The Chalon Heads (30 page)

The shock of the police raid had made Mrs Cooper talkative, and Kathy didn’t want her to stop, but at that moment two detectives came into the dining-room and began opening the glass-fronted cabinets in which Mrs Cooper kept her crystal and glassware.

‘Oh, hell! Be careful with that!’ she cried, getting to her feet.

Kathy said, ‘They will,’ trying to sound completely confident. ‘Let’s go outside,’ she suggested. ‘Leave them to it. They will take care, I promise.’

Reluctantly the other woman picked up her cigarettes and let herself be led out to the back garden. They walked slowly over to a sundial, set on the edge of a bed of purple lavender. The evening sun had dropped below the surrounding houses and the garden was darkening in the twilight shadows.

‘I have no difficulty with the idea of Sammy fancying Eva,’ Kathy said. ‘But what on earth did Eva see in him? Everyone assumes money. Was that it?’

‘We talked about this endlessly,’ Mrs Cooper said, looking anxiously back at the house, lights alive in every window. ‘At first Sammy’s infatuation was a bit of a joke, one that we were worried could backfire if the old count got to hear of it. But somehow Sammy seemed to charm them both. God knows how he did it—we couldn’t work it out. Then, gradually, the idea of Sammy and Eva being a sort of item just seemed to become accepted.’ She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I ought to be there, make sure they don’t break anything.’

‘Really, it’s better not to watch. Let them do their job, Mrs Cooper. It’ll soon be over. So, not money, then.’

‘What?’ She looked at Kathy, not comprehending.

‘Eva and Sammy.’

‘Oh . . . Well . . .’ She returned to the subject. ‘Yes, of course it was money, on one level. The family was broke, despite their blue blood, and a foreign millionaire must have had some appeal to Eva, and getting away from grumpy old Dad. But it was more complicated than that, more interesting. I mean, although Sammy is getting on, it’s hard sometimes to know how old he is—You’ve met him, have you? With that round baby face and smooth skin, and his inscrutable smile, like a sort of doll. And sometimes I would think that she was older than him, less innocent in many ways. She would talk to him as if he was a little boy, playing with his stamps, and he would lap it up, and treat her like a precious bit of porcelain or something. For a while it seemed almost all right.’

She turned away and lit another cigarette. ‘But, of course, it was doomed. She got bored with it before long. They should have sold the house in Surrey and bought somewhere new in town, but Sammy is so attached to it, his English country house . . .’

‘They tried to make a fresh start, didn’t they? I mean, they got rid of Sally.’

‘Oh, yes. You’ve come across her, have you? Well, yes, Obviously she had to go. Eva was quite firm about that. There was no way they could live under the same roof.’

Did Sally go willingly, or was she pushed?’

‘You should ask Sammy that.’

‘I’d like to, but that may be difficult.’ Kathy smiled.

‘Oh . . . yes, of course.’ Mrs Cooper gave a little grimace in response. ‘Definitely pushed. She’d have clung on there in the hope that Sammy would see sense and kick Eva out one day, if Eva hadn’t put an end to it.’

‘How did she do that?’

‘Oh, just put her foot down with Sammy, I suppose. Things got a bit touchy, we got the impression.’

‘And then Eva persuaded Sammy to buy the London flat.’

‘Mmm.’ Mrs Cooper frowned. ‘We never thought that was a good idea. I mean, in principle it seemed a good idea, but Sammy hardly went there, and pretty soon it became
her
pad.’ ‘What did she do there?’

‘Well, I don’t know. I mean, not directly. Sammy said she went shopping and watched movies, but I don’t know.’

‘Didn’t she visit you when she was in town?’

‘Look, we’re closer to Farnham than to Canonbury. There wasn’t much point her going there if she wanted to visit us. Same with Sammy. If he came here, he just wanted to go home to Farnham afterwards, not travel across town to the flat.’

‘What other friends did she have in London, then?’

‘Well, I don’t know. I never met any of them. Unless you call the waiter at La Fortuna a friend.’

‘Is that Tomaso?’

‘Yes—you’ve met him, too, have you? I say, you’re quite thorough, aren’t you?’

‘I just wish I could afford to eat there.’

Mrs Cooper laughed. ‘Yes. Eva always did have expensive tastes, which Sammy indulged quite shamelessly.’

‘I’ve seen her clothes.’

‘Oh, yes, her clothes. And jewellery, holidays. Everything but cash.’

‘Cash?’

‘Yes. He explained it to Ivor once. Credit cards were OK, but not cash.’

‘What did he say about it?’

‘He said he was terrified that Eva would get robbed if she carried cash. But we thought it was something else. With the credit cards and accounts at the restaurants and stores he could check everything, and Ivor guessed that Sammy was afraid of her picking up some boy and indulging him. But now I think it was the drugs. I think he suspected.’

‘Then why did he let her go off like that, for days on end, without contact?’

‘I think he probably had little choice—she was pretty determined when she wanted to do something. And, anyway, I think you’ll find he did try to keep a watchful eye on her, when she was away.’

‘How?’

Mrs Cooper looked casually away, as if disclaiming any responsibility for what she was about to say. ‘You’ve come across a Mr Wilkes, have you?’

‘Wilkes?’ Kathy recalled that Sally had also mentioned the private detective that Sammy had used to follow Marty Keller. ‘Oh, yes, Sammy’s private eye.’

‘That’s the one. Sammy used to get him to keep tabs on her whenever she was up in town on her own. He told us about it one evening, after he’d had a couple of drinks. Sammy was never a great drinker, and he got all gooey and confessed to us that he tried to look after Eva all the time, even when they were apart.’

‘Did Eva know?’

‘No! That was the embarrassing part. We had to swear not to breathe a word to her. I found it kind of creepy, the next time we saw her in London, knowing that she was being followed, and knowing that she
didn’t
know it.’

Kathy nodded. She saw Leon Desai approaching across the lawn, and thought, Duplicity everywhere. She turned back to the woman and said hurriedly, ‘So, where has he gone now, Mrs Cooper? Any ideas?’

‘Not a clue. Really.’

‘Might he try to go overseas? To Portugal, perhaps?’

She thought. ‘I suppose he might . . . But it’s not as if he’s got friends over there who would hide him or anything—I mean, if the police started calling. And he’d hardly go to Eva’s family, not if he’s suspected of killing her.’

‘We never said that, Mrs Cooper, and yet it was the thing your husband assumed when we arrived.’

‘Only because your man with the eyebrows said he wanted to arrest Sammy. It was the natural thing to think.’

‘Was it?’

Mrs Cooper met Kathy’s eye, then looked away. ‘Look, he’s the least violent of men . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘. . . normally,’ the other woman added reluctantly.

Desai was waiting ten paces away, letting them finish their conversation. Kathy looked over at him and he came forward. ‘Mrs Cooper, could you unlock your jewellery case for us, please?’

‘Now I do want to be there,’ she said determinedly, and marched off across the grass.

Kathy returned to the room where Sammy had been

staying, and looked through the things he had left behind.

Among them was a wallet of photographs, one of them showing Eva on a beach, wearing the yellow bikini Kathy had borrowed for her afternoon swim.

The light was fading when they returned to central London, McLarren’s mood grim, as if some initial stage had now passed and the real work was about to begin. He and Hewitt were going to Cobalt Square, but Kathy, travelling now in the other car, had herself dropped on Victoria Street, outside New Scotland Yard, so that she could catch a train home from St James’s Park tube station. Once the cars had sped off into the night, however, she walked along Broadway until she came to the end of Queen Anne’s Gate. As she approached the front door of Brock’s annexe, she saw that a couple of lights were on in upper-floor windows. She still had her keys to the offices, although she half expected that the locks might have been changed.

They hadn’t. She let herself in and made her way up through the maze of corridors and stairways to the level on which Brock’s office was located. The main corridor lights were off, and in the subdued illumination of the emergency exit lighting, the glow beneath Brock’s door was quite obvious. Kathy tapped softly on the door, and when there was no reply, she opened it.

Dot was alone in the room, standing behind Brock’s desk.

‘Dot, you’re still here,’ Kathy said.

‘Hello, Kathy.’ If Dot had been crying when Kathy had called her that morning, she had long since got over it. Now she looked sombre and not particularly pleased to see Kathy. ‘I’m trying to put things to rights again after today. How are you?’ She turned back to the pile of papers she had been sorting.

‘Fine. You look tired.’

‘Yes. What are you after?’

‘I suppose I’d half hoped to find Brock.’

Dot looked up briefly at her over the top of her glasses. ‘Not here you won’t.’

‘Where then?’

‘I couldn’t say, Kathy. Was there anything in particular?’

‘I’m trying to understand what’s going on.’

‘Yes. Quite a few people are trying to do that.’

‘And there have been some developments that I think he should know about.’

Dot put the papers down and stared fixedly at Kathy. ‘If he hasn’t been in touch with you, Kathy, I think you can assume that he feels it’s best that way. Isn’t that good enough?’

It seemed to Kathy that Dot was acting like a protective spouse, and she felt a surge of irritation. ‘Are you in contact with him, Dot?’ she asked, making an effort to keep her voice even.

‘Not at present.’

‘If you were, you might tell him that Sammy Starling has done a runner. And he’s been told that Brock is effectively responsible for Eva’s death, by switching the ransom stamp, presumably to steal it from Sammy. I think Brock might be in danger, if Sammy can find him.’

Dot nodded slowly. ‘I understand.’

Kathy waited, hoping for more, but when none came she made to go.

Then Dot said, her voice softened, ‘He has a very high regard for you, Kathy. You know that, don’t you? Especially for your persistence. He always says that, in the end, that’s what makes the difference.’

It occurred suddenly to Kathy that the room might be bugged, or Dot might think it was, so that she felt constrained to talk indirectly. Kathy said quietly, ‘Is he all right, Dot? In himself, I mean?’

Dot gave Kathy a tight smile, then turned away.

When Kathy got home she threw a frozen meal in the microwave and sat at the window, staring out at the chains of lights twelve floors below, spreading out into the darkness. She jumped as the microwave and her mobile phone both began bleating at once, like a pair of pets competing for attention. The caller was one of those irritating people who don’t say who they are straight away, expecting you to know their voice, and she couldn’t place it although it was familiar.

‘Hello? Kathy, is it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘How are things going with you? Haven’t caught you at an awkward moment, I hope?’

‘Sorry, who is this?’

The voice chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Kathy. It’s Peter White here. You called on me the other day.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Kathy’s heart sank. ‘Sorry, Peter, I didn’t recognise your voice.’

‘No, no, I should have said. I wondered if it might be a bit late to ring you, but then I thought, I’ll bet Kathy doesn’t go to bed early. Am I right?’

Kathy clenched her teeth and let a moment of silence pass before she answered. ‘Not usually, Peter, no. What can I do for you?’

‘Well, it was more a matter of whether I could do anything for you, Kathy. I just thought, well, with all of these dramatic events I’ve been reading about in the papers, you might have thought of more questions for me, or something might have got you stumped that I could throw some light on.’

Kathy could hear the slur of whisky in his voice. She imagined him, sitting alone in his empty house, the TV channels exhausted, desperate to speak to someone, probably for the first time in days. She groaned inwardly and tried to think of something to talk about briefly before she could decently ring off—the press reports, the weather, his roses. And then a thought came to her.

‘Well, there was something actually, Peter. Did you ever go and see Sammy’s house?’

‘Me, Kathy? How do you mean? I think I said that I refused his invitation.’

‘No, not then. More recently. Within the last year or two. Perhaps you took a walk up there?’

There was a short silence, then a chuckle. ‘You’re right, Kathy! A couple of times I went for a walk up there on the Hog’s Back, and just happened to go by Sammy’s place, doing my nosy parker, not that I managed to see much, mind you. That would have been last summer, I suppose. We had a spell of lovely weather, and I made myself get out and about a bit. Well, well! And how did you track me down, eh?’