The Shooting in the Shop (22 page)

‘Well, I doubt if we’d get anything out of Flora.
The person who definitely would know is Ricky himself.
But he’s in London. I heard that when I was over
at Fedingham Court House yesterday. Not back till
tomorrow. I suppose that Lola might know, but . . .’
She snapped her fingers. ‘Oh, just a minute, of course!
Kath! She would have known about his aunt.’

Jude rang through to Ayland’s. Again it was Kath
who answered the phone, and again she seemed
unsurprised by being questioned about Ricky. She
remembered instantly. ‘His Auntie Vi. That’s what
she was called – Auntie Vi.’

‘And is she still here in Fethering?’

‘Oh no. She’s long dead now. Even when she came
to our wedding, she was quite doddery. She went into
a home soon after, and I don’t think she lasted there
very long.’

A new thought came to Jude. ‘Was Flora Le
Bonnier at your wedding? Surely she would have
been there to see her son married?’

‘No, she couldn’t come. Making a film somewhere,
I think she was. But she sent us a very
generous present. A silver tea set. I’ve still got that
at home.’

‘Going back to Auntie Vi . . . you knew her, didn’t
you?’

‘Oh yes. I often used to go back to her place after
school. With Ricky. For tea.’

‘And do you know what relation she was to him?
Was she Flora Le Bonnier’s sister?’

‘I don’t think she was a relation.’

‘But he called her Auntie Vi.’

‘That’s what she liked to be called. By all the kids.
She looked after other kids, you see, as well as Ricky.’

‘What, she was a kind of paid child minder?’

‘More a foster parent, I think you’d call it. All the
kids loved her.’

Jude’s mind was having difficulty keeping track of
the new information, and the new thoughts that led
from it. ‘Did Ricky talk much about his mother when
you knew him?’

‘No. Very little.’

‘Or his father?’

‘He never mentioned a father.’

‘But people . . . other children at school, they must
have asked if he was related to Flora Le Bonnier?’

‘Why should they have done?’

‘Well, it’s not a very usual surname, is it?’

‘Le Bonnier?’

‘Yes.’

‘But Ricky wasn’t called Le Bonnier at school.’

‘What was he called?’

‘He was just “Ricky Brown” then.’

‘So when did he start calling himself Le Bonnier?’

‘When he went up to London. When he pretended
he wasn’t married to me. When he came under the
influence of the first Devil Woman.’

Oh, thought Jude, here we go again.

Gulliver finally got his walk, with his mistress and
her neighbour. Because she didn’t want him chewing
unsavoury things on the beach with his injured gums,
Carole kept him on the lead. He took a very dim view
of that.

Carole and Jude had agreed that they had to pay
a visit to Old Garge. He was the only one who had
potentially new information, which might untangle
some of the confusions that were building up around
their investigation.

The padlock was in place on the hut’s door, locking
the hasp on to its ring. Knocking produced no
reaction. No classical music wafted from the interior.
The place was empty and, though Carole had only
been there a few hours before, it felt as though it
had been empty for a long time. And that it might
stay that way for a long time, too.

As the two women walked back up the beach,
they were aware of the scrutiny of two uniformed
officers sitting in a Panda car by the Promenade. The
men had clearly been watching their approach to
the hut. Carole and Jude were not the only people
interested in the whereabouts of Old Garge.

If it hadn’t been for Gulliver, they would have had a
drink at the Crown and Anchor. But he wasn’t allowed
in the pub, and leaving him tied up outside on a
winter’s day would have been sheer cruelty. So
they returned to High Tor and while the dog settled
down in front of the Aga, Carole opened another of
the Chilean Chardonnays. ‘Most people still think it’s
Christmas, after all,’ she said.

The Aga’s heat was cosy, so they stayed in the
kitchen.

‘I’ve just realized’, Carole announced, ‘that we’ve
been very stupid.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, there’s one question we should have asked
ourselves much earlier, as soon as we met Ricky Le
Bonnier.’

‘And what is that question?’

‘Why he’s called Le Bonnier.’

Jude caught on immediately. ‘Yes, of course. Le
Bonnier is Flora’s maiden name, and the way she
went on about her family history, it’s one she’s very
proud of.’

‘And it’s common, I believe, for actresses to retain
their maiden names for professional purposes.’

‘Particularly if they don’t marry.’

‘True. Though we’ve no idea whether Flora ever
did marry.’

‘No mention of any weddings in her autobiography.
Which, of course, takes us straight back to the
question of who Ricky’s father was.’

‘Yes.’ Carole felt acutely frustrated. If only she’d
realized the importance of the information at the
time, she might have pressed Old Garge on the subject
of possible paternity. But then Piers had
interrupted their discussions. And, come to that, why
had Piers suddenly arrived at that moment? What was
his connection with the former Rupert Sonning?

‘Well,’ said Jude, ‘we know that at school Ricky
was known as Ricky Brown. So the logical answer
might be that he was the son of Flora Le Bonnier and
a “Mr Brown”.’

‘Do you think Kath’d know more about that?’

‘I doubt it. She said Ricky never mentioned his
father. What she did talk about, though, which might
be relevant, was the time when Ricky left her to go
and work in the music business in London, when he
was seduced away by the first of his “Devil Women”.’
Carole’s eyes looked up to the ceiling in exasperation. ‘I
was wondering if that was when he changed his name.
Realizing, perhaps, that Le Bonnier was a name that
might carry some weight in the world of show business?’

‘It’s possible,’ Carole conceded. ‘and clearly at
some point there was a big change in Ricky’s relationship
with his mother. During his childhood she
appears almost to have denied his existence, but
when she was here at your party she seemed close to
hero-worshipping him.’

‘Yes.’ It was Jude’s turn to look frustrated now. ‘If
only I’d thought to ask these questions when I went
to sort out Flora’s back.’

‘Maybe she’ll have a relapse and summon you again.’

‘Maybe . . .’ A new thought came to Jude, spreading
a beam across her rounded face. ‘But of course we
will be seeing both Ricky and Flora on tomorrow
evening.’ Carole looked puzzled. ‘Their New Year’s
Eve Party at Fedingham Court House.’

‘Oh yes.’ Puzzlement gave way to anxiety on
Carole’s face. ‘Are you sure I’m invited to that? I
mean, I haven’t received an invitation.’

‘Of course you’re invited. I asked specially. And,
given the number of questions to which we need
answers, it’ll be a good thing to have us both there.’

‘Yes, it will.’ Carole drummed her fingers impatiently
on the kitchen table. ‘So what can we do till
then? In terms of investigation?’

‘Well, I suppose tomorrow morning you can have
another attempt to talk to the Devil Woman who Kath
saw in Ricky’s car on the evening of the fire.’

‘Anna. Yes, I’ll try that. And at least tomorrow
morning I’ll have Gulliver with me, so I won’t look
such an idiot.’

Jude smiled inwardly at this latest of her neighbour’s
neuroses as she said, ‘The other thing we can
do is try to find Old Garge again.’

The Wednesday morning was not so cold. The entire
country was still in its state of holiday torpor, but for
Carole Seddon Christmas seemed a distant memory.
She had survived – even enjoyed – the day itself, but
now normal life had to continue. She wanted to put
the last week behind her. Going to the Le Bonniers’
New Year’s Eve Party would be an incongruous
reminder of the season.

Gulliver, who appeared to have suffered no ill
effects from his surgery, watched the well-practised
preparations for a walk with tremendous tail-wagging
enthusiasm. When they reached Fethering Beach,
Carole didn’t have the heart not to let him roam free.
The tide was low. Gulliver lolloped off to practise
emergency stops in the sand. Carole sat in the shelter
where she had last talked with Anna, and waited. Her
timing was precise again; it was twenty past seven.

And this time she got a result. Anna must have
started her walk a little earlier than usual, because
she and her Westie appeared round the corner of a
weed-covered wooden groyne way down on the
beach. Gulliver gambolled towards them, had a
momentary exchange of sniffs with the other dog and
then returned to his high-speed braking exercises.
What a useful herald he is, thought his mistress, alerting
Anna to my presence.

It seemed quite natural for Carole to rise from the
shelter and walk down across the shingle towards her
dog, and what she could almost call her dog-walking
friend. Except that what she had to talk to Anna about
might put a severe strain on their embryonic friendship.

After mutual greetings and an exchange of very
English sentences about the comparative mildness of
the weather, Carole decided she had to leap straight
in. ‘You remember last time we met, we talked about
the fire at Gallimaufry . . . ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have the police talked to you about it?’

‘They asked me about security arrangements at
the shop.’

‘Not about anything else?’

‘Why on earth should they ask me about anything
else?’

‘Just because you were seen with Ricky in his car
near Fethering Yacht Club earlier that evening.’

The approach had been clumsy, but Carole
couldn’t have asked for a more dramatic reaction. All
the colour left Anna’s cheeks, making the red of her
lipstick, by contrast, brighter than ever. She swayed
as if she might be about to faint, and Carole reached
out a hand to steady her. As soon as Anna felt the
touch on her sleeve, she burst into tears. Not slow
tears, but hysterical ones that shook her entire body
as though electric shocks were coursing through her
veins.

‘Come on,’ said Carole, uncharacteristically
gentle. ‘Come and sit down.’

Leading the way up to the shelter on the Promenade
with an arm over Anna’s shoulders, she could
feel her body’s uncontrollable shuddering. Blackie,
her West Highland terrier, uninterested in human
suffering, trotted off to nose his way through piles of
seaweed.

It took a while before Anna was calm enough to
speak coherently, and her first intelligible words
were: ‘I’ve been terrified of this happening. I knew
it’d all come out one day.’

‘All what?’ asked Carole. Feeling awkward, she
detached her arm from Anna’s shoulders.

‘About me and Ricky. Why would the police want
to know about us being there?’

‘They are investigating a suspicious death. They’re
bound to be checking everyone who has a connection
with Gallimaufry.’

‘God, then it’ll all come out.’

Patiently, Carole repeated, ‘All what?’ There was a
silence, broken only by Anna’s rasping breaths. ‘You
don’t deny you were in the Mercedes with Ricky?’

‘I don’t deny anything. I knew it’d all end in
disaster. But I do love him.’ That prompted a renewed
burst of weeping.

As it subsided, Carole asked, ‘Are you saying that
you and Ricky Le Bonnier were having an affair?’
Anna nodded miserably. ‘Had it been going on for
long?’

‘A couple of months. No, nearly three. I started
working at Gallimaufry as soon as the place opened
in September. I was there on the first day at the gala
celebration. And it was early October when . . .’ The
memory was too painful for her to supply more
details. ‘Oh, I was very stupid, I know, but very
vulnerable. It had been so long since any man had
shown any interest in me, in that way . . . I thought,
coming here to Fethering, I could make a fresh start,
be someone new. But you can never get away from
who you really are.’

‘And the hair and the make-up,’ asked Carole
gently, ‘was that part of being someone new?’

Another sad nod. ‘Yes, and that probably just
made me look ridiculous. But it gave me confidence
for a time when I first came here. I thought I’d really
got away from . . . the situation I was in before. But
then the first thing I do when I arrive in Fethering is
to screw up totally and start having an affair with a
married man.’

Carole couldn’t stop herself from saying, ‘In this
case, a much-married man.’

‘Yes, but it seemed to
work
,’ Anna protested. ‘Ricky
and me. I mean, he was totally upfront. It’s not like he
pretended that he wasn’t married.’

‘Be rather difficult to do that, wouldn’t it,’ Carole
observed tartly, ‘given the fact that you were working
for his wife, and she presumably introduced you to
him?’

Anna nodded abjectly. Carole felt some pity for
her, but stronger than that – in fact, she was surprised
by its strength – was the anger she felt towards Ricky
Le Bonnier. Why was it that some men were incapable
of fidelity? There he was, settled with a new
glamorous young wife, two small children, idyllic life,
and he still couldn’t stop himself from groping any
other woman who looked like she was available.

‘Did Lola know what was going on?’

‘No, no. We were very discreet.’

‘So discreet that you were spotted in a car together
the evening before Gallimaufry burnt down.’

‘That was unusual. Nobody would have thought
twice about it, if ghastly things hadn’t happened afterwards.
Otherwise it could have been completely
innocent – the owner’s husband giving a staff
member a lift back after work.’