by Julia Thomas
She turned, looking for Daniel, wondering if she had imagined the whole exchange.
She was scrolling through her texts when he appeared at her shoulder.
“You startled me,” she said. She took a step back and stuffed her mobile into her pocket.
“Sorry. I couldn’t walk out with you,” he said. “I didn’t want anyone to notice.”
She didn’t answer. An elderly couple walked past, smiling and relaxed. It was easy to forget that normal life was still taking place all around them. She thought back to a week earlier, when she’d ended the term with good marks on her exams and was looking forward to buying new textbooks for the autumn term. She had been happy, as happy as she’d ever been. Life had a rhythm and routine that was comforting, but all of that was gone now.
Daniel took her arm and began to steer her along the bridge, northwards through the traffic of the Mall. Crossing to Marlborough Street, he hailed a cab. Carey waited for him to give the driver directions.
“The Dorchester, please,” he said, settling back into his seat.
“We’re going to a hotel?” she asked. She had no idea what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“I’ve figured out how to start. There’s someone you need to talk to.”
“Who?”
“Anna Parrish.”
“Anna Parrish? The actress?” Carey asked, surprised. “Why do you want me to talk to her? Aren’t you the one who knows her?”
“I’ve never met her, but Marc Hayley says she insisted on coming to the wedding with him, that she wanted to talk to Tamsyn. We need to find out why she was so keen to come. I think because you’re a woman, you might have more luck with her.”
“How would I go about it?”
“Go into the hotel and ask to speak with her alone.” He looked over the lake. “Look, I know it’s awkward, but she could turn around and get on a plane to go back to the States tomorrow and we’d have missed our chance.”
“Then what?”
“If she doesn’t shed any light on the situation, we’ll decide what to do next.”
Carey looked at her watch. “It’s after five.”
“Perfect time to catch her. It’s too early for supper.”
The traffic was dense. Carey rarely rode in cabs, which felt stuffy and close compared to the Tube. It was an unnecessary expense as well, and she could hardly stop herself from watching the meter ticking away pound after pound. Daniel seemed unconcerned.
“What do you know about her?” she asked, turning to study him.
“Well, she’s American, obviously. Not exactly top tier in the acting game, though she’s very well known. That’s probably due more to her, shall we say, lifestyle than to talent.”
“And they came all the way to London just for the wedding?”
“Yes. I mean, it doesn’t surprise me that Hayley flew back for it. He’s an old friend of Hugh’s. But Anna’s different. I made a couple of calls and found out she even asked for a few days off from the show she’s working on in Toronto.”
“Oh,” Carey said. “What does that mean?”
“Trust me, it’s difficult to stop production and take off a few days. Who knows what she had to do to get it.”
The cab eased to a stop in front of the hotel and Carey got out.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“I’ll wait for you at the pub on the corner.”
She leaned back into the cab. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Look, this woman might have had something to do with your sister’s murder, or know someone who did. Anything you can find out will be helpful.”
Carey drew her jacket around her and stepped back from the cab. She turned to face the hotel, nodding at the doorman as she entered. The lobby was crowded with patrons, some of whom had enjoyed afternoon tea in the Promenade and were leaving the building. She wracked her brain for a mental image of Anna Parrish, whom she had glimpsed at the Abbey: average height, with a preference for high heels and a round, curvaceous body, not one of those waifs one saw on the television who existed on yogurt and tofu. She had dressed to attract attention at the wedding, in an expensive red silk dress. A woman like that would be easy to pick out of a crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. Carey would have to inquire at the desk. Then something caught her eye: a shiny black crocodile Hermes handbag.
She looked up at the owner of such an extravagant item and saw that it was indeed Anna Parrish. She was sitting in a gold brocade chair, sending a text.
Carey took a deep breath and forced herself to walk toward the actress. The woman had shoulder-length dark hair that fell around her shoulders and green, cat-shaped eyes. She wore a black blouse over a pair of jeans with tall, black pumps.
“Miss Parrish?” Carey asked.
Her voice sounded more confident than she felt. Perhaps it was wrong for her and Daniel to investigate, independent of the police inquiry, though it had been three days and the official investigation had turned up nothing so far. If she couldn’t even approach someone in a public place without feeling every nerve in her body revolt, she wouldn’t be able to pursue it at all.
“Yes?” Anna Parrish gave her a cursory look and then a second glance, her demeanor changing when she recognized Carey. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss … Burke?”
“Yes, I’m Carey Burke.” She dug her fingers into the strap of her bag. “Look, I apologize for being blunt, but did you know my sister?”
Anna Parrish studied her for a moment before speaking. She glanced about the lobby at the dozen or so people talking and reading magazines. “Perhaps it would be best if we had some privacy.”
Carey nodded, following her to the lounge, which was almost completely deserted this time of day. A couple of men sat in a corner conducting a business meeting. Anna walked over to a pair of club chairs tucked out of the way and looked at Carey.
“Is this all right?”
“Of course.”
She watched as the actress sat down in the chair and kicked off her four-inch heels. She set the shoes next to her handbag on the table between them and sighed.
“I hope you don’t mind. These shoes are killing me. I couldn’t get a cab and had to walk several blocks in them.”
“Not at all.”
“Well?” Anna asked. “Do you want a drink or something?”
“Not really, thanks. I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Why? I mean, aren’t the police working on the case?”
“Yes. Of course. It’s just that I want to understand a few things for myself.”
Anna sighed. “It must have been awful. I don’t know how you’re coping so well.”
“I’m not sure I am.”
Anna looked around at the nearly empty room. “Do you think I could smoke here?”
“There aren’t any ashtrays.”
“Then I probably can’t. The world is becoming a totalitarian state when you can’t have a simple cigarette. What is it you wanted to ask me, anyway?”
“Did you know my sister?”
“I hate to go all Bill Clinton on you, but define ‘know.’”
“Had you ever met her?”
“No, I hadn’t. This is my first trip to England.”
“You came as a guest of Marc Hayley, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she answered, tucking a few falling strands of hair behind her ear. “Marc and I have a sort of casual relationship. We’ve known each other for a couple of years.”
“And he invited you to the wedding?”
“Well, not exactly.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“What do you mean?” Carey leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“I mean, I asked him if I could come with him. I knew he was close to Hugh. Pardon me for saying so, but it’s a
big deal to bag a social event as big as this one.”
“I heard you asked Marc Hayley to come because of Tamsyn, not because of Hugh. Is that true?”
“Marc must have said something to you.”
“No. Actually, I’ve never met him.”
“Then how … ?”
“Does it matter?”
Anna shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t. It’s not that important, really. I had a letter from your sister, oh, about a year ago. It intrigued me, and when I found out she was marrying Hugh Ashley-Hunt, I wanted to come and meet them.”
“You had a letter from Tamsyn?” Carey asked, incredulous. “A year ago, before she was even involved with Hugh? What sort of letter?”
“It was odd. She wanted to know if I had any background information about Marc.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Well, neither do I, really. That’s one thing I was going to do: ask her what kind of information she wanted.”
“Did you reply to the letter?”
“Yes. I told her I had only known Marc for a couple of years and hadn’t ever met his family. I didn’t even know he was friends with Hugh until after I got the letter. I have no idea what she was getting at.”
“Do you still have it?”
“At home, back in LA. But I haven’t been there in over a month. I’ve been shooting a sitcom in Toronto.”
Carey frowned, taken aback. What information could Tamsyn have wanted from a complete stranger about someone she had never met before?
“Is it possible that I could have it after you get back?”
Anna shrugged her shoulders. “Sure. Why not?”
Carey reached into her handbag, a canvas catch-all that was meant for carrying as many university textbooks as she could lift, and drew an envelope from its recesses. She extracted the letter inside it before writing her address on the back of the envelope. She held it out to Anna.
“I don’t know exactly what my sister was trying to do, but it may be important.” She stood. “Thank you for your time, and for being kind enough to answer my questions.”
“I’m really sorry about everything.” Anna reached out a sympathetic hand.
Carey shook it briefly. “Thank you.”
She turned to leave, slinging her bag over her shoulder and stuffing her hands into her pockets, puzzled. What an odd thing it had been for Tamsyn to do, contacting Anna Parrish about Marc, especially before ever meeting Hugh. Maybe the letter would shed some light on it, but somehow she doubted it. She stepped out of the hotel and headed in the direction of the pub down the street, where Daniel would be waiting. Perhaps he could make some sense of it all.
Sixteen
Le Petit Café was nearly a mile’s walk from Scotland Yard, but when it wasn’t raining and he wanted to stretch his legs, Gordon Murray often headed for its familiar green awning to buy lunch. It was nearly one o’clock and he had ordered a meal for Ennis, too, who’d spent the morning punching at the keys of his computer. When he returned, he placed one of the bags on the sergeant’s desk and headed for his office.
“Thank you, sir!” Ennis called behind him, suspending whatever he had been typing to inspect the bag’s contents.
Murray closed the door behind him, leaving the lights off. There was just enough light coming through the blinds. Fluorescents gave him headaches and inhibited inspired thinking. In less than an hour, Sir John and Antonia Hodges would be coming to his office to discuss the murder of Tamsyn Burke. He’d prepared his questions and put them in the drawer. For now, he spread a small cloth across his desk and arranged the food items upon it: a thick ham sandwich, a cup of mushroom risotto, and a fat, crusty baguette. He looked up when he heard a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
“Tea,” Ennis replied, placing a hot mug on his desk.
They were so simpatico that Murray hoped they would work together until he retired, even if it meant Ennis wouldn’t be promoted. He thanked him for the tea and tasted it. Just the right amount of sugar, he thought. Ennis had closed the door behind him by the time he turned his head. With skills like that, it was inevitable that the sergeant would eventually be kicked upstairs.
Murray’s father had been a Detective Chief Inspector, too, of whom he was enormously proud. In his desk at home, he kept clippings of his father’s greatest cases, his favorite of which occurred in 1956 when he had located and arrested a Nazi who had been hunted since the end of the war for his crimes at Auschwitz and Birkenau. From the moment Murray learned of it, from a retired colleague of his father’s rather than from his father’s own lips, he knew he wanted to join the Metropolitan Police. The case had taken six years from the first tip to the actual arrest, a notion that comforted him now when cases weren’t quickly solved. It was the persistence, the resolve that one must finish no matter how long it took, that Murray admired most. Of course, everyone preferred the tidy cases: murder weapon recovered, incriminating evidence at the scene, swift retribution to the guilty party; but he also loved the puzzles. The Burke murder case was certainly that: twenty-seven suspects, none of whom were obviously the murderer. In this case, the motive ran deep.
There was another knock at the door.
“I’ve dug up something for you,” Ennis said, poking his head into Murray’s office.
“I’ve been making calls about the Hodges, and thought you might like to see this.”
Murray took the proffered sheet of paper and read it. “Do you have any confirmation?”
“Not from a bank, per se. My source was a director who’d quit this last film before it started. He was eager to talk, I can tell you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. That is most helpful.”
After Ennis left, he ate and read through the note again before putting it in his desk with his list of questions for the Hodges. He wouldn’t have to look them over again; once he had written things down, he would remember.
The Hodges were a glamorous pair, like many of the suspects in this case. Sir John was sixty-four, an outspoken man known for his lavish excesses. His wife, Antonia, was a decade younger than he. She was his third wife, and the only one with whom he had no children. In all, he had fathered seven offspring: three by his first wife, and four by his second. He was known for his charming hospitality and was a favorite among those who had worked for him, for if one were in his good graces, he could be quite accommodating. Hodges was obviously a man who enjoyed the company of the much younger stars in his orbit. It was a noisy, social world he inhabited, very different from the solitary life that Murray knew so well.
The Hodges arrived on time, at two o’clock. Lunch had been eaten and cleared away, and the offending fluorescent light switched on. Murray opened the door and waved them inside.
“Come in and have a seat,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Anything we can do to assist in this nasty business,” Sir John replied.
Murray waited a moment while the Hodges settled themselves in the chairs opposite his desk. He had considered taking them into one of the boardrooms, but he preferred the intimacy of his office, with its maps of London on the wall and the window overlooking Dacre Street. He sat down behind his desk and took out his pad of paper.
“So. We’re here to talk about Tamsyn Burke, as you know. Could you tell me how you met her?”
Sir John was a huge man both in personality and size, a man who could intimidate if he so chose. His wife, on the other hand, while polite, was cool. She balanced a large handbag on her lap and looked at him with apprehension.
“We were casting a part in Under the Greenwood Tree a few months ago,” Hodges answered, clasping his hands around his ample stomach. “I had picked out a girl I thought could do the part, but I wasn’t in love with her, if you know what I mean. Then Ashley-Hunt asked me to take a look at one of the girls we’d hired for some of the village sc
enes. Actually, I’d deferred that hiring job, so I hadn’t seen her before. She was quite lively, and I decided to give her a try at the part if it meant that much to Hugh. After I saw her on the rushes, I was glad I’d listened to him. She made the camera fall in love with her.”
“Did you get to know her personally?”
There was an awkward pause, and Murray looked up from his notes. Hodges was a heavy man with a flushed complexion, but it wasn’t his imagination that the man looked even more uncomfortable than usual. He wondered if he had stumbled onto something significant. Perhaps Hodges was the kind of man who seduced his leading ladies, young women who were trying to make a name for themselves and advance their career.
Hodges cleared his throat. “I didn’t know her terribly well, no. There were a few parties, but I didn’t spend much time with her. Did you, Toni?” He turned to his wife, whose arched brow said more than enough. They were hiding something, whether it had to do with Tamsyn Burke or not.
“No, I didn’t. She only had eyes for Hugh. They had gotten serious about that time.”
“How well do you know Ashley-Hunt? Are you friends with his father?” Murray asked.
“Well, I’ve run across Noel at events, of course, but I’ve never worked with him or had a meaningful conversation with him,” Hodges said, glad to be on more comfortable ground. “I didn’t know Hugh before I began working with him on this film, either. I happened to see him in something Antonia made me watch—”