Person or Persons Unknown (21 page)

Catherine was quiet for a moment. Then she said tentatively, ‘Will you come here?'

‘Good God, no! I mean – I'd hardly announce it like that, would I, without even consulting you? No, no; it might seem old-fashioned in today's climate, but I've no intention of compromising you. People accept young couples living together, but rightly or wrongly, they're harsher on older ones. So as soon as I've set the divorce in motion, I'll rent a flat somewhere until it comes through.'

‘Have you told your wife?'

‘Not yet, I've only just decided.' He tipped his glass, watching the liquid coat the sides. ‘In spite of her criticizing,' he went on slowly, ‘I've always felt she's been – dependent on me. Now, though, I'm sure she's quite capable of managing on her own. She'll have the house, and there won't be any money worries. It'll probably be a relief to be rid of me.'

Catherine leant forward and laid her hand on his. ‘I'm not worried about what people might say, Tom. You're very welcome to come here if you'd like to.'

‘Bless you, but no. It's better this way. We'll be free to spend time together, and it won't matter by then who sees us, but we'll sleep under different roofs. At night, anyway!' he added with a smile.

Since her only meeting with Jonathan had been brief, Rona was interested to see if, on further acquaintance, her impressions of him would hold or need amending. She also hoped, during the course of the evening, to assess not only his relationship with her sister, but his earlier association with Gemma Grant.

Two things struck her at once: his apparent ease of manner, though there was wariness at the back of his eyes, and his subtle distancing from Lindsey. It was as though he were saying:
If I'm being paraded here as a future member of the family, forget it.

Lindsey, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She had pinned her hair up and was wearing a dress Rona hadn't seen before. She looked, Rona thought achingly, young, happy – and in love. The word ‘darling' peppered her remarks to Jonathan, but was never returned. Rona wondered if she noticed.

On their arrival, they went into the sitting room for drinks, where, as before, Jonathan made a fuss of Gus.

‘We have a bassett at home,' he remarked, forgetting he'd already told Rona. ‘Name of Caesar.'

‘Yes,' she answered casually, ‘I think we saw you with him, up in the park.'

Jonathan shot her a quick look, but she had turned to offer Lindsey a dish of olives.

‘Quite likely,' he said evenly. ‘It's a favourite exercising ground – for the kids as well as the dog.'

‘How old are they?' Max asked, unaware of Lindsey's bitten lip.

‘Twelve and ten. Dominic started at Buckford College this term, as a weekly boarder. Tamar's still at Greenacres Prep.'

This information, over and above what was asked for, struck Rona as defiance. He was fencing with them, showing her he didn't care if she'd seen him with his family – that he'd nothing to hide. Before he could proceed to his wife's interests, she said quickly, ‘How long have you been with Chase Mortimer?'

He held her eyes for a moment, aware of her deflection and seemingly amused by it, damn him. ‘Man and boy; my great-uncle was the original Mortimer.'

‘You're a partner, then, like Lindsey?'

‘I am indeed.'

And therefore even less likely to cause a stir by divorcing his wife. Solicitors, Rona felt sure, could be stuffy about affairs between partners. Surely Lindsey realized this? Whether or not, she obviously didn't care for the turn the conversation had taken, and changed it abruptly by saying, ‘I was telling Jonathan about your work, Max.'

Jonathan smoothly took up her cue. ‘Indeed, yes – I hadn't known of the connection. I went to the exhibition at the Beaufort Gallery – last year, was it? – and I particularly liked your portrait of that young girl.'

‘Good of you to say so,' Max said briefly, and, though he disliked his work being discussed, he allowed himself to be drawn into a discussion on techniques, which safely distanced them from the previous topic and lasted until it was time to go down for supper.

Jonathan was genuinely interested in the house, commenting with enthusiasm on the alterations they'd made to it, particularly the yellow and blue kitchen overlooking the now moonlit patio garden.

‘This is fabulous!' he exclaimed. ‘I must say I envy you having a place like this, and in such a convenient position, too. I have a half-hour drive into work each morning, which can take twice as long if there's a traffic hold-up.'

It was as they were beginning their dessert that Lindsey said out of the blue, ‘Did you see the letters in today's
Gazette
?'

‘No?' Jonathan looked up. ‘What letters?'

‘Referring to Rona's insert last week about the girl who was murdered.'

‘Gemma Grant,' Rona underlined, her eyes on Jonathan. She caught the involuntary tightening of his jaw, but he made no comment.

‘One of them mentioned Selina O'Toole,' Lindsey was continuing. ‘She's the one you went to see, isn't she?'

‘Yes.' Rona paused, still watching Jonathan, who seemed intent on spooning wine sauce over his pears. ‘I believe you knew her, Jonathan?'

His hand jerked, spilling some wine on the table, and with a muttered apology he wiped it with his napkin. ‘Knew whom?' he asked, his voice for the first time not entirely under control.

‘Both of them, actually. Selina – and Gemma.'

Max shifted uncomfortably. Lindsey was staring at Jonathan in disbelief. ‘You
knew
Gemma
?' she demanded.

He cleared his throat. ‘As it happens, yes.'

‘But – how? When? And why didn't you say so, when I mentioned her on Tuesday?'

After a minute he said quietly, ‘It's something I've spent my life trying to forget. Quite frankly, it – was a shock, to have it suddenly spoken of again.'

I'll bet it was
, Rona thought grimly. He looked up, finally meeting her eyes. ‘What exactly did Selina tell you?'

‘That you went round with Gemma, and were upset when she broke it off,' Rona replied, embroidering slightly.

Lindsey gave a little gasp and her spoon dropped on to her plate.

Jonathan paled. ‘I assure you I was exhaustively questioned, as was the rest of our group.'

‘Even so,' Rona said enigmatically.

He lifted a hand and let it fall, turning to Lindsey with a crooked smile. ‘As to why I've never mentioned it, it would hardly be a good career move, would it, to let it be known I'd dated the victim of an unsolved murder?'

Lindsey, who looked on the verge of tears, didn't reply, so Rona stepped in again. ‘What was she like, Gemma? I'm trying to build up a picture of her.'

Jonathan took a long draught of wine and wiped his mouth on his napkin. Delaying tactics, Rona thought. ‘I was at university at the time,' he said then, ‘so I wasn't around as much as the others. But from what I remember she was good fun. Pretty, a bit flirty. Most of us went out with her at one time or another. Then, from one week to the next, she changed.'

‘Changed how?'

‘Stopped playing around, joining in the fun. And shortly after, she dropped out altogether.'

‘No explanation?'

‘Not from her, but Selina said she'd met someone and wanted to spend her time with him.'

‘Any idea who it could have been?'

He shook his head. ‘Not one of our crowd, that's for sure.'

‘How did you all react? Those of you who'd been out with her, I mean?'

‘Were any of us insanely jealous enough to kill her?' Jonathan asked bluntly. ‘I'd say definitely not. We simply shrugged and moved on to someone who
was
available. None of us had had anything heavy with Gemma, it was all very light-hearted.'

Max stood up and refilled everyone's glass. ‘I hope you don't think we invited you here to give you the third degree,' he said, with a look of reprimand at Rona.

‘I'm sure he doesn't,' she said blithely. ‘It was Lindsey who brought the subject up, not me. And actually, Linz, there's someone else we know who belonged to that crowd – Philip Yarborough. That's right, isn't it Jonathan?'

‘Philip Yarborough?' Lindsey echoed, her voice rising. ‘But – my God! …'

Rona sent her a warning look as Jonathan nodded. ‘Yes, Phil was there.'

‘Are you still in touch with him?'

‘We meet occasionally, in the course of things, but we were never that close. Also,' he added frankly, ‘we remind each other of a period of our lives we'd both rather forget.'

‘But he went out with Gemma too?' Lindsey pursued.

‘For a while, though he was more involved with Selina.' He paused, allowing himself a faint smile. ‘Now, there's someone who's made a name for herself.'

Max had been busying himself with the coffee, and they drank it in sporadic silence, thinking over what had been said.

Jonathan looked at his watch. ‘The hypothetical Masonic dinner finishes at eleven,' he said. ‘I should be making tracks.'

Max glanced at the clock. ‘You're cutting it fine, if you're running Lindsey home first.'

‘We came in separate cars for that very reason,' Lindsey told him. ‘What's more, we had to park at the far end of the road. I'll walk back with you,' she added to Jonathan, getting to her feet as he did.

‘Thanks for a delightful evening,' he said at the front door, adding with his crooked smile, ‘though I could have done without the
This is Your Life
interlude!'

‘It was all in a good cause,' Rona said equably.

Lindsey gave her a summary kiss and said tersely, ‘I'll be in touch.'

‘I rather think we'll be hearing from her before cockcrow,' Max observed, shutting the door behind them. And it was in fact barely half an hour later – presumably as soon as Lindsey had gained her own living room – that the phone rang.

Max, at the sink washing glasses, raised his eyebrows, and Rona, with a resigned shrug, picked it up.

‘What the
hell
do you think you were playing at?' Lindsey's voice exploded in her ear. ‘How
dare
you question Jonathan as if he were a criminal? And why in heaven's name didn't you
tell
me he'd known Gemma, not to mention Philip Yarborough? At least you needn't look any further for your murderer; it seems Max was right all along. Adele should be thankful he's only beaten her. So far.'

‘Are you stopping for breath?' Rona enquired sweetly. ‘If so, which question would you like answering first?'

‘
Rona!
'

‘All right, all right. I didn't tell you about Jonathan because I was afraid you'd react exactly as you are doing, and anyway I haven't seen you since I found out, and it's not something you can chat about on the phone. The same goes for Philip Yarborough.'

‘Are you going to invite him to dinner, too?' Lindsey asked nastily.

‘You're in a better position than I am to approach him.'

‘Oh no! I'm not doing any more of your dirty work! I don't want to be found dead in
my
bath, thank you very much!' Her voice changed, became small. ‘You don't really suspect Jonathan, do you?' she asked.

Rona bit her lip. ‘I'm sure he's all sweetness and light,' she said. ‘Now go to bed, sis, and stop worrying.'

Well, she thought as she broke the connection, she'd wanted to warn her sister about Jonathan's connection with Gemma. That she had most certainly done. It was now up to Lindsey to take any precautions that might be necessary.

T
here had been a disappointing response to Rona's Internet search, but she'd expected little else. Not only had the murder been of only local interest, but it had happened a quarter of a century ago, and few of today's surfers would even have heard of it. Without the father's name, she thought despondently, there seemed little chance of tracing him. Admittedly she could try ‘Morrison', but since it wasn't his real name – or Gemma wouldn't have disclosed it – it seemed a long shot.

There was, however, a development of sorts on the Monday morning, when Rona answered her mobile to find a male caller on the line.

‘You were enquiring about Gemma Grant?' he said.

‘Yes, I was.' She pulled pen and pad towards her and waited expectantly.

‘I think I might have something to interest you.'

‘Yes?'

‘However –' long pause – ‘I'm not prepared to tell you over the phone.'

Rona frowned. ‘Who am I speaking to?'

‘That's neither here nor there. Do you want to meet me or not?'

‘If you could give me some idea—'

‘Take it or leave it.'

‘Look, I'm sorry, but I really—'

The phone clicked in her ear and went dead.

‘Damn!' Rona said forcefully. A weirdo, no doubt; at least he didn't know who or where she was. Nonetheless, she felt oddly disturbed by the call and eventually, unable to concentrate on her work, she gave up and ran down the stairs, calling for Gus. It was after midday, and with luck Max would spare the time for a spot of lunch with her.

The sound of the Boston Philharmonic reached her before she even opened Farthings' front door, and she smiled to herself. It was for this reason that they had to work in separate establishments. She closed the door and directed Gus to the kitchen. As at home, he wasn't allowed upstairs.

‘Good boy – wait there,' she told him, and started up the stairs. Useless to call out – the music would have drowned her voice as it masked her footsteps – and it wasn't until she'd rounded the stairhead that she realized Max was not alone. Immobile in a chair, his hands folded in his lap, sat James Latymer.