by Leo McNeir
“You probably know why we’re here, Mrs Walker.”
“About what happened yesterday, no doubt, though I am a little surprised to see a senior officer like yourself, Mr Bartlett.”
“I think the reason for that will become clear very soon. And before I go on I’d like to say how sorry I am that you had such an unpleasant experience. Do you feel up to talking to us today?”
Alarm bells were ringing in Marnie’s head. This kindly approach from Bartlett was worrying. “I feel much better, thank you.”
“Then I’d like to ask you a few questions about the … incident.”
Marnie nodded. “Fine, though I can’t say I’m much good as a witness.”
“It seems the person who died had some connection with you, Mrs Walker. Is that correct?”
“You haven’t yet told me the name of the person who died.”
“You don’t know?”
“I have an idea, but everything was so sudden and violent, and I was shocked.”
“The deceased was a Mr Ian Stuart.” Bartlett watched Marnie intensely. “I believe you knew him quite well.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Is it true?”
“Not at all. I’d had a meeting with him once, a business meeting. That’s all, apart from seeing him at the reception yesterday.”
“You wouldn’t describe your relationship with him as … close?”
“I wouldn’t say we had a relationship at all, except a business one.”
Anne brought coffee for the detectives. She looked enquiringly at Marnie who shook her head.
“How did you feel about Mr Stuart?”
“I didn’t have feelings about him. He was a business contact, that’s all. He seemed pleasant enough.”
“But you knew of his feelings about you.”
Marnie looked blank. “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”
Bartlett glanced quickly at Marriner and turned back to Marnie. “I thought women were perceptive about such things.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“His colleague, or perhaps I should call her his girlfriend, she was perceptive enough to know.”
“To know what?”
“She was jealous of you.”
Marnie could feel her face redden. “What are you talking about?”
“How did she put it, Ted?”
Marriner referred to his notebook. “She said, Mr Stuart was very attracted to Marnie Walker. I was quite annoyed about it, about how much he fancied her.”
Bartlett continued. “Are you saying you were unaware of his feelings towards you?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying.”
“Can you think of any other reason why he would’ve followed you?”
“Followed me? Look, Mr Bartlett, I really don’t understand any of this. Ian Stuart was in the car park ahead of me. He can’t have been following me. Do you see?”
“Let me spell it out for you. He saw you at the reception. He went there with a woman colleague with whom he was having a relationship. Does the name Amanda Gilbert-Reeves mean anything to you?”
Marnie nodded. “Bermuda Reach. She was on the desk there, the day of our business meeting.”
“She said he’d been delighted when he saw you at the reception yesterday. He told her to enjoy herself and left her to talk to you. That’s why she was annoyed.”
“We did talk, but only for a minute or two about his role in the Spice Quay development, nothing more.”
“When you left the event, Miss Gilbert-Reeves said Mr Stuart excused himself from her a second time and went after you. He followed you out. Did you speak with him again?”
“No. I’ve already told you. I didn’t see him again, well, at least not until … in the car park, if that was him.” Marnie shuddered, leaned forward on the desk and put her head in her hands, her head filled with flames and smoke.
“I’m sorry if this is distressing, Mrs Walker.”
Anne went quickly to the kitchen area and appeared beside Marnie seconds later to put a glass of water down beside her. Marnie took a sip. “Are you suspecting me of something, Mr Bartlett? I don’t understand what you’re driving at.”
“This was a violent and suspicious death. I don’t need to tell you how terrible it was. We’re just trying to establish what happened.”
“I’ve told you everything I know. What do you think happened? Silly question. You never tell me anything, always treat me like a suspect.”
“We’re treating you like a witness. It’s just that there seem to be inconsistencies in your account, compared with what other people say happened.”
“Tell me about it.”
Bartlett spoke to his sergeant. “Ted?”
Marriner read from his notebook. “Miss Gilbert-Reeves followed Mr Stuart after he left her the second time. She heard him ask a member of staff where Mrs Walker had parked. He was told the first level in the downstairs car park, floor one of the building.”
“But that’s not true,” Marnie said. “I went by train and taxi.”
“Marnie,” Anne interrupted quietly. “You were booked to use that car park, remember? You changed plans at the last minute.”
Marnie put a hand to her mouth. “Yes, that’s right. Whoever spoke to Ian was using an old list. I only spoke to Judith Gross about the change.”
Marriner went on. “Okay. Mr Stuart was told to take the lift to the first floor. He did so and that’s where …”
Bartlett took up the questioning. “Did he know your car, Mrs Walker?”
“I suppose he could’ve seen it at Bermuda Reach the day of our meeting. Come to think of it, I did mention I had a four-by-four at the reception yesterday.”
“In his hearing?”
“I’m not sure. I was talking to the chairman, Clive Adamson. Several other people were there.”
“Is that significant?” Bartlett asked.
“He might’ve heard me say it.”
“I meant is it significant that you said you had a four-by-four?”
“The car on fire was that sort of vehicle.” Marnie suddenly grasped the inference. “Oh, my God. You think the burning car was meant to be mine. You think that would explain why Ian Stuart was there, looking for me.”
“It could explain all sorts of things, Mrs Walker. It doesn’t explain why he was there ahead of you. It doesn’t explain what you were doing on the first floor at that time, since you hadn’t travelled by car. And it also doesn’t explain why you were in the car park at all.”
Marnie reflected. “I can explain that.”
“Please do.”
“If you must know, I went to the loo on my way out of the building. Judith Gross told me there was a Ladies on the first floor. While there I found I had a ladder in my tights and I repaired it with nail varnish. When I came out, the fire alarm was ringing. Knowing I couldn’t use the lifts, I took the nearest exit door and found myself in the car park.”
Marriner was writing rapid notes.
“Do you have the tights?” said Bartlett.
“They’re in the waste bin in the bathroom on Thyrsis.”
“I’d like to see them.”
“I can go and fetch them,” Anne offered.
Bartlett shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ll go.”
Marnie led the way through the spinney towards Thyrsis. “I hope this will help tie up the loose ends, Mr Bartlett.”
“No doubt. But we’ve still got plenty more of those.”
“Concerning me?”
“Not really. But we don’t yet know why Mr Stuart was in the vicinity of a car of a similar type to yours. We don’t yet know how it caught fire so suddenly. And we don’t know who caused it to ignite.”
They walked on. DS Marriner broke the silence. “I remember my mother used to do that, repair her stockings with nail varnish.”
Marnie smiled at him. “I learnt the trick from mine. Will you want the tights as evidence?”
Bart
lett replied, “That won’t be necessary.”
“I suppose that’s a good sign. It shows you can’t be suspecting me of anything, or can you?”
“Not at all. Though it is strange how you keep turning up when there’s trouble about.”
Ralph had joined the group when they went on board Thyrsis and now, with the damaged tights back in the waste bin, he and Marnie escorted the detectives to the courtyard. Watching the unmarked police car drive up the field track, Marnie rested her head against Ralph’s shoulder.
“So that’s that. Thank goodness their questioning’s over and I can forget about it.”
“Mm.” Ralph seemed lost in thought.
Marnie looked up into his face. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think it’s over?”
“I think there are other questions that haven’t been answered, or even asked.”
“Such as?”
“Why was Stuart really following you?”
“Because he wanted to … talk to me?”
“In a car park? We only have the account of the Gilbert-Reeves woman that he was attracted to you. I ask myself what I would’ve done in his place. I see a very attractive woman at a party and I decide I want to talk to her. Would I chase after her like that? No. I’d phone her the next day if I had her number – which he did – and try to arrange a drink together or perhaps lunch.”
“Yes. That would be more his style, too. So why was he following me?”
“There is one answer that you wouldn’t want to contemplate.”
“That he wanted to do me harm? Why would he?”
“He was on your list of possible suspects. Perhaps he had a more sinister idea in mind.”
Marnie gasped. “To kill me?”
Ralph shrugged. “Being brutally honest, it’s got to be a possible answer.”
“But he was the one that got killed.”
“Messing about with fuel tanks must be a volatile business. Perhaps there was a blow-back or something. There was certainly a fire, and it wasn’t spontaneous combustion.”
Behind them in the office a phone began ringing. A few moments after it stopped, they saw Anne in the doorway.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
Marnie’s first action on hearing the news was to phone Charles Taverner.
“I’ve just had a call from the boatyard. It seems they had a burglary last night. Someone broke into a few of the boats, stole some equipment. We were lucky. Perfidia was tied up near the office. The boatyard says we can collect her. Whoever got in, they knew where the CCTV camera was located and kept clear.”
“I don’t suppose the police can do anything about it.” Charles sounded indignant.
“They responded to the alarm.”
“That’s better than nothing, I suppose. I’m assuming whoever did it got away.”
“Yes.”
“Which reminds me, Marnie, did you get hold of information about alarm systems for the house?”
“I did. Brochures have arrived from several companies. We can go through them next time I see you.”
“I’ll ask Ellen to sort out a time. I should be free to come up in a few days.”
“Or I could come to see you, if you’d prefer. I have some commitments, but nothing that I couldn’t change.”
“No, you carry on as planned, Marnie. Never thought I’d have to be thinking about security in a place like Knightly St John … amazing. Nowhere’s safe these days. You’d better get quotes for trench digging and barbed wire fencing.”
The next call on the list was to Mike Brent.
“The boatyard has completed the work on Perfidia. I haven’t inspected it yet, but if everything’s okay, we can get her back to you and your purchaser.”
“That’s great. Do you want me to organise a crew to bring Perfidia down to London? I know you’re very busy.”
“That would be helpful, Mike.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll fix something up.” He paused. “How are you, Marnie, after yesterday?”
“Better than I was. Thanks for getting me out of the car park. How are you feeling?”
“I still can’t believe it happened.”
“You heard who it was at the car?”
“Ian Stuart, yes.”
“Did you know him?”
“Met him once or twice, planning meetings, you know, nice bloke, always very smart.” Mike spoke hesitantly. There was emotion in his voice.
“Mike, I don’t suppose you know why Ian was in the car park?”
“Why he was … wasn’t he just going down to collect his car to go home? Why else would he be there?”
“Of course. Look, I’ll get over to the boatyard and confirm back to you that all’s well with Perfidia.”
“Talk to you soon, Marnie.”
They closed the office for an hour at lunchtime and drove up to inspect the boat together in the Discovery with Marnie at the wheel, Ralph beside her and Anne on the back seat checking the file against the schedule of works. They arrived at the yard as the sun broke through the clouds and lit up Perfidia like the star of the show. She lay at her berth, paintwork shining, totally overshadowing the other boats clustered around her like members of the chorus.
The interior looked just as good. New fabrics and flooring combined to make her as good as the day she was first commissioned. Even with Anne poking into every cranny, the inspection lasted only twenty minutes. Marnie pronounced herself completely satisfied and arranged for the boat to be moved as soon as the ferrying crew could be mustered.
Back in the car, Ralph was incredulous. “Were you serious there, Marnie?” Ferrying crew? What was all that about?”
“Mike offered to send some people to navigate her down to London. I thought it made sense. Don’t you?”
“Well, I shan’t be here of course, but I thought you and Anne might take a couple of days off and make the journey yourselves, unless you’re too busy. I don’t see any other time you’ll get a break this summer.”
Marnie hesitated, eventually calling over her shoulder, “What do you think, Anne?”
“You can guess my answer, Marnie.”
“I suppose we could …”
“Great! And there’s another thing, you wouldn’t want some big clod-hopping blokes putting their dirty boots on our new floor, would you?”
“Since you put it that way …”
They agreed on a plan to collect Perfidia from the boatyard. Ralph was flying to Washington on Thursday morning. Marnie and Anne would set off that same afternoon to make a good start. As soon as they arrived back at the office Marnie rang Mike Brent to confirm the new arrangements. He declared it was no problem and wished them a pleasant journey. Marnie rang Charles to bring him up to date and spent the rest of the day clearing the decks in the office ready for their absence. Anne dealt with filing and correspondence, but Marnie noticed she was not scribbling a list of things to do.
“No list, Anne? You can’t be feeling well. Perhaps you’re not fit enough for the journey.”
The printer beside Anne’s desk stopped whirring and Anne pulled off the page it had produced. She waved it in triumph. “Done! I’m fully automated now. I made this list from the last time we travelled. It’s got all the things we need to take and everything that has to be done.”
Marnie shook her head wearily. A few days in the company of Anne would be just the tonic she needed.
When the phone rang later that afternoon, Marnie expected it would be her sister. No-one in the business world made phone calls just before six.
“Marnie Walker, good afternoon.”
There was something familiar about the voice, but it took her completely by surprise. “Marnie, hallo. I wasn’t sure if I’d find you in your office at this time of day. Or am I ringing your home number? This is Clive Adamson.”
“Oh, hallo. No, this is the office. I’m usually here till about seven.”
“Me too. I hope you don’t mind me calling you out of the blue like t
his.”
“Not at all. What can I do for you?”
“First, I wanted to say how sorry I was that you had such an awful experience here yesterday. Are you all right?”
“Much better, thanks.”
“Dreadful business, terrible. Poor Ian. Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to dwell on that. Marnie, I was wondering, would you like to come down for the tour of the building that you missed? Of course, I’m not expecting you to do so immediately, but perhaps next week one day?”
Her reaction was in the nature of an automatic response. “That’s nice of you. I would like to see the building if it could be arranged. My diary’s a little unclear at the moment. I’m out of the office for a few days. Should I ring Judith Gross and fix a time for her to show me round when I’ve got things sorted out?”
“Let me give you my direct number, Marnie. You can ring me any time that’s convenient, any time. I was rather looking forward to the pleasure of conducting the tour myself. I thought perhaps we might include lunch in my private dining room here?”
“That’s very kind of you.”
It had been another automatic response, and yet even as she spoke the words, Marnie began to feel a chill descend her spine. But why should she react like this? Clive Adamson was inviting her in his usual polite tone of voice, simply offering a tour of his new empire and lunch. It was all totally innocent.
Adamson continued. “Perhaps I could give you another ring next week when your situation is clearer?”
“Fine.”
But was fine the right word? After they had disconnected, Marnie sat staring at the phone. She had been discussing social matters with a man who had been a lover of Barbara Taverner, had discarded her and was possibly on the list of suspects in her murder.
47
Marnie was running several job lists on Wednesday morning: one for clients’ projects, one for renovations of the farmhouse, one for the journey down to Little Venice. Anne had gone out to take coffee to the builders, so that when the call came in, Marnie noticed it on the fourth ring and picked up the phone. For the second time in two days she heard a vaguely familiar voice that she could not at first identify.