by Simon Brett
And there was quite a lot to spell out. The two women hadn’t spoken about the case for nearly a week. In fact they hadn’t spoken at all since Carole had brought Jude back from their visit to Cecil Wardock in Lockleigh House the previous Saturday.
Jude gave her neighbour the edited version of what she had found out, not detailing every cul-de-sac and double-back that her suspicions had followed. Nor did she describe each member of the Lockleigh House tennis court she had encountered, merely the principle players in the mystery of Reggie Playfair’s death.
‘So. .’ said Carole after the silence that followed Jude’s exposition, ‘at the moment the thinking is that he was killed deliberately. The Agnes Wardock ghost scenario was set up on the confident assumption that seeing it would cause Reggie Playfair to have a fatal heart attack?’
‘Yes.’
Carole grimaced ruefully. ‘Good luck to the barrister who stands up in court and tries to get a conviction on that.’
‘I’m not so concerned about a conviction in court. I just want to know who set Reggie up for that rather macabre death and why.’
‘Well, the information you have is that he went to the court following a text-message summons from Felicity Budgen?’
‘Yes.’
‘So did he actually meet her there?’
‘I can only assume so.’
‘This tennis court,’ Carole observed, ‘is getting rather full, isn’t it, on the night in question? Felicity Budgen, Piers, the demented Jonquil in a wedding dress, and then poor Reggie Playfair.’
‘Yes. I don’t know whether they were all there at the same time.’
‘Well, Jonquil and Reggie certainly were, otherwise she couldn’t have killed him. . if one can use such a transitive verb as “killed” in this context.’ Carole was thoughtful for a moment. ‘And you say Piers and Felicity Budgen had regular liaisons at the tennis court over the years?’
‘Yes,’ Jude confirmed, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.
‘And do you know if that relationship was still ongoing. . I mean, obviously until Piers took up with you?’
Jude was forced to admit that she didn’t know. It was one of the many questions that would have to be asked when she and Piers Targett next met.
‘It’s funny,’ said Carole. ‘I would never have suspected that a real tennis court could be used as a venue for illicit assignations.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that they all are, but over the years the Lockleigh House one has been. And it’s a tradition that still continues.’
‘Oh?’
‘Ned Jackson, the junior professional, sees himself as a bit of a Lothario. He’s been two-timing his girlfriend at the court with one of the younger members. Poor kid, he’s treating her very badly. And she can’t be much more than sixteen. Pretty girl called Tonya Grace.’
Carole Seddon looked thunderstruck. ‘Do you know, Jude,’ she said, ‘that’s the second time I’ve heard that name today.’
It was a matter of moments to tell her neighbour the context in which Tonya Grace’s name had come up.
‘“Seeing someone killed”?’ Jude echoed. ‘My God, maybe Tonya was there the night of Reggie’s death! Ned Jackson swore she wasn’t, but he’d lie about anything to save his skin.’
‘We need to talk to the girl,’ said Carole. ‘Have you any means of getting in touch with her?’
‘Apparently Felicity Budgen’s rather taken her under her wing, but I’m not sure that I want to contact Felicity right now. Simplest way would be through the court. I’ve got the number. I’ll see if there’s anyone there.’
George Hazlitt answered. ‘Oh, hello, Jude. Booking your follow-up lesson, are you?’
‘Not right now, actually. I was wondering if you had a number for Tonya Grace.’
‘Thinking of setting up a game with her? Good idea. Though you’ll have to be on your toes. She’s getting very good these days. Still, with the handicap you should be OK.’ He gave the mobile number. ‘Actually, she’s coming up to the court this afternoon, after school. Rang this morning and I’d just had a cancellation of the five forty-five court, so she booked it for a lesson with Ned. But now Ned’s had to rush off for some family emergency. I’ve tried to ring Tonya to put her off, but her mobile seems to be off, so I’ll have to hang around and give her the lesson myself. Which is a bit of a bugger, because I was hoping to get home early, what with it being a Friday. Still, the hazards of being a tennis pro, eh?’
As soon as the call was over, Jude tried the mobile number George had given her. It was still switched off.
Jude looked across at Carole, her eyes sparkling. ‘Tonya’s going to be at the court at five forty-five. We can see her there.’
They got there at five thirty to find a very disgruntled George Hazlitt in the pros’ office packing up his bag.
‘Is Tonya here?’ asked Jude urgently.
‘Yes. Except now she doesn’t want her lesson. I’ve been waiting around all afternoon for her, she arrives, gets into her kit, then comes back here and asks where Ned is. I say he’s gone off for this family emergency and I’m going to stand in for him. Whereupon she bursts into tears and says she doesn’t want to have a lesson, after all. Then rushes back to the changing rooms.’ He raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Teenage girls! I’ve got a couple at home. I thought I came to work to get away from them.’
‘I think I know what might be wrong with Tonya,’ said Jude. ‘Do you mind if I go and have a word with her?’
George Hazlitt shrugged. ‘Do what you like. The door’ll lock itself when you go out. Anyway, there’ll be a doubles lot coming for the seven o’clock court.’ He picked up his bag grumpily and made for the door. ‘Have a good weekend,’ he called out in a tone that didn’t imply he was going to.
Not really aware that Carole had never been on a real tennis court before, Jude led the way down the walkway to the club room. The neighbour looked curiously at the large empty area on their left but made no comment.
Tonya Grace hadn’t got as far as the ladies’ changing room. She was crumpled on a leather sofa in front of the bare fireplace, sobbing her little heart out.
‘Tonya,’ said Jude gently, ‘I’m Jude. You may have seen me round the court.’
The girl was too distressed to make any attempt to wipe her tears. She just went on crying.
‘And this is my friend, Carole. Look, I think I know why you’re so upset.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Tonya Grace, an edge of adolescent petulance showing through her tears.
‘You wanted to see Ned, didn’t you? To try and sort things out with him.’
‘What if I did?’
‘Listen, Tonya, I know about you meeting Ned here, you know, when the court’s closed.’
‘Do you?’ The girl looked alarmed now. ‘You mustn’t tell my grandparents! My babushka thinks I’ve been having sleepovers with friends. She must never find out!’
‘Don’t worry, she won’t,’ Jude soothed. ‘Look, I want to talk about a night you and Ned were here. I think it was probably the last time. It was the night Reggie Playfair died.’
Again alarm showed through the girl’s tears. ‘What do you know about it?’
‘I know that you didn’t do anything wrong, Tonya. But I know you saw things that upset you.’
‘How do you know this? You weren’t here too, were you?’
‘No. I wasn’t here. Ned Jackson said you didn’t come here that night.’
‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? He’d say any lie that got him off the hook. Like today — this “family emergency”. I bet he didn’t have any family emergency until George said I’d booked a lesson with him.’
Sensing that a new tsunami of tears threatened, Jude said quickly, ‘Tell me exactly what happened that night. You’ll feel better if you do.’
Tonya Grace looked doubtful, unwilling to share her secrets with strangers.
Carole, who had so far not spoken, said, ‘You didn’t mind tellin
g Marina Gretchenko about it, did you?’
Bewilderment flooded the girl’s face. But the fact that this woman she’d never seen before knew her friend seemed to reassure her, to make her feel she could get the burden of painful recollection off her chest.
‘Ned fixed up that we should meet that night. The usual time, the usual place, it was getting to be a habit. I didn’t like it. I kept asking why we couldn’t go out like normal couples, you know, down the pub, see a movie, have a meal. But he said he’d got this ex-girlfriend who was very jealous. And it was all over between them, but they still both lived in this flat which they were having trouble selling. You know, it really was all over, they had separate rooms and that, but. . So I agreed to meet him here.’
‘How do you normally travel here?’ asked Jude.
‘I get the train from Brighton to Clincham. I’ve got a friend there whose parents let me leave my bike in their garden. So I cycle the last bit.’
‘All right, that night. .’
‘Well, it was like usual. Ned would bring a bottle of wine. We’d have a couple of glasses and then. . well. .’
‘You had sex.’
The girl nodded, embarrassed. ‘And then Ned had to go. He always had to go. He never stayed. And that made me feel miserable. It had started to rain outside and that made me feel even more miserable. I was going to sleep over with my friend in Clincham, but it was still going to be a nasty wet bike ride there. Anyway, Ned and I’d had this towel on the sofa. .’
‘This sofa?’
‘Yes. And I wrapped the towel round me and sort of sat on the floor. . and I was very miserable.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I knew what I was doing with Ned wasn’t right. ’Cause I really loved him, but I knew for him it was just sex. So I cried a bit and I finished up the wine that was left in the bottle and. . then I must’ve gone to sleep. Next thing I know there’s this woman here in the club room.’
‘What time would that have been?’
‘I don’t know. It was still dark outside. Anyway, she hadn’t seen me, because I was lying on the floor in front of the sofa and I sort of froze. And my only thought was that I must get out of the place as soon as I could.’
‘Which would have meant going up along the side of the court?’ asked Carole. ‘The way we came in?’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Tonya Grace. ‘The latch on that window over there’s loose. You can get out into the Lockleigh House gardens that way. But obviously I couldn’t move till the woman had gone. So I’m lying there, trying not to breathe — or not to make any noise breathing — and I can hear this woman and it sounds like she’s changing into a dress or something. . not in the changing rooms, right here in the club room. .
‘Then I hear a car approaching and, like, parking by the court, you know, where people park when they’re coming to play here. The woman must have heard it too, because — it’s really scary — because she starts giggling, and her giggles sound sort of, like, hysterical. And then she actually talks. I’m sure there’s nobody else there, but she says, like, to herself, “If he’s so desperate to see Agnes Wardock, then Agnes Wardock he will see.” And she giggles again, and it’s really horrible, like, you know, she’s really lost it, like she’s mad.’
‘Did she say anything else?’ asked Carole.
‘Yes. After she’s stopped giggling, she says, “It’s the idea of a mad woman, but I like mad women’s ideas”, which is like saying she was mad. And she giggles again.
‘Anyway, then the woman goes off into the court. And I thought maybe she was going outside, which would have meant if I waited a bit I could have got out the normal way, because going through the window you end up in a bed of shrubs which aren’t very nice if it’s been raining.
‘So I went and looked out at the court through the crack in the door. The only light was coming from the club room, so I couldn’t see much. And then I saw the beam of a torch coming from the main entrance. And whoever was holding the torch went on to the court, and he stood there, pointing the beam of his torch all around, up at the roof of the court at first. I couldn’t think why he was doing that.’
Carole and Jude knew why. Agnes Wardock had hanged herself from one of the high walkways up there.
‘Then he brought the torch beam down and ran it along the galleries, starting at the hazard end with the winning gallery. And just as the beam was getting close to the dedans, I saw the woman step forward there. She was wearing a white dress and she had this long blonde hair. And when the torch beam reached her, suddenly there was this horrible noise from the man who was holding it. A sort of gasping, which I keep hearing. I wake up in the night and I’ve been hearing it in a dream, and it’s horrible. Then there’s a thump as the man falls on the court and the torch goes flying away. And I hear the voice of the woman say, “Surprise, surprise!” And then she gets hysterical and I can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying.’
‘So what did you do?’ asked Carole.
‘I got the hell out of the window in the club room as fast as I could. I grabbed my bike and rushed to the little gate out on to the road. But then, just as I was leaving, I looked back up at Lockleigh House. And there was a light at the window in the front, and there was an old man looking at me.’
Again Tonya Grace started to weep, big, ungainly tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘He saw me! He knew that I’d been there!’
THIRTY-THREE
Carole offered to take the traumatized girl back to Brighton, but Tonya said it was all right, she’d cycle to Clincham and get the train from there. The girl was embarrassed now at having spilled out so much emotion to two virtual strangers.
‘You say you mentioned what you’d seen on the court that night to Marina Gretchenko?’ said Carole.
‘Yes, but she wasn’t very interested. Busy with all those children, and I think Vladimir was there when I rang.’ The way she mentioned his name showed that she was aware of the domestic violence in the Gretchenko household.
‘Did you tell anyone else?’ asked Carole. ‘About what you saw on the court?’
‘No. Oh well, yes. Just one person.’
‘And who was that?’
‘There’s this lady who plays tennis here — or at least she used to — and she’s been very kind to me since I joined the club and-’
‘Felicity Budgen,’ Jude surmised.
‘Yes.’ Tonya was too emotionally drained to wonder how Jude knew that. ‘Anyway, I did tell her about what happened, you know, me being here that night.’
‘How did she react?’
‘Oh. Well. She’s a very kind woman, Felicity. She didn’t bawl me out about being with Ned. She said she’d never breathe a word to her husband about it. . though she might talk to George Hazlitt and get him to have a quiet word with Ned.’
Maybe it was that ‘quiet word’ Jude had overheard in Oenone Playfair’s conservatory. ‘When did you have this conversation with Felicity, Tonya?’
‘Oh, just this afternoon, before I left to come over here.’
‘And did you tell her you were coming here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And,’ asked Carole, ‘did you tell her about everything you’d witnessed on the court that night?’
‘Yes, I did. Felicity’s the only person I can really talk to. My babushka’s always too busy looking after my grandfather and Marina’s caught up in her own problems. Felicity’s always been a good listener.’
Carole and Jude were both wondering how the chairman’s wife would have reacted to what she had listened to from Tonya that afternoon. That depended, really, on how much of it she already knew.
‘And you told Felicity about the man in the window at Lockleigh House?’
‘Yes, I did.’
Both Carole and Jude were kicking themselves for not having thought of Cecil Wardock earlier. Tom Ruthven had described him as ‘the eyes and ears of Lockleigh House’. Insomniac, sitting at his window rereading the books that he had published, he cou
ld easily have witnessed all the comings and goings through the little gate on the night in question. Cecil Wardock could well be the perfect witness. Why on earth hadn’t they thought to question him before?
‘Well, we’re on the spot,’ Carole concluded. ‘We must go and see him. No time like the present.’ She rose from the sofa, then looked down to see why Jude wasn’t doing the same.
‘What’s up?
‘There’s a call I have to make,’ said Jude miserably.
‘Ah.’ Carole knew who it would be to. ‘Shall I wait here for you?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
The bit of the pros’ office with the computers and phones in it was locked, but there was a kind of anteroom whose door was always open. On its walls were lists of match results, members’ handicaps and so on. From wooden pegs hung hire rackets and others that the pros had just restrung or repaired. There was also a glass-fronted cabinet, displaying new rackets and a variety of kit items marked with the distinctive Lockleigh House tennis court insignia. Crossed rackets underneath a fish.
It was from the relative security of this room, with its door closed, that Jude rang Piers.
‘Hello, light of my life,’ he answered cheerily. ‘I’m missing you like mad. When are we going to meet?’
‘Piers,’ said Jude evenly. ‘I’ve found out more about what happened at the court the night Reggie Playfair died.’
‘Oh.’
‘Including the fact that you were having an ongoing affair with Felicity Budgen.’
To give him his due, he didn’t come back with blustering denials. He just said, in a dull voice, ‘I was going to tell you about that, in time. About Felicity. And you have to believe me — that’s over.’
How many men over the years, thought Jude, have used that line to a new lover about a previous one. But at that moment she did actually believe Piers.
She heard the main entrance to the court click open, then the sound of footsteps walking softly down past the court towards the club room. Presumably one of the doubles players for the seven o’clock court.