Jill stroked the dog, her eyes as sad as the collie’s. She would have recognized Holly as Brody’s; she must have guessed what had happened.
The boys had been ready for bed when he’d arrived, but another hour passed while they tried to coax Holly to have some food. The dog merely lay down, her head on her paws, not interested in food or anything else.
‘She’ll feel better tomorrow,’ Jill told Harry and Ben, ‘which is more than you two will if you don’t get off to bed. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be awake to see Holly.’
They argued, but they went. Eventually. Fly followed; the dog usually slept at the foot of Ben’s bed.
‘Do you fancy a drink, Jill?’ Max asked when they were alone.
‘Please. A small Scotch with lots of water.’
He was pleasantly surprised; usually, she went straight upstairs to Kate’s flat. During the short time she’d been staying there, Max had hardly seen her.
She sat on the floor with her drink in her hand. ‘What’s happened then?’ she asked. “I assume Jim Brody’s been arrested for Jonathan Trueman’s murder?’
He told her of the conversation he’d had with Margaret Green, and the subsequent conversation he’d had with Jim Brody.
‘It seems that Alice’s father was a bully,’ he remarked grimly. ‘Funnily enough, he didn’t mind her dancing.’
‘No, it’ll be a Daddy’s little girl thing,’ Jill said. ‘He’ll have imagined her dancing for him alone.’
‘He didn’t want her falling in love with another man, though. He ended her relationship with Brody as soon as he found out about it. Then, when he discovered she was having Brody’s child, he whipped her off to a clinic for an abortion.’
‘Poor Alice. And had they been seeing each other ever since?’
‘No. Her father decided she ought to marry Jonathan Trueman and she went along with it. He must have been one hell of a forceful bloke. Or she was very weak. Anyway, she was happy enough, or at least content with her lot, I gather. Trueman was a good husband, and she tried to be content with that. And of course, Michael was her life. Brody says he pursued her. He spent all his time trying to track her down. He did - just before the True mans moved here. When that happened, he followed. No one in the village knew about their early relationship, not even Jonathan Trueman.’
‘And they fell in love all over again?’
“I don’t think they ever fell out of love,’ Max murmured.
‘They both decided enough was enough, and they wanted to live together. Brody wanted her to disappear without telling Trueman where she was going, but even he knew that wouldn’t work. There was Michael for one thing. Alice insisted on telling Trueman the truth. She was frightened of his reaction. Terrified, according to Brody. He wanted to be with her when she told him, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted to do the right thing.’
‘And Jonathan killed her?’
‘Yes. She’d told him she was leaving the night before, and she rang Brody the following day, saying that his reaction had been much as expected - a cold anger. His anger had frightened her. Anyway, it seems that Jonathan Trueman came home early the next afternoon, when Alice was in the bath, and went for her with a knife. She managed to get down the stairs and ‘
‘The poor woman.’
‘If Trueman couldn’t have her, no one else was going to.
Brody had heard Molly say that Liz Hutchinson left a key outside for her. Brody knew Hutchinson had guns, and getting into that cabinet was easy enough. The key was on a hook in the kitchen.’ Max let out his breath on a long sigh. ‘He killed him quite calmly by all accounts. There’s no remorse whatsoever. I think,’ he added, ‘that if it hadn’t been for Holly, he’d have handed himself in at the start.’
‘God, poor Alice. What a sad life. And poor Michael.’
Yes, it was Michael Max felt sorry for. Divorce was common enough these days and Michael would have coped with being part of a blended family, or whatever fancy term they used these days. He would have been happy with Alice and Jim, or with Jonathan. Instead, the poor kid had lost both parents.
‘Do you think Holly will settle?’ Jill asked. ‘And if she does, will you keep her?’
“I hope she settles, but I don’t know. Brody’s been a bit of a loner, and the dog has spent almost every minute of her life with the man. I’ll keep her if she’ll stay. I just hope she doesn’t starve herself to death in the meantime.’
‘What a damn fool, Jim Brody I mean. Killing Jonathan Trueman wouldn’t bring back his Alice. All it’s done is deprive Michael, the boy who’d meant so much to Alice, of his father.’
“I know,’ Max replied, ‘but I can understand it - his anger and perhaps his need for revenge, too.’
Jill sighed. ‘Yes. So can I.’
They fell silent, both watching Holly. The dog was lying with her head on her paws - waiting. Waiting for a command from her master, waiting to feel his gentle hand on her head, waiting to please him, waiting for normality to resume. It was a depressing sight.
Yet such unconditional love from a dumb animal was moving.
‘You and Grace?’ Jill asked suddenly.
Max waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming.
‘What about me and Grace?’
‘Are you friends outside work?’
‘We’re friends, yes.’ Max considered the question. ‘If you’re asking if we’ve slept together, or are likely to sleep together, then the answer’s no. God, Jill, you’re the psychologist.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning Grace is years younger than me, goes clubbing at every opportunity and insists on listening to Radio One.
We’re miles apart.’
‘Oh.’
‘Added to which, she got engaged to the man of her dreams last month.’
“I didn’t know that.’
‘She’s been shouting it from the rooftops for a month.’
Grace was a good officer, and Max liked having her on his team, but anything else had never crossed his mind.
What a strange question.
A disheartening question, too. Why couldn’t she see how much he loved her?
But he knew the answer to that. He’d spent the night with another woman.
Looking back, he found that hard to believe himself.
Sharon had meant nothing to him. He’d barely known the damn woman. She’d been ten years younger than him, she’d had a great body with legs up to her armpits - and that had been it. He’d been flattered when she’d made it clear she was interested in him. He’d imagined a night with her would make him forget his problems. All it had done was make him long for Jill, the Jill he’d had before Valentine had screwed them up, before Rodney Hill committed suicide, before the fighting and the nightmares …
‘Do you want another?’ he asked. He was tempted to drink himself to oblivion.
“I don’t. And you’ll be out of a job if you don’t stop drinking, Max.’
“I don’t drink much. Really, I don’t,’ he insisted at her raised eyebrows. “I have a Scotch, maybe two, when I get home at night. That’s nothing.’
‘When’s your next assessment due?’
‘In about nine months’ time,’ he replied, ‘and before you ask, the last one was fine. I’m perfectly fit and, despite living in this madhouse, mentally stable. An ideal man for the job.’
‘That’s good then,’ she said in her “I can’t be bothered to argue’ voice.
She walked over to Holly, who was still lying with her head on her paws. A car drove past and she pricked up her ears, but she soon flattened them again.
‘In the morning,’ Jill whispered, stroking those flattened ears, ‘I’ll cook sausages and bacon. We’ll see if that tempts you, eh? If not, I’ll go out at lunchtime and buy you a good, thick steak.’
Max had thought she was determined to return to her cottage tomorrow. He wouldn’t raise the issue, though.
The longer she stayed here, the better he liked it - for a variety of reasons.
Jill had walked down to The Weaver’s Retreat, but now, faced with the prospect of going back to the cottage alone, she was wishing she hadn’t.
A group of them had been sitting at a large table by the fire for an hour. Tony and Liz Hutchinson were managing to be pleasant to everyone else and to one another, although Liz was knocking back the vodka and Jill guessed that would cause problems before too long. Andy Collins was there; he’d had a fair amount to drink, too. Bob Murphy was nursing the same pint he’d bought shortly after Jill arrived. While Andy was talking a lot, Bob seemed happier to listen.
They were a genial bunch, and there was a lot of laughter around the table.
Perhaps Tony and Liz would get a taxi. Liz wouldn’t be able to walk far in her heels, and her coat was more fashionable than windproof. If that were the case, perhaps Jill could share a taxi and invite them inside for a drink.
Tony was sure to be easily persuaded. The prospect relaxed her slightly.
The cottage was under surveillance, yet she knew it couldn’t be watched every second of every hour.
Talk, unsurprisingly, soon returned to Jim Brody.
‘You couldn’t meet a nicer chap,’ Andy said for at least the tenth time.
‘For a thief and a murderer,’ Tony said, grinning. He sobered immediately. ‘Sorry, bad taste. I’m a bit annoyed with him because he stole my gun and got me into all sorts of trouble with the police. But yes, Jim always seemed a good enough sort.’ He looked at Bob. ‘You built that extension of his, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, and he was a pleasure to work for. He didn’t mess you about like some do. They’ll tell you what they want doing, and then change their mind fifty times mid-job. Jim left me alone to get on with it. He knew his own mind, did Jim. And he was a good payer.’
‘Molly Turnbull says she always suspected him and Alice of having an affair,’ Liz put in, ‘but I think she’s talking with the benefit of hindsight. I can’t imagine Molly keeping something like that to herself. And why did none of us know about it?’
‘Even Olive Prendergast didn’t know,’ Tony said, chuckling.
‘What gets me/ Bob said, ‘is that we all sat and listened to Jon’s sermons. I can’t believe he could stand in his pulpit one day and kill his wife the next.’
‘That’s what I can’t believe,’ Liz agreed. ‘Vicars, doctors - they simply aren’t killers.’
‘It just proves that anyone can kill if provoked,’ Bob said.
‘Do you think so?’ Jill asked curiously.
‘Well, yes, I reckon.’ He didn’t seem so sure now.
An icy draught hit them as the door opened, and Jill was amazed to see Don Cornwall walk up to the bar and order a glass of orange juice.
‘Don!’ She got to her feet, albeit reluctantly. What the devil was he doing here? ‘Come and join us.’
He put up his hand in acknowledgement.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she said to the others. ‘Don’s a policeman. I’ve been doing some work with him lately.’
‘The more the merrier,’ Liz said. ‘Besides,’ she added to Jill in a stage whisper, ‘he’s got a really cute bum.’
Jill spluttered with laughter. “I can’t say I’ve noticed.’
Yet she had noticed how Cornwall cared about his appearance, and she’d noticed a few females give him admiring glances. And yes, the suits he wore did show off a good body.
‘The very chap,’ Tony told Don Cornwall as soon as everyone had been introduced. ‘We’re a bit divided here.
Doctors, vicars, and the like - we don’t believe they’re killers. Bob, here, thinks anyone could kill if provoked.
What do you think?’
‘Are you a detective?’ Liz asked before he had a chance to reply.
“I am, yes.’
‘So do you think anyone could be a killer?’ Tony persisted.
“I suppose so, yes,’ Cornwall said, having considered the matter. ‘Any idiot could poison someone. It’s easy enough to fix the brakes on a person’s car, too. And so long as you’re not squeamish, you could shoot someone. Any fool can pull a trigger.’
‘That’s just the mechanics, though/ Tony pointed out.
‘What about mentally? Do you think anyone is capable of taking someone else’s life?’
‘Probably. Yes,’ Cornwall said. ‘Most wouldn’t have the brains to get away with it, though.’
‘Getting away with it is a different matter altogether,’
Bob said. ‘Few get away with it. Jim Brody didn’t.’
‘It’s not just reading a police procedural and learning about forensics/ Cornwall went on, ‘it’s having the intelligence to think things through carefully, to act methodically, and put that knowledge into practice.’
‘God, what creepy talk,’ Liz said, pulling a face. ‘Let’s talk about something more cheerful or we’ll all be having nightmares. Let’s have another drink, Tony’
Jill couldn’t have agreed more.
‘What are you doing out here anyway, Don?’ she asked curiously.
“I was passing through,’ he replied, cagily Jill thought, ‘and thought I’d stop for a drink.’
What did that mean? There was no need for him to be in Kelton Bridge at all.
She knew she was bordering on paranoia now but, in the morning, she was going to have a good look at Cornwall’s police assessment record. He couldn’t - No, she’d had too much to drink and her imagination had gone into overdrive.
Don Cornwall was a lot of things, but he couldn’t be a killer.
She knew very little about him. He wasn’t married, he’d lived in Newcastle-upon-Tyne for years but had applied for a transfer. When Jill had asked how he knew the area, he’d said, “I used to have family round here.’ She hadn’t pressed the matter, and he hadn’t elucidated. He had a strange admiration for murderers who could get the better of the police. And, of course, he also had inside knowledge of forensic procedures.
But, no. Cornwall couldn’t have killed Anne Levington and the others. He couldn’t have put those red roses on her kitchen table.
‘So what’s the perfect murder weapon, Don?’ Tony mused. ‘Poison? A bath of acid?’
‘You’ll have to leave me out of this debate/ Bob said, laughing. ‘Some of us have an early start in the morning.’
“Me, too,’ Jill said with undue haste. “I don’t suppose I can beg a lift, can I, Bob?’
‘Of course,’ he replied immediately, ‘so long as you don’t mind the van. It’s filthy.’
Jill didn’t mind at all, and it wasn’t as dirty as she’d feared. It also meant she could ask Bob to hang around while she went inside her cottage for the set of drawings she wanted to give him.