by Clare Chase
Gilmour smiled. ‘I respect my elders. And I wouldn’t want to get a university fellow into trouble.’
Max terminated the interview. He had patience, but there were limits; he needed to get out of the room. Perhaps he’d try some of that pacing that Blake seemed to find so therapeutic.
Thirty
Lucien Balfour was waiting in the drawing room at the Master’s Lodge. One of the housekeeping staff had poured him a glass of sherry and told Alistair he was there. The old man was keeping him waiting though, and Balfour couldn’t help feeling it was deliberate. The balance of power between them was fairly evenly poised – but if the truth about Julie got out, that could all change.
At last, he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. They were thickly carpeted, so the sound was muffled, but Alistair was a large man. Balfour was sure it was him.
A moment later, the master came in through the grand double doors and closed them behind him. He walked over to the decanter on the side table and poured himself a whisky in a cut-glass tumbler.
‘So, Lucien, what can I do for you?’
‘I was surprised not to hear from you, what with everything that’s happened.’
The older man raised his eyebrows. ‘I agree, the week has been eventful so far. Have you heard about my younger son?’
Lucien blinked – what was coming?
‘I see from your expression that you have not.’ The man filled him in, leaving Lucien spluttering out words of sympathy he didn’t really feel. How was it possible that the Lockwoods had lost a child, without any noticeable effect on their household? The housekeeping woman had said nothing when he’d entered.
‘So, you’ll understand that coming to chat to you hasn’t been uppermost in my mind.’ Sir Alistair took a large slug of his drink. ‘And after all, what is there to say?’
Lucian hesitated. ‘I thought you might want to tell me the background.’
Alistair eyed him. ‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking the same about you. I’m sure you must be relieved that Julie Cooper is out of the way.’
Balfour was starting to wish he hadn’t come. ‘There are others who are more of a danger to me.’
The master inclined his head. ‘Yes, and whose fault is that? But, thanks to me, you don’t have to worry about Bella Chadwick.’
‘I wish I could feel sure about that.’
‘You can. Trust me.’
‘Alistair, if you’ve—’ He stopped. This wasn’t going as he’d planned.
‘Lucien, I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of this conversation, but I think it would be wise if you reconsidered. Perhaps we should both stick to minding our manners. I’m all for keeping things civil and riding the storm until it’s over.’
Balfour found himself shrinking slightly as the master walked over to him. He only let out the breath he’d been holding when the man patted him on the shoulder.
‘This is just one tiny wrinkle in the smooth history of St Oswald’s and of Lockwood’s. It doesn’t need to become anything more unless we let it. I’m assuming you haven’t come here to tell me you’re guilty of murder. That seems to be a little out of your league.’
Balfour shook his head, hurriedly.
‘In which case I gather you’ve come here to see if I confess. And perhaps to make a little money on the side, if you can persuade me to give myself away. Your imagination really does run wild, doesn’t it? If that’s honestly what you think I’ve done, maybe you should watch your step.’ He moved away again, over the thick rug under their feet. ‘Now, drink up your sherry and go home. I’ve had enough of today.’
Thirty-One
It was already mid-evening when Tara realised someone was standing over her desk. She looked up to find Jez watching her.
‘Don’t you ever go home?’
‘I got caught up in all of this. There are so many interconnections. They must hang together somehow but I still can’t see it.’ She’d been making notes on a sheet of paper in front of her. He was peering down at her words now, so he’d see her train of thought. ‘The Lockwoods, Stuart, Bella and the tutor, Lucien Balfour, were all keeping quiet about Julie’s relationship with John. It’s just weird – they’re such a disparate group of people.’
She could see why they’d all have their reasons though. Bella, if she was scared of John Lockwood; Stuart, if he’d been trying to blackmail Julie into seeing him again; and the Lockwoods and Balfour to protect their own or the university’s reputation.
But no one who’d interviewed Gilmour seemed to buy him as the desperate spurned lover, willing to use any means to get Julie back. Cold and calculating was how Max had described him. Of course, Stuart could have kept quiet about John because his affair with Julie gave Stuart a motive for murder. But that still didn’t feel right; the student didn’t seem jealous. Could he have another reason for hiding his knowledge?
She looked up and met Jez’s blue eyes.
‘I don’t suppose I could tempt you out to the pub?’ he said. He was grinning, not at all nervous at asking. ‘We could pool our thoughts there. Alcohol’s great for getting the creative juices flowing.’
Tara had a feeling that solving the case might not be Jez’s primary motive, and it made her smile. She paused for a moment. Max and Megan had left a little while earlier. Together – she’d noticed. Maybe they’d already gone off for a conflab – or something else – over a swift half. Blake was still in his office, door closed. How would he be feeling, after seeing two corpses in two days? He’d be bound to go home to his family soon, but maybe he was putting it off. Switching from work horrors to the demands of domestic life couldn’t be easy. She pushed away the thought of him, poring over his evidence, and glanced back at Jez.
‘It sounds great, in theory. But in practice I’m done in.’ Give the guy an inch and he’d take a mile. She was going to bide her time. His cheeky attractive smile and easy confident manner went a long way, but if he was genuinely keen he’d wait until things had calmed down. ‘I think I’ll have to go home in a minute. I need to get some sleep, so I can think straight tomorrow. My visitors kept me up until all hours yesterday.’
His eyes were still on hers, and his smile remained. ‘All right, you win. Sometime soon then.’
She smiled herself in response to that, shut down her computer and got up from her desk.
‘Are you on your bike today?’
She nodded.
‘Well, maybe I’ll head off with you.’
‘You’ve got a bike now?’ She hadn’t thought it would be his style.
‘When in Rome… and you live out towards Chesterton, don’t you? I’m in that direction too – I go over the Green Dragon Bridge.’
She nodded. ‘All right then. So long as you can keep up with me!’ She glanced at him over her shoulder and he laughed.
Tara and Jez cycled slowly in the end. It was dark and there was a headwind which carried the sound of their words away from them. It was only when they could ride side by side on the smaller roads that they were able to chat. Jez said he’d applied for a transfer from Suffolk to Cambridge to get a new start. She glanced at him and saw him shrug as he leant forward, his gloved hands still gripping the handlebars.
‘My marriage came apart. I got hitched after a whirlwind romance. Abandoned, passionate, and very ill-advised. I didn’t get to know her properly before we tied the knot. It was only once we were living together that I…’ He paused, not looking at her. ‘Well, anyway. These things are never all one person’s fault, are they?’
Tara wasn’t sure what to say to that. There was clearly more to find out. ‘I’m sorry you had a bad time.’
He gave her a sidelong glance as they entered Stourbridge Common. ‘It hasn’t put me off relationships.’
She was glad her cottage was in sight now. Jez was easy on the eye and food for thought, but she was too tired to work out the right approach. And she certainly didn’t want things to move too quickly. Taking people at face value wasn’t her style
.
‘Well,’ she paused her bike on the path, ‘that’s my place over there, so I’ll bump my way over the grass now and see you tomorrow.’
‘It’s a cool house.’
‘It’s way more than cool – mostly freezing, in fact.’ She’d already started to plough her way off the tarmac and over the tussocks. ‘Crazily impractical, but I like it. And I’ll like it even more after I’ve had a new boiler installed.’
At that moment she noticed movement in the shadows near her cottage’s front gate. Her outside light wasn’t on, so it was hard to discern what was going on. She stopped in her tracks and held her breath, but then a bulky shape separated itself from the house’s boundary.
Kemp.
‘What the?’ Jez was at her side. ‘Have you got an intruder?’
‘Yeah, looks like it.’ She laughed and raised a hand. Kemp followed suit and strode over the bumpy meadow to join them, lifting his large feet high to avoid hummocks and cowpats alike.
Kemp glanced at Jez.
‘My new colleague, DC Jez Fallon,’ Tara explained. ‘Jez, this is my friend Paul Kemp. He’s a PI.’
‘And an ex-cop, though Tara’s too tactful to mention it.’ Kemp nodded, though neither he nor Jez put out their hands. Jez was still astride his bike and Kemp was on Tara’s other side.
‘Sounds as though there’s a story to tell.’ Jez nodded back.
‘Right enough. But it’s of questionable quality.’ Kemp looked at Tara. ‘I wanted a word, mate, if you’ve got a moment. I know you had a late one last night though. I was trying to call you.’
‘Sorry. My phone’s in my bag.’ She indicated her pannier, where she’d stuffed her belongings before heading home. It was no wonder she hadn’t heard it above the wind. ‘But it’s no problem – we can talk.’
‘Looks like that’s my cue to leave then,’ Jez said, making off towards the Green Dragon Bridge and Chesterton.
Tara turned to say goodbye, but he was already too far away, shoulders hunched, head down.
Thirty-Two
Max was sitting opposite Megan in the Free Press. The place was just round the corner from the station but the others didn’t normally go there – there wasn’t much space for one thing – so they were probably safe. As he closed the door, he felt he was shutting out the horrors of the case as well as the howling gale outside. The tiny interior was cosy and welcoming.
So he’d done it. He was there, with Megan, because they’d agreed to stop off for a quick drink – but they both knew it was a date drink. It was the first he’d been on since Susie died. Five and half years. Most of his friends had implied he’d left it long enough. They meant well; didn’t realise grief had no time limit. He took a deep breath.
‘What can I get you?’ Megan beat him to it – he’d been so taken up with what it meant to be there.
‘Sorry.’
She smiled at him, put her arm through his and drew him in close. ‘Don’t worry. I understand. Just let me buy you a drink.’
It was funny: Max knew Blake felt Megan was less intuitive than the rest of the team, but she was bang on where he was concerned. Maybe she was more relaxed with him than she was with most people. The thought brought an automatic feeling of warmth with it. In that moment he knew he was glad to be there, even if his pleasure was mixed with guilt.
‘Thanks. A half of bitter.’
Megan ordered the same. There was no chance of making a night of it. Max was glad – if they took things slowly, he could get used to the idea.
‘What was it like today, doing an interview with Jez?’ Megan asked, taking a seat at a table by the window.
Max wondered what was behind the question. ‘He gets hot under the collar very quickly. It could have made things difficult, but in the end it didn’t. All the same, I’m surprised someone hasn’t drummed it out of him before now. He’s the sort to leap in and say the wrong thing.’
Megan tilted her head to one side. ‘I’ve found the same.’ She sighed. ‘Just a learning curve, I reckon. Next time it happens I’ll have a word.’
‘I noticed he was hovering round the station when we left.’
She shrugged. ‘Lots to do. I felt a bit guilty heading off myself, but I’m so knackered.’
‘Blake told us all to beat it, anyway.’
‘I know. But he’s still there, of course. I wonder if he’s avoiding his family. Or keeping an eye on Jez and Tara.’
Max felt his insides sink. Why was Megan so down on their DI? ‘Blake’s dedicated, you know that. He minds about each and every case.’
It was only a moment before she nodded. ‘Yes, sorry. That’s completely true. But it doesn’t mean he isn’t motivated to stay late for other reasons as well.’
None of them knew what was happening with Blake and his wife. It was true that he tended to shut the topic down if anyone asked after Babette. As for Jez and Tara…
‘You reckon Jez is primed to make his move then?’
Megan rolled her eyes. ‘I’d say so. Something tells me he wouldn’t have stayed this late if he didn’t have an ulterior motive.’
Max wondered how much to say. He didn’t want Megan to get the wrong impression, but he’d got the desire to confide. ‘I’m a bit worried about that, to be honest.’
Megan swigged her beer. ‘Really? Tara can take care of herself, Max. You know that.’
‘I’m not saying she couldn’t floor Jez in a fight.’ He hadn’t seen Tara in action, but her self-defence skills were the talk of the station. ‘But Jez has got a lot of charm and Tara’s had a rough time, what with one thing and another. I think the damage he could do might be more insidious.’
‘So you don’t think he’s right for her then?’ Megan gave him a nudge now, and a small smile. ‘Should I be jealous, that you’re so bothered about her love life?’
It was his turn to roll his eyes, but he grinned too. ‘Tara’s my partner on the team. I’m bound to look out for her. No jealousy required, though I’m flattered if you’re bothered.’
Megan leant towards him over the table. ‘I’m bothered all right.’ They were an inch or so apart and he felt a flutter inside him. In a second it brought back a memory. His first date with Susie. They’d been at the cinema in Wisbech, watching Sherlock Holmes. He’d still been progressing towards CID at the time and Susie had teased him – said he might be able to pick up a few tips. For an awful moment he felt his eyes prickle.
Megan put her drink down, took his hand and squeezed it, then let it go and moved back in her seat a little.
‘Tell me more about the interview,’ she said quickly. ‘What did you think of Stuart Gilmour?’
He took a deep breath and sat a little straighter too, shifting his mind back to work. ‘I’d imagined a lovesick youth – I was way off there.’
Megan nodded. ‘Same. I wasn’t sorry to miss out on the second interview with him.’ She glanced down into her beer for a moment. ‘Each time I looked up, his eyes seemed to be on me.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t like it. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I reckon he’s wondering what we know. He’s not scared, but he’s wary.’ She paused. ‘And I think I saw him, outside the station.’
‘What’s that? When?’
Megan frowned. ‘Mid-afternoon, yesterday, just after I saw Sandra Cooper out.’ She put her hands over her face for a second, and he found himself reaching up to touch her arm, for all he’d been pulling back a moment earlier.
‘I was upset.’ Megan met his eyes again and he saw that she still was. ‘How selfish is that, when I think about what she must have been going through? But it was so hard to watch her suffering.’
Max nodded. ‘That makes you human – something to hang on to.’
‘I suppose. So anyway, I went out of the building for a moment, and onto Parker’s Piece. I just needed some air. I wasn’t really focused on my surroundings, but after a moment I got that feeling – you know that sort of sixth sense when someone’s watching you?’
M
ax nodded. He’d always imagined it was because you’d caught movement out of the corner of your eye, but he’d had that sensation too.
‘I turned – I guess the direction I looked was based on instinct – but all I saw was the side of this guy’s head as he swung round and then I got a back view of him as he walked away. But this morning, when I finally got to speak to Gilmour, I had an eerie feeling that it was him.’
‘Have you told anyone?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not at all sure. I’ve been trying to match up the glimpse I got of him on the Piece with the guy we grilled. But if it’s true it means he lied about spending the afternoon drinking vodka on Coe Fen, even though he had a receipt for the booze.’
Max nodded. And it meant he hadn’t been too distraught to do something targeted too. It looked as though he’d wanted to know what the police were up to.
As they left the pub, he turned to Megan. ‘I think you should let Blake know tomorrow. Just so he’s aware it’s a possibility – even if you’re not sure.’
She nodded, her brown curls catching the light from the old-fashioned ironwork lamp that hung outside the pub’s door.
He was glad they were headed in the same direction. If Gilmour had been watching Megan then, he might be keeping an eye on her now.
Thirty-Three
‘Blimey,’ Kemp said, as Tara got off her bike so she could bump it over the grass and talk at the same time.
‘Blimey what?’
‘Don’t think your new DC was too chipper that I’d turned up.’
She rolled her eyes, though it would be wasted on Kemp. Even if it had been broad daylight, he wasn’t one for subtleties. ‘He was about to head off anyway. I’d already told him I needed to catch up on my sleep.’
‘Aha! So, he was hoping otherwise then?’
‘Oh, nice deduction, Mr Detective!’
‘Well, am I right?’
She gave a deliberate sigh – also wasted, thanks to the wind choosing that moment to gust at them across the floodplain. ‘Yes, you’re right.’