compliment. ‘I think I could be said to know my way around the West Sussex network, yes.’
‘So you know everything about your fellow solicitors here in Worthing?’
‘Oh yes, I certainly do. Though, Carole, I might quibble with your use of the word “fellow”. We are rivals, you know.’
‘Of course.’ Only so many divorces, wills and conveyancing jobs to go around. ‘The firm I want to know about is Renton and Chew. Do you know them?’
He smiled complacently. ‘I certainly do. Knew old Harry Chew, but he’s long dead. His son Donald took over as senior partner, but he’s no chicken. Pushing seventy, must be. I know him very well.’
‘And are there any Rentons still around?’
‘No. I do know some of the junior partners, though. I could give you names if you’re interested. A couple of them are in the Rotary.’
‘And are any of them Pillars of Sussex?’
A flicker of caution crossed his face. ‘No, not the junior partners. The Pillars of Sussex tend to be a bit higher up the career ladder. I’m surprised you know about them.’
‘It’s the kind of organization you hear about if you live down here any length of time. Pretty high-powered and exclusive, I gather?’
The flattery worked. Barry positively preened himself as he replied, ‘You could say that. It’s a recognition of substantial achievement when you become a Pillar.’
‘And is it a secret society?’
‘That makes it sound rather sinister. I prefer the word you used earlier. “Exclusive”. Yes, that’ll do.’
Carole continued the line of flattery. ‘I’ve heard it said that the Pillars of Sussex are the most powerful organization in the entire county. That only the really important movers and shakers get elected.’
He was enjoying this buffing of his self-esteem. ‘I can’t deny that’s pretty accurate.’
‘And, needless to say, you’re one?’
He chuckled acknowledgment of this, then looked at her with a new shrewdness. ‘So what have the Pillars of Sussex got to do with your enquiry about Renton and Chew?’
Carole was faced by a dilemma. According to Jude’s conjecture, the Pillars of Sussex might well be co-ordinating a cover-up of what happened to Nigel Ackford. If that were the case, any mention of his death would make Barry clam up instantly. She decided to pretend ignorance of the apparent suicide at Hopwicke House.
‘Well, you may have answered my question already – about how easy it is to become one of the Pillars of Sussex.’
‘Extremely difficult.’
‘Yes. I’m asking this for a friend.’ That much at least was true. ‘For reasons of her own, she wanted to find out something about the Pillars of Sussex.’
‘I’d better warn you. There are a lot of details about the association’s affairs that I’m not allowed to divulge.’
Though of course it’s still not a secret society. Carole had the thought, but didn’t voice it. ‘Just . . . this friend of mine . . . well, there’s someone she’s having business dealings with . . .’ this was where the lies began. ‘And this person told her that he was about to become a Pillar of Sussex.’ That bit almost went back to being truthful. ‘And she was just wondering whether that was a likely possibility . . . or whether – this person – was just lying to impress her.’
‘It would depend very much who the person we are talking about is, what kind of status he has.’
‘He works for Renton and Chew. That’s where that connection comes in.’
Carole wouldn’t have thought it possible for Barry Stilwell’s lips to get thinner, but they did, as he drew in a sceptical breath. ‘The only person at Renton and Chew who is a member of the Pillars of Sussex is Donald himself. As I said, nobody below senior partner level would stand a prayer.’
‘Oh. Well, it sounds like my friend may have been spun a line.’
‘I’d say so. Can you give me the name of the man who’s been having her on?’
‘Nigel Ackford.’
Confirmation of Jude’s suspicion couldn’t have come in more convincing form. Barry Stilwell’s face closed over completely, and a moment passed before he had fully recovered himself.
‘Nigel Ackford?’ he repeated, doing a bad impression of someone who’d never heard the name before.
‘Yes,’ Carole lied blithely on. ‘He told my friend he was about to become a Pillar of Sussex. I think the expression he used was “a shoo-in”.’
‘He couldn’t have been more wrong. Nigel Ackford was – is – a very junior solicitor.’ The correction was a complete giveaway. Carole had offered no indication of knowing the young man was dead, and Barry Stilwell was not about to tell her. ‘He’s not even, I believe, a very good solicitor, so I would have thought the chances of his ever becoming a Pillar of Sussex are as likely as mine are of going to bed with Nicole Kidman.’