She managed to get in first with what she had heard from Karl Floyd.
‘I thought something like that must have happened,’ said Jude.
‘There remains some doubt over whether it’s actually illegal, but Karl’s still on the case. He’s got all enthusiastic about it again now. And his boss at the Fethering Observer has definitely gagged him on the story, so he’s convinced there is something to hide. He’s going to open out his investigation to the whole Pillars of Sussex network.’
‘Great.’
‘I’ve given him your phone numbers as well as mine, so if you get a call from him, you’ll know what it’s about.’
‘That’s good, Carole, but listen to what I’ve got.’ The defeatist lethargy was gone. Jude’s whole face sparkled with animation. ‘You know, this man I went to see this afternoon—’
‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Jude realized she hadn’t spoken to Carole since her emergency summons to the hotel that morning. Briefly she brought her up to date on the letter Suzy Longthorne had shown her, and the subsequent meeting in Hove with Edward Dukesbury.
Then she revealed her new discovery.
‘There are details that need checking,’ Jude concluded, glowing with excitement, ‘but I’m sure we’re on to something.’
‘Well, you must ring Wendy Fullerton.’
‘I know that. I just wish there was some way I could check what I saw on the television. I don’t have any contacts in that world any more.’
‘No,’ said Carole, with sudden complacency, ‘but I do.’
‘What!’ Jude couldn’t have been more surprised if her neighbour had announced she was taking up bungee jumping.
‘This is an area in which my future daughter-in-law-to-be could prove very useful indeed.’
She rang Stephen straight away. If he was surprised by a sudden call from his mother asking to speak to Gaby, he disguised the fact. Soon Carole was connected. And yes, Gaby thought she could help. Would be delighted to help. A bit of research on the internet would be required, but it should be possible. She’d ring back. Or, in fact, emailing the results would be simpler.
Jude didn’t use a computer, but she still had the laptop upstairs which had belonged to Laurence Hawker. Within minutes, the machine was switched on and attached to a printer.
Jude rang Wendy Fullerton, and got the information she had hoped for.
Then she and Carole sat and waited. Seeing her still untouched glass, Jude offered Carole a drink. But no, they were both too tense.
After twenty minutes that felt like an hour, Jude had a sudden recollection and found the chambermaids’ sheet she had filched from the linen room at Hopwicke House. She checked the bookings through against the Pillars of Sussex guest list she had kept. Her hunch had been right. Jude had just found the confirmation she required, when her land-line rang. It was Gaby, asking to speak to Carole.
Yes, she had found the information and Stephen was emailing it through as she spoke. ‘Don’t bother to explain, Carole. You’re clearly in a hurry. Tell me about it when we next meet.’
Carole just had time to register the warming thought that they would be meeting again, before she and Jude rushed upstairs to retrieve Gaby’s email.
They were looking at the printout when Jude’s phone rang again.
‘Carole? Did you say Carole? Yes, she’s here.’
Jude looked anxious as she passed the phone across. ‘I don’t know who it is. I can hardly hear what he’s saying.’
Carole couldn’t recognize the voice immediately, there was so much wheezing and groaning. Then she realized it was the young man to whom she’d been speaking only an hour before.
‘Karl, what on earth’s the matter?’
‘He came round . . .’ the boy managed to gasp. ‘Beat me up. He’s . . . coming round to get you . . .’
As she heard the words, Carole heard a shuddering crash. She and Jude moved to her bedroom window. A large car was parked outside High Tor. And a man was using the garden birdbath to smash down the front door.
‘Quick,’ hissed Jude. ‘Into your car! We’ll get away!’
Carole abandoned her customary caution, and drove the Renault like a rally car.
There was no sign of pursuit, but both women knew that, when he found High Tor empty, the man would come after them.
He didn’t need to keep the Renault in sight. He knew that they both had the same destination.
And Carole and Jude knew they wouldn’t have long before he arrived to do what they had to do.
Chapter Forty-One
Hopwicke Country House Hotel was just as good at small private parties as it was at larger events. The one laid-up table in the dining room had a cloth of exactly the same colour as the Dolce & Gabbana dress that Kerry had been given by her parents as one of her presents. The table centrepiece was a cake out of whose surface Max Townley had conjured a number sixteen in spun sugar. And the menu had been specially designed according to the birthday girl’s wishes.
The invitation list had been drawn up by her stepfather. He’d booked a London club for the Saturday night party Kerry was going to have with her contemporaries. On the birthday itself he was, as ever, in sole command.
He’d chosen to have an intimate dinner party. Himself, Kerry, her mother, Suzy Longthorne and Rick Hendry. Though the last two did not seek out each other’s company at social events, Bob Hartson knew they’d do it for him. Kerry had wanted Rick Hendry there, so she could discuss her pop career, and Suzy would be on the premises anyway. Since, as well as being involved in a business relationship with him, she was also his friend, Bob Hartson had decided she should be one of the dinner guests. And since she was the hotelier, she could do any serving at table that might be required. Not that there would be much. The menu and wines had been pre-ordered. All Suzy would have to do was collect the dishes from Max in the kitchen and take back the empty ones. Bob Hartson enjoyed having the money and power to lay on nice treats for his stepdaughter.
The party had started with vintage champagne in the bar. Bob Hartson watched with indulgent pride the speed at which Kerry could put her drink away. For as long as he’d had any influence on her, he’d brought her up to relish the good things of life. He luxuriated in the prospect of her attaining pop success, of seeing his stepdaughter’s photograph and lifestyle splashed across celebrity magazines. Bob Hartson liked being in charge. He liked having power over everyone around him. And that evening, in that company, he felt good. He looked round the hotel bar, and every face he saw gave him a good feeling.
Except for the face of the woman who’d just walked in from the hall.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Jude.’ Suzy had risen to her feet in alarm.
‘I had to come,’ said her friend. ‘I owe you an apology, Suzy.’
‘What is this?’ said Rick Hendry.
Suzy knew his question was directed at her. ‘I don’t know.’
Jude provided the explanation. ‘I wanted to apologize not just to you, Suzy, but to anyone else about whom I may have harboured false suspicions.’
‘Look,’ said Kerry, ‘this is my birthday party. It’s private. I don’t want it disturbed by—’
But a raised hand from Jude silenced her. ‘I went to see someone this afternoon. An architect called Edward Dukesbury. A former lover of Nigel Ackford. And Edward Dukesbury was good enough to explain to me exactly why that poor young man hanged himself here in the hotel. His explanation was entirely convincing.’
She looked covertly round the room to see if anyone had visibly relaxed at this news. But no, they all stayed tense, as if they were all expecting more.