‘She took her doctorate at University College, but she wasn’t cut out for lecturing, so she didn’t stay in education.’
‘What did she do?’
‘Various things. She worked mornings at the Natural History Museum in South Ken, classifying bones and fossils. Yes, I know it sounds like the ultimate dead end, but the work had a link with her zoology, you see. And once a week she was doing what she really believed in, helping living species as a volunteer for the World Wildlife Fund.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Stuffing things into envelopes mainly.’
Hen had pictured her bottle-feeding baby pandas. ‘And she found that fulfilling?’
‘She valued the animal kingdom above mankind.’
Was that what irked him?
‘The whole ecology, in fact,’ he added.
‘Flora as well as fauna?’ A new thought came to Hen. ‘She wasn’t, by any chance, a campaigner for trees?’
‘Not unless they were homes to one-toed sloths.’
‘She must have made some friends in these jobs she did.’
‘I expect so.’
A vague answer. ‘You didn’t meet any of them?’
‘She didn’t bring them home, no.’
‘You’re private people?’
‘We gave the occasional dinner party for colleagues of mine.’
It seemed equality hadn’t penetrated the Sentinel household.
‘Did she ever mention names?’
‘Of her friends? If she did, I wouldn’t recall them. I have more than enough going on at Imperial to occupy my attention.’
Hen felt some sympathy for Meredith Sentinel. Marriage to this self-serving man must have been a pain. ‘Enemies, then?’
‘None that I heard of. She was difficult to dislike. I can see where you’re going with that question, but I can’t help, I’m afraid.’
‘You mentioned the work she did at the Natural History Museum. Did she go on field trips?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Parts of the coast down here are well known for deposits of fossils.’
‘I’m aware of that. They aren’t short of specimens at the museum. She hasn’t been here since her student days.’
‘She was here last month when she was murdered.’
‘And you’re suggesting she came fossil-hunting? I don’t think so.’
‘So why did she come to Selsey as a student?’
‘That was the woolly mammoth.’
‘The what?’
‘Twenty years ago some large bones were exposed in the clay after an unusually low tide and they turned out to be the complete skeleton of a young mammoth. My lucky day. This happened during my lecturing stint at Brighton-what is it? — thirty miles up the coast, and I was the obvious person with the skills and knowledge to supervise the excavation.’
‘You were in charge?’
‘The man on the spot. Palaeontologists don’t grow on trees.’
‘Neither do mammoths, I guess.’
‘Not in nineteen-eighty-seven, anyway,’ he said, causing Hen some puzzlement. She didn’t interrupt. ‘The dig had to be done swiftly because of the tidal conditions. And this was towards the end of September, before the university session began. I’d come up early to prepare and I recruited all the help I could, local volunteers and students from anywhere and everywhere, including Merry.’
‘So that was the start of your romance?’
He was quick to scotch that notion. ‘No, she was just a fresher, then. The mammoth dig was before I started going out with her. I took note of her, of course. You tend to spot the pretty ones on an excavation and they were in bikinis, if I recall correctly.’
Hen trusted his memory on that. ‘How long did this dig go on for?’
‘Three or four days only, at extreme low tide. Very demanding conditions. It’s a pity, because a lot can be learned from the clay the bones are embedded in. You can isolate fossil plant-seeds that provide insights into the conditions at the time the mammal met its end.’
‘This was an important find, I imagine?’
‘Sensational, yes. The press came, and radio and television. Nowadays it wouldn’t be the story it was. Global warming has led to wonderfully preserved mammoths being hacked out of the permafrost. In Russia they have so many you can buy them on the black market.’
One little query answered. Mammoths didn’t grow on trees in 1987, but twenty years later was another story.
‘To your knowledge, Dr Sentinel, that was the last time your wife visited Selsey?’
‘I can’t think of any other reason she would have come. We don’t take our holidays here.’
‘There are other local sites where ancient remains have been excavated.’
‘Boxgrove,’ Gary Pearce put in.
‘Didn’t I make myself clear?’ Sentinel said. ‘She doesn’t- didn’t-go on digs. The mammoth was a one-off.’
‘And you can’t think why she would have come to Selsey this September, or who might have come with her?’
‘If I knew the answer to that, I’d have told you already.’
‘Did she own a car?’
‘A Volvo Estate. It’s still in the street outside our home.’
‘So either she took the train or she was driven here.’ Hen let a few seconds pass. ‘There’s something I’m bound to ask and it’s vital that you give me a frank answer. Was your marriage in any difficulty?’
The colour rose in his face. ‘Certainly not. Hasn’t everything I’ve said up to now demonstrated the strength of our affection for each other?’
‘You’ve no reason to suppose she might have met someone else?’
‘That suggestion is in appalling bad taste in the circumstances.’
‘Sorry to give offence, but I had to ask,’ Hen said. ‘She acted out of character, according to you. Whilst you were away, she came to a place you knew nothing about and was found half naked on a beach.’
‘Obviously she was abducted and brought here by her attacker.’
‘Why? A public beach isn’t the ideal place to conceal a murder.’
‘He must know the area. You’re looking for someone with local knowledge.’
It was a reasonable comment, but was he deflecting suspicion?
He continued, showing remarkable detachment, ‘Sadly, bodies are washed up on beaches from time to time and most of them are victims of drowning. He must have assumed you would think she went swimming and got into difficulties. He didn’t expect to leave those marks on her neck. That’s my reading of it.’
On this, Hen agreed with him.
Jo lived on the north side of Chichester in a 1930s semi converted into two flats. She had the upper one. Doreen, a widow in her seventies, lived downstairs and did all the gardening, one of those hardy Englishwomen who knew about plants and was never happier than when out there watering, weeding, and pruning. They shared the front door.
She noticed Jake getting tense as the car left the main road into town and headed along suburban streets.
‘You don’t mind?’ She was doing her utmost to sound relaxed. ‘I thought my place would be less public than one of the coffee shops in town.’
He said nothing. At least he didn’t protest.
Fortunately Doreen wasn’t working in the front. She would have insisted on being introduced and asking questions, well meant, but liable to alarm anyone as wary as Jake.
Jo parked on the drive and switched off. Jake remained in his seat with the belt fastened.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘You’re wondering if this is wise.’
He gave a nod.
‘There’s no hidden agenda. It’s coffee and biscuits and a chance to talk.’
After a pause for thought he said, ‘Suits me,’ and got out.
First base, she thought, and then gave herself a silent reprimand.
Upstairs in the living room Jake said, ‘Nice place.’
‘Not to everyone’s taste,’ she said. ‘The colours are on the strong side, but I like the orange to red range. Shall I take your coat?’
A small courtesy, but the reaction was symbolic of trust when he unzipped the jacket and handed it to her.
‘Have a seat and I’ll get the kettle on.’
Had she prepared for this by some trick of the subconscious? She’d left an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits beside the kettle. She found a plate for them.