He looked up at Nonna. “You’ve read this?”
“Well, yes, it was just lying there, no envelope, nothing.”
“This, about contacting her,” he muttered, “how the hell can I? The police still have her mobile.”
“Do you know what friend she could have gone to?” Nonna asked.
“No, I don’t. There’s that uni friend she sometimes visits, and there’s Hannah who was a witness at our wedding, but I don’t know how to get hold of either of them.”
“Oh Rodi.” She gave him an agonised look. “What if the police come asking to speak to her again?”
“Nonna! Why should they?”
“Why not? They’re going to come back again and again until they find out who killed your father, or until they give up.”
“We’ll just have to put them off.”
“No. It’d look better if we told them immediately. We can’t leave it until they come and ask for her.”
“You mean tell the police my wife has done a runner in the middle of a murder investigation?” he asked, incredulous.
She put her hand on his arm, her eyes full of sympathy but determination too. “It’d be much better if we did.”
“Not yet. I’m sure Delma kept an address book, an actual one, not just stored on her phone. It’s probably in the stables’ office. I’ll go and have a search for it.”
“Good idea, I’ll come with you.”
“No,” he snapped, then added, “Sorry, Nonna, but I’m sure you have other things to do. Don’t worry, I’ll find it if it’s there.”
He strode off, relieved that she didn’t persist. He really didn’t want anyone else hanging over his shoulder while he searched through his wife’s desk. God knows what he might find. Best to keep it all to himself and pray that he didn’t find anything more incriminating than the note and Delma’s sudden decision to run away.
Chapter 20
Halfway through Friday afternoon, Dave Parry appeared in the doorway of Matt’s office.
“I went to the brewery and had a word with the blokes who deliver to the Mynach Arms,” he said. “I asked them about those two thugs, and they bear out what Garan Price said in his statement. I’ve got a good description of them, one particularly, who had a distinctive tattoo of a swastika on his neck and a slight cast in one eye, which matches up with one of that bunch of fascists Tom Watkins was monitoring. I ran it past Tom and he recognised the description, so we went through some mug shots and came up with a match. It’s that Wayne Shuttleworth alright. Do you want me to have a word, like? Better me than Tom, since they might recognise him.”
“I don’t think I can spare you at the moment, but we’ll keep them in mind. What with Cotter being out of the way, I think they might lie low,” Matt replied.
“I suppose.” Dave sounded disappointed. “Pity. I’d have liked to have a go.”
“I’m sure you would, Dave,” Matt grinned at him. “I’ll keep you in mind if we decide to go after them.”
They were interrupted by Matt’s mobile. He took it out, looked at the screen, and said to Dave, “I’d better get this.” He waited till he was alone before replying. “Fabia, hallo, I was going to give you a ring. I’m sorry about this morning.”
“Sorry? What for particularly?” she asked, her tone cool.
Matt felt wrong footed. “Well, it must have been difficult for you, coming back here for the first time since you had to– were forced to retire. I should have accounted for that.”
“I’m tougher than you think, Matt.”
“Of course,” he said, then added, “but you’re still having nightmares.”
There was a pause. Matt waited, wondering if he should have mentioned the nightmare. When Fabia said nothing, he went on in a rush. “Anyway, how can I be of service, madam?” he asked, hoping the silly phrase would lighten the atmosphere.
It didn’t. Her tone was still coolly business-like when she went on. “I was just wondering if the notes I made were proving useful.”
“They are. I’d like to go through some of the points with you.”
“Oh? Okay.” Now she sounded hesitant.
“Are you home a bit later?” he asked. “I could come over, use it as an excuse to leave the office at a reasonable time. Say about 8.00?”
Fabia agreed to this and said she’d make him supper, he said he didn’t want to put her to any trouble, and she, sounding irritated, said don’t be silly. When he ended the call he sat back, puzzled and a little worried. He felt there’d been a lot going on under the surface that she wasn’t telling him. Maybe it was all about those nightmares. He still hadn’t asked Hari Patel about what to look for in people suffering from PTSD. He searched for Hari’s number on his mobile, but it rang and rang and then went to voicemail. Frustrated, he left a brief message. Hopefully Hari would get back to him.
* * *
Fabia had barely ended the call with Matt when her mobile rang again. She grabbed it up and answered without looking at the screen, wondering if it was Matt calling back to cancel, but it wasn’t.
“Fabia? It’s Megan.” The breathy voice was hard to hear.
“Hallo, Megan.” Fabia found herself talking louder than she’d normally do, as if somehow it would persuade Megan to speak up a bit. Strangely it worked.
“I was wondering, could I speak to Anjali?”
“I’m afraid not. She’s in London.”
“Oh no! She’s not left for good, has she?”
“No, she’ll be back on Monday. Hasn’t John Meredith told you she has to be here when he goes through the will with all of you?” Fabia said.
“No– yes– I don’t know. He might have spoken to Rodi.”
“I would imagine he’ll be talking to all of you, not a reading of the will as such, I don’t think they do that nowadays, but just going through it. After all, Anjali has to decide what–” Fabia pulled herself up short. She really shouldn’t interfere.
“I was so hoping she’d come and spend some time with us,” Megan said, “particularly as Delma has gone to stay with a friend for a bit.”
“Oh?” said Fabia. That was odd at a time like this, she thought. “How come?”
But Megan didn’t seem to have heard the question. “What’s Anjali doing in London?”
“She’s visiting some buyers who’ve shown an interest in her designs.”
“Of course, I’d forgotten about all that.” There was a pause. “Nonna, I’m on the phone – sorry, Fabia, I won’t be a minute.”
Fabia could hear a muttered conversation going on in the background. At last Megan came back to her.
“Nonna asks if you can give us Anjali’s mobile number. Then I can contact her and maybe arrange for her to come to us for a couple of days next week. Do you think that would be a good idea?”
“I’m sure it’d be fine, but you’d have to ask Anjali. I can’t speak for her. I’ll text you her number.”
“I still haven’t got my old phone back from the police. Let me give you the new one.”
“It’s okay, it came up on the screen,” Fabia said.
“Yes, of course, and thank you so much,” Megan said. “Nonna says thank you too.”
As she texted the number to Megan, Fabia wondered if she was doing the right thing. Would Anjali want to be interrupted by Megan’s constant phone calls? Too late now, she’d pressed send.
* * *
“Sir.” This time it was Dilys at Matt’s office door. “A call just came through about Delma Mansell, on the Crimestoppers line.”
“Oh? Who was it?”
“Anonymous, a man I think, it was a bit hard to tell.”
“And what exactly did he have to say?”
“It wasn’t all that clear, he had a very quiet voice. He said she’d run off to London and gave the names of two friends she might be with, and their addresses. I’ve made a note of them.” She passed him a piece of paper.
“It rather begs the question, how did they know?” Matt said.
<
br /> “Surely it must have been someone at the Abbey or, at least, someone who knows the family well,” Dilys pointed out. “I listened to the recording a couple of times, but I couldn’t work out who it was.”
“Could it have been Garan Price? Or the vet perhaps?”
“Both are a possibility, but why? And another thing the caller said was did we know Delma Mansell was terrified of her brother and would have been happy to see him dead.”
Matt gave her a sharp look. “Do you think it could have been one of Mike Cotter’s pals?” Then Matt shook his head. “No, why would they?”
“I think it’s more likely to be someone close to the family in one way or another.”
“Let me come and listen to it.” But Matt was none the wiser after playing the tape over several times.
“This is such a pain. If it’s true we’ll have to go after her.” He looked up at Dilys. “Of course, it could be a load of bollocks. Have you checked at the Abbey?”
“I’ll do that now,” said Dilys. She was back within minutes. “I phoned them and asked to speak to her. I got the aunt, Mrs Giordano, who just said Mrs Mansell was out and she didn’t know where she’d gone, which doesn’t really tell us anything. I thought it better not to mention the anonymous call at the moment, just left a message asking that Mrs Mansell phone us back.”
“I’d rather not wait. Send Chloe out to speak to them, find out if those two addresses ring any bells with the family. When she gets back, I’ll get on to Charlie Brewer at the Met and ask him to have them checked out. If necessary, we can have her escorted back home.”
* * *
Fabia rummaged around in her fridge, trying to decide what to cook. She knew all Matt’s favourites and one way she could think of to show him she cared about him – not loved him, she told herself, but cared – was to feed him. It had always been a part of her, this need to cook for her friends and family.
In the end, she took out some cod steaks. She’d make fish in a pesto crust, do some spinach with garlic to go with it, and a couple of baked potatoes. When Matt arrived, dead on eight, the fish and potatoes were in the oven and all she had left to do was the spinach.
He looked tired and dishevelled as he followed her into the kitchen, hands thrust deep in his pockets.
“You need a haircut,” she told him, then wished she hadn’t – it sounded too intimate.
“I know, but I haven’t had time to do anything about it.”
“That’s hardly surprising.”
She put a bottle of white wine on the table. “Can you open that?” she said to Matt, handing him a couple of glasses. “It’s an Austrian white I found the other day and, since we’re having fish, I thought it’d be a change from the usual red.”
“Sounds good,” he said, glancing at her with a touch of amusement in his eyes.
She felt her cheeks warm. “What are you grinning at?”
“You, behaving as if you’re getting ready for a dinner party.”
“I am not!” Fabia exclaimed, “But there’s no harm in being civilized.”
“None at all.” Matt said as he poured wine into the glasses and sat down. He sipped at his wine, said, “Nice,” and then stretched his long body back in the chair. “Dave Parry found out who those two thugs were, the ones that were threatening Garan Price.”
“Good, are you going to tackle them?”
“I can’t spare anyone just now, but we’ll keep an eye on them. I’ve spoken to the chaps in Swansea and they’ve got them on their radar. I hope we can collar them at some point – they’re a nasty bunch.”
“You said those notes of mine have been useful,” she said tentatively, her back to him as she pressed spinach leaves down into the olive oil and garlic.
“Yes indeed, they were certainly detailed. It’s a pity, in a way, that Caradoc Mansell wasn’t there when you went for the weekend. It would have been interesting to know about the dynamics between them all when he was around. In the circumstances, I’d particularly like to know what he thought of Mike Cotter.”
“I did include some bits about that, but I couldn’t say with any certainty how he reacted to Delma’s brother because I never saw them together. I’d guess they didn’t get on one little bit – chalk and cheese – and Caradoc used to be very rude about the English, particularly Londoners for some reason. Bella told me that when Rodric and Delma first got married he used to refer to her as ‘your London floozy’. Bella told him off about it and he stopped. By the way,” she added, “Megan said something about Delma going to stay with a friend, did you know about that?”
“Yes. She went screaming off to London. We got an anonymous call telling us she had. We still haven’t worked out who that was from, so we sent Chloe out to check with the family and they admitted she’d done a bunk.”
“Who did Chloe speak to?”
“Megan Mansell and Mrs Giordano, Rodric wasn’t there.”
“Are you going to fetch her back?”
“Yes, I’ve got it organised for first thing tomorrow morning.”
Matt changed the subject. “We’re getting on quite well with checking all the devices,” he told Fabia. “We’re pretty sure now that the old man knew things were going missing from the Abbey.”
“How come?”
“We found a list on the computer from his study that matches up with our estimation of what’s missing. I can’t see any reason for anyone else to have made it, although anyone could have used the machine; he wasn’t exactly careful about his privacy settings – didn’t have any, in fact.”
“I wonder what he was planning to do about the missing items?” Fabia asked.
“That I’d love to know. From what you said in your notes, he and Bella Price seem to have been close, at least until she moved up north. Do you think he might have spoken to her about it?”
“I’ve no idea. Do you want me to ask her?”
“Yes, if you would. She might tell you more than she’d tell me,” Matt said. “Of course, he could have tackled Rodric, or Delma, which would give them a motive, don’t you think? I mean, apart from the change in his will. Or maybe he spread it a little further. If the vet, Stewart Parker, thought his career was going to be threatened, there’s a chance he could have taken action.”
“That’s a bit far-fetched, isn’t it?” Fabia suggested. “How would he have got access to Caradoc in order to inject him?”
“I don’t know, but he’s been there quite regularly, looking after the horses and having an affair with the lady of the house.”
Fabia smiled at this old-fashioned phrase, as Matt had intended her to do.
“I suppose it’s worth investigating,” she said. “Now I come to think of it I did get the impression people wander in and out of the Abbey without so much as a by-your-leave. The front door never seemed to be locked, nor the back.”
Silence reigned while Fabia took the fish out of the oven and placed the dish on the table, decanted the spinach into a bowl and put the baked potatoes on to plates.
“Wow, this looks good,” Matt said.
As they began to eat, Fabia said, “I’ve been thinking, Mike Cotter’s death cuts the field of suspects down by one doesn’t it? When it comes to Caradoc’s death, that is.”
“It does. Dilys pointed that out.”
“Did she?” Why did he always have to mention what Dilys said or thought? Fabia was aware, too late, that her tone was a little sharp, but Matt didn’t seem to notice. “But it doesn’t cut him out entirely,” Fabia pointed out, “it just means you might have more than one murderer on your hands.”
“I’m an idiot. That hadn’t actually occurred to me.” He glared at her. “Oh, wouldn’t that be great! Trust you to point out something that’s going to make more work.”
“Don’t blame me.”
“You might have mentioned it before.”
“Why should I? It’s not my place,” she said, glaring at him.
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say, you could ha
ve said something.”
“Well! First you imply that I should butt out because I’m no longer in the force, and now you’re having a go because I’m not interfering. I can’t win.”
“That’s not fair. You know I value your input.”
“Do you, Matt?”
“When you’re behaving yourself, yes.”
“Thanks a bunch!”
“Teasing.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Only teasing.”
“Not funny, you horrible man.”
“For goodness sake, Fabia, since when have you been so touchy?”
Their eyes met and what he saw in Fabia’s pulled him up short. Suddenly, he looked stricken. “I’m so sorry.” He stretched out and put a hand over hers. “I’m being stupid, I obviously didn’t mean it. It’s no wonder you’re a bit sensitive.”
She snatched her hand away. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s only been six months since you came out of hospital. Things like that take a while to recover from, and it was only last night you had another nightmare.”
“Yes, and you told me this morning it meant nothing.”
“No, I didn’t,” he insisted, frowning across at her. “It’s just that I’m not sure I believe in premonitions, and that was what you were suggesting, wasn’t it? I’m willing to admit things can bubble up from our subconscious, things we might not realise we remember, but I just don’t think what you suggested is likely. I will, however, think more about it; I promise.”
“Forget it.” But, like a dog with a bone, she didn’t want to let this go. “You’ve made it clear you think what I suggested is nonsense.”
“No,” Matt said, trying to hang on to his patience, “just unlikely.”
Fabia put down her knife and fork, very deliberately pushed her plate away and leant her elbows on the table. “Why did you ask me to make those notes, Matt, if you’re not going to take what I say on board?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Fabia, I am. You have great perception and your take on their relationships is invaluable. You’ve also filled in a whole lot of blanks when it comes to their motivations and the family history, which shines a spotlight on the behaviour of the different family members, all of that; but I have to work with facts, facts, facts.” He thumped the table in time to the words. “I can’t very well barge in and say, I’m arresting you because Fabia Havard had a dream.”
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