Cold Coffin (15 page)

“If you feel it necessary to question him,” he replied, affronted.

“I believe you were also expecting to have Sir Noah as your overnight
guest, and Mrs. Byworth was due to come, too?”

“Yes, it was indeed Sir Noah’s original intention to come to London for the gala, but then he decided against it. And Dotty had to remain behind
to look after him. I knew beforehand of the change of plan.”

“From Sir Noah himself, or from Lady Kimberley?”

“Really, are these questions of any relevance? If you must know, it was
Dame Vanessa who telephoned me, on Friday morning.”

“Did she give you a reason for Sir Noah’s change of plan?”

He hesitated briefly, with a glance at Lady Kimberley. “I think you should ask Dame Vanessa herself, not a third party.”

 “I’m sorry to press you, sir, but I’d like you to answer the question, if you please.”

Again he glanced at Lady Kimberley. There seemed to be a query in his
eyes. She looked back at him mutely, a wisp of lace handkerchief pressed
to her lips.

“She didn’t go into details. She merely said that Noah had things to attend to at home so he thought he’d give the gala a miss on this occasion.”

“Was this the first time he’d missed one of his wife’s charity performances?”

He gestured vaguely. “Perhaps. I really cannot say.”

“Lady Kimberley?”

She looked startled to be addressed. “Er, yes ... Noah did miss one
other occasion. A few months ago, when I was singing for Famine Relief,
he had to go up to Scotland at the last moment.”

“But this time there was no such definite reason?”

“No, I, er ... I suppose not.”

Paula Kimberley burst out, “If only Uncle Noah
had
gone with you,
Vanessa, this dreadful thing would never have happened.”

“Oh, how I wish he had,” Lady Kimberley agreed in a piteous voice.
“How I wish that my poor darling Noah had come to London with me.”

The other three shifted uncomfortably in their seats as people do when
faced with a display of emotion. Lord Balmayne reached for Lady
Kimberley’s hand and patted it consolingly.

“This morning,” Kate announced into the momentary silence, “we found Sir Noah’s car.”

They seemed stunned, all of them. Then Aidan Kimberley asked,
“Where did you find it?”

“At an airport. In a car park there.”

“An airport? Which airport, for heaven’s sake?”

“Cardiff. One of my officers is there at this moment, investigating. I
hope to have more information shortly.”

“Does this mean that whoever drove the car to Cardiff has flown out of
the country?” asked Lord Balmayne.

“We have no means of knowing that, sir. Not yet, anyway. Lady Kim
berley, did you ever drive your husband’s Saab?”

She hardly seemed to absorb the question, and Kate repeated it.

“No, I
...
I never did. I’m used to an automatic gearbox, you see,
and I find the other kind difficult to manage.”

“But you have been a passenger in the car?”

“Yes, naturally. Quite often.”

“Then I shall have to trouble you for your fingerprints. Perhaps you’ll come to the police station at Aston Pringle later today to have them taken. You see,” she went on quickly, “if your fingerprints are possibly somewhere on the car, we need to have specimens in order to discount them. This will permit us to concentrate on any other prints we find in addition to yours and your husband’s.”

Lady Kimberley nodded her understanding. “Of course, Chief Inspector. I am ready to do
whatever
is required of me.”

“There is one other thing. A formal identification of your husband’s body is necessary. If you don’t feel up to it yourself, then perhaps Mr. Aidan Kimberley will take your place.”

“Naturally I will,” he agreed readily.

“No!” Lady Kimberley held up one hand in a dramatically brave gesture. “It is for
me
to perform this last act for my poor darling Noah. I shall not
shrink
from it.”

Kate had delayed requesting an identification until now in view of the hard-frozen state of the corpse when it was found. She felt it would have been unseemly, and there had been no doubt about the identity. However, she’d been told before leaving the Incident Room that the body had by now thawed out sufficiently for a post-mortem examination to be held quite soon, possibly later in the day if the pathologist was available.

The break-in at Milford Grange was still on her plate, a niggling extra problem. Superintendent Joliffe, damn him, would expect her to be able to report some developments on this. Kate seized on a fortuitous chance that had come her way. To Paula Kimberley, she said, “It’s possible that you could assist me in quite another matter.”

“Me?”

“We’ve been unable so far to discover exactly what is missing from the Tillington residence. Clearly, the thieves snatched just what they could easily lay their hands on while the burglar alarm was sounding. You, with your trained eye for antiques and so on plus your personal knowledge of the house, might be able to assist us in making a list of missing items and their approximate value. The inventory, according to their solicitor, is locked in the safe at Milford Grange, so we can’t get at it.”

“But ... but I could never remember what was there,” she protested. “I told you, I don’t know the Tillingtons or their home all that well.”

“If one of my officers escorted you round the house, perhaps it would jog your memory,” Kate persisted.

“Oh, no! Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.”

Kate wouldn’t have judged Paula Kimberley as overly modest in professional matters, and she found this reluctance puzzling. So, it seemed, did her husband.

“Of course you could, darling,” he said easily. “I’ll come with you, if you like.”

Taking Paula Kimberley’s agreement for granted, Kate stood up. “I won’t trouble you any longer, you’ll be wanting your lunch. We’ll be in touch, Lady Kimberley, regarding the identification. And someone will contact you, Mrs. Kimberley, to fix a convenient time for you to go to Milford Grange.”

The two men had also risen, and Dame Vanessa. Paula Kimberley remained seated on one of the sofas. She was still looking deeply troubled.

At the door Kate paused a moment, then asked with an air of apology at having yet one more bothersome question, “By the way, Lady Kimberley, on the Friday evening when you were staying at Lord Balmayne’s, did you call in a doctor to look at your throat?”

Silence for a count of four. Then, “No, I didn’t bother. There seemed no point. I felt sure it was nothing serious. Er ... why do you ask, Mrs. Maddox?”

“Simply for the record,” Kate said smoothly, with a little smile. “I’m sure you understand that in cases of serious crime the police have to try and corroborate every statement made to them. If you
had
called a doctor in that night, then he would have been able to give us the required confirmation of your statement.”

And, she thought, confirmation that Dame Vanessa Logan really did have a throat infection. It would be good to be totally certain of that fact.

It was already past one o’clock when Kate headed back to the Incident Room. Less than two and a half hours to the deadline for seeing the house at Ingram’s Green. She’d see what had come up for her, then arrange her afternoon to leave an hour free to drive there and view the place. Not a clever way to go about making a decision regarding her future home, but it was the best she could manage.

As it turned out, she couldn’t manage even that. A message greeted her arrival at the police station.

“Superintendent Joliffe rang to say he’s coming over to see you, ma’am.”

Oh, bloody hell!
Her face said it, not her vocal cords. Why couldn’t Jolly behave like any other superintendent and harmlessly amuse himself playing golf on a fine Saturday afternoon?

“When was this, Brian?”

“Quarter of an hour ago, ma’am. He should be here any minute now.”

“Heard anything from Sergeant Boulter?”

“Not a dicky bird.”

Damn Tim, she thought unfairly, she could do with him here right now. She had to keep up a certain front with her sergeant, of course, but not so much of a front as with the rest of them. To Tim she could have voiced a moan about superintendents who descend on you at the most inconvenient times.

In her office, she hastily recorded a few notes about her interviews at the Kimberley house while it was all still fresh in her memory, and passed the notes out for cross-indexing. She buzzed Inspector Massey and told him, “When Jolly leaves, Frank, I want to have the next hour free for some personal business. Important business. So keep things clear for me, will you?”

A sheer waste of breath, if only she’d known. Three minutes later Jolly was ushered in, wearing his version of a warm smile.

“Have you had lunch yet, my d—Mrs. Maddox?”

“Not yet, sir,” she admitted, unwisely. “I’ve not had time.”

“Good, good. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t have our little discussion over a meal. Where do you suggest?”

This was transparently an attempt to sweeten things between them after yesterday’s little upset. And if she declined, Jolly would never understand. Were she to tell him the truth, that she wanted to dash off to view a house she might just possibly want to make an offer for, she’d give him new grounds for thinking she was too irresponsible by half. In the cause of female coppery in general, if not in her own best interest, she smiled sweetly and thanked him.

“How about the Half Moon across the road, sir?” The advantage of this pub, as well as being close at hand, was that it wasn’t the sort of place where one could linger in comfort over a meal. The food was ordinary, and the small tables were jammed together. But Jolly knew that too. His long face registered distaste.

“No, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, we’ll drive over to the Spotted Trout at Hadleigh. They always do one very well there.”

During the drive to the restaurant, Kate filled him in about the discovery of Sir Noah’s body. Jolly was all sympathy.

“When they told me about it, I thought at once, Poor Mrs. Maddox! What a nasty shock it must have been for her. Pity it was you who should have discovered the body. But full marks to you, my er ... for being so astute as to latch on to the significance of the hum of that freezer. Ah, here we are. Nice place this, don’t you think? And it lives up to its name. Best trout for miles around.”

He fussed over parking his Rover, near to the entrance but out of the hot sun, fussed over holding the swing door open for Kate, and fussed over being ushered to the table that best befitted his dignity. Once drinks were served, there followed a lengthy debate with the waiter about just how the trout should be cooked. At last he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, er ... Kate, it was a very interesting day I had yesterday. I have quite a lot to impart to you. But more of that later. You haven’t yet mentioned any progress on the break-in aspect.”

One deep breath. Another. “There’s very little to tell you, sir. We’re having a problem working out what exactly was taken. Just this morning I lined up a friend of the judge’s wife who has agreed to try and help us. That’s Mrs. Aidan Kimberley—he’s Sir Noah’s nephew.”

“Well done. Keep up the good work. We’ve managed to track down Mr. Justice Tillington in New Zealand, and he’s been on the phone to the Chief Constable. The wires were humming, I gather.” Jolly sipped his chilled Tio Pepe savouringly. “Among a number of other things, the judge said we’d better get that freezer cabinet cleared out of the house before they arrive home, or his wife would have nightmares.”

“That’s hardly a police responsibility,” Kate observed in a dry tone.

The superintendent regarded her severely. It was clear that he thought she needed a few lessons on the diplomacy of policemanship.

“We can always remove the freezer and hold it as an exhibit. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. Have it seen to, will you?”

“Very well, sir.”

Their starters were served. Cantaloupe melon for Kate, wild duck pate with wheaten toast for Jolly.

“Sad about Noah Kimberley,” he intoned in a token expression of regret. Then he went on, quite cheerfully, “Still, at least we now know what fate befell him. We have something to get our teeth into, so to speak. It shouldn’t take too long to pin down a common enemy of him and that man Trent—and there you are.”

“I don’t know about that, sir. There seem too many complexities in this case.”

He grimaced at her across the table. Meant to be a winning smile, it came over as a leer of condescension. “I have more confidence in you than you have in yourself, my dear ... oh, er ...”

Let it go, Kate. The old blighter’s trying, and it’s costing him.

When she’d finished her trout, she lifted the cuff of her blazer for a surreptitious glance at her watch. Twenty past two already. “If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’ll skip dessert. I do have rather a heavy schedule today.”

He looked distinctly pained. “But I haven’t yet got around to telling you about yesterday’s symposium. We had a team of senior officers from the New York Police Department to address us. Naturally, they let it be known that compared to the problems they face on a daily basis everything over here is like a church outing. But we gave them something to think about.” He sighed. “It’s a great shame I didn’t know then that we have a
double
murder on our quiet little patch. I say, Kate, what a magnificent dessert trolley today. Sure you won’t change your mind?”

Why not? Anything to soothe her frazzled nerves. “Perhaps a few raspberries and cream, then.”

The superintendent nodded to the waiter. “I think I’ll have the same. No, on second thoughts, I’ll try a slice of the strawberry shortcake. And the clotted cream looks tempting. Now then, to get back to what I was saying ...”

When he finally dropped Kate off at the Aston Pringle nick en route to his home, it was—hell’s bells!—twenty-five minutes to four. Kate dashed up to her office and grabbed the phone. She had to wait a couple of minutes before the estate agent’s negotiator came on the line.