‘No. Only saw him the once.’
‘When was that?’ asked Jude.
‘Saturday, a couple of months back.’
‘Would that have been the third of October?’
Binnie did a quick calculation. ‘Yes, you’re right.’
‘And where did you see him?’
‘In Polly’s. He ordered a large Americano. Very charming he was; had a way with him. One of those men who can make a woman feel not quite so old for a moment or two.’
‘Did you see him too, Hammo?’ asked Carole.
The chef shook his head. ‘Busy in the kitchen, wasn’t I?’
‘Did he say anything to you, Binnie? Apart from the compliments, that is.’
‘Yes. When he paid his bill – and he tipped a whole quid, which is a lot for an Americano, even a large one – he asked if Josie Achter was around.’
‘But she wasn’t.’
‘No, I told him she was in Brighton. I gave him her mobile number – and Rosalie’s. Thought he might be able to track her down.’
‘But you don’t know whether he did or not?’
‘No idea.’
NINETEEN
Unfortunately that seemed to be the full extent of Binnie’s information. Having been told that Josie was in Brighton for the day, Amos Green had left Polly’s Cake Shop. Where he went next, nobody knew. Whether he then met the person who shot him in some prearranged venue, or returned to Polly’s to be murdered there, were questions that raised considerable frustration in Carole and Jude.
Before Christmas intervened they did make a couple of investigation-related phone calls. Jude rang the flat above the café, hoping to make contact with Josie Achter, but only got an answering machine. Later in the day she got a response to her message from Rosalie. Her mother was not in a rented flat, she was in a hotel in Hove. She didn’t want Rosalie to tell anyone which hotel and she had just changed the number of her mobile phone. The meaning was pretty clear – Josie Achter did not wish to be contacted, least of all by anyone from Fethering.
‘It’s just,’ said Jude, ‘in connection with the body that was found on Fethering Beach.’
‘Oh?’ asked Rosalie. ‘In what way?’
‘On the afternoon of Saturday the third of October, the dead man was actually seen in Polly’s Cake Shop.’
‘Was he?’ Rosalie Achter’s voice was bleached of all emotion. ‘Do the police know that?’
‘Apparently not.’
‘Hm. Are you going to tell them?
‘Don’t feel any great urgency to.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Why do you say that, Rosalie?’
‘Oh, I got into a bit of trouble with the police while I was a student. Let’s just say I don’t have a very high opinion of them and certainly wouldn’t go out of my way to give them any help.’
‘Gotcha.’
‘Who is your witness, though? Who saw him in Polly’s?’
Instinctive caution made Jude reply, ‘I don’t think that’s important.’
‘I think it could be very important.’
‘Perhaps. My contacting your mother about it could also be important.’
‘What do you mean, Jude? What game are you playing?’
And Jude realized that she was playing a game. Which was out of character for her. Normally she went at things directly. But having started on this unfamiliar route, she pursued it. ‘I was just thinking, Rosalie … I would trade you the name of my witness … for your mother’s new mobile number.’
‘Forget it!’ said Rosalie Achter. And the phone was slammed down.
Carole and Jude did briefly discuss whether they should pass on their new information to Janice Green. ‘But she was so adamant about wanting that chapter of her life closed,’ said Carole.
‘Yes. Alternatively she did suggest we give any new information we get to the police.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Carole was torn between the principles which had been inculcated into her at the Home Office and her natural instinct for secrecy. ‘I suppose we should.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Jude, letting her friend off the hook, ‘it’d be a bit rotten for Binnie to have the police hassling her, wouldn’t it?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Carole with gratitude. ‘You’re right.’
And then Christmas intervened. And though Jude had hoped for a low-key celebration, spending the inside of ‘The Big Day’ with some friends in Hastings, there still seemed to be a lot of preparations that required making. And a lot of clients who needed alternative therapy to strengthen them for the invasion of uncongenial relatives which lay ahead.
For Carole, always a bit wary that Christmas would draw attention to the essential loneliness of her life, this year was different. She had been asked by Stephen and Gaby to come up to Fulham on Christmas morning and to stay until Boxing Day evening. This would mean spending the best part of two days with her pair of beautiful grandchildren. Though she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, Carole was chuffed to bits at the prospect.
In the few days running up to Christmas, Polly’s Cake Shop did a roaring trade. Phoebe Braithwaite’s Volunteer Rota worked an absolute treat, and the many locals who went to check out the new facilities were delighted by the efficient (and rather classier than before) service provided by the Joannas or Samanthas in their trim French navy tunics.
Hammo, working out his notice, was as efficient as ever – and generously helpful too in showing the volunteers who’d be taking over from him how everything worked. Binnie, however (who Phoebe Braithwaite thought did not suit the new image for Polly’s waitresses), was delegated to work out her notice washing up out of sight in the kitchen. Though she made no visible demur at this demotion, people who knew Binnie Swales well would recognize exactly how much she was seething beneath her placid exterior.
And Sara Courtney hadn’t been seen in Polly’s Cake Shop since the relaunch.
So Jude was only slightly surprised when, the day after Boxing Day, she had a call from her. ‘I’m sorry, Jude. I’ve got this terrible back pain.’
‘But mentally okay?’
‘Yes … yes,’ came the uncertain reply. ‘Pretty much.’
‘All still good with Kent?’
‘Yes. Very good. We spent Christmas together. With his kids as well. And I met his ex-wife briefly when she handed them over.’
Jude hadn’t known that Kent was a father. Or a divorcé. But few men were going to get to Kent Warboys’ age without carrying the baggage of some marriage or long-term relationship. Jude reckoned she knew what had caused the tension in Sara Courtney’s back. They made an appointment for the next day, the Thursday.
Her client’s back was very tense, but Jude could feel the tightness was already going. The stress which had caused the pain arose from seeing Kent Warboys’ wife and spending time with his children. It had been quite a lot to ask of Sara so early into their relationship. Now that she was no longer in their presence, the tension was draining naturally out of her.
As a result the treatment required did not really call on Jude’s healing skills. It was just a basic back massage. And once it was completed, Sara felt instantly better.
Jude made them both a cup of green tea. Then she said, ‘Incidentally, I had some corroboration for what you saw on the third of October.’ Sara looked confused. ‘Amos Green. He was seen, still very much alive, in Polly’s that afternoon.’
‘Oh. Was he?’
‘So, while not exactly being proof that you saw his dead body, it does at least link him to the site where you found it.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Binnie saw him in the café. She served him an Americano.’ Jude had no inhibition about naming her source to Sara.
‘Oh, did she?’ There wasn’t a lot of interest in the words. ‘I have, incidentally, decided that I did definitely see the body. It wasn’t a hallucination.’