“We think Ernie could have been a blackmailer,” he said, hoping to hold her attention. “Did he ever try to blackmail you?”
She laughed. “What would be the point? I’ve no reputation to lose anyway.”
“But he would be capable of it?”
“Oh,” Lily said, ‘he’d be capable of anything. We all are, aren’t we? In the right circumstances. Put under enough stress.”
“What do you mean?”
She paused. He had the impression that she was weighing him up, deciding how far she could trust him, wondering even if she should ask him for help. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Sean Slater walked in.
“This is very cosy,” he said. He stood in the doorway with the sun behind him, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. Something had annoyed him. He was spoiling for a fight but Hunter had just enough sense not to be provoked. He knew Lily Jackman wouldn’t be impressed by fisticuffs anyway.
“I’m just asking Miss Jackman a few questions,” Hunter said.
“I thought you’d be leaving us alone now,” Slater said. “You found my friends in the blue Transit, didn’t you? You know we couldn’t have killed James McDougal. So why do you keep tormenting us?”
“I’m not tormenting you,” Hunter explained reasonably. And you’d soon know about it if I was, he thought. “I’m asking for information.”
“Or is there another reason for your interest?” Sean said nastily. “Another reason for you sniffing around here all the time?”
Hunter pretended not to understand. He stood up and walked out of the house. Slater leaned against the frame of the door and watched until his car was out of sight.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Win Abbot had been crying. She pretended at first not to be in. Sally Wedderburn rang the doorbell over and over again but there was no reply. She could have given up and gone back to the station. Why should she always be the one to deal with nervy women anyway? But she was too persistent for that. An alley at the end of the terrace led into a footpath which ran along the back of all the gardens. Beyond that there was open hillside: bracken and sheep-grazed grass. Most of the gardens had a gate on to the footpath. The Abbots’ had stiff bolts, presumably to prevent the children from escaping. Sally gave up trying to shift them and climbed over. She pulled a thread on the pair of Benetton trousers she’d bought in the sales, but was rewarded by a glimpse of Win’s terror-stricken face at the kitchen window.
“Mrs. Abbot!” she called, knocking on the kitchen door. “Please let me in.”
Win must have made an effort to pull herself together, because when she opened the door she was red-eyed but calm.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had the radio on. I didn’t hear the bell.”
“Could I come in for a while?”
“I don’t know. It’s not very convenient.”
“There are just a few points to clear up about the acupuncture lecture,” Sally said.
Don’t confront her about her husband, Ramsay had told Sally. We don’t want to scare him off. That can come later. Don’t ask her anything about Juniper Hall. Nothing tricky. Get her confidence and stick to the lecture in the college. See if you can break the alibi.
“You’d better come in then,” Win said, as if she wasn’t really bothered after all.
The lunch things were still on the table. There were cartons of houmous and olives, half a quiche, a tub of salad. Most was untouched. It seemed Win hadn’t had much of an appetite. It looked as if everything had been bought specially. Not the sort of snack a woman would rustle up for her and the kids. Win saw Sally looking at the table.
“Magda was here for lunch,” she said. “My mother, you know. She brought the food. The restaurant at the Old Chapel do a carry out service, if you’re hungry just help yourself…”
Sally shook her head. She wondered what the meal had been about. Some sort of peace offering perhaps.
“Where are the boys?” she asked.
“Upstairs having a nap. I couldn’t face their noise today.”
She had a feverish burst of activity, clearing plates, snapping lids on to plastic cartons, then stopped, quite suddenly, before the job was finished. Sally thought she was close to breaking point. It was just as well, she thought, that they hadn’t sent Hunter. He’d push her right over the edge.
“Are you married?” Win Abbot demanded.
Sally shook her head. “Thinking about it.” She smiled. “Would you recommend it?”
“Yes,” Win said very quickly. “Of course.” She leaned forward across the table towards Sally. “I couldn’t regret marrying Daniel. He’s a great man, you know. He has a gift.” Her eyes shone with fanaticism. “You can’t expect gifted people to behave in ways we understand.”
She knows her husband likes chasing young girls, Sally thought. And she’s going to do nothing about it. Selfish bitch.
“I was very ill as a child,” Win went on. “It took someone like Daniel to make me well again. Now he’s helping other people. It’s worth making sacrifices to support him in that.”
Sally did not know how to respond. “Hallelujah’ might have been appropriate. Like in a Pentecostal church when someone’s given witness.
“About the lecture…” she said.
“Yes?” Win said brightly.
“Perhaps you could take me through the evening again.”
“Lily was babysitting. We drove to Otterbridge College. Daniel wanted to arrive early. He was making the introductory speech. He was with me all the time.”
And even if he wasn’t, Sally thought, you wouldn’t let on.
Magda was late arriving and Ramsay was debating about whether he should go to fetch her when the man on the desk said she was there. “I’ll be quarter of an hour,” he said. “Put her in an interview room.” He wasn’t usually into power games but with Magda, he thought, he needed all the advantage he could get.
But when he saw her he thought he had misjudged the situation. She was subdued, uncertain. They had given her a mug of tea. His mug, he noticed immediately. One that Prue had given him. It was covered with painted pigs. Her idea of a joke. The interview room was taller than it was wide, and could once have been a cell. The bare stone walls had been covered with thick cream gloss paint. The window was very small, close to the ceiling, protected by wire mesh. Although it was a sunny afternoon the room was gloomy and lit by an electric light bulb hanging from a dangerous looking flex. Magda, however, seemed not to notice her surroundings.
When he went in she stood up and held out her hand.
“Mrs. Pocock,” he said, ‘we’ve been trying to talk to you…”
“About the boy. I know.”
“Where were you yesterday?” His voice was pleasant, only slightly curious.
“I went to Juniper Hall,” she said. “I needed somewhere to think. It seemed fitting. There were no guests staying and the staff were very kind. They allowed me to walk in the gardens. It was quite late when I got back, and then Win phoned me and told me about James. I think I had decided to give you this anyway, but I couldn’t keep quiet after that.”
From her bag she took a notebook. It was A4 with hard covers, the sort which might be used in an office as a ledger.
“Faye Cooper’s diary,” he said.
“Yes. Faye’s diary.” She paused. “Don’t expect too much, Inspector. I don’t think it will solve your case for you. This hasn’t been a conspiracy to protect a murderer. I really don’t see that it can have anything to do with the attacks on Mr. Bowles or the McDougals. That’s what I’ve been telling myself, you see. That’s why I didn’t come forward before. Then I thought you were an intelligent man. You would use the information wisely. And that any information, even of a negative kind, would be of use to you. Was my judgement correct?”