A Fatal Truth

by Faith Martin

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ Alice said, glancing at her uncertainly and clearly feeling a little flustered. ‘Well, please do come in. We have a dining room, of course, but when it’s just lunch and for the children, we tend to eat at the little table in the kitchen.’

  As if aware that she was babbling inanities, she abruptly stopped talking.

  The kitchen was much larger than Trudy had expected, with a door to a larder in the far wall. The room boasted one of those new big white washing machines, along with a chest freezer, two items that her mother could only dream of. Pushed against another wall was a long rectangular table, at which were seated two children, both dressed in their respective school uniforms. Empty plates boasting a few breadcrumbs had been pushed into the centre of the table.

  ‘Mum, can we have cake now?’ the boy asked, although his eyes were fixed firmly on Trudy. Lucas Wilcox was a handsome chap, with his mother’s colouring and looks. Beside him, his older sister seemed to take after her father. It should, Trudy thought inconsequentially, have been the other way around.

  ‘Of course you can. This is Dr Ryder, and …’ For a moment Alice was stumped, since she hadn’t asked for, or received, Trudy’s name.

  ‘I’m WPC Loveday,’ Trudy said with a smile. ‘We’re here to talk about your granddad. Is that all right?’

  Olivia’s glance went straight to her mother. Her brother merely frowned slightly and said nothing.

  ‘I’m not sure what we can possibly tell you that you don’t already know,’ Alice began a shade nervously. ‘Oh, please take a seat, where are my manners? Would you like a cup of tea and some cake? It’s a cherry cake – I made it yesterday.’

  ‘Tea would be nice, thank you,’ Clement said, ‘but I’ve just had lunch, much as I’m sure the cake would be delicious.’

  His smile was meant to help settle her nerves, and apparently did so, for in very short order they were all sitting amicably around the kitchen table, with Lucas tucking heartily into his slice of cake. Olivia cut her slice carefully into quarters, but made no move to eat it, Trudy noticed.

  ‘So, what do you remember about Bonfire Night?’ Trudy asked brightly, talking first to the little boy, who seemed fascinated by her uniform.

  ‘Oh, it was great at first,’ Lucas said earnestly through a mouthful of cake, earning him a telling off by his mother, who reprimanded him about speaking with his mouth full.

  He carefully swallowed the cake, then beamed unrepentantly at Trudy. ‘Uncle Godfrey and Daddy had to use paraffin to get the bonfire started but when it did, it really went up with a “whump” didn’t it, Ollie?’

  ‘Don’t call your sister Ollie, Lucas,’ Alice corrected her son automatically.

  ‘Sorry,’ Lucas said, just as automatically. ‘Me and Benny were waiting for the rockets – we like those best – oh, and the bangers as well – to come out. So Granddad went off to the shed to go and get them.’

  ‘Did you see him go in?’ Trudy interrupted, sensing the boy was about to go galloping on with his account.

  ‘Yeah, ‘course I did,’ Lucas said, sounding surprised she should ask.

  ‘Can you remember, was the shed door already open, or did your granddad have to open it?’ Trudy asked, to test his powers of observation – and veracity.

  ‘It was open,’ the boy said firmly. ‘Mummy had just come out and was carrying something, and she didn’t shut the door behind her.’ He sounded very sure of his facts, but Trudy knew that sometimes children had a hard time telling remembered truth from imagined fantasy.

  ‘All right. What happened then?’ she asked, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘Mummy went into the kitchen for a bit and then came out with the food and so Daddy went off to fetch a shovel or something so that he could push the potatoes in at the bottom.’

  ‘A shovel? Was that kept in the shed?’ Trudy inserted quickly, wondering if Kenneth Wilcox had been in the shed at the same time as his father-in-law – and if so, why he hadn’t mentioned it.

  But at the same time as Lucas began emphatically shaking his head, Alice spoke.

  ‘No, as I said at the inquest, I’d just gone into the shed to find something to use for pushing the food into the bottom of the fire, and found the old rake. We use the same one each year you see – an old thing that’s not much use for gardening now. I left it outside the back door – the one that leads off the kitchen. Kenneth would have retrieved it from there.’

  ‘I see, well that’s clear enough,’ Trudy said. She looked deliberately at the Olivia now. ‘Did you see your granddad go into the shed?’

  ‘No. I was talking to Aunt Caroline,’ Olivia spoke for the first time. She picked up a piece of cake and bit into it.

  ‘Your Aunt Caroline didn’t get on with her father much, did she?’ Trudy said casually.

  She felt the girl’s mother shuffle uneasily on her chair at this, but Alice didn’t actually intervene.

  Olivia, after swallowing her cake, shook her head. ‘No. She always said he killed Granny.’

  This stark pronouncement made her mother go a trifle pale. ‘I really don’t think …’ Alice began weakly and Trudy quickly backed off.

  ‘Did you notice anyone else go into or near the shed that night, Olivia?’ she asked instead.

  ‘Not really. We were all watching the bonfire, you see. Sometimes, a gust of wind would blow a bit off newspaper or wood off, and one of the grown-ups would chase it and kick it back onto the fire. Except for Uncle Godfrey. He said his shoes were patent leather and he couldn’t risk it.’

  ‘What’s patent leather?’ Lucas piped up, but nobody rushed to tell him.

  ‘Did you see your Aunt Mary talking to your granddad at any time?’ Trudy asked generally, but both children shook their heads.

  Clement, listening closely, thought this rang true. If brother and sister had had a falling out recently, they had probably taken pains to avoid one another.

  ‘Did any of you see how the shed actually caught fire?’ Trudy asked next, but wasn’t surprised when both children shook their heads.

  ‘What about your cousins who were there, Benny and Clarissa?’ Trudy tried craftily. ‘Did they tell you any secrets about that night?’ She knew that often children who’d seen something might confide in someone else of their own age, rather than in an adult. ‘Because if they did tell you something about Bonfire Night and made you swear not to tell, it’s all right to tell a police lady.’

  Lucas looked impressed by this, then disappointed. ‘Nah. Benny didn’t say anything. Lucky dog.’

  Trudy looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Why is he a lucky dog?’ she asked casually.

  ‘Because him and Clarry and Helen are all going on a super holiday. I heard Mummy and Uncle Matthew talking about it yesterday.’

  ‘Lucas! What have I told you about eavesdropping?’ his mother flashed, her face flushing in embarrassment.

  ‘I wasn’t listening at the door or anything! Promise! I was just sitting here eating my biscuits,’ her son said indignantly. ‘I can’t help it if your voices are too loud can I?’ he added, looking in appeal at Clement, who smiled and shook his head, indicating his support.

  ‘This was after the reading of your father’s will, I take it,’ Clement said mildly, turning to smile at the flustered Alice.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t realise our voices were carrying to the kitchen. Not that there’s any secret about it. Matthew told me that, given the circumstances, he’s taking his family to the United States.’

  ‘Lucky dog,’ Lucas said again. ‘I wish I had been given a lot of money and could go off on holiday any time I wanted. I’ll bet they get to see the Grand Canyon,’ Lucas sighed enviously. ‘But Daddy says I have to wait for my money until I’m older. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?’

  Once again, Clement was appealed to, but this time, wisely, Clement pretended not to notice.

  ‘I think that’s enough of that,’ Alice said firmly, rising to her feet. She was obviously unco
mfortable talking about the family’s financial business in front of strangers. ‘Lucas, finish your cake.’ And to Trudy and Clement she said, ‘I’ll show you out, shall I?’

  With no graceful way of continuing to question the children, Trudy reluctantly let herself be shepherded out into the front hall.

  But Clement wasn’t quite finished yet. As they approached the front door, he said quietly, ‘I understand that your father wanted your husband to invest in one of his business deals, Mrs Wilcox?’

  ‘How did … Oh, yes, I think he did mention it. Kenneth came into a family legacy a little while ago, you see. But he wasn’t interested in going into something with Father. He has his own plans to open another shop instead in the city centre,’ Alice said, recovering quickly.

  ‘I can’t imagine that made your father very happy,’ Clement said sympathetically. ‘From what we’ve learned about him from others, he seems to have been a man who liked to get his own way.’

  Alice flushed. ‘Yes, well, father could be rather difficult sometimes,’ she admitted.

  ‘It must have made life a little uncomfortable for your husband, especially, I imagine?’ Clement carried on, careful to keep his tone sympathetic. ‘Living in what amounted to his father-in-law’s house, whilst not being on the best of terms with him.’

  ‘Oh, Kenneth gets on with everybody,’ Alice said miserably, and pointedly opened the front door.

  ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mrs Wilcox,’ Clement said. Trudy murmured her own thanks, and as she brushed past her, Alice gave her a smiling nod. But then she closed the door so quickly behind her, Trudy almost fancied she could feel the wood of the door catch the heel.

  As they walked thoughtfully back to the car, Trudy said wryly, ‘Well, so much for children being more observant than adults.’

  But her mind wasn’t really on their latest, abortive interview. Instead, her heart was beginning to race a little, because soon she would be meeting Duncan Gillingham at the café.

  Of course, it was strictly business – just to talk about what he knew or had discovered that had made him so suspicious about the fire, she reminded herself. But even so, it was a bit of a treat to have a break at a nice café in the middle of her working day – especially with a good-looking young man.

  Beside her, Clement shook his head. ‘Did you notice how quiet the girl was?’ he asked.

  ‘Olivia? Yes, she wasn’t very forthcoming was she,’ Trudy acknowledged vaguely. ‘But perhaps she’s just used to her little brother being the chatterbox of the family.’

  She wondered if she’d have time to pop home and put on a little lipstick before going to the café. Then realised how silly that idea was. Even though DI Jennings was very unlikely to find out that she’d nipped back home whilst on duty, her mother would certainly wonder why she had done so.

  And besides, what did she really need lipstick for anyway? It might swell Duncan Gillingham’s head if he thought she was making the effort for his sake. Which she most certainly was not!

  ‘Trudy?’ Clement’s voice, raised a decibel above its usual level, not only made her jump, but indicated that it wasn’t the first time he’d called her name.

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking,’ she said. Which was true – she had been thinking, just not about the matter in hand. She was grateful to duck her head in order to get into the passenger seat of the Rover so that Clement wouldn’t notice any tell-tale hint of guilt that might have given her away.

  Clement started the engine and glanced up at the nice house on the hill. No doubt about it, the Wilcoxes had fallen on their feet, inheriting that house. But at what cost? He was sure Thomas Hughes had led his long-suffering daughter a merry dance for years. And how must Kenneth Wilcox have felt about not being the true master in his home?

  He frowned thoughtfully as he checked his rear mirror and pulled away from the kerb. Unless he was mistaken, the children in this case knew something that he did not. Reticence was not usually high in the average child’s repertoire, but he’d come across it twice recently. Just now in the case of Olivia Wilcox, and not long before, in the case of young Benjamin Hughes.

  He would have been prepared to bet a significant amount that both of them had seem something significant that night, but were obviously not going to say so. Perhaps they’d made one of those solemn pacts, with dire consequences for anyone who dared tell, that children were so fond of. If so, it might be impossible to get them to open up.

  ‘So, where do you want to go next?’ he asked, and was startled to see a look of something close to panic cross his companion’s face.

  Trudy looked hastily down at her satchel and quickly searched through it for her notebook. ‘I think I need to do some more research – perhaps at the library. You can drop me off at your office, that’ll be easiest,’ she mumbled.

  The coroner’s office wasn’t far from the café where she would have to meet Duncan, so if it should start raining again, at least she wouldn’t have to arrive looking like a drowned rat.

  Whilst she was well aware that if Clement knew that she was meeting the reporter he’d want to come, especially after his meeting with the owner of the newspaper, she was very reluctant to have her mentor tag along this time. She just had a strong feeling that Dr Ryder and the reporter would not hit it off, and she didn’t want any antagonism getting in the way of a successful interview. After all, it was just possible that what Duncan had to tell her might bust the case wide open. At the very least, she hoped to solve the riddle of why he had started the campaign for a proper investigation into the Hughes fatality in the first place.

  And that reminded her. ‘By the way, what did Sir Basil have to say? About the Tribune’s storylines, I mean?’

  Clement, wondering what was bothering her, sighed. ‘Hmm? Oh, Sir Basil is just the owner. He might have been a reporter himself in days of yore, but these days he doesn’t have much to do with the daily running of the papers, let alone the stories they print. He has full confidence in his editors to do all that.’

  ‘Oh. So he has no idea what’s behind it at all?’ she asked, disappointed. ‘Surely he must have some idea what Dun … Mr Gillingham is up to?’ she asked casually.

  Clement shot her a narrow-eyed glance, and noticed she was staring fixedly out of the passenger window.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said slowly. ‘Sir Basil’s is not that young man’s greatest fan, I think it’s fair to say,’ he added, with a smile of remembrance at the newspaper owner’s distaste for his prospective son-in-law.

  ‘He’s probably a bit jealous, I suppose,’ Trudy predicted. The old man probably wished he was still young and chasing down scoops, rather than sitting behind a desk.

  They drove the rest of the way into the city in silence, and Trudy gave a sigh of relief when she finally climbed out of the car. She didn’t like playing her cards close to her chest and keeping the coroner in the dark, so to ease her conscience, she did actually go into the library and look up some things, but she didn’t stay long.

  She wanted to be at the café in good time. But only because it was bad manners to keep people waiting, she told herself firmly.

  Chapter 23

  As WPC Loveday passed a few minutes in the library, Rupert Burrows turned down the familiar road to Wolvercote, and was soon parking up under a weeping willow tree beside Mary Everly’s pretty cottage.

  Luckily this time there was no sign that her unwanted visitors of a few days ago had come back for another interview. She’d told him all about them, of course, when he’d returned to the cottage once the coast was clear, and they’d both agreed that it was unfortunate to have the authorities sniffing around the family’s private business.

  He retrieved a bunch of last-of-the-season asters from the back seat, knowing how much Mary loved flowers, and checked that his tie was straight before knocking on the door.

  It wouldn’t do to turn up looking down-at-heel.

  As always, Mary looked smart and calm, and he smiled with relief
as she thanked him with genuine happiness for the flowers and ushered him into the cottage’s front room. She quickly arranged the asters in a vase, and within five minutes, she was reaching for the tea-strainer and was pouring them a fragrant cup of Earl Grey in front of a smouldering log fire.

  It was all very pleasant, and Rupert was looking forward to the time he could live here too. His little flat in Kidlington was all very well, but it was a bit bijou and really rather drab. Alas, what with the upkeep of the car, his club fees and all the other things that laid claim on his beleaguered purse, it had had to suffice for many a barren and lonely year. What’s more, the prospect of a lonely old age without any relief in sight had been staring him in the face, until he’d met up with Mary again a year or so ago.

  He’d first run into her when he’d come up to Oxford to study, and they had run around in the same large circle of friends for years. He’d even played golf with her late husband once or twice, before he’d joined the Foreign Office. But of course, once he’d been made an ambassador, they had then spent many years abroad, and inevitably they had lost touch with one another.

  But he’d recognised Mary the instant they’d met outside the theatre one night and the rest, as the saying went, was history.

  ‘Poor old Alice is in a bit of a state,’ Mary said absently, pulling Rupert from his reminiscences as he sighed contentedly over his teacup. ‘She rang me up a little while ago. Apparently, you-know-who were back at the house, talking to the children this time! Can you imagine?’ Her voice rose slightly in reproof. ‘Honestly, I don’t know who the police think they are nowadays. Well, I say police, but it’s only a slip of a girl really. So I suppose it’s not too bad.’

  Rupert frowned. ‘I’ll be happy when all this business about Thomas has blown over,’ he said fretfully.

  ‘So will I,’ Mary said, her tone taking on a little bite. ‘The last thing we need is for strangers to go around stirring things up. Who knows what damage they will do?’

  She cast her suitor a slightly fond, slightly exasperated look, knowing full well that he was hardly the knight on a white steed that foolish girls dreamed of. But then she gave a mental shrug. She was hardly a foolish girl any more. Besides, she’d known Rupert on and off for ages now, and had no real regrets about her choice of companion.