Dancing With the Virgins (22 page)

Mark decided he would have to ask Owen again tomorrow about why he hadn't been able to get hold
of him on the radio. And maybe he would ask the day
after, too. Just to hear a little bit more reassurance
.

*

The Weston sat together, their faces no longer hopeful. They were losing faith in the investigation, disappointed by their first real contact with the police,
dismayed by the realization of their fallibility. And they
had noticed that at first they had been talking to a detec
tive chief inspector, then an inspector; now it was a mere
acting detective sergeant. The word 'acting' seemed to
be the biggest insult of all.

‘
Don't take it the wrong way,' said Eric Weston. 'We're sure you're doing your best.'

‘
There are a lot of people working on this enquiry,'
said Diane Fry patiently. 'There are lots of leads to be
followed up. This is just one of them.'

‘
We understand. Really.
’

Mrs Weston had set out teacups on a glass-topped
table. She served the tea as a well-rehearsed routine,
performed without any hint of welcome. In the same
way, she had apologized for the condition of the lounge,
explaining that they weren't bothering to decorate in
view of their move, before long, to the retirement cot
tage at Ashford. New people always redecorated when
they bought a house, she said. So why bother? It would
only be wasted expense
.

The log basket on the hearth was filled with paper
and small sticks, ready to light a fire. A storage heater under the bay window was enough to take the chill off
the room. But the decor looked perfectly presentable to
Fry. Anything that wasn't stained by mould or hung
with cobwebs looked fine to her. Back at the flat, any
thing that didn't have a layer of dust was meant for sitting on.

‘
I believe you've already been asked about a young
woman called Ros Daniels.'

‘
We have,' said Mr Weston. 'We've never heard of
her. When they told us she'd been staying with Jenny,
we thought she was probably one of the girls she
worked with, who had nowhere to stay. Jenny would
have put her up for a while. She was like that.'

‘
But Ros Daniels never worked at Global Assurance,
as far as we can tell.'

‘
So we're told. Jenny must have met her somewhere
else.'

‘
Any idea where that might have been?'

‘
Sorry, no.'

‘
The only other people she ever talked about were the ones in the animal welfare groups,' said Mrs Weston. 'You could try them.'

‘
We will.' Fry stared at her cooling tea. 'I also want
to ask you whether your daughter had mentioned being
bothered by anybody. Did she complain about anyone
hanging round outside her house or following her? Did
she refer to any unwanted or nuisance phone calls?'

‘
I don't know what you mean.'

‘
Like a stalker?' said Mrs Weston. 'You mean like a
stalker?'

‘
That sort of thing.'

‘
She never said anything,' said Mr Weston.
'There was the phone call,' said his wife.

‘
Oh?
’

Mr Weston had retreated further into his armchair and was watching the two women helplessly, as if he
was no part of what was going on.

‘
Jenny mentioned she had been phoned up,' said Mrs
Weston. 'She didn't say it was a nuisance call, exactly.
She just thought there was something strange about it.
But she never took it any further, as far as I know. It
just happened to be on her mind when I was speaking
to her.'

‘
Who made this phone call?
’

Mrs Weston stared at her. 'The police, of course. They
said it was to check up on home security. But they asked
some funny questions, and she didn't think it was quite
right.'

‘
Did Jenny give you the name of the officer who phoned?'

‘
No.'

‘
A man or a woman?'

‘
A man, I think. Yes, definitely.'

‘
He didn't give any identification?'

‘
I've no idea,' said Mrs Weston irritably. She looked at her husband again, and back at Fry. 'You mean he
might not have been from the police at all?' she said.

‘
I'm afraid that's possible.
’

The couple shook their heads in unison. 'Jenny was
always too trusting,' said Mrs Weston. 'It took her a long time to learn the truth about people. All those
terrible men. She was better off with just herself and
the cat, if truth be told.'

‘
Could this phone call have been in connection with
the burglary at your cottage in Ashford?' asked Fry.

‘
Oh, the burglary,' said Eric Weston. 'Why do you want to talk about that?'

‘
We're following up everything we can, sir.
’

‘
I suppose so.'

‘
You've not seen any sign of Wayne Sugden since then? Your daughter didn't mention him getting in contact?'

‘
But that man is in prison, isn't he?'

‘
Not any more, sir.'

‘
What?' Weston seemed roused to emotion at last.
'Do we take it you didn't know that?' asked Fry.
'Nobody told us that. Shouldn't somebody have told
us?'

‘
It isn't usual,' she said. 'Unless there is a particular
risk to the victims. In a rape case, for example, or an
offence against a child. It can be quite a trauma running
into a perpetrator unexpectedly in the street when you
thought he was behind bars.'

‘
But not in this case.'

‘
It would have been thought unlikely that Sugden would return to burgle the same house.'

‘
But not impossible that he might return and track
down our daughter to take his revenge, presumably.
’

‘
Well . .'

‘
Because that's why you're asking, isn't it? You must
be thinking that it could have been him that killed Jenny.'

‘
It isn't as simple as that, sir,' said Fry.

‘
No?'

‘
There are certain aspects to the burglary which inter
est us, that's all. Am I right in thinking you were away
at the time?'

‘
Yes, in Cyprus,' said Weston. 'We go there when we
can during the school holidays.'

‘
And how long were you away on this occasion?
’

‘
A month. I had to be back to prepare for the new
term then. There's a lot of work to do before we start,
you know. People don't realize that.'

‘
So you weren't using the cottage in Ashford at the time of the burglary.'

‘
No. We'd asked one of the neighbours to call in
occasionally to check on things: water the plants, that
sort of thing. They deliver free papers and all sorts of
junk mail and just leave it sticking out of the letter box,
you know. It's a complete giveaway that the place is unoccupied.
’

Fry studied the log basket in the hearth. She felt the
Westons staring at her, trying to divine the direction of
her questions.

‘
And who reported the burglary?'

‘
The people next door. They heard glass breaking.
Later, they noticed the window was broken. That's how
he got in.'

‘
Yes, I see.'

‘
He made a terrible mess of the cottage, you know.
He took a video recorder, a bit of cash and some jewel
lery, that's all. But it was the damage that was the worst
thing. He broke chairs, he smashed pictures, threw Tabasco sauce on the walls and the carpet. Susan wouldn't
use the cottage again until we had it redecorated and
changed all the locks.'

‘
There were no fingerprints,' said Fry.

‘
He must have worn gloves. Even young children know to do that these days, don't they? But he was
identified by someone who saw him near the cottage.
And they said there were some fibres on his jacket from
one of our armchairs. The evidence seemed conclusive.'

‘
I'm afraid we have to take another look at the ques
tion of motive. The Sugden family has reason to feel very bitter towards you.'

‘
Ah,' said Weston. 'You know about my bit of trouble.
But it's not as if it will be in the police records, is it? My name was cleared completely. Still, some people find it difficult to forget.'

‘
Tell me what happened.
’

Mr Weston shrugged apologetically. 'There was an
accident, that's all. A boy was badly injured.
’

‘
This was on a field trip?'

‘
Yes. We had taken a party to Losehill Hall. You know
the National Park study centre near Castleton?
’

Fry didn't know it, but she nodded, unwilling to admit the gaps in her local knowledge.

‘
There was a bit of a fuss about it at the time. Some
hysterical reactions. There was a full enquiry by the
education department. The police were involved for a
while, but of course there were never any charges.'

‘
I see. You were in charge of the party?'

‘
Yes, indeed. But there was found to be no negligence
on my part. It was an accident, pure and simple.
Nobody could have predicted it. The boy slipped away
from the party. I had warned them all personally about
the danger, and we had the right number of adults
supervising the group. All the children had been told
to stay on the path. But some of them don't listen to what you tell them. Some of them have never been taught proper discipline.'

‘
That's down to the parents, I suppose.
’

Weston smiled faintly. 'Try telling that to Gavin Ferrigan's family. They were most abusive. Aggressive even.
We had some very unpleasant scenes, I can tell you. I was
forced to take legal advice to protect my position. I
couldn't have my integrity being called into doubt in that
way; it was undermining my authority as deputy head.
’

‘
You say the boy was badly hurt?'

‘
He suffered serious head injuries. I did my best. I pulled him out of the water, tried to keep him warm
until the air ambulance arrived. But he'd hit his head
on some rocks in the stream. Five days later, they decided to turn off his life-support machine.'

‘
But it blew over in the end, as far as you were con
cerned?'

‘
Eventually. There was a lot of talk — ridiculous,
unfounded allegations. It was very embarrassing for a
while. It made me feel ashamed, although I knew I had
done nothing wrong. Everyone made me feel it was my
fault. Everyone.'

‘
And Gavin Ferrigan's mother is Wayne Sugden's sister.'

‘
Apparently. The father, Ferrigan, was already in
prison then for drug dealing. But the rest of the family
turned up in force for the inquest. It was most
unpleasant.' Weston shuddered at the memory. 'I kept
being forced to justify myself. But I had nothing to apologize for, did I? I did everything right. I did my best for him.
’

*

A few minutes later, Eric Weston followed Fry into the
hallway to show her out. He hesitated at the foot of the
stairs near the heavy oak door, looking back over his
shoulder where his wife could be heard piling crockery
in the kitchen.

‘
The accident to Gavin Ferrigan . . .' he said. 'You have to understand it was a very difficult experience for me.'

‘
Yes, I'm sure it was.'

‘
It's just that . . . some people never forget. Some people like to make you go on feeling ashamed for ever.
’

The clattering in the kitchen had stopped, and Mr Weston suddenly seemed to notice the silence.

‘
Well, goodbye, then,' he said. 'Sorry we couldn't help
any more. Anything we can do, of course.
’

He ushered Fry outside and stood on the step with
the door half-closed behind him.

‘
The Ferrigan thing — do you really think it's relevant
to . . . you know?'

‘
We can't say at the moment.'

‘
It would be very bad if it was,' said Weston. 'Very bad.
’

He had stepped back inside the house before Fry had
reached the gate. Fry heard Mrs Weston's voice raised
querulously, and a subdued murmur in return, followed by the slamming of something against a hard surface
.

She went back to her car and looked at her map. She
wanted the quickest way out and back on to the hills.
Unlike Ben Cooper, Fry felt no desire to defend the
underdogs — not when they were people like Eric Weston. But she was angry and embarrassed to find
that Weston's words had awakened a deep echo in her
own mind. She was appalled that a couple of sentences
he had uttered had matched so exactly her own feelings,
from a period in her life that was not so very long ago.

‘
It made me feel ashamed, although I knew I had done
nothing wrong,'
he had said.
'Everyone made me feel it was
my
fault. Everyone.
’