White Lies (28 page)

“Again with the insurance money?” Meinwen’s eyebrow raised a fraction. “You’ve got nothing until the killer is brought to justice.”

Mary gave her a bright smile. “But you’ll find him. I have every confidence in you.”

“Ah.” Meinwen began arranging the necklaces on the shop counter, half watching the younger woman caress her nipple through the bodice. “You don’t seem very upset by Richard’s death.”

“I’m not. While I didn’t hate my stepbrother, neither was I enamored of his company. His brutal death was unfortunate for him but opportune for everyone else.”

“Are you not worried you’ll be a suspect in his murder?”

“Why should I be? I didn’t do it?” She traced the eye sockets of the carved skull. “Although if they could be persuaded to release the body to me he could help me continue the family tradition of fetish photography...”

“I don’t think that’s even allowed, legally speaking.”

Mary sighed again. “A pity. Still, you’ll put aside two of these chairs for me?”

“Of course.” Meinwen forced a smile. “Any chance of me getting some of those footstools?”

“It could be arranged, on a temporary basis.” Mary’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You couldn’t lend me a little something to tide me over, could you?”

“A little something?”

“A couple of thousand? That would get the wretched little man with the bat off my back, at least for the time being.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. If I had that kind of money. It would be earmarked for repairs to Dafydd’s van. We had an accident this morning.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about that.” She poked Peter in the ribs with her toe. “Someone was supposed to flag you down and get you to meet me in the servant’s annex. He wasn’t supposed to leap out in front of you. How much are the repairs? I’ll pay for them when the insurance money comes.”

“The estimate was eight hundred plus labor, and that’s friend’s rates from a mechanic I know. The other chap who came wanted a lot more.”

“That much?” Mary wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t he have insurance?”

“Not unless he can prove he wasn’t at fault.” Meinwen looked down at Peter. He was a well-built man in his early forties who served at the gardener and handyman for The Larches. He’d been in love with the late Robert Markhew. Could he have been in love with Richard, too? “Would you be willing to testify to that, Peter?”

“I don’t think he could go quite that far, though I’m sure he’d be happy to make a contribution to the repairs, wouldn’t you dear?” She nudged him with her toe again.

“Yes, Mistress, of course.”

“But then, why doesn’t he lend you the money you need?”

“He doesn’t have enough for that. Any money he makes he spends on expensive gifts.” She held up her hand, where several gold rings gleamed.

“Right.” Meinwen took a deep breath. “Yes, then. I’ll do my utmost to learn who killed Richard but remember, you might not like the answers I find. Everybody has–”

“A secret, I remember.” Mary shifted position. “Well I’ll save you some time searching out mine. I’d insured Richard’s life as well, though I most certainly didn’t kill him. I had a nice little ten-year policy going that would have given me a tidy sum when it matured. His death means I get my nest egg early, albeit much smaller.”

“That was very foresighted of you.”

“It was, wasn’t it? I started it just after he married Catherine in case we fell out. I had no intention of being thrown out on the streets.”

“I have to ask, but what were you doing between ten and two last night?”

Mary shrugged. “The usual. I was editing Jennifer’s latest until about eleven thirty then went to bed with a cocoa.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Jennifer? She brought the cocoa.”

“And Peter?”

“What about him?”

“Was he with you?”

“Good heavens, no. We don’t sleep together. Not unless I call him. He went to the pub, I think. Peter?”

“Yes, Mistress. I was at the White Art until just before midnight. Anyone there will confirm that.”

“And after midnight?”

“I went home.”

“Did you go near the cemetery at any point?”

“I did, as it happens. I told the police that. I didn’t see Master Richard but I did see a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Meinwen leaned forward.

“Yes, I swear I did, though I think the police dismissed it as an alcohol-fueled illusion. I saw John Fenstone. Bright as life.”

Chapter 26

Meinwen led the pair back into the kitchen, where Dafydd once again sat with his feet on the table. He lowered them when they came in, using the movement as leverage to reach for another biscuit from the tin. She was disturbed to note he hadn’t used a plate and had merely pried the biscuits from the packet by forcing his thumb through the wrapper. He’d also showered crumbs over the table, floor and himself.

He smiled at them. “That was a long couple of minutes.”

“So I see.” Meinwen waited for Mary to put on her coat before opening the door. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Let me know what you find out, won’t you?”

“Of course.” She closed the door behind them but watched while they climbed into an old Ford. It was probably Peter’s, chosen because Mary didn’t want to draw attention to herself, but it would be worth finding out if she had access to the Mercedes.

“What was all that about then?”

“An apology of sorts.” Meinwen sat and picked up her drink. It had gone cold but she sipped at it anyway. “Both for the way we were treated at The Larches and for jumping out and causing you to crash.”

“I told you I was swerving to avoid a bloke.” Dafydd stared at the door. “What a bastard, eh? Doing that and expecting no consequences.”

“They said they’d pay for the repairs, only not until the insurance money comes through.”

“But I told you I’ve only got third party.”

“Not your insurance.” Meinwen mock-punched him. “Theirs.”

“And what’s their insurance? I didn’t know you could get I-jumped-in-the-road-and-caused-an-accident-I-swear-I-wasn’t-drunk insurance.”

“No, silly. Mary took out a policy on Richard so as soon as the murderer is caught everybody will be happy.”

“Except Richard, obviously.” Dafydd grinned. “Does that mean we can go home now? I’m desperate for a proper cup of tea.”

“In a little while. I need to make some calls first.” She pulled her keys from her bag. “Look, why don’t you go back to the cottage? I’ll meet you there as soon as I finished.”

“Well I won’t say no. I’m famished, I am.”

“Great. Put something on for tea? There’s rice and pasta in the cupboards and plenty of fresh vegetables in the pantry.”

“Pantry? I didn’t know you even had a pantry.”

“The cupboard in the kitchen where I keep the cleaning things.”

“I didn’t know you had cleaning things.” Dafydd held up a hand against her halfhearted thump. “All right. I’m going. I might stop in at the market on my way and have another burger.”

“If that’s what you want to do, do it. You’re a grown man now, Dafydd Thomas. Old enough to make your own decisions even if they’re stupid ones.”

“And what’s wrong with a burger, may I ask. Thousands of people ear burgers every day.”

“Yes, and look at them all.”

Dafydd opened his mouth to make a retort and then seemed to lose the will for it. He nodded instead. “Perhaps you’re right. Will you be long?”

“I hope not. Just make sure you’re there before I am or I won’t be able to get in.”

“Right.” Dafydd opened the back door and looked out. “I’d get a move on if I were you. It looks as if it’s going to tip it down again.”

“I will.” She climbed to her feet and shooed him out, then locked the door behind him. She’d left her laptop at home and had no way to find someone without doing an internet search. Her phone was too old to have an internet connection so the next best thing was to phone someone who did. She dialed.

“Hello?”

“Jimmy? It’s Meinwen here. Are you at the flat at Chervil Court?”

“Erm. Yes. Why? Any news about John?”

“Nothing new, though I’ve confirmed he knew Richard Godwin well.”

“Oh. Right. They were...good friends, then?”

“Lovers, yes. Now then, I need to find the estranged wife and I can’t ask the people at the house for reasons I won’t go into. Could you do an internet search for me? Do you know how to?”

“I told you yesterday. I used to help the other guys with computer studies. I think I can manage a search.”

“Okay, Sorry. Her name is Catherine Godwin and she–”

“Hold on. I’m not at the computer.”
She listened to his footsteps and the scrape of a chair.
“Okay. Catherine Godwin?”

“That’s right.” She could hear him tapping keys.

“There are twenty eight of them.”

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting so many. Okay. This one would be in her twenties”

“Down to three. Yorkshire, Manchester and Glamorgan.”

“Brilliant. Can you give me the addresses?” She copied them down into the back of her notebook. “I don’t suppose there are telephone numbers too? There are? Thanks.” She wrote those down as well. “She may have reverted to her maiden name. Would you search for Catherine Latt as well?”

“No hits under that name at all. Not in England, anyway.”

“Darn. Okay, Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Will that be all, ma’am?” She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Pretty much. Have the police been to see you yet?”

“Not yet. I was cherishing my last hour of freedom.”

“You ought to go to them. It’ll give a better impression of your innocence.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

She rang off and dialed the first number on the list. “Hello? This is the office of Jones and Jones. I’m trying to trace Catherine Godwin, nee Latt in regard to an insurance claim regarding her husband. Would she be in residence there?”

“Nay, hen. Mae Cathy’s ne’er been wed, ye ken?”

“I see. Sorry to have troubled you.” She crossed the name off her list and tried the second with a similar result, then struck out on the third as well. Three dead ends left her with the options of calling Sergeant Peters or Gillian who, being a night solicitor, was generally unavailable during the day. She sat back, chewing the end of her pencil. What if Richard had tried to reconcile with Catherine after John’s death? Wouldn’t he have gone to her house?

She freed her hair and packed her phone and notebook into her bag then donned her coat, switched off the lights and strode through the shop to the front door. She picked up her umbrella and left, locking the door carefully before retracing her steps back to Winston’s garage. Luckily, he was still there, squatting at the side of the Rolls Royce wearing white cotton gloves and brandishing what looked like a book of stamps.

“Hey, girl. Couldn’t stay away, eh? Couldn’t resist my charms?” He pulled a stamp from the book and applied it to the wing of the car and rubbed at it with what looked like a blusher brush. She realized it was the gold leaf he’d mentioned earlier. She watched, fascinated by the process until he stood to give her his attention.

“You said Richard had put a dent in the bumper last week. Now I know if I was driving a Rolls Royce I’d be extra careful about not damaging it so he must have been somewhere he wasn’t used to. Any idea where that might have been?”

“Ah, you want to know where he was driving, eh? You want me to have a look at the sat-nav and see the previous destinations?”

“That would be brilliant.” She gave him what she thought was her best smile.

“Of course, you could just tell me what you’re looking for.”

“Catherine. I need to speak to her about Richard’s will.”

“Right, yes, because you can’t leave all that business to the solicitors and the police, can you?” He smiled, flashing perfect teeth Meinwen would have had to pay thousands for.