The Corpse on the Court (27 page)

‘Yes, he did. Daddy told me he'd asked her. But she'd replied that I'd hurt her so much, she never wanted to hear from me again.'

Carole Seddon's fury knew no bounds. In the annals of divorce he knew how vindictive ex-partners could be towards each other, but she'd never before heard of callousness to match that of Iain Holland.

N
ow she knew about Piers Targett's ongoing affair with Felicity Budgen, Jude could no longer keep out the flood of other suspicions about him that had been building up inside her. Had anything he had told her over the last few weeks been true?

She thought back to her first acquaintance with Lockleigh House tennis court, at the Sec's Cup a couple of Sundays back. And very clearly she remembered what Reggie Playfair had said after his collapse on the court, which in retrospect seemed like a dress rehearsal for the more serious one he was to suffer three days later. When he had interpreted Henry the doctor's suggestion that he might be about to ‘pop his clogs', Reggie had announced, ‘I'm not the kind of person who believes in the idea of carrying secrets to the grave. No, my instinct has always been to come clean and confront people.'

At the time it had just sounded like bluster. But, given events that had happened since, Jude could see that his words could have been heard by a guilty person as a threat. What secrets was Reggie Playfair ready to reveal? Might one of them be about the affair between Piers Targett and Felicity Budgen?

If that were the case, then someone might have felt the need for Reggie to be silenced before he made his revelation. Piers' account of Jonquil setting up the scenario of herself dressed as Agnes Wardock's ghost was so bizarre that Jude thought it could be true. And she felt pretty certain that the sight of that filmy white figure had caused Reggie Playfair's fatal heart attack.

Jonquil Targett was sufficiently weird to have thought up the charade for herself. But she was also suggestible enough to have someone plant the idea in her head. And who was more likely to have planted it than her estranged husband?

Jude felt profoundly miserable.

Carole, on the other hand, as she drove back from Southampton, felt very nearly smug. She hadn't found out the solution to the mission on which she had first embarked – she had no idea who Fedborough's Lady in the Lake was – but she had solved the problem set by Susan Holland. She now had some wonderful news to impart to that desperate woman. She just had to decide on the best way to break it to her.

The other achievement that made her glow with pride was that she had conducted the investigation on her own. She had set out to unravel a mystery completely independent of Jude, and she had solved it. While her neighbour had been preoccupied with what might have been – but probably wasn't – a murder at Lockleigh House tennis court. And also preoccupied – not to say distracted – by her new lover, Piers Targett.

Carole Seddon decided she would keep her successful investigation secret a little longer. When she'd actually contacted Susan Holland, when mother and daughter were finally reunited, that would be the time to tell Jude what she'd been doing.

Jude was not a woman without resources. She had a wide circle of friends, particularly from the alternative-therapy world, but none of them did she want to speak to that afternoon.

Nor, despite her customary enthusiasm for direct confrontation and getting things out in the open, did she want to speak to Piers Targett. Their next encounter was not going to be an easy one, and Jude also had the sick feeling that it would probably be their last. She wished she could go back to the airy, confident Piers she had first met, before his image became sullied with doubt and suspicion. But she knew such hopes were pointless and vain.

She wanted to talk to somebody, though. And it was with some surprise that she realized only one person would fit the bill. Someone who wouldn't offer too much easy sympathy, or alternative therapies to ease her pain. Someone who would talk to her directly and without sentiment.

For possibly the first time in their friendship, Jude really needed the company of Carole Seddon.

So she was relieved that Friday afternoon when she saw the neat Renault come back to the garage next door, and within five minutes of her neighbour's return Jude was ringing at the front door of High Tor.

As Jude knew she wouldn't, Carole didn't mention the emotional dimension in her suspicions of Piers Targett. None of that ‘Ooh, it must be making you feel awful to have someone you love involved in . . .' that she would have got from her friends in the healing world. Instead, Carole first made a pot of strong coffee. Then, as she listened to Jude spell out the progress her investigation had made, she just treated Piers as another suspect in a list of suspects.

And there was quite a lot to spell out. The two women hadn't spoken about the case for nearly a week. In fact they hadn't spoken at all since Carole had brought Jude back from their visit to Cecil Wardock in Lockleigh House the previous Saturday.

Jude gave her neighbour the edited version of what she had found out, not detailing every cul-de-sac and double-back that her suspicions had followed. Nor did she describe each member of the Lockleigh House tennis court she had encountered, merely the principle players in the mystery of Reggie Playfair's death.

‘So . . .' said Carole after the silence that followed Jude's exposition, ‘at the moment the thinking is that he was killed deliberately. The Agnes Wardock ghost scenario was set up on the confident assumption that seeing it would cause Reggie Playfair to have a fatal heart attack?'

‘Yes.'

Carole grimaced ruefully. ‘Good luck to the barrister who stands up in court and tries to get a conviction on that.'

‘I'm not so concerned about a conviction in court. I just want to know who set Reggie up for that rather macabre death and why.'

‘Well, the information you have is that he went to the court following a text-message summons from Felicity Budgen?'

‘Yes.'

‘So did he actually meet her there?'

‘I can only assume so.'

‘This tennis court,' Carole observed, ‘is getting rather full, isn't it, on the night in question? Felicity Budgen, Piers, the demented Jonquil in a wedding dress, and then poor Reggie Playfair.'

‘Yes. I don't know whether they were all there at the same time.'

‘Well, Jonquil and Reggie certainly were, otherwise she couldn't have killed him . . . if one can use such a transitive verb as “killed” in this context.' Carole was thoughtful for a moment. ‘And you say Piers and Felicity Budgen had regular liaisons at the tennis court over the years?'

‘Yes,' Jude confirmed, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

‘And do you know if that relationship was still ongoing . . . I mean, obviously until Piers took up with you?'

Jude was forced to admit that she didn't know. It was one of the many questions that would have to be asked when she and Piers Targett next met.

‘It's funny,' said Carole. ‘I would never have suspected that a real tennis court could be used as a venue for illicit assignations.'

‘Well, I'm not sure that they all are, but over the years the Lockleigh House one has been. And it's a tradition that still continues.'

‘Oh?'

‘Ned Jackson, the junior professional, sees himself as a bit of a Lothario. He's been two-timing his girlfriend at the court with one of the younger members. Poor kid, he's treating her very badly. And she can't be much more than sixteen. Pretty girl called Tonya Grace.'

Carole Seddon looked thunderstruck. ‘Do you know, Jude,' she said, ‘that's the second time I've heard that name today.'

It was a matter of moments to tell her neighbour the context in which Tonya Grace's name had come up.

‘“Seeing someone killed”?' Jude echoed. ‘My God, maybe Tonya was there the night of Reggie's death! Ned Jackson swore she wasn't, but he'd lie about anything to save his skin.'

‘We need to talk to the girl,' said Carole. ‘Have you any means of getting in touch with her?'

‘Apparently Felicity Budgen's rather taken her under her wing, but I'm not sure that I want to contact Felicity right now. Simplest way would be through the court. I've got the number. I'll see if there's anyone there.'

George Hazlitt answered. ‘Oh, hello, Jude. Booking your follow-up lesson, are you?'

‘Not right now, actually. I was wondering if you had a number for Tonya Grace.'

‘Thinking of setting up a game with her? Good idea. Though you'll have to be on your toes. She's getting very good these days. Still, with the handicap you should be OK.' He gave the mobile number. ‘Actually, she's coming up to the court this afternoon, after school. Rang this morning and I'd just had a cancellation of the five forty-five court, so she booked it for a lesson with Ned. But now Ned's had to rush off for some family emergency. I've tried to ring Tonya to put her off, but her mobile seems to be off, so I'll have to hang around and give her the lesson myself. Which is a bit of a bugger, because I was hoping to get home early, what with it being a Friday. Still, the hazards of being a tennis pro, eh?'

As soon as the call was over, Jude tried the mobile number George had given her. It was still switched off.

Jude looked across at Carole, her eyes sparkling. ‘Tonya's going to be at the court at five forty-five. We can see her there.'

They got there at five thirty to find a very disgruntled George Hazlitt in the pros' office packing up his bag.

‘Is Tonya here?' asked Jude urgently.

‘Yes. Except now she doesn't want her lesson. I've been waiting around all afternoon for her, she arrives, gets into her kit, then comes back here and asks where Ned is. I say he's gone off for this family emergency and I'm going to stand in for him. Whereupon she bursts into tears and says she doesn't want to have a lesson, after all. Then rushes back to the changing rooms.' He raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Teenage girls! I've got a couple at home. I thought I came to work to get away from them.'

‘I think I know what might be wrong with Tonya,' said Jude. ‘Do you mind if I go and have a word with her?'

George Hazlitt shrugged. ‘Do what you like. The door'll lock itself when you go out. Anyway, there'll be a doubles lot coming for the seven o'clock court.' He picked up his bag grumpily and made for the door. ‘Have a good weekend,' he called out in a tone that didn't imply he was going to.

Not really aware that Carole had never been on a real tennis court before, Jude led the way down the walkway to the club room. The neighbour looked curiously at the large empty area on their left but made no comment.

Tonya Grace hadn't got as far as the ladies' changing room. She was crumpled on a leather sofa in front of the bare fireplace, sobbing her little heart out.

‘Tonya,' said Jude gently, ‘I'm Jude. You may have seen me round the court.'

The girl was too distressed to make any attempt to wipe her tears. She just went on crying.

‘And this is my friend, Carole. Look, I think I know why you're so upset.'

‘I doubt it,' said Tonya Grace, an edge of adolescent petulance showing through her tears.

‘You wanted to see Ned, didn't you? To try and sort things out with him.'

‘What if I did?'

‘Listen, Tonya, I know about you meeting Ned here, you know, when the court's closed.'

‘Do you?' The girl looked alarmed now. ‘You mustn't tell my grandparents! My
babushka
thinks I've been having sleepovers with friends. She must never find out!'

‘Don't worry, she won't,' Jude soothed. ‘Look, I want to talk about a night you and Ned were here. I think it was probably the last time. It was the night Reggie Playfair died.'

Again alarm showed through the girl's tears. ‘What do you know about it?'

‘I know that you didn't do anything wrong, Tonya. But I know you saw things that upset you.'

‘How do you know this? You weren't here too, were you?'

‘No. I wasn't here. Ned Jackson said you didn't come here that night.'

‘Well, he would say that, wouldn't he? He'd say any lie that got him off the hook. Like today – this “family emergency”. I bet he didn't have any family emergency until George said I'd booked a lesson with him.'

Sensing that a new tsunami of tears threatened, Jude said quickly, ‘Tell me exactly what happened that night. You'll feel better if you do.'

Tonya Grace looked doubtful, unwilling to share her secrets with strangers.

Carole, who had so far not spoken, said, ‘You didn't mind telling Marina Gretchenko about it, did you?'

Bewilderment flooded the girl's face. But the fact that this woman she'd never seen before knew her friend seemed to reassure her, to make her feel she could get the burden of painful recollection off her chest.

‘Ned fixed up that we should meet that night. The usual time, the usual place, it was getting to be a habit. I didn't like it. I kept asking why we couldn't go out like normal couples, you know, down the pub, see a movie, have a meal. But he said he'd got this ex-girlfriend who was very jealous. And it was all over between them, but they still both lived in this flat which they were having trouble selling. You know, it really was all over, they had separate rooms and that, but . . . So I agreed to meet him here.'

‘How do you normally travel here?' asked Jude.

‘I get the train from Brighton to Clincham. I've got a friend there whose parents let me leave my bike in their garden. So I cycle the last bit.'

‘All right, that night . . .'

‘Well, it was like usual. Ned would bring a bottle of wine. We'd have a couple of glasses and then . . . well . . .'

‘You had sex.'