The Devil`s Feather (16 page)

“No.”

“
Does
she take revenge? Madeleine told me to check with Mary Galbraith at Hollyhock Cottage.”

Peter gave a frustrated shake of his head. “Well, you’ll certainly get confirmation from Mary,” he said. “She’s convinced Jess is out to get her and her husband.”

“Why?”

Another frustrated shake of the head. “Ralph Galbraith drove into the back of Jess’s Land Rover in the middle of the village, and Jess called the police when she smelt drink on his breath.” He nodded at my questioning look. “Three times over the limit, lost his licence and was ordered to retake his test at the end of the ban. Mary was very upset about it. She said there was no reason for the police to be involved—it was a small shunt and no one was hurt—and it’s only because Jess is vindictive that they were called.”

I remembered her confiscation of my car keys. “She has draconian views on dangerous driving.”

“She has draconian views on everything,” he said. “Compromise doesn’t exist in her vocabulary. In this case, a blind eye would have been kind. Ralph Galbraith’s over seventy and never drove more than twenty miles an hour, or farther than Tesco’s and back, so he was a hardly a danger to other drivers. Plus he’s unlikely to pass the test again at his age, so he and Mary have to rely on friends and taxis to take them shopping. I’m afraid most people thought Jess behaved badly…me included. She could have left them their independence.”

I decided to keep out of that argument. Everyone’s feelings would have been very different if Ralph had run over a child at twenty miles an hour when he was three times over the limit. “Why would Jess be out to get them? Shouldn’t they be out to get her?”

He gave an abrupt laugh. “You can’t apply logic to it. The Galbraiths are one of the couples who found Lily in their bed, and Jess accused them of cruelty because they drove her home and abandoned her without offering to help. The car incident was the icing on the gingerbread—gave her the chance to shop Ralph to the police—or that’s how it’s viewed in the village at least.”

“When did it happen?”

“Four or five months ago.”

“How long have the Galbraiths lived here?”

“Eight years. Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to understand where stalking fits in.” I repeated as nearly as I could what Madeleine had said about Jess’s fixations and her vindictive reactions when she was rejected.

“I’m surprised you went to see her,” Peter said with heavy irony. “Weren’t you afraid of being her next victim?”

“I might have been if I’d believed Madeleine. I’d have given her the cold shoulder…which is what everyone else seems to do.” I watched him. “Except you. Is that because you’re her doctor or because you’re better informed?”

“About what?”

I shrugged. “Nathaniel? Does anyone else know he used to be with Jess?”

He moved back to his chair and folded his tall frame on to the seat. “Presumably anyone who was around at the time does…but it was a fairly private thing. If Jess had worn her heart on her sleeve, it might have created a few waves, but she couldn’t have shown less interest at losing him. Which is why you shouldn’t place too much weight on Lily’s remark about value…or not where Jess is concerned at least. Boyfriends come and go at that age. Do you even remember the names of the ones you had at twenty?”

“I do, as a matter of fact, even though none of mine lasted longer than three months. I’d certainly remember a man I spent two years with.” I eyed him with amusement. “Your experience might be different, though. Perhaps you never knew the girls’ names in the first place.”

“Ouch!”

“What other reason is there for Jess and Madeleine to hate each other?”

He rested his chin on his hands. “I’ve no idea, but whatever it is existed long before Nathaniel jumped ship. He was just a bone in an endless dogfight. It’s Lily they’ve been squabbling over…not Nathaniel.”

“Perhaps it’s sibling rivalry,” I suggested ironically. “They’re not half-sisters, are they? Could Lily have slept with Jess’s father?”

Peter gave a snort of laughter. “Not unless she was drunk. His mother was her maid, for God’s sake. It’d be like touching pitch.”

“It happens.”

“Not in this case,” he said positively. “Frank Derbyshire wouldn’t have done anything so crass. He was far too fond of his wife.”

“What about the other way round…Madeleine’s father and Jess’s mother?”

He shook his head. “Jenny Derbyshire had better taste. In any case, it would only be sibling rivalry if
Lily
was Jess’s mother…and she wasn’t. I can guarantee that Jess is a Derbyshire through and through.” He said it firmly, as if the idea of anything else offended him. “The jealousy’s mostly on Madeleine’s side. She had no time for her mother until Jess took an interest, then suddenly she was all over her…and Lily wouldn’t play. I’m sure the remark about value was in reference to herself. Madeleine was never so fond of Lily as when Jess took to visiting Barton House after her parents’ death.”

“Why wouldn’t Lily play?”

“She knew it wouldn’t last. As soon as Madeleine was top dog again, she’d have dropped her like a hotcake. I think Lily felt she’d be better off setting them against each other.”

“She was probably right.”

Peter shook his head. “She enjoyed stirring too much…and it backfired on her. She used to refer to Jess as her ‘little stalker’ in front of Madeleine, and to Madeleine as her ‘little parasite’ in front of Jess. It wasn’t very clever of her. If they’d liked each other, they’d have treated it as a joke, but as they didn’t”—he smiled rather bitterly—“it just added fuel to the flames.”

“So how did the lesbian rumours start? I mean, if Jess had a relationship with a man, why does everyone assume she’s a dyke? Has she had affairs with women?”

A look of distaste crossed Peter’s face. “I don’t think that’s anyone’s business but hers.”

“Why on earth not?” I asked in surprise. “It’s perfectly legal…and she’s told me about your affairs. You’re not homophobic, are you?”

He glared at me. “Of course not.”

I shrugged. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it. Everyone else in Winterbourne Barton is homophobic. It’s like Zimbabwe—fifty years out of date and deeply ignorant. Robert Mugabe won’t tolerate gays so no one else does either…not if they want to keep a head on their shoulders.”

Peter rubbed his eyes. “She has two women working for her—Julie and Paula. They live together as an openly gay couple, and it may have something to do with that. The younger one, Julie, is Harry Sotherton’s granddaughter—he’s the old boy who used to work for Jess’s father and still helps out at the farm—and he asked Jess to take Julie on about ten years ago. She was twenty-five and married, but she left her husband a year or so later and moved herself and her children in with Jess. They stayed for about two months, then she set up home with Paula…which is when the tongues started wagging.”

“Why?”

His mouth twisted cynically. “Jess was the facilitator. She introduced them, and took Paula on to the payroll so that Julie could work flexitime around her children. Now she and Paula box and cox mornings and afternoon so that one of them’s always free to do the school run. It works very well.” He looked as if he was about to add a “but,” then changed his mind.

“But Winterbourne Barton doesn’t approve of lesbians bringing up children?”

“Harry’s wife certainly doesn’t. She’s had a lot to say on the subject…and she lays the blame at Jess’s door.”

“For enabling them to work?”

“For initiating her granddaughter into moral turpitude and depravity. She won’t accept that Julie’s a lesbian and thinks Jess ‘taught’ her”—he drew quote marks in the air—“then handed her over to big, butch Paula to finish the job. Julie’s very feminine, and looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.”

“What does Harry say?”

“Nothing, just turns up for work every day and goes to see the great-grandchildren on his own. Julie won’t let Mrs. Sotherton near them.”

“Which makes Mrs. Sotherton worse, I suppose?” Peter nodded. “What about Lily? Presumably she didn’t condone moral turpitude in Winterbourne Valley?”

He smiled again and this time the smile reached his eyes. “Quite the reverse. She took it all in her stride. She said Jess was too inhibited to sleep with women, but she quite saw that Julie might, and had no doubts at all about Paula. I think she quite envied them as a matter of fact. She told me once that her life would have been very different if she’d had a loving wife instead of a ne’er-do-well husband.”

“Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.” I paused, but he didn’t say anything. “Where did Jess’s ‘loner’ tag come from? It’s a very schizophrenic view that has her offering beds to women and children on the one hand…and acting like a morose recluse on the other.”

“Pass.”

“Weirdo?”

“Spends her time with weasels…has photos of the dead on her walls…dresses like a man.” He spread his hands at my frown of impatience. “Best I can do. If she smiled or said good morning once in a while, it would do more to change people’s opinions than anything else.” He steepled his fingers in front of his nose. “But you’ll be wasting your breath if you tell her. She’s even more dismissive of advice on her lifestyle than she is on her art. Lily was constantly trying to change her, and it had no effect whatsoever.”

I wondered if he knew how obvious his feelings were. “You really like her, don’t you?”

He gave a muted laugh. “If you mean Lily, then, no. She was an evil-minded old bitch when the mood was on her.”

“I meant Jess.”

“I know.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to be making tracks soon. Was there anything else you wanted?”

It was smoothly done, but just as final as Jess’s earlier injunction to keep my mouth shut. I took the hint with good grace and left, but as I headed back to Barton House I couldn’t help wondering if Peter had made his soft spot for Jess as obvious to Madeleine. If so, it might explain a few things.

Dear Alan,

Re: Scan of O’Connell’s documents

No. Even allowing for the poor quality of the original fax, the man in the photo is NOT MacKenzie/Harwood. MacKenzie is thinner-faced, thinner-lipped and his eyes are much paler. This man has dark eyes. Also, he looks younger. I can’t make any useful comments re the facts in the documents since they don’t relate to MacKenzie. NB: With the name and contact address for next of kin blacked out, this man could be anyone. Bill Fraser only has Alastair Surtees’s word that it’s Kenneth O’Connell.

Could you stress very strongly to Bill that I do not believe MacKenzie was wrongly identified to me? Our Iraqi guide took care to note the correct office, and I have no reason to think he made a mistake or that the academy’s records were out of date when I was told the next day that Kenneth O’Connell was still working there. The press corps was guaranteed free access to anyone at the academy, and several of my colleagues elected to do one-on-one interviews which were speedily arranged. Had O’Connell been wrongly identified as MacKenzie, then there was no reason for O’Connell not to speak to me. But if O’Connell was MacKenzie then he had every reason not to speak to me. Not least because he was using a fake identity.

I realize this casts major doubt on Alastair Surtees’s role—not to mention BG’s head office in Cape Town—but private security firms are making a fortune in Iraq, and none of them wants to kill the golden goose through the adverse publicity of an investigation. For this reason, I’m deeply sceptical about these “documents,” and my guess is Bill’s been sold a “dummy.”

FYI: At the suggestion of my boss in Baghdad, Dan Fry, who’s interested in pursuing the story, I’ve tracked down a Norwegian photographer who was in Sierra Leone in 2002. I remembered him doing a photo-montage of Paddy’s Bar—to show the post-war multinational interest in Freetown—and I hoped he might have a shot of MacKenzie. He’s sent through two prints with MacKenzie in the background, and a friend here is enhancing the best one to produce a workable and recognizable headshot.

Dan’s idea is to show it round the academy to see if anyone identifies it as Kenneth O’Connell. Clearly, if he succeeds, he will have a story on Alastair Surtees and BG’s operation in Iraq and Cape Town, although he’s willing to share any information with Bill before he breaks it. If Bill wants to contact him in advance his email address is:
[email protected]

Finally, if Bill is serious about nailing MacKenzie, would it be worth looking for the Mary MacKenzie on the envelope? She must be related to him, and I’m as sure as I can be that the address was Glasgow. NB: All the Brits in Freetown described Harwood’s accent as Glaswegian. I realize it’ll be like looking for “Mary Smith” in London, but if the rest of the family’s anything like Keith—i.e., violent—they might be known to the Glasgow police.