F Maitland was not there. The buzzer remained unanswered, and the parking space reserved for the studio was empty. The office downstairs was also locked.
Andy Hamilton sat in the car and dialed the mobile number he had been given for Flora Maitland. It rang several times and went to an answering machine. He thought about leaving a message but decided against it. Waited for a few moments and dialed again. This time it was answered.
“Hello?”
“Is that Flora Maitland?”
“Yes. Who is this, please?”
“Detective Inspector Andy Hamilton. I’m working on the Polly Leuchars murder investigation.”
There was silence on the other end.
“I’m sorry about Polly. She was a friend of yours, wasn’t she?” He had an instinct that being official wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Flora, so he decided to try sympathy instead.
“Yes,” came a small voice.
“Flora, I wondered if I could meet up with you today? I need to get more of an idea about what Polly was like, who her friends were, what she liked to do. I get the feeling you would be the best person to help me out with that.”
A longer pause.
“Are you in Briarstone? I could meet you for a coffee, if you like?”
“I guess so,” Flora said.
Like pulling teeth. “How about if I meet you in the Caffè Nero on the corner by the old post office? About three? How does that sound?”
“Okay.”
“Flora? You won’t stand me up, will you?”
He thought he could almost detect the hint of a smile in her reply: “No, I’ll be there.”
He was on the outskirts of Briarstone now, joining the back of the queue to the town center car parks. He wondered what sort of day Lou was having, whether she was making progress and whether she would bother to keep him updated. He still had a lot of ground to make up with her, he knew, but despite her best efforts to persuade him to the contrary, he could not quite believe that everything between them was over. She had been one of the best shags of his life. She hadn’t been the first of his trips “over the side,” as his colleagues put it, and she probably wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t think of it as cheating. There had been no real emotional connection with any of his sexual partners. The one who had come closest, however briefly, was Lou, so it was probably a good thing that it had ended when it did.
He remembered the moment Lou had found out that he wasn’t single, the fury in her eyes. She had made him promise that he was going to come clean with his wife and tell her he’d had a fling, ask for her forgiveness, otherwise she would do it herself. He believed her.
“Why?” he’d said. “If it’s all over between us, Lou, why do I have to tell her? She’ll . . . she’ll be devastated.” He’d been about to say “She’ll kill me,” which was nearer the truth, but he realized Lou would probably have been even more adamant if she knew that would be the reaction.
There were tears in Lou’s dark eyes but her voice was cold. “You have to tell her, Andy, because you have to start learning that there are consequences to your behavior. And if she knows about this, then it’s much less likely that you’ll feel inclined to try and resurrect things with me. Do you understand?”
The following morning he told her that he’d confessed to Karen.
“How did she take it?”
As if you care, he’d thought, but he’d answered: “She was pretty upset. She’s gone to stay with her mother for a few days, taken Ben with her.”
She’d seemed satisfied, which was a relief, because it was all a complete fabrication. In reality he would no more have confessed to Karen than he would take up a vow of celibacy. Karen might only be five foot one, but she had a fearsome temper on her and he was genuinely scared of her reaction. Besides, Karen was fine just as she was. She had no need to know; as long as Andy had no intention of actually leaving her for someone else, why trouble her with information that was only going to hurt them both?
Of course, Lou had been partly right; he still had this feeling like they had unfinished business. He thought of her sometimes, late at night, when Karen was asleep, her back to him.
07194 141544 To 07484 322159
02/11/12 14:16
Police want to interview me later. Can u be there with me? 3pm in town. Call if u get chance. F Xx
14:19
The MIR was quiet when Lou got back from an update meeting with Buchanan. He’d bid for additional resources on her behalf at the tactical meeting, and she now had a tiny overtime budget. And even more pressure for a quick result.
She thought the office was empty but Jason was there, focused on his computer screen. From her office, sitting at her desk, she could glance to the side of her screen and see him in profile: good cheekbones, a strong jawline and a straight nose, short, dark hair that would have been curly if he’d let it grow. He moved abruptly and she looked quickly back to her own screen, feigning fascination with it as he tapped on the door frame.
“Hi!” she said brightly.
“I wondered if you’d like a coffee?” he said.
She stared at him for a moment, as if he were a figment of her hormonal brain.
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said. “Would you like to see the scenes? I think it helps to see where everything is.”
“Sure, that would be great.” He gave her a smile then, and it lit up his face.
14:52
“We can go to Reg’s office,” Taryn said. “He’s not here today. What do they want to see you about, Flora, do you know?”
Flora shook her head. She looked rough, Taryn thought, her hair unwashed, dark circles under her eyes. “They haven’t interviewed me yet. The guy that wants to meet me—he said he thought I could give them some more information about the sort of person Polly was.”
Taryn almost laughed at this. “Never a truer word, huh? You know her better than almost anyone. If only they realized.”
“What on earth am I going to say to him, Tabs?”
“You answer his questions as truthfully as you can. You don’t have to tell him you had a relationship unless he asks you. And if he does ask you, tell him the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Flora, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” She put her hand on Flora’s knee, squeezed it reassuringly. “You fell in love, that’s all. And Polly loved you back, in her own way. What’s wrong with that? You’re less likely to be the one who killed her than someone who didn’t love her, after all, aren’t you?”
“Did she, Tabs? Did she love me back?”
“Of course she did.”
“They’ll suspect me, then, won’t they? After all it’s usually the victim’s partner. They just don’t know who the victim’s partner was yet.”
Taryn bit her lip to stop herself saying it out loud. You weren’t her partner. “I thought it was all over between you two.”
Flora was rubbing the palm of her hand over her jeans, over and over again, as though her skin was itching. “It was. I mean, we weren’t together. But she wasn’t with anyone else. I was the last one. The last proper relationship she had.”
Taryn let the words “proper relationship” hang in the air between them like a tattered piece of tinsel.
“Are you sure? You hadn’t seen her for ages.”
“I saw her a couple of weeks ago, only briefly. I went to the farm to see Mum. You know I’d been avoiding them. Polly saw me as I was leaving. She wanted to talk but I—well, I didn’t want to listen. I was too scared of falling for her again.”
“What did she say?”
Flora shrugged and said nothing.
Taryn tried again. “How did she seem?”
“She was happy. As always. Happy and bouncy and completely at ease with life.”
The very opposite of the Flora who now sat opposite Taryn, in fact.
Taryn found herself wondering how this policeman would react when he realized who she was. Would he be the same one who h
ad been here yesterday, the one who had broken the news? Well, there was no need to explain anything. She was only going to be there in support of her friend. She didn’t have to say anything, did she?
* * *
MG11 WITNESS STATEMENT
Section 1—Witness Details
NAME: Ivan ROLLINSON
DOB (if under 18; if over 18 state “Over 18”) Over 18
ADDRESS: The Lemon Tree
Cemetery Lane
Morden
Briarstone
OCCUPATION: Publican
Section 2—Investigating Officer
DATE: Friday 2 November
OIC: DS 10194 Samantha HOLLANDS
Section 3—Text of Statement
I am the landlord of The Lemon Tree public house, which is situated on Cemetery Lane in Morden, about half a mile away from Hermitage Farm.
Polly Leuchars was known to me as she visited the pub regularly, probably once or twice a week at least. She met friends in the bar, and she was well known to the other regulars too.
On Wednesday 31 October I recall Polly came into the bar at around 8.30. She ordered a vodka and Coke and sat with it at one of the tables to the rear of the bar area. I did think she would be meeting someone because she was sitting alone, and because she was wearing smart clothing. She was usually more casually dressed. She had black trousers on with a white blouse, and she was wearing makeup. Unless she was meeting a friend, Polly usually stayed at the bar and chatted either with me or with Frances Kember, our barmaid.
At 9 Polly was still on her own and came back to the bar for another drink. I joked that it looked like she’d been stood up, and she replied, “Seems that way, Ivan” or something of that nature. She did not look very happy.
Much later on, I’m not sure of the exact time, I saw Polly outside the pub talking on her mobile phone. You need to go outside as there isn’t much of a signal. I didn’t hear her speak. I was putting some rubbish out into the bins and when she saw me she ended the call and went back inside.
Soon afterwards I noticed she had gone. I think it must have been between 11.30 and 11.45 that she left. I did not see her again after that.
Section 4—Signatures
__________________________
__________________________
WITNESS: (Ivan Rollinson)
OIC: (S Hollands DS 10194)
* * *
15:00
“That’s got to be him,” Taryn said. “He looks like a policeman.”
“How do you know what a policeman looks like?” Flora countered, eyeing the man in a suit who had come into the coffee shop and was looking around.
“He’s on his own, and he’s looking for someone. And it’s not exactly busy in here. He’s looking for a girl on her own; he’s not expecting there to be two of us. It must be him.”
Flora got up and crossed to where Andy Hamilton was standing. “Hello,” she said. “Are you—I mean, are you looking for me?”
“Flora?” He held out his hand. “I thought you’d be on your own.”
“I was meeting a friend. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. I’ll grab a coffee and I’ll be with you in a sec. Can I get you anything?”
He seemed all right, Flora thought, as she went back to sit with Taryn. “It’s him. He’s getting a coffee.”
“He looks like a rugby player,” said Taryn, and Flora smiled. Tabs had always had a bit of a thing for well-built men, and this one was certainly well built, and at least six foot tall. He had kind eyes, too. Flora felt a little bit better. But thank goodness Tabs was here.
“Detective Inspector Andy Hamilton,” he said when he got to the table, holding out his hand to Tabs. “Your name is?”
“Taryn Lewis,” she said.
His expression told Flora that he’d not made the connection.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Taryn said. “I thought Flora could do with a bit of moral support.”
“No, no, that’s fine. As long as you’re happy?” This to Flora, who nodded.
“I’m going to take a few notes, if you don’t mind,” Andy said, pulling his notebook out. “Right. How about you tell me a bit about Polly. What was she like?”
Flora hesitated, biting back the tears that were ready to fall at the sound of that name. She cleared her throat. “She—she was full of life. She was clever, witty, always smiling. Always happy.”
Flora fell silent, remembering.
“Did you know her too?” Andy asked Taryn, as though to give Flora a moment to collect her thoughts.
“I met her a couple of times. As Flora said, she was very bubbly and fun to be with.”
“Was she seeing anyone, that you know of?”
Both girls looked at each other.
“She saw lots of people,” Flora said slowly. “Nobody serious. Not that I knew of, anyway.”
“Anyone recently? Or maybe she spoke of someone in particular?”
Taryn stepped in. “She didn’t talk about who she was seeing, ever. She was always discreet. But you can guarantee there was at least one person. More likely two or three.”
Andy, furiously scribbling, looked up. “You mean she slept around?”
Flora made a little sound, like a sigh, but cross. “No, she didn’t sleep around. She had friends and she usually ended up having sex with them, that’s all. She was always honest about it. But she had lots of partners. It’s not a crime, is it?”
“Not at all. But maybe someone she was seeing didn’t like it.”
He took a swig of his coffee, grimaced, added two sachets of sugar, and stirred; all the while they watched him intently, not speaking.
“Flora, do you know the Fletcher-Normans? They live at the converted barn across the way.”
“I know where they live,” Flora snapped back. Taryn let out a nervous cough. This was getting into awkward territory. “Yes, I know them.”
Before Andy could ask his next question, Tabby was standing. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’m going to the ladies’.”
Flora watched her go, understanding completely why she wanted to leave the table, and yet desperate for her to stay. “Sorry, were you going to ask me . . . ?”
“Yes. I wondered whether the Fletcher-Normans also knew Polly?”
“Everyone knew Polly. It’s a small village, Inspector. And one with a very active social life. Whenever Mum had one of her dinner parties, she included Polly. Polly played some golf at the golf club, sometimes drank in the golf club bar with my father and his cronies. Polly used to use the gym at the country club and half the village is in there most days.”
“And the Fletcher-Normans?”
Flora’s brow furrowed. “I think Brian Fletcher-Norman came for riding lessons. I was living in Briarstone by then and not around much. But I remember Polly saying that he was fawning all over her.”
“Did she mind?”
Flora snorted. “Polly never minded that sort of thing. She thrived on attention.”
“Do you think she had an affair with him?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Probably.”
“And Mrs. Fletcher-Norman?”
“I don’t think she was Polly’s type.”
The policeman looked startled. “I meant, did she know Polly too? Can you remember seeing them together at any stage?”
Flora managed a smile. “I’m sorry, I knew what you meant. It was a little joke. I don’t remember Barbara and Polly specifically. But Barbara was always at Mum’s parties. They both were. Barbara used to get a bit loud when she’d had a few drinks, and we always tried to make sure she didn’t have too many. I believe Brian used to get her to drive whenever they went anywhere that was driving distance, so I think coming to the farm was Barbara’s chance to get let off the leash, as it were.”
He smiled, and then he put in the blinder. “And you, Flora?”
“Me?”
“You and Polly were friends?”
Flora blushed, stared at him. Tears w
ere in her eyes before she could help them. Damn the man. “Bit more than that,” she said, in a very small voice. Two fat tears fell into her lap; she rubbed at her eyes furiously.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice as gentle as he could get it. He put a hand to her knee. She didn’t brush it off. “I’m really sorry. This must be very difficult for you.”
“Yes,” she said again.
“So you were in a relationship?”
“Yes. I suppose you could call it that.”
“Had you been together long?”
“We weren’t really ‘together’ as such. She was with other people. It’s—it’s the way she was. It was very difficult to deal with. But I was in love with her. I hadn’t seen her for a while. Since late August. I went back to my flat in Briarstone and I was busy with work. I only saw her once or twice since then. So it was all over, really.”
“Right.”
Although Flora strained to look, she could not decipher what he’d written.
“Was that why you moved out of the farm?”
Flora swallowed. “Partly. I had some arguments with my dad. He wanted me to get involved in the farm more. Help out with the business. I—I didn’t want to do that.”
“What about Polly? What did she think?”
That brought a smile to Flora’s lips. “She thought I should tell him to shove the farm up his arse. She thought everyone should follow their dreams. Not let anyone tie them down.”
“But you didn’t see her, after you moved out?”
“She was—she was involved with other people. I just couldn’t deal with that anymore. So I let things come to an end. There wasn’t any argument, nothing like that.”
“Did you speak to her on the phone?”
“Sometimes. We kept in touch. Like friends, you know. But that was all.”
“So . . .” he said, flipping back through his notebook, “you moved into the flat in Waterside Gardens?”
“I’ve actually had the flat there for years. I stayed at the farm a lot when I was with Polly, but after we . . . after it ended, I avoided coming to the farm and stayed in Briarstone instead.”
“And you have a studio?”