“So it’s definitely a case of murder?”
“Yes. And not much attempt to make it look like anything else. Howard’s body was found in the back seat of the car. Maybe the murderer hoped the fire would be so fierce as to hide the fact that he was strangled, but I wouldn’t have thought so.”
“Hm. From what you’ve said, Howard Martin sounded an amiable – even harmless – old guy.”
“He was. Mind you, I don’t really know anything about him, his personal history, even what job he did before he retired.”
Jude ran her fingers through her tousled blonde hair. “So why on earth would anyone have wanted to murder him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a gangland killing?” Carole hazarded.
“Oh, come on. You’re only saying that because it happened in Essex, and your image of Essex is as a seething hotbed of East End gangsters.”
“No, I wouldn’t say that – exactly. But I just can’t think of any other reason.”
“That’s because we have insufficient information.”
“No information might be more accurate. And a crime scene that’s rather a long way away from Fethering. I think we’re going to have our work cut out trying to solve this murder mystery.”
“You sound almost disappointed, Carole.”
“No, I don’t. I just…well, I feel so bad for Gaby’s sake. You know, she is almost family now.”
“Yes. She’s a sweet girl.”
“She didn’t say anything, you know, while you were being an osteopath for her?”
“I’m not an osteopath, Carole.”
“Well, whatever.”
“And there is a code of confidentiality between patient and therapist.”
“Yes, but – ”
“No ‘but’, Carole.” Jude sounded quite stern, then relented. “If there was anything she said that I thought might be relevant to her father’s death, then I’d tell you. But there isn’t.”
“Oh.”
“What we really need to find out is the identity of the driver who picked up Howard Martin from the hotel after the party.”
“I’d got that far,” said Carole tartly.
“Surely somebody must have seen him go? One of the other guests?”
“Yes, you’d have thought – oh dear.” Carole brought herself up short. “There was someone who saw Howard leave.”
And it was the last person in the world who she wanted to get back in touch with.
“Erm…hello?”
“David, it’s Carole,” she said brusquely.
“Oh, how nice to…erm…hear from you again.”
“You’ve heard about Howard?”
“Stephen rang me, yes.”
Carole had a momentary pang of jealousy. Had Stephen phoned his father before he’d phoned her? What was the pecking order between them? Resolutely she dismissed the unworthy thought.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Absolutely…erm…terrible.” Then, with one of his characteristic lunging changes of subject, he said, “Incidentally, I was discussing with Stephen the…erm…possibility of us having dinner.”
“What?”
“You, me, him and Gaby.”
“What are you talking about, David?”
“I suggested to Stephen that we should all meet up for dinner one evening. My treat. In a restaurant. I mean, my cooking’s all right for just me, but…erm…”
“David, we have far more important things to think about. Gaby’s father’s just been murdered.”
“Yes, but this dinner – ”
“I can’t think about dinners now,” Carole snapped. “You have no idea of a reason why Howard should have been killed, have you?”
“No. Well, I suppose…I don’t know. Maybe a…erm…mugging that went wrong?”
“Have the police spoken to you, David?”
“Why on earth should they speak to me?” He sounded shocked at the very idea.
“Well, you were at the party, and you said you saw Howard leave.”
“Yes.”
“So you must be one of the few people who actually saw the person who drove him away.”
“Ah.”
“Did you?”
“Well, I…erm…I saw the car.”
“What was it – an ordinary taxi?”
“I don’t think there was anything on it to show that it was a taxi. No illuminated sign, no writing on the side.”
“What make of car was it?”
“One of those smallish ones – you know – a Ford Escort or a Renault or a Peugeot. All cars look alike these days.”
“Colour?” asked Carole patiently.
“Reddish. Dull red. Quite battered. That’s the thing that struck me, really. I thought, what an incredibly beaten-up old car that is to be acting as a taxi.”
“Maybe, with hindsight, we could conclude that it wasn’t a taxi?”
“Maybe not.”
“You haven’t heard the make of the car that was burnt out, have you?”
“No. That hasn’t been…erm…specified in any of the news reports I’ve seen.”
“Hm. Now, David, the more important question – what about the driver?”
“What about him?”
“Did you get a good view of him?”
“No. I was in the hotel foyer. Howard had just gone outside, so I was looking through the glass doors, and it wasn’t very well lit out there.”
“So you got no impression of who was driving the car?”
“Not really. I think he had a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.”
“A man then. Was he young, or old?”
“Well, I sort of got the impression he was young. But maybe that was just because of the baseball cap.”
“Everyone in Essex wears baseball caps,” said Carole loftily.
“There do seem to be a lot of them, certainly.”
“So, from what you saw of this driver, you would say positively that he was young?”
“Ooh, no.” David had never been much good at saying anything positively.
“Then what did he look like?”
“Erm…No, I couldn’t tell you. Really couldn’t.”
“You’re going to be a fat lot of use to the police, aren’t you?”
“Carole, do you think they really will want to…erm…talk to me?”
“Almost definitely. I wouldn’t be surprised if they get on to me too. I should think they’d want to check with everyone who was at the engagement party.”
“Yes.”
“They are conducting a murder enquiry, after all.”
“Right.”
“In fact, David, I think you should get in touch with them voluntarily.”
“Why?”
“Public-spirited thing to do. You have information that may be vital to their enquiry. You’re a witness’. ‘Yes, but I didn’t witness much, did I?”
“No, not the way you told it to me, I admit you didn’t. But the police have ways of getting things out of witnesses.”
“Really?”
He sounded so anxious Carole couldn’t resist teasing him. “Hypnotism, truth drugs – other methods,” she concluded darkly.
“Oh dear,” said her ex-husband. “That doesn’t sound very…erm…pleasant.”
Fourteen
“I think they need to get away, Mother.” Stephen was tense, so he’d returned to his formal mode of address, which was slightly disappointing.
“It must be dreadful for them,” said Carole.
“It is. The phone ringing continuously, reporters actually camping on their doorstep. Constant questioning from the police. Marie’s never been very strong emotionally. This is really tearing her apart.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Carole, trying to suppress her knee-jerk reaction to people who weren’t ‘strong emotionally’. In her view, emotional strength was purely a matter of willpower.
“And it’s putting a tremendous strain on Gaby, because she has to field all the phone calls, virtually be her mother’s minder twenty-four hours a day. So she’s got that on top of the grief and shock she’s feeling at her father’s death.”