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‘What did the police actually say to you?’ asked Carole, now very upfront. ‘Was it on the phone, or did they come and see you?’

‘They phoned first, and then came to the house.’

‘What, on the Tuesday?’

‘Phoned on the Tuesday. Came to see me on the Wednesday.’

‘The day before the funeral?’

‘Yes. They told me that this anonymous allegation had been made, and they said it was the kind of rumour they could not ignore, an accusation of murder. It was part of their job to investigate stuff like that.’

‘You can see their point,’ said Jude.

‘Oh yes. I have no complaints about what the police did. If I ever find out who actually started the rumour, though, I might be less forgiving to them.’

‘Understandably.’ Jude grinned, putting Heather even more at her ease, as she probed more deeply. ‘It’s very nosy of me to ask this, but I’ve heard so many conjectures around the village, it’d be nice to know what the police actually did say to you.’

‘I’ve no objections to answering that. In fact, I’d be glad if you would tell as many people in Fethering as possible, to put an end to all the uninformed speculation and innuendos.’

‘Sure. We’d be happy to do that. Wouldn’t we, Carole?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Very well then.’ Heather sighed before she started her narrative. ‘Let me just fill in the background. Leonard actually died on Monday 17 February. I went out that morning at about ten, and he was still alive at round eleven fifteen, because the postman delivered a book, which Leonard signed for. It was a valuable antiquarian book about military history – Leonard was very into that. I got back to our house – we’re in the Shorelands Estate – round quarter to one. And, needless to say, in a place like that, which is a haven for neighbourhood snoopers, someone saw me put the car in the garage. I suppose, on this one occasion, I should be grateful for the surveillance, because my neighbour could time my return at exactly twelve forty-seven. Anyway, I went into the house, and found Leonard dead at the foot of the stairs. I immediately phoned for an ambulance – my call was logged in at twelve forty-nine.

‘It was the view of the police, I am glad to say, that, even if I had been possessed by murderous intent, I did not logistically have time to kill my husband in that two-minute window. I was therefore fully exonerated. They apologized very politely for any stress they may have caused me. End of story.’

‘But, presumably,’ said Carole, who had a beady eye for detail, ‘they also checked where you had been that morning.’

‘Yes, of course. My alibi. Which, I am delighted to report, matched exactly with the account I had given them. I had spent that morning in Worthing, with KK Rosser.’

‘Oh?’ Carole could not keep the surprise out of her voice. The idea of Heather Mallett having anything to do with the guitarist before they’d got together over the Crown & Anchor Choir idea seemed very unlikely. On the other hand, when told of Leonard Mallett’s death, KK had said, ‘So Heather finally did it.’

‘He was giving me singing lessons,’ the widow explained.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. As I said, I’d always been in choirs, and I hope in time to get into a set-up which is a bit more professional than the church one. The Brighton Festival Chorus is the real thing, very high standards, but you do have to audition to get in. So, I was having lessons with KK, with a view to giving it a go.’

‘How did you meet him?’ asked Carole. ‘At the Crown & Anchor?’

‘Good Lord, no. I never went to the Crown & Anchor while Leonard was alive. He didn’t approve of women in pubs. That was among many things that he disapproved of. No, I got in touch with KK through a small ad in the Fethering Observer. He was offering singing lessons, he was nearby, it seemed to fit.’

‘And did Leonard know,’ asked Jude, ‘that you were having these lessons?’

Heather coloured. ‘No. Each time I went to Worthing to see KK, I told Leonard I was going shopping – and had to make sure that I came back loaded with stuff from the Rustington Sainsbury’s.’

Jude grinned reassuringly. ‘Thank you for telling us. We will do our best to ensure that we scotch any further Fethering rumours about the circumstances of your husband’s death.’

‘Thank you very much.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Carole.

‘What?’

‘Can I just get the timing of what happened right?’

Heather looked less than pleased with this development. She had generously volunteered information about her brush with the police. She didn’t want any nit-picking over the details. ‘All right,’ she said reluctantly.

‘You said the police rang you on the Tuesday before the funeral and came to see you on the Wednesday …?’

‘Yes.’

‘And it was on the Wednesday that you told them about your alibi?’

‘Yes.’

‘So why didn’t their investigations stop then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, the vicar … you know, Bob Hinkley … came to see us on the Friday morning, the day after the funeral.’ And Carole explained that it was only then, while he was in High Tor, that he had received the message to say the police investigation was over.

Heather looked instantly relieved. ‘That’s easily explained. There were some other people they had to take statements from.’

‘Oh?’

‘KK, obviously. They needed to check my alibi with him. And he was in Holland, playing with a friend’s band. He’d left the same day as I’d had my singing lesson, so he didn’t know about Leonard’s death until he got back.’

Carole and Jude didn’t mention that they were the ones who had given him the news.

‘So, I don’t think the police talked to him until the Friday, the morning after the funeral.’

Carole nodded. That would fit in with the call that Bob Hinkley had received while he was at High Tor. ‘One other thing, though …’

‘What?’ There was now a definite testiness in Heather’s voice. She had been happy to volunteer information, but not to submit to an interrogation.

‘Did the police talk to Alice?’

‘Why should they have done?’

‘She was the one who made the public accusation against you, wasn’t she? In the church hall.’

‘Yes, but, as I said, she was just in a bad emotional state.’

‘But surely, after what she said – she was virtually implying that she had witnessed you killing her father …’

‘No, she wasn’t,’ said Heather crisply. ‘And, as it happens, there was no way she could have witnessed anything. On 17 February, Alice was in London, looking for table decorations for her wedding.’

‘On her own?’

‘No, with her fiancé Roddy. And yes, the police did talk to both of them on the Friday morning, and they confirmed that. So, are you now happy that neither I nor Alice had anything to do with Leonard’s death?’

‘Yes,’ said Carole humbly, chastened by Heather’s tone of voice.

‘Thank you very much for telling us all that,’ said Jude. ‘And if we do hear any more rumours, we will stamp them out.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Incidentally,’ Jude went on, ‘if you do get this choir thing together with KK, you know, here in the pub …’

‘Yes?’

‘I’d be quite interested in joining.’

Carole looked at her neighbour in complete amazement. Where on earth had that idea come from?

SEVEN

The energy generated by Heather Mallett’s new Merry Widow status proved very effective. Jude responded to the notice in the village newsletter and, within a few days, received an email announcing that, a week the following Monday, the first meeting of the Crown & Anchor Choir would take place. She mentioned this to her neighbour and received a predictable response.