Cold Coffin (14 page)

“Sorry, it’s got to be today. We’ve already had a firm offer, and the owner wants a quick sale as he’s been posted abroad at short notice. I do urge you to view this house, Mrs. Maddox, because I’m certain you’d want to snap it up. You only have to top this offer by a small amount, and it’s yours.”

Kate sighed. Much as she longed to find a place of her own, she could do without this sort of pressure right now. It wasn’t just the time needed to view the property, but all the hassle of dealing with the paperwork that would follow a successful offer. She’d never forgive herself, though, if she let the place go by default; she’d kick herself every time she drove past it.

“All right,” she agreed grudgingly, “I’ll be out there today.” Ridiculously, she almost hoped that the house would prove unsuitable, so as to be a problem off her mind.

“What time shall I tell the vendors to expect you?” he pressed, after giving her the address.

“What time? Oh, I really don’t know at the moment. It’s just a matter of when I can get away.”

“Shall we say some time before three-thirty? After that, I can’t promise the property won’t be gone.”

“All right, then, before three-thirty,” she said, and put down the phone.

Driving to the Kimberley house, Kate’s mind tussled with the problem of how to fit in the house viewing. Even without that, she still had an overloaded schedule. Normally on Saturdays, when she wasn’t engaged on a major case, she and her aunt dropped in at the Wagon and Horses in Chipping Bassett for a pub lunch—and sometimes Richard Gower joined them. She’d already warned Felix that their pleasant little ritual was out of the question today, but now it looked as if she’d be lucky even to find time to gobble down a sandwich at her desk.

The Aidan Kimberleys, as Kate had hoped, were also there. All four present were standing around sipping a pre-lunch aperitif when Kate was shown into the drawing room.

“Please join us in a drink,” Lady Kimberley invited. “What will you have, Mrs. Maddox? Sherry? Gin and something? Whisky?”

“A dry sherry, thank you.”

“Gerald, my dear, would you be so kind?” she asked Lord Balmayne, with a regal wave of the hand. She turned to introduce her late husband’s nephew and his wife.

Aidan Kimberley was a tall, impressive man; a man, Kate guessed, who was accustomed to dominate. His dark hair, greying about his ears, was loosely wavy, his forehead high, his slatey grey eyes intelligent and penetrating. He was wearing lightweight slacks and a tailored short-sleeve shirt. Consciously dressed for summertime in the country.

Paula Kimberley looked the sort of woman a wealthy, successful man would expect his wife to be. In her twenties, she’d probably been outstandingly attractive, and now in her early forties she wasn’t making a bad job of keeping her looks. She had a long, oval face that was framed by a mass of golden blond hair, and huge almond-shaped eyes. Tallish and slender, she wore a white pleated skirt and peach-coloured silk-knit sweater with considerable elegance. At the moment, though, suffering from the aftermath of flu, she looked pale and drawn, ill-at-ease.

As she shook hands with Kate, her softly mellow voice was laced with self-reproach. “Oh, Chief Inspector, I feel so dreadfully guilty that I wasn’t here with poor dear Vanessa when she most needed me. Of course, at the time—last Saturday—I had no conception that Noah was dead. I thought ... I imagined that he was just delayed somewhere.”

Her husband laid a hand on her forearm. “There, there, darling, you mustn’t blame yourself. Vanessa understands.” Yet despite the gentleness of his words, there was a hardness in his tone. Kate sensed anger between them.

“Yes, of course I understand,” Lady Kimberley concurred, though somewhat unconvincingly.

Kate said, “I gather, Mrs. Kimberley, that you went back to London on Sunday so as to be there when your husband returned from the Far East?”

“Yes, I wanted to make sure our apartment was ready. But of course, Vanessa’s needs would have come first. Aidan would have
wanted
me to put her first, if only I’d realized it was really serious.”

Her husband was frowning, Kate noted, as if he thought all this self-reproach was a bit overdone. Lady Kimberley, too, was looking thoroughly impatient with it.

“Do let us all sit down,” she said, with an inviting sweep of her hand.

Kate avoided taking a seat in one of the deep sofas. Instead, she chose a higher, tapestry-covered armchair from which she could more easily stay in command of the situation.

“I have various questions to put to you all,” she said, after sipping the sherry Lord Balmayne handed her. “Can I take it that you are happy to speak in one another’s presence and don’t wish to be interviewed separately?”

Head shaking and low murmurs of assent indicated that no one had any objection.

Setting her glass down on a small table, Kate took her notebook from her shoulderbag and became briskly professional. “First of all, I need to establish the whereabouts of each one of you at certain specific times. Most importantly, on the evening of yesterday week, and the evening of Wednesday last.”

She had expected a barrage of horrified protest. Instead, they all seemed shocked into silence. Then Aidan Kimberley said quietly, “I’m sure you understand, Chief Inspector, that it’s somewhat dismaying to be faced with the need to prove one’s innocence in these appalling circumstances. But I for one do accept that the police are obliged to ask these questions. Let me see, last Friday I was still, of course, in Hong Kong ... a fact you can easily verify. On Wednesday of this week I was in London with my wife. We spent the evening at our apartment in Sloane Street.”

“Did you have any visitors?”

“Er ... no, though we do very often have people in for drinks or dinner. But Paula was still feeling groggy from her bout of flu, the poor love.”

“I see. Is there anyone who can confirm this?”

“My wife can,” he said sharply.

“I meant, anyone else?”

“How could there be? I told you, we spent the evening alone.”

“Did you make or receive any phone calls, for example?”

He looked annoyed. “I really can’t be expected to remember. Very possibly. I spend a lot of time on the phone.”

“You telephoned me, Aidan, if you remember,” Lady Kimberley interjected.

He considered a moment. “Yes, of course I did. What time would that have been, Vanessa? Somewhere between nine and ten, wasn’t it?”

“It was just after ten you phoned that night, I seem to recall.”

“And that was the only phone call you made or received?” Kate persisted.

“The only one I can recall just now. If anything further occurs to me, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do. By the way, just for me to be quite clear, when was it exactly that you arrived home from Hong Kong last Monday?”

“My plane was dreadfully late getting in,” he said critically. “We didn’t land at Heathrow until thirteen hundred hours. I took a taxi, and reached the flat just before three o’clock.”

“And you telephoned Lady Kimberley at once, when your wife told you the news about Sir Noah’s disappearance?”

“Naturally I did. I was most distressed.”

Lord Balmayne cleared his throat with a sharp hrrmph. It was an effective way of commanding attention. “Pity you didn’t get in touch with me at the same time, Aidan.”

Kimberley turned to look at him in pained protest. “You move around
so much, Gerald, one never knows where to find you.”

“Any one of my staff could have told you where I was.”

When the little spat had subsided, Kate resumed her questioning. “Mr.
Kimberley, how well did you know Dr. Gavin Trent?”

“How well? I’d met him once or twice, at this house, but beyond that I
didn’t know the chap at all.”

Kate raised her eyebrows. “Even though he was your uncle’s deputy at
Croptech? I understand that you have a half share in the firm.”

“That’s true, but I’ve never had any hand in the running of things
there. I always left all that to my uncle. Though now, of course ...” His
sentence was left hanging.

“I was hoping, you see, that you might be able to suggest a reason why
somebody should have wanted Dr. Trent out of the way.”

The puzzlement on his face darkened to anger. “I thought you were
here to discuss the tragic death of my uncle, Chief Inspector.”

“The two deaths, I believe, are closely linked.”

A strangled gasp came from Lady Kimberley. But she said nothing, just
sat staring at Kate with horrified eyes. It was Lord Balmayne who spoke.

“Have you any foundation for that theory, Chief Inspector?”

“It would be too great a coincidence, sir, if it were not so.”

“But you have nothing to link the two deaths beyond the mere fact of
coincidence?”

“Not at the moment, no.” She returned her gaze to the other man.
“Well, Mr. Kimberley, can you think of any possible explanation for Dr.
Trent’s murder?”

“Absolutely none. How could I know anything?”

“And you, Lord Balmayne?”

“Good heavens, no. As far as I know I never even met the fellow.”

Kate turned to Mrs. Kimberley. “Now perhaps I could have details of
where
you
were.”

The question was greeted with a look of shock and sheer amazement.
“My husband has already told you that we were at home alone.”

“Not Wednesday. I was referring to last Friday.”

“Last Friday? Well, I was here—at our cottage, I mean. You know
that.”

“You didn’t go out at all?”

“No, I didn’t.” Paula Kimberley seemed to think this required an expla
nation. “I was doing some of my packing, you see, ready to return to
London. I’d spent most of the month Aidan was in Hong Kong here, so I
had a fair bit of stuff with me. Besides, although I didn’t realize it then, I
was already sickening with flu. I was in no mood for seeing other people.”

“I understand. Can you remember any phone calls?”

She began to shake her head, but her husband intervened. “I phoned you, darling, from Hong Kong, to confirm my travel arrangements.”

“Oh yes, of course you did.”

“What time would this have been, Mrs. Kimberley?”

She looked vague, and her husband helped her out once more. “It was
first thing Saturday morning Hong Kong time, about 7
A
.
M
.
That would
make it about 11
P
.
M
. British time. I wanted to catch Paula before she
went to bed.”

His wife’s face cleared. “Yes, that’s right, Aidan. Just a few minutes
after eleven. I remember now. I was watching ‘Newsnight’ when you
phoned.”

Kate scribbled down a note. “I take it that you also had met Dr. Trent,
Mrs. Kimberley?”

“Why, er ... yes. On the same occasions as my husband did. And I saw him once or twice in the village and so on. Just to say hallo to.”

“Do you know the Tillingtons at all?”

“We went there to dinner once,” said her husband. “They’re too pompously formal for my taste. We never returned the invitation.”

“But you know them quite well, Paula, don’t you?” put in Lady Kimberley. “I recall running into you and Marjorie Tillington having lunch together in Marlingford. I rather gathered that you saw a fair bit of each other.”

Paula frowned at her. “We have a few things in common, that’s all. She’s interested in interior design, too.”

“You’d never think so,” said Kimberley with a scornful laugh, “to judge from that ghastly house of theirs.”

“That’s all her husband’s choice, darling. The judge is a lot older than
she is, don’t forget, and he’s a man of very fixed ideas. But I only know Marjorie Tillington slightly. She’s not what I’d call a
friend
of mine.”

“I seem to remember you brought her to polo at Dodford once,” Lady
Kimberley remarked.

Paula stared at her blankly, as if trying to recall the occasion. “Oh yes, that’s right. I’d happened to mention that Aidan was playing on the
Saturday and Marjorie said that she’d never seen a polo match, so I in
vited her along.”

Kate said, “You weren’t at Dodford last Saturday, I believe? Do you not
bother to go when your husband isn’t playing?”

“Well, I suppose I do go to polo usually. But as I said, I was busy
packing last Saturday, and I wasn’t feeling very bright.” She gave an
apologetic laugh. “I still don’t feel up to much, I’m afraid. Sorry if I don’t
seem very with it.”

“I hope you’ll soon feel better.” Kate addressed Lord Balmayne. “Now
you, sir, if you don’t mind. Those two evenings ...”

He said with stiff courtesy, “I was in London last Friday, Chief Inspec
tor, for my gala.”

“So
...
if you could give me a detailed account of the evening, sir,
say from eight o’clock onwards.”

“Very well. As Dame Vanessa has explained to you, I believe, at the very
last moment she was most unfortunately unable to perform.”

Kate nodded. “A throat infection, she told me.”

“Yes, poor lady. I persuaded her to remain at my home in Paddington,
where she was staying overnight, while I put in an appearance at the
theatre.”

“She was left alone?”

“No, no. My man Jefferies was there. I made excuses and left the
theatre at the interval so I was home by soon after nine, because I felt
concerned about her. We spent the remainder of the evening quietly
together, listening to music. Dame Vanessa retired to
bed a little before eleven-thirty, I think it was, and I did so myself shortly afterwards.”

“All of which, presumably, your manservant will be able to confirm?”