The Dark Room

by Minette Walters

  • Re: the Landy murder. Miss Kingsley’s alibi for the afternoon and early evening of February 1, 1984, was supplied by Miss Harris. In light of the new evidence that Harris and Landy were having an affair, and that Miss Kingsley may have known about it, this alibi is not as straightforward as it appeared at the time. Worth a second look. NB: Harris’s diary says nothing on the subject, indeed does not mention Landy’s murder at all.

  IN CONCLUSION:

  1. Meg Harris clearly made a bid to win back both men after they had made serious commitments to Jane Kingsley. We only have Kingsley’s word that she knew nothing about this and/or did not bear a grudge.

  2. It appears Wallader and Harris did not reveal their proposed marriage plans until shortly before they were due to leave for the relative safety of France.

  3. Jane Kingsley, too, saw fit to keep the secret.

  4. Their killer probably drove them to Ardingly Woods in his/her own car.

  5. On the most likely date of Wallader/Harris’s deaths, Kingsley drove her car at a concrete stanchion only some 20 miles from Ardingly Woods.

  6. Shortly after Kingsley’s admission to the Nightingale Clinic, Dr Protheroe was attacked with a similar weapon to Landy/Wallader/Harris.

  The investigating team is concentrating its efforts on uncovering the movements of Wallader/Kingsley/Harris between May 30 and June 13. All relevant parties will be re-questioned with a view to establishing a timetable of events.

  Yours

  Frank

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wednesday, 29 June, Canning Road Police Station, Salisbury – 9.00 a.m.

  WPC BLAKE NOTED the thunder clouds on DC Hadden’s face as he pushed past her and shouldered his way through the double-doors. ‘What’s up with Hadden?’ she asked the sergeant as she leaned her elbows on the front desk.

  ‘Politics,’ he grunted, preoccupied with some notes he was writing. ‘He reckons the DCI has given away the best case he’s ever had.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘Hampshire police. He handed over a prime piece of evidence last night on the Ardingly Wood murders and Hadden’s furious about it. Claims he’s the one who cracked the case and now no one’s going to credit him with it.’

  ‘What was the evidence?’

  ‘The sledgehammer that was used to attack the doctor up at the Nightingale on Monday night,’ the sergeant told her.

  Blake watched his busy pen for a moment. ‘So what’s the connection with Ardingly Woods? Sledgehammers come two-a-penny on building sites. What’s so special about this one?’

  ‘The dead man’s fiancée is a patient at the Nightingale, and she appears to be in the habit of losing husbands and lovers to death by bludgeoning.’ He glanced up from his notes. ‘Jane Kingsley, daughter of Adam Kingsley. It’s been all over the newspapers for the last couple of days.’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  He pushed a tabloid towards her and stabbed a double column with his pen. ‘Hampshire gave a press briefing yesterday. It’s all there.’

  Blake took the paper and read the piece rapidly. ‘Well, I can see why Hadden’s pissed off,’ she remarked, laying it back on the counter. ‘Who do you reckon did it?’

  He shrugged as he signed his name. ‘All I know is I wouldn’t want to be employed by Franchise Holdings if they arrest Adam Kingsley. According to the business pages the shares are sliding already, and that’s just on fears he might have been involved.’ He straightened up. ‘How are you getting on with the Flossie Hale assault?’

  ‘Not bad.’ She gave him a run-down of what she’d discovered. ‘He was carrying a key-ring with a black disc embossed with a gold F and H. Flossie thinks they might be his initials but I’m not keen to put that in the description in case she’s wrong. What do you think?’

  He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment or two then picked up the newspaper and leafed through the pages impatiently, looking for the business section. Inset into the article on Franchise Holdings was a picture of the company’s logo – entwined initials against a black background. He showed it to her. ‘Something like that?’

  ‘What are you, Sarge,’ said Blake in amazement, ‘a bloody magician?’

  Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 9.30 a.m.

  The floor around Jinx’s feet was awash with newspapers when Alan Protheroe knocked on her door at nine-thirty. ‘I ordered the lot,’ she said with a weak smile. ‘Have you seen what’s happening?’

  He nodded. ‘I watched the breakfast news. The shares started sliding again as soon as the market opened.’

  ‘Poor Adam, it’s very unfair,’ she said bitterly. ‘They’ve been dying to cut him down to size for years and now they’ve been given the chance.’ She clenched her hands in her lap. ‘You know what makes me maddest of all? It’s this garbage about no obvious successor. It’s a cheap way to parade the family failings. Three of the present board are perfectly capable of taking over if anything happens to Adam, and the City knows it. There was never any question of Miles, Fergus or I stepping into his shoes. He wouldn’t have it. He’s worked too hard to watch his children destroy what he built.’ She sighed. ‘Well, we’re destroying it anyway, between us. It wouldn’t matter a tuppenny damn what I’d done if either Miles or Fergus could stand up and be counted.’

  ‘What have you done, Jinx?’

  ‘How about this for starters?’ she said sarcastically. ‘I managed to choose three murder victims as husband, fiancé and best friend. It does rather imply there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark when three corpses litter the doorstep, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a short silence. ‘Do you know why I hated Stephanie Fellowes so much, and why I wouldn’t engage in any of her psycho-crap?’ said Jinx coldly. ‘Because she couldn’t believe I had nothing to do with Russell’s death. Did she put that in her notes?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you putting your scepticism in your notes?’ Would it hurt so much if she liked him less?

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you are keeping notes?’ He nodded. ‘Then what are you writing about me, Dr Protheroe?’

  ‘They’re just private ones.’ The sexual fantasies of a man going mad from celibacy . . . OK, so Russell pressed the right buttons but did he turn you on? . . . What are you like in bed, Miss Kingsley? . . . ‘Yesterday, for example, I wrote: “It’s a pity Jinx doesn’t smile more. It suits her.”’

  She promptly frowned. ‘Instead of saying “yes” just then, why couldn’t you have said: The odds against you or your family being involved aren’t good, Jinx, but they do exist? What makes you think I’m so fucking hard that I don’t need reassurance, even if it is from a bastard like you?’

  He grinned. ‘Because you’d probably have torn strips off me for being patronizing. We both know you’re not a fool and we both know you’re up against it. All I can do, in the absence of something concrete to work on, is to point out the pitfalls. It’s up to you how you choose to negotiate them.’

  ‘It’s patronizing to say smiling suits me.’

  ‘It wasn’t intended to be, but if that’s how you choose to see it, then so be it.’

  ‘I hate existentialism.’

  ‘Sure you do,’ he said. ‘Which is why you’re such a master of it.’ He touched the newspapers with the toe of his shoe. ‘What will happen to Franchise Holdings?’

  ‘If they can’t stop the slide, then Adam will resign,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘He certainly won’t stand idly by while receivers are sent in. In fact, if you’ve any spare cash, now’s the time to gamble on some shares. They’re a bargain at the moment. I guarantee the price will start back up again the minute the panic subsides.’

  ‘What about the rumours of financial irregularities?’

  ‘I’m betting there aren’t any, or none that can be proved. Adam once said that if “Nipper” Read of Scotland Yard couldn’t get anything on him then no one could.’

  ‘Are you going to buy some shares?
’

  Her eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘I already have. I phoned my stock broker this morning. He’s selling everything in my portfolio to buy into Franchise Holdings.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong and you lose the lot?’

  ‘It’ll be in a good cause,’ she said. ‘At least I’ll know I nailed my colours to the mast when it really mattered.’

  ‘Is the motive really as pure as that?’

  She looked at him suspiciously. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Veronica Gordon tells me your stepmother came last night. I just wondered if there was a little malice mixed in with the altruism.’ Veronica had been shocked by Jinx’s cruelty, far more than she had by Betty’s drunkenness: ‘I think I’ve underestimated her, Alan. My guess is, she’s as ruthless as her father.’

  ‘What sort of malice?’

  ‘The sort that jumps up and down and says: Look at me, Adam, I’m supporting you. Look at her, she’s not.’

  Jinx lit a cigarette. ‘Chance would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it? Will I ever get the opportunity to do that? I don’t remember Adam coming here, but perhaps that’s something else I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Have you invited him?’

  She gave her faint smile. ‘I didn’t invite Simon Harris, but he still came. I didn’t invite Miles or Fergus, but they came. Why does Adam require an invitation, Dr Protheroe? Surely loving fathers visit their sick daughters as a matter of course.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s afraid of rejection, Jinx.’

  ‘I doubt it. If he were, he wouldn’t be so quick to reject everyone else.’ She returned to his questioning of her motives. ‘In any case, malice would be redundant where Betty’s concerned. She’s burnt her boats and she’s drowning, and I’m not going to lift a finger to help her.’

  Then why do you look so sad? he wondered.

  14 Glenavon Gardens, Richmond, Surrey – 10.30 a.m.

  The re-questioning of everyone connected with Jane Kingsley, Leo Wallader and Meg Harris was planned as a rolling programme throughout that Wednesday, with questions specifically geared to building a clear picture of their movements and whereabouts each day from the Bank Holiday Monday through to the evening of Monday, 13 June.

  DS Fraser was assigned to London and interviews with the Clanceys, Josh Hennessey, Dean Jarrett, and Meg’s neighbour Mrs Helms. He began with the Clanceys in Richmond, first explaining the purpose of the questions and then taking them back to Monday, 30 May, two weeks before Jinx’s car crash. ‘We understand from Leo’s parents that he and Jinx returned to London some time during the late afternoon–early evening. Can you confirm that?’ As he spoke, he tickled Goebbels’s ears. The tiny little dog had stretched itself along his knees, chin hanging over the edge, and Fraser, thoroughly seduced, was grateful that Maddocks wasn’t there to pour scorn on this simple affection.

  Colonel Clancey pursed his ancient lips. ‘I remember seeing Jinx on the Saturday morning but not on the Monday,’ he said at last. ‘I was in the garden and she came out to talk to me. She was hopping mad, far as I recall. Her two brothers were sleeping off hangovers upstairs, and Leo hadn’t come home the night before. She asked me if I knew where he’d gone because they were supposed to be going down to Guildford together, and I said I hadn’t seen him for a couple of days.’ He glanced briefly at his wife. ‘I also said,’ he went on firmly, ‘that she was making a mistake with Leo and she said, don’t worry, Colonel, I’ve already come to that conclusion myself. Then she went back inside and a little while later Leo himself showed up.’

  ‘You never told me you said that,’ said Mrs Clancey.

  ‘Thought you’d be angry,’ he barked. ‘You were always so keen on her marrying again.’

  ‘Nonsense. It was you kept telling her she owed it to society to have babies. A woman like you with brains and initiative, you kept saying, you’ve got a responsibility to pass on the genes. Can’t be doing with all these teenage nitwits producing hundreds while the clever people don’t produce any. End up with idiots running the planet.’

  Hastily, Fraser forestalled the development of this argument. ‘When did you next see either of them?’

  ‘I saw them leave together on the Sunday morning,’ said Daphne helpfully. ‘Jinx was wearing a baseball cap because Leo would insist on driving his car with the top down, and I remember thinking how much prettier she’d look in a straw bonnet.’

  ‘Why was she going away with him if she’d already decided he wasn’t for her?’ asked Fraser thoughtfully.

  ‘She has lovely manners,’ said Mrs Clancey.

  ‘The Wednesday after,’ said the Colonel baldly, who had been thinking hard. ‘We were in the garden, six o’clockish, G&T time anyway, and Jinx came down the path from the garage’ – he gestured towards the window – ‘runs along the fence, don’t you know? She was happy as a sandboy, singing her head off, and I called out: “Who’s won the jackpot?” And she popped her head over the top and said: “How’s tricks?”’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Daphne, ‘and I said: “You’re obviously looking forward to your week in Hampshire,” and she said: “Got it in one, Mrs C. A change is as good as a rest.”’

  Fraser waited for a moment while Goebbels turned on his back and offered his tummy for scratching. ‘Was that all?’ he asked, crooking a sly finger and plucking at the golden fur.

  They nodded simultaneously.

  ‘You didn’t ask her about Leo and how the weekend went?’

  The Colonel looked offended. ‘Good lord, no,’ he said. ‘None of our business. Doubt she’d have told us anyway. Private sort of person, Jinx.’ He scowled at Goebbels, whose erect penis was showing pinkly through his fur. ‘Filthy little beast. Kick him off if it upsets you.’

  Fraser, who hadn’t noticed, smiled weakly and uncrooked his finger. ‘Did you see Leo that day?’

  ‘No. Matter of fact’ – the Colonel paused for thought – ‘I don’t recall seeing him at all after the Saturday morning. Hadn’t really considered it, to tell you the truth, but now you ask . . .’ He looked enquiringly at his wife. ‘Do you remember seeing him?’

  ‘For me it was the Sunday,’ she reminded them.

  The Colonel snorted impatiently. ‘Afterwards, woman, afterwards.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t expect to see him, not as a general rule,’ she said, addressing her remarks to Fraser. ‘He never went out of his way to be particularly pleasant. The odd “good morning” once in a while, and that was the most one could expect. I think he resented us because we’d known Russell and he was afraid we were making comparisons, but we didn’t like Russell very much either, and it was a bit of a disappointment to find Jinx had picked the same type again.’

  Her husband fixed her with a basilisk glare. ‘The question was, you silly old thing, did you see him after the Sunday?’

  She smiled absent-mindedly. ‘I don’t think I did, no.’

  ‘Not even during the week Jinx was away?’ Fraser prompted.

  ‘Definitely not,’ barked the Colonel fluffing his moustache, ‘but then he wasn’t supposed to be there. Jinx popped in on the Friday night – that’d be June the third – to say she was off to Hampshire in the morning and he’d be spending the week in Surrey. She said not to bother about watering the house plants but yes, please, put some water on the garden when I had the hose running. Back the next Sunday, she told us.’

  Fraser frowned and leant down to flick through some papers he’d placed on the floor beside his chair. ‘I was under the impression she came back on the Friday, June the tenth.’

  ‘Well, yes, matter of fact she did. Not that we knew until the next morning. Came looking for me on the Saturday – that’d be the eleventh – and said: “Guess what, Colonel, the wedding’s off as of last night. The bastard’s jilted me, and the only bugger is he beat me to it.”’ He pursed his lips again and frowned. ‘And let me tell you, Sergeant, she was pleased as punch about it, looked as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. Then she went back inside to phon
e her father, telling me to keep my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t make her pay for the cost of the cancelled wedding.’

  ‘According to her parents, she came home earlier than she’d planned after a phone call on the Friday afternoon. When she got here, she caught Leo packing his belongings, at which point he told her he was going to marry her best friend and left. The implication was that he had been here all the time.’

  ‘No,’ said the Colonel stoutly, ‘and I’m damn sure he didn’t put in an appearance on the Friday either. I was in the front garden all afternoon so I’d have seen his car.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘I certainly am. We have a strict routine. Tuesdays and Fridays, the front garden; Mondays and Wednesdays, the back; Thursdays, shopping. Never varies.’

  Fraser glanced towards Daphne Clancey, who nodded. ‘Never varies,’ she agreed. ‘I blame the Army for it.’ A sly smile crept around her mouth. ‘I blame the Army for a lot of things.’

  Fraser chewed the inside of his lip in thought. ‘Why didn’t you tell the Richmond police this when they interviewed you after Jinx’s accident?’ he said.

  ‘Because they were only interested in why Jinx would want to kill herself,’ the Colonel pointed out. ‘So Daphne told ’em Leo jilted her and, before I could explain that she didn’t seem too unhappy about it, Daphne starts weeping and wailing about the incident on the Sunday. False conclusions being drawn all over the place, if you ask me.’