He caught her unawares and she stared at him in shock. ‘My father didn’t kill him,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘The police ruled him out very early on.’
‘I was talking metaphorically, Jinx.’
She didn’t answer immediately. ‘I don’t think you were,’ she said, lowering her gaze, ‘but it doesn’t make any difference anyway. Russell was never punished for my shortcomings.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I suspect you were punished for his.’ He toyed with his pen. ‘How much do you know about your mother? Why did both families disapprove of the match, for example?’
‘Her people were middle class and my father’s were working class. I presume it was straightforward snobbery on her side and inverted snobbery on his, and I don’t suppose it helped that he made money out of black marketeering.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I know he adored her.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
‘No, he never talks about her.’
‘Then how do you know?’
‘Because Betty told me. Her name was Imogen Jane Nicholls, she was the only child of a doctor, privately educated, and very much a lady, and he has photographs of her all over his office walls.’
He thought of the name on Jinx’s file cover. Jane Imogen Nicola Kingsley. ‘Do you look like her as well?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said with a kind of desperation. ‘Adam set out to re-create her.’
He couldn’t fault the desperation – it was there in her voice – but he doubted it had anything to do with her mother. ‘Even your father can’t perform miracles, Jinx,’ he said with a touch of irony, as he watched the ash on her cigarette lengthen and curl. ‘I suspect that little scenario is more in your stepmother’s mind than his. We all need ways of coming to terms with a partner’s indifference. None of us is immune from pride.’ He nudged the wastepaper basket towards her with his toe. ‘You should know that.’
The Vicarage, Littleton Mary, Wiltshire – 1.15 p.m.
Fraser watched Cheever’s courteous and sympathetic handling of this devastated family with a far more willing admiration than he had felt for Maddocks yesterday. The Superintendent knew as well as he did that there were some strange undercurrents at work, but never for one moment did he pressure either of the Harris parents into saying what they were.
They drove in convoy back to Littleton Mary, with Mrs Harris and a motherly WPC in the leading car, and himself, Cheever and Mr Harris in the one behind. There was little conversation. The vicar clearly found talking difficult, and the Superintendent was content to leave him to his thoughts. Where ‘initiative’ was Maddocks’s watchword, ‘patience’ was Cheever’s.
In retrospect, of course, Fraser had to ask himself whether Maddocks’s insensitive approach wouldn’t have been more appropriate, for it was Cheever’s willingness to take his time that gave rise to the events that followed. Maddocks would have squeezed every last drop of information out of them, irrespective of the trauma they were suffering, and Charles could not have conspired with Simon to keep the information about Meg and Russell’s affair to themselves. But would justice have been better served, Fraser always wondered, if they’d known about it then instead of later?
As they drew up behind the other car in the vicarage driveway, Charles Harris touched a hand to his dog-collar as if seeking reassurance. ‘Could I suggest that I have a quick word with Simon first?’ he said rapidly. ‘Just to explain why you’re here, then perhaps you could talk to him outside, away from his mother? It’s important you get a clear picture of Meg, and I’m afraid you won’t get that if Caroline is listening.’
The Superintendent nodded. ‘I’ll ask WPC Graham to take Mrs Harris inside. Sergeant Fraser and I will wait here.’
It was five minutes before Simon emerged, his thin face looking very drawn. He ushered them round the corner of the house to some chairs grouped about a table on the lawn. ‘Dad’s asked me to tell you about Meg,’ he said, sitting down, ‘but I’m not sure . . .’ He took off his glasses abruptly to pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, struggling for composure. ‘It’s all been a bit of a shock.’ He breathed deeply over the tears that were crowding his throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘That’s all right, sir,’ said Frank. ‘Would it be easier if we asked you questions?’
Simon nodded.
‘Your father says you worked in London for several years and saw more of Meg than they did. Perhaps you could tell us something about her lifestyle. Did she have many friends, for example? Did she go out a lot? Did she enjoy discos, pubs, things of that sort?’
‘Yes,’ said Simon, ‘all of those. She loved life, Superintendent.’ He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, then put his glasses back on. ‘She had a very happy personality, people always enjoyed being with her.’
Frank twisted his chair against the sunlight. ‘That’s how your mother described her,’ he said, ‘but your father seemed to have reservations. Why is that, do you think? Did he and Meg not get on?’
Simon’s expression was unreadable because the sun was reflecting off his lenses, and Frank wished he’d had the sense to position him better at the beginning. ‘No, Dad and Meg got on fine,’ he said, but his tone was too flat and lacked conviction. He was silent for a moment. ‘Look, perhaps it would be simpler after all, if I just told you what Dad’s asked me to say. He’s worried you’ve fixed on Jinx Kingsley as a suspect because of what happened to Russell.’ He took off his glasses again and laid them on the table, fishing in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief to blow his nose. ‘It’s not much fun this,’ he said by way of apology. ‘I’ve been so angry with Meg for the last two weeks, and now – well, you never expect anyone to die.’ He took a deep breath to steady himself. ‘The irony is it’s my job to comfort people in this position, tell them it’s the whole history of their love that matters, not the two small weeks of anger.’ He blew his nose. ‘But it’s only when you experience it yourself that you realize how patronizing that is.’
‘We can only do our best, sir,’ said Frank, giving the man’s shoulder an awkward pat. ‘In this job, we run up against it all the time. Such sadness everywhere and no easy answers.’
Oddly enough, Simon seemed to find this trite response rather comforting, perhaps because it proved to him that he wasn’t alone in offering banalities by way of consolation. He rested his hands on the table and toyed with his glasses. ‘The reason Dad didn’t want Mum listening to this,’ he said, ‘is that she never really knew what Meg was like. She knew Meg had a lot of boyfriends but she assumed the relationships were fairly casual.’ He corrected himself immediately. ‘Well, of course, they were casual, but casual in Meg’s terms, not in my mother’s. I suppose you’d describe Meg as promiscuous, except that that gives a false impression of her because we tend to use it pejoratively only where women are concerned.’ He gave an uncertain smile. ‘I don’t really know how to explain this to you without setting up prejudices in your minds. You had to know Meg. She was very innocent in an odd sort of way. She loved having fun.’
Fraser raised his head. ‘It sounds to me as though you’re saying she enjoyed sex, sir, but didn’t want the commitment of a relationship. Is that so unusual these days?’
‘No,’ said Simon with relief, ‘but I’m sure you can appreciate what my mother would think if she ever found out. She’s very strait-laced.’ He fell silent.
Fraser waited a moment. ‘In fact, sir,’ he said when Simon didn’t continue and the Superintendent gave him the nod, ‘your mother gives the impression that it’s your father who’s strait-laced. She refers to his preaching and the fact that Meg couldn’t leave home fast enough to get away from him. She talks about the fact that they had arguments and that he was always lecturing her over the phone. She also knew about Meg’s abortion, which your father clearly didn’t. Are you sure she’s as ignorant as you suggest?’
Simon nodded unhappily. ‘Yes, but I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for it.
Mum likes to think she knew what sort of life Meg led, but it’s not true. In fact, Meg only ever lied to her because she didn’t want to upset her.’
‘So was the abortion a lie?’
‘No, that did happen. But she didn’t tell Mum about it until they had their row over Leo. It’s one of the reasons I was so angry with her. If she’d only come down and talked to them in person, instead of giving them ultimatums over the phone about the fact that it was her life and she could do what she liked with it, then they might not have taken it quite so badly.’ He raised his glasses off the table and swung them from side to side, watching the pendulum motion with absorbed fascination. ‘She said a lot of things that I’m sure she regretted afterwards.’
Fraser glanced at the Superintendent before asking his next question.
‘Are you saying her announcement about her relationship with Leo caused friction between your parents?’
Simon squeezed the bridge of his nose again. ‘It’s been a nightmare,’ he said after a moment. ‘I think the trouble was that Meg knew she was behaving badly so she set out to defend her position right from the word go. Dad, of course, homed straight in on her betrayal of Jinx, and Mum homed in on the fact that she must have been sleeping with Leo. If only she’d just apologized and left it at that.’ He looked bleakly at the Sergeant. ‘We never do, though, do we? It’s human nature to justify ourselves.’
‘What did she say?’
‘I only know what she told me afterwards. She phoned me about lunchtime, but by then I’d had Mum on the phone in floods, so I was pretty angry as well.’ He held the handkerchief to his eyes. ‘We all said things we wish we hadn’t, and now it’s too late.’ He breathed deeply through his nose to calm himself. ‘As I understand it, she said Dad was a sanctimonious hypocrite who lusted after anything in a skirt, including her and Jinx, but hadn’t got the balls to do anything about it, and Mum was a frigid prude who couldn’t bear the thought of anyone enjoying sex. Meg said she’d told her about the abortion to prove there was at least one woman who didn’t see babies as the only reason for having intercourse.’ He caught the look of interest that flashed in Fraser’s eyes.
‘I’m telling you what she said, Sergeant,’ he murmured tiredly, ‘I’m not saying it’s true. She was defending herself, so she went for their weaknesses. My mother is a prude, in so far as she deplores modern sexual practices, but she’s not frigid. My father is extremely fond of Jinx because she shares his interest in the Classics, but he doesn’t lust after her. If Meg had telephoned from France or if Jinx hadn’t driven her car into a wall, the storm would have blown over in a day or two. As it was, my parents were left blaming each other for what they see as their fault – namely Meg’s cavalier theft of her friend’s fiancé, and Jinx’s resulting suicide attempt. You really must understand what an impossible situation they found themselves in. Jinx’s family wanted scapegoats – not unreasonably in the circumstances – but the only scapegoats available were my wretched parents. They’ve had to put up with some fairly strong abuse, so it’s hardly surprising they feel responsible.’
Fraser nodded as he turned back through the pages of his notebook. ‘Did you know about your sister’s abortion before your mother did?’
‘Yes.’
‘When did she have it?’
‘A long time ago. After she came down from Oxford. She was very much more careful after that.’
‘Do you know who the father was?’
‘No. I don’t think she did either.’
‘Did she tell you about it at the time?’
He nodded. ‘I drove her to the hospital to have it done.’
‘Did you approve?’
For the first time, Simon smiled. ‘It didn’t matter whether I did or I didn’t.’
‘But you must have had an opinion, sir.’
‘Funnily enough, no. Where Meg was concerned, I never gave opinions. She wouldn’t have listened to them.’
Fraser found the page he was looking for. ‘You said: “It would be simpler if I just told you what my father wants me to say. He’s worried that you’ve fixed on Jinx Kingsley as a suspect.” Could you expand those remarks, sir?’
Simon nodded. ‘Apparently my mother keeps accusing Jinx of murdering Meg and Leo, and he’s afraid you’ll believe her.’ He looked enquiringly at the other man, but got no reaction. ‘But Jinx wouldn’t have done it. She and Meg were more like sisters than friends.’
‘Even more reason to be angry, then, when Meg stole her fiancé,’ suggested Fraser. ‘Are you saying that wouldn’t have upset Miss Kingsley?’
‘She says not. I went to see her on Wednesday and she was very bullish about it, asked me to tell Meg she bore them no resentment and said she wished everyone would stop worrying about it.’
‘Miss Kingsley’s suffering from amnesia, sir. How can she know what she felt at the time?’
‘I don’t know, Sergeant, but I believe her and so does my father.’ He leaned forward to emphasize his point. ‘We’ve known her for years, and we can’t accept she’s a murderer. She certainly didn’t murder Russell. She was with Meg that afternoon. Meg was her alibi.’
The Superintendent nodded thoughtfully. ‘You said your father took Meg to task for her betrayal of Jinx. Am I right in thinking that’s why you were angry with her as well?’
‘Yes. Jinx didn’t deserve to be treated so shabbily. She’s been through hell one way and another, but she’s never allowed it to sour her. She’s very generous.’ He jerked his head towards the parish church across the road. ‘Helped Dad out with his steeple fund five years ago, persuaded her father to stump up for a Romanian orphans’ charity I’m involved with. She’s a very fine person.’
Frank smiled agreement. ‘You have a high opinion of her.’
‘Very.’
‘Rather higher, perhaps, than you had of your sister? People who love having fun tend to be somewhat selfish and egocentric. Quite often, they’re the black sheep of the family.’
Simon looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘Meg was certainly that.’
Chapter Thirteen
Monday, 27 June, Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 1.15 p.m.
ALAN SENSED THAT Jinx felt she had revealed too much of herself. He wondered if this was his last chance to learn what he could about her. ‘You told me your father wants you to leave, but you didn’t say what you intend to do about it.’
She propped her chin on her hand and gazed at him with a troubled expression, but there was something studied about the whole gesture. ‘I said I’d discharge myself back to Richmond and then take out an injunction to stop him ever interfering again unless he left well alone. Now I’m worried sick.’
He gave a surprised laugh. ‘Why? I couldn’t have advised better myself. You must be allowed the freedom to make your own choices.’
‘I wish you’d try to understand,’ she said helplessly. ‘It’s not my freedom that’s likely to be curtailed, it’s yours. If Adam thinks you suggested the injunction . . .’ She gave a small shrug and didn’t finish the sentence.
‘You’re worrying unnecessarily,’ he said. ‘What can he possibly do to me?’
‘He hasn’t built his empire on charm, Dr Protheroe. If he’s going to do something, he’ll do it quickly. He won’t want you putting any more unpleasant ideas in my head.’
‘I can only repeat,’ he said, eyeing her curiously, ‘what can he possibly do to me?’
‘That’s what Russell said.’ She stood up abruptly. She might have added – and Leo, and Meg – but she didn’t.
Alan put through a telephone call to Matthew Cornell’s father. ‘No,’ he assured him, ‘Matthew’s doing well. I wondered if I could pick your brains on an unrelated matter.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘What do you know about Adam Kingsley of Franchise Holdings?’
‘I’m a criminal barrister,’ Cornell reminded him. ‘Not a stock broker.’
‘Which is why I called you,’ said Alan. ‘I’ve b
een told he began life as an East End crook, and I wondered if there was any truth in it.’
‘I see.’ There was a short pause. ‘All right, rumour has it he was active alongside the Krays and the Richardsons in the fifties and sixties, but kept a much lower profile and turned legitimate as soon as he could. He was never charged with anything because he adopted the Mafia cuscinetto system and erected buffers between himself and the violence his thugs meted out. But that is all hearsay, Protheroe, and not for public consumption. He’s won damages in the past against two newspapers foolish enough to put that into print.’
Alan doodled on the pad in front of him, wondering how to frame his next question. ‘How does he conduct business now?’
‘Why? Are you thinking of investing in Franchise Holdings?’
‘Maybe,’ Protheroe lied.
‘There’s the odd hint from time to time that he’s used unorthodox methods to acquire property and land in the London Docks, but it’s pure speculation. I’d say he runs as clean a ship as the next man. Matter of fact,’ he admitted, ‘I’ve a small sum invested in him myself.’
‘What about social skills? He was described to me as someone to be wary of in personal dealings. Would you agree with that?’
‘What you’d expect from an East End boy made good.’ Cornell sounded intrigued. ‘I wouldn’t want to get in too deep with him. Put it this way, he’s not called the Great White Shark for nothing. If you work on the principle that he uses lawyers now as his buffers instead of hired muscle, then you’ll probably have some idea of his modus operandi.’
‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.’
‘Are you saying: Once a Mafia boss, always a Mafia boss?’
An amused laugh floated down the line. ‘No, Protheroe, you’re saying it. I can’t afford a slander suit.’
‘Josh? It’s Jinx. Are you busy or can you talk for a minute?’
‘What is it?’ He sounded hostile, she thought.
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