Hard Going (24 page)

She shrugged. ‘Oh, we'd talked about it, idly. But it would have been too messy. The publicity would have been horrendous! My career is dependant on Al's, and vice versa. And he wouldn't have taken it well.'

‘He has quite a temper, your husband,' Atherton suggested casually.

Not casually enough. Her eyes widened. ‘You can't be thinking – oh, good God! Tell me this is not all about suspecting Al?'

‘We have to consider all possibilities.'

‘It isn't a possibility. To begin with, he doesn't know about Lionel.'

‘You're sure about that?'

‘Look, he has a temper, but he never conceals it. Everything comes pouring out of him. If he'd found out he'd have come straight to me, there'd have been a furious row. That's what happened after – well, someone else. He gave me a black eye – I couldn't work for a week. The whole world knew – which is why I was always so careful to keep Bobo secret. But Al wouldn't have plotted in secret and carried out a murder. He's just not like that.'

Slider changed the subject. ‘Lionel said he was leaving you a substantial sum. Do you know how it was left before? Or who else he meant to inherit?'

‘Not a clue,' she said indifferently. ‘Knowing Lionel, it was probably left to charity. That would be like him.' She frowned. ‘You do seem to harp on about the money.'

‘We haven't yet established who his next of kin is. And of course, money is often a motive for murder.'

She nodded, her eyes full of sorrow. ‘I can't believe he's dead, that someone deliberately killed him. The kindest, gentlest of men. He was my best friend, as well as my love.' Her hands folded themselves together in her lap, as if she had taken her friend's hand. In the gesture was all the loneliness of death – the unendurable, unavoidable fact that you would never see him and touch him again.

It had started raining outside, and a gust blew a handful of drops against the glass with a sound like mouse feet pattering.

‘I'm very sorry for your loss,' Slider said.

She smiled painfully, but there was sweetness in it. ‘I'm just glad I had the chance to know him,' she said quietly. ‘But I shall miss him so much.'

The rain was still scattered and blowy as they scuttled for the car, not having set in yet, but there was a black cloud heading for them with intent.

As he got in on his side, Atherton said, ‘Sixteen years she's been doing the nasty with old Lionel, and she still thinks her husband hasn't a clue?'

‘It's possible,' Slider said, turning the key.

‘But how likely? I think we need to look into their finances. Three million is not to be sneezed at, and she knew about it – or that there
was
money, anyway. Why didn't you ask her where they both were on Tuesday?'

‘They're famous people. There are other ways we can find out. I don't want to put her on alert if she did have something to do with it. But I don't believe she did. She really loved him.'

‘She's an
actress
,' Atherton pointed out.

‘Even so,' Slider insisted. ‘You've only got to look at the difference between her understanding of him, and wife June's lack of.'

‘Well, but the bad-tempered, jealous, violent Alistair Head …?'

‘Now you're running two hares – inheritance and jealousy.'

‘Same hare,' Atherton said. ‘Diana lets slip about the money, Alastair needs it and wants revenge at the same time. Bump off the old man, satisfy the Old Adam, come into the cash.'

‘You're assuming he didn't know Bygod was dying anyway.'

‘Even if he did, he might need the money quickly – couldn't wait for nature to take its course.'

‘Take a pull on the reins,' Slider advised. ‘We have no evidence of any sort against Head.'

‘I know. I'm just thinking aloud. Anyway, if it was a planned murder, wouldn't Head be intelligent enough to wear gloves? And to bring his own weapon with him?'

‘You don't know how intelligent Head is. Being clever in your field doesn't make you clever in another. And a man losing his temper doesn't tend to think things out clearly.'

‘Now you're being perverse,' said Atherton.

‘Just thinking aloud,' Slider said.

S
lider Senior was quite serene about being left to hold down the fort. It turned out he was going to do a bit of entertaining himself. ‘Lydia's coming round for supper.'

‘You were quick off the mark,' Slider said. ‘We only asked you this morning.'

‘I was seeing her anyway,' Mr Slider said. ‘What, d'you think I don't have a social life outside this house?'

‘I'm all too aware you have a very active one,' Slider said. ‘I'm only grateful you fit us in.'

‘I was going to cook for her in my flat,' Mr Slider explained, ‘but I don't mind moving it up here. So there's no “fitting in” about it.'

‘Well, I'm still grateful. Help yourself to anything – you know that. What are you cooking?'

‘I've made a nice steak and kidney pie, so I've only got to hot it up and do the veg.'

Slider thought steak and kidney pie rather heavy for romance, but he said, ‘There's a bottle of Hermitage in the rack that'd go well with that.'

Mr Slider grinned. ‘Already got my eye on it. I'll replace it, o' course.'

‘No, you won't. It's the least I can do.'

The wind had dropped and it was a little warmer, warm enough for a slight fog. It made haloes of the street lamps and half-sucked wine gums of the traffic lights. In the car, Joanna said, ‘It's nice to get out for a change. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to wear this dress.'

‘You look lovely,' he said, easing out on to Chiswick High Road.

‘You didn't even look!'

‘Well, I know you do, anyway.'

‘Did I tell you Georgina rang today?' Georgina was the assistant to Tony Whittam, the orchestra's fixer. ‘She said there's a mini-tour coming up in December – four days in Germany. Wanted to know if I was good for it.'

‘What did you say?'

‘I said yes, of course. The baby's not due till March.' Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrug. ‘And I sit on the inside of the desk so no-one'll see me.'

‘I'm sure no-one's concerned about your appearance,' he said.

‘I hope you're not concerned about anything,' she said, with just a little sharpness. She had always resented having to juggle home and career in the way a man never had to. She knew it was illogical to mind something that couldn't be changed, but still she minded it. So she didn't want him telling her she ought to be taking it easy and turning down work.

He went for lightness. ‘Me? I have nothing to say about anything. Empty as air, my head.'

‘Yeah,' she said with broad irony. ‘This thing with your dad and Lydia,' she began.

‘Darling, there's no point worrying about that. He has his life to live and we have ours.'

‘But it looks as if it's getting serious. When he brought George back from his walk today he had a jeweller's bag in his hand.'

‘That
is
serious. I don't like George wasting money on jewellery. He's not two yet.'

‘Don't be an ass. What if he's going to propose to her tonight?'

‘Well, what if he is? I approve of marriage. Everyone ought to be married.' He glanced sideways at her. ‘Stop worrying. Everything will come out all right.'

‘
How
will it?'

He smiled. ‘I don't know. It's a mystery.'

At Atherton's house – a bijou little Victorian two-up-two-down – they had only been inside long enough to get out of their coats, and the cats were still racing round the room like Evel Knievel doing the wall-of-death, when there was a prolonged and rampant ringing at the door bell which sent them into fresh excesses. Atherton thrust the coats back at Slider and went to open it, and there was Emily, fog jewels in her hair, laptop in one hand and flight bag in the other, her suitcase on the ground behind her. Joanna thought how glamorous she looked, in a beautiful calf-length wool coat, long boots, a big muffler round her neck – very much the international business traveller. Slider thought she looked tired, but her grin was pure pleased-to-be-home.

‘What the hell?' Atherton said as she flung herself into his arms. ‘I wasn't expecting you.' He hugged and released her. ‘What if I'd got another woman here?' he said sternly.

‘You have,' Joanna reminded him. ‘Hello, Emily. Good trip?'

‘Yes, thanks. I got all the interviews I need, and suddenly I'd had enough, just wanted to be back, so I changed my flight.'

‘I'd have come and fetched you from the airport if I'd known,' Atherton said.

‘I got a taxi. I saw Bill and Joanna going in as we turned the corner. God, it's good to be back!'

‘Have you eaten yet?'

‘Not for centuries. What is that wonderful smell?'

‘I'm doing
boeuf en croute
,' Atherton said.

‘What's known as “casing the joint”,' Slider explained.

She laughed. ‘Now I know I'm home! Oh, those cats!' Tig, who had run up the door curtain, launched himself through the air and landed on Emily's shoulder. Vash was rubbing his face lovingly against her boot. ‘What I want first is a giant gin and tonic. No-one makes them like you,' she added to Atherton.

She unpicked the cats and removed her coat. Slider said, ‘I'll take it,' and went with all three coats to the rack in the tiny back lobby, and returned to find Emily and Atherton locked in a passionate kiss. He thought of Kate's inevitable eye-rolling comment, ‘Get a room!' but held it back. He caught Joanna's eye, and smiled.
You see, it's all right
, he projected. She smiled back, and shrugged.

The kiss broke at last. Their arms still round each other, Emily said, ‘I missed you
so
much. I'm sorry if I've been a bore about moving into the flat. I know you love your house.'

‘I've missed you too,' Atherton said. ‘And I know you've got logic on your side. We'll talk about it.'

That seemed to be enough. They broke apart, and Atherton said, ‘Drinks!' and disappeared into the kitchen. Emily called after him, ‘Need any help with anything?'

‘No, thanks,' his voice came back.

Emily smiled in satisfaction. Gourmet chef that he was, he didn't like anyone else in his kitchen when he was creating a meal. ‘I knew he'd say that,' she said, sinking into an armchair. ‘He cooks as good as he kisses.'

‘I'll take your word for half of that statement,' Slider said.

‘So, tell me about this new case of yours,' Emily said over dinner.

Atherton and Slider told her between them.

‘Diana Chambers!' Emily said. ‘Oh, I
love
her. You actually met her? What's she like in real life?'

‘About the same,' Atherton said.

Emily made a face. ‘I'll ask someone sensible.' She turned to Slider. ‘What's she like?'

‘Tiny. Beautiful,' Slider said.

‘And she had a long, long affair with this bloke and no-one ever knew? He must have been something special.'

‘Well, from all we can gather about him, he was,' Slider said. ‘Everyone liked him.'

‘Apart from the Alf Garnett family,' Emily said. ‘What was their name again?'

‘Crondace,' Atherton supplied.

‘That's it. And you say he's done a runner, the male Crondace? So it looks like him.'

‘We don't know that he even knew where Bygod had gone,' Slider said. ‘We're a long way from any conclusions yet. A lot of footwork still to do.'

‘Apart from that old court case,' Joanna said, ‘the money looks the best bet, given that the victim was so nice.'

‘Maybe he wasn't,' Atherton said. ‘He went to a lot of trouble to shrug off his old life and hide himself from everyone who had known him. Have some more beef?' His hands hovered over the serving dish.

‘I couldn't,' Joanna said. ‘It's delicious, but I'm stuffed.'

‘I could manage a morsel,' Slider said.

‘Morsel!' Emily said. ‘I love the way you talk. Where I've just been, they'd have said, “Yeah, hit me!”'

‘Going back to Bygod,' Joanna said, frowning in thought as she watched Atherton's hands carving and lifting and spooning, ‘you haven't found a will?'

‘Maybe he hadn't got round to making one yet,' Emily said. ‘It's a thing people keep putting off.'

‘He
was
a solicitor,' Atherton reminded her.

‘Still, intimations of mortality and all that. And he wasn't expecting to pop off for a while yet.'

‘But then,' Joanna said, ‘where's the old one?'

‘Lodged somewhere we haven't found yet,' Atherton said. ‘Maybe the next of kin we haven't traced yet has it in a drawer.' He handed the plate to Slider. ‘Have the last of the mashed potatoes, to soak up the gravy.'

‘Thanks, I will.'

There was a silence for a moment.

Joanna, looking at Slider, broke it. ‘The really odd thing – or at least, how it comes across to me, the way you've told it – is that cheque. He sat down to write a cheque in the presence of the murderer.'

‘It isn't odd if the murderer is Mrs Kroll,' Slider said. ‘He's just doing his normal work, she's pottering about behind him. The cheque needn't be anything to do with her.'

‘But that doesn't work with anyone else,' Joanna said. ‘If it was anyone else, the cheque must be something to do with them, or why was he writing it at that particular moment? Which is why I asked about the will.'

‘I'm not with you,' said Atherton.

‘Because,' Joanna said, ‘who wouldn't bother to wait for the cheque? Someone who was going to get the money anyway.'