The Cold Hand of Malice (25 page)

‘We talked,’ Holbrook said defiantly. ‘Susan made tea and we just sat around and talked. We’ve known each other for a long time, and it was rather pleasant to be able to have a relaxing evening for a change. And I did not kill my wife.’ He rose to his feet. ‘So, if you’ve quite finished, I have work to do, and I’m running very late.’

‘And we thank you for your time,’ Paget said as he, too, stood up. ‘However, busy or not, you are required to present yourself at Charter Lane within the next forty-eight hours to give us a revised statement. And I should warn you that it is an offence to waste police time, and you could be charged, so you may wish to advise your solicitor.’

The word ‘solicitor’ reminded Paget of a question he’d meant to ask Holbrook earlier. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Who was that gentleman who spoke to you at the cemetery on Friday? Well dressed, driving a Mercedes?’

The question, at least as far as Paget was concerned, was prompted by little more than idle curiosity, but the effect on Holbrook was strange. He stared at Paget blankly, mouth half open before finding his voice. ‘Henry Beaumont,’ he said. ‘Henry is the Research and Development VP in the Drexler-Davies Corporation, UK Division. I used to work for him before going out on my own. He came to the funeral as a representative of the company to offer their condolences, that’s all. Why do you want to know?’

‘Just curious, that’s all,’ Paget told him, truthfully, but Holbrook’s reaction was something to think about.

Peggy Goodwin was either watching for them or Holbrook had called her on the intercom, because she came out of her office to escort them out of the building. Paget had the feeling that she would love to know what had gone on in Holbrook’s office, but she said nothing as she removed their Visitor’s badges and saw them out of the door.

‘Well, Forsythe, you were very quiet in there,’ said Paget when they reached the car. ‘What did you make of it?’

‘I thought you were doing very well on your own, sir,’ Molly said boldly, but smiled to make sure he understood she meant no offence. ‘But seriously, I don’t think he’s telling the whole truth. I have trouble visualizing the two of them just sitting there
talking
for three-and-a-half hours. I don’t think it’s in Mr Holbrook’s nature to sit that long with a woman without making some sort of move on her. And from what Sergeant Tregalles told me about the way she acted at the house and at the funeral, all we
really
know is that there are three-and-a-half hours unaccounted for by both of them.’

Simon Holbrook sat slumped in his chair behind his desk when Peggy Goodwin entered his office and closed the door behind her. His brow was furrowed as if he was trying to work something out and several seconds passed before he looked up to acknowledge her presence.

‘What is it, Simon?’ she asked anxiously. ‘What did they want? You look worried.’

He held her gaze for a moment longer, but Peggy had the feeling that he wasn’t seeing her at all. ‘They think I did it, Peg,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m sure Paget’s convinced that I killed Laura.’

‘That’s ridiculous! I mean how could you? You were with Trevor all evening. Surely they don’t think that he would lie for you over something as serious as that?’

Holbrook looked away. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but still . . .’

Peggy’s eyes narrowed. ‘I know you, Simon,’ she said softly, ‘and there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? You didn’t lie to them about that, did you? I mean about Trevor? You
were
with him the whole time, weren’t you?’

‘Of course,’ he said quickly, ‘but—’

‘Then I don’t see what you have to worry about.’

‘It’s the motive,’ Holbrook said. ‘They keep coming back to the fact that Laura and I weren’t getting along, and that I had the most to gain by . . . by killing her.’

Peggy made a face. ‘Unfortunately, that’s true,’ she said gently, ‘and they’d be even more suspicious if they’d heard the things you’ve said to me about her, but honestly, Simon, I don’t see why you should worry, so why not go down to the lab and get on with the tests and forget about it.’

Holbrook came out from behind his desk, but as he made for the door, Peggy put a hand on his arm. ‘There
is
something else, though, isn’t there?’ she said shrewdly. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me What is it, Simon? What are you
really
scared of?’

‘Nothing,’ he said brusquely, shaking off her hand. ‘I have to go. I’m late as it is.’

‘But Simon—’

‘For Christ’s sake, leave it, Peg!’ he snarled. ‘It’s none of your business anyway.’ He brushed past her and opened the door, then stopped. ‘Sorry,’ he said without turning. ‘Didn’t mean to bite your head off, but I’ve answered more than enough questions for one day, so just leave it for now. I don’t want to discuss it any more. All right?’

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I know it’s been hard on you. It’s just that . . .’ She stopped speaking. Simon Holbrook was already walking away.

Twenty-Two

Wednesday, March 18

The Basket of Flowers was an attractive little shop in the middle of a row of small shops and boutiques on one side of the market square. The buildings themselves were some of the oldest in Broadminster, and many of them had gone through a number of transformations over the centuries. But the town fathers, at least in recent years, with an eye to the summer tourist trade, had imposed severe restrictions on anything that might detract from the old-world ambience and atmosphere of the square. But it seemed to Molly that there was something different about the shop, and she asked Susan Chase about it.

‘It’s the bay window,’ Susan told her with a smile. ‘We had it done when we extended the shop by three feet just before Christmas last year. The plans went before the Planning Commission two years ago, but they spent more than a year hemming and hawing about it before they finally agreed to let me do it. Still, it wasn’t a complete waste of time, because I realized there were other things I could have done at the same time. It allowed me to rearrange the counters, which meant the lighting had to be moved as well, and the floor had to be done – you know how one thing leads to another – and with the shop next door being broken into around the same time, it seemed prudent to add some basic security, and on and on it went. But it’s all done now, and I think it was worth it.’

‘It really makes a difference,’ Molly agreed. ‘And I think . . .’ She caught Paget’s eye and grimaced guiltily.

Susan caught the look and turned her attention to Paget. ‘But I take it you aren’t here to admire the shop or order flowers today, Chief Inspector. Simon phoned me last night to say you might be coming.’

‘I rather thought he might,’ said Paget. He glanced toward the back of the shop where two young women were preparing bouquets. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?’

‘Of course. I live above the shop, so we can go upstairs. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

‘That would be very nice, thank you,’ said Molly quickly before Paget had a chance to reply.

‘Good. I’ll just let the girls know.’

The flat was long and narrow like the shop below. Molly expected it to be gloomy, but was pleasantly surprised to find the long living room bathed in the light – and warmth – of the late-morning sun coming in through a large window overlooking the street.

‘Do make yourselves comfortable while I pop the kettle on,’ Susan said. ‘I’ll let Brandy out and you can get acquainted while I make tea. Don’t worry, she’s very good with strangers, and she’s doing well in obedience class. We go once a week, and we both enjoy it. Just don’t let her up on the furniture. She’ll try it if she thinks she can get away with it.’

She opened the door to the kitchen, and out came a young Shetland sheepdog, all legs and wagging tail. She paused, standing with her head on one side as if trying to decide whether to approach Molly or not. Molly leaned forward and put her hand down close to the floor and said, ‘Come on, Brandy, there’s a good dog.’

The young Sheltie trotted forward, now curious to see what might be in Molly’s hand. She sniffed delicately, then lay down and rolled over to let Molly stroke her tummy.

‘Aren’t you a little beauty, then?’ Molly murmured as she glanced across at Paget. She could almost read his thoughts. Dog hair! She drew the dog closer and ruffled her fur.

‘I see she’s made a friend,’ said Susan when she returned carrying a tray. She set it down on a low table in front of them. ‘Milk? Sugar?’ she asked, teapot poised. ‘Do have a biscuit,’ she urged once their cups were filled.

‘Now,’ she said, her voice taking on a serious note, ‘I’m told you want to know if I can verify that Simon was here the night Laura died, and I can. He was here from roughly seven o’clock to something like ten thirty. I know he gave you that story about coming to fix the security system, but he only said that because it’s what he told Trevor. He didn’t mean to mislead you. It’s just that he didn’t want you or others to get the wrong impression about our relationship. The truth is he came here because he couldn’t understand what was happening to his marriage, and he wanted to find out if Laura had said anything to me about it.’

Molly leaned forward to stroke the dog behind the ears, but her attention was on Susan Chase. She was a very attractive woman, strong features, dark hair, and those long, finely-braided golden earrings suited her perfectly. Molly would love to be able to wear earrings like that, but with her rounder face and shorter hair she knew they would never look right on her, no matter how exquisitely made.

‘So how would you describe your relationship with Simon Holbrook?’ Paget was saying.

‘We’re friends – good friends, and have been for many years.’

An almost imperceptible nod from Paget gave Molly permission to pick up on what Susan had said earlier. ‘You said that Mr Holbrook wanted to ask if your sister had confided in you,’ she said. ‘Were you and Laura very close?’

‘I think I would have to say only sometimes to that,’ Susan said. ‘Laura was a rather secretive person, and yet there were times when she would suddenly take you into her confidence. But those occasions were decided by her, and they didn’t occur very often. You could ask all the questions you liked, but if she didn’t think she owed you an answer, you wouldn’t get one.’

‘Were you able to help in this case?’

Susan shook her head. ‘No. Laura hadn’t said anything to me, although I knew she was unhappy about something.’

‘How?’

Susan smiled. ‘I could always tell,’ she said. ‘Even when we were children, I could tell when something wasn’t going Laura’s way – or the way Laura
thought
it should go – because she would become very short with everyone, very irritable, but you rarely knew the reason. She never shared her thoughts, so you never knew if it was something you had done or if it was something that had nothing to do with you at all. But no matter what the problem was, she would never ask anyone for advice or help. She had to solve every problem herself.’

‘Can you recall when you first noticed it in this case?’

‘Two, possibly three months ago, perhaps.’

‘And how was Mr Holbrook taking all this?’

Susan hesitated, lips compressed, her delicate eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown as if trying to decide how much, if anything to tell. ‘Not well,’ she said at last.

‘And . . .?’ Molly prompted.

Still Susan hesitated. ‘I know Laura’s gone,’ she said, ‘but I still feel as if I’m talking behind her back. But the fact of the matter is, Simon thought his marriage was falling apart. He thought Laura was seeing another man.’

‘He told you this?’

Susan nodded. ‘As I said, he wanted to know if Laura had said anything to me. She hadn’t, of course, and I told him I didn’t think he was right, but he was like a dog with a bone. We’d spoken about it only a few days before Laura died, but he said when he got in the car with Trevor the other night, he kept wondering if I had heard anything since, so he told Trevor to drop him off here. He said he wouldn’t have enjoyed the film anyway in that state of mind.’

Paget spoke up. ‘And yet we are told that Laura became quite vehement when she accused Moira Ballantyne of having an affair with her husband. Surely she wouldn’t do that if she were having an affair herself?’

‘She would if she thought someone was trying to take something away from her when she considered it to be hers in the first place,’ Susan said sharply, then grimaced guiltily. ‘Sorry,’ she said contritely. ‘I didn’t mean it to come out quite the way it sounded, especially now she’s gone, but Laura could be very possessive.’

‘Is it possible that she was right, though?’ Molly asked. ‘I mean Mr Holbrook is a very attractive man, and . . .’ She shrugged suggestively and let the rest of the unspoken words hang there in mid-air. ‘And if not Moira Ballantyne,’ she continued, ‘someone else, perhaps?’

‘Certainly not!’ said Susan forcefully. ‘Simon loved Laura. It was he who was afraid that she might be having an affair with someone else. Oh, no, you’re wrong. Why else would he have come to me that night if it wasn’t to ask if I knew if Laura was having an affair?’

‘Why, indeed?’ said Paget quietly. ‘But let me ask you something else. I’m told it was believed by some that you would be the one to marry Simon Holbrook, but all that changed when your sister appeared on the scene. Is that true?’

The muscles of Susan Chase’s jaw stiffened visibly as she stared into her cup. ‘I suppose it might have looked that way to some,’ she said stiffly.

‘Were you ever engaged to be married?’

Susan shook her head, but she wouldn’t look at Paget.

‘But you did have that expectation?’

‘Whether I did or not, Chief Inspector, I really don’t see it as relevant to your investigation, and with all due respect, I don’t think it is any of your business.’

‘On the other hand, looking at it from our point of view, it could be relevant if, for example, you resented the fact that your sister walked in and took away the man you hoped to marry? I think most people would resent it under those circumstances – especially if it had happened before.’