Close to Death

‘Well, Sarah, I suppose. She does all the gardens in the close and she’s also a general handyman – or handywoman, I should say. She’s a fine young woman, very hard-working and always helpful. I suppose Damien could have come in if he’d wanted to. He has his key to the house and we trust him one hundred per cent. Felicity will come through the kitchen when I’m driving her to a doctor’s appointment or whatever. Look, I really have told the police everything I know. To be honest with you, a complete stranger could have taken the crossbow when I was upstairs and I’m not sure I’d have noticed. They could have come through the house or through the garden. I leave the garage open sometimes when I drive to work.’ He looked exhausted. ‘I don’t think I can help you any more.’

‘I have one more question,’ Hawthorne said. ‘Are you planning on going somewhere?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I noticed a suitcase in your hall.’

‘That’s for Felicity. We’ve spoken about it and I just don’t think it’s good for her being here. I have to think of her. All my life, that’s all I’ve ever done.’ Roderick blinked, as if holding back tears. ‘I’m sending her off to her sister in Woking . . . just for a few days. I’ve already told Superintendent Khan.’ He had seemed more at ease in the garage, but mentioning the suitcase had upset him again. ‘You have no idea what it’s like for her,’ he continued. ‘It’s very upsetting. She has no part in this terrible murder and I want to get her far away. I have to protect her!’

As he finished speaking, his phone rang. Roderick fished it out and glanced at the screen, tilting it away from Dudley, who was standing behind him. Quickly, he flicked it off and slid it back into his pocket.

‘Anyone important?’ Hawthorne asked.

‘No. Nothing at all.’

‘Well, we’ve seen enough. Can we leave this way?’

‘Of course. I’ll open the door for you.’

The bolts on the garage door didn’t need keys. They simply drew back. Roderick pulled the door up and the two men stepped out into the fresh air. Roderick looked at them as if trying to find one last thing to say to persuade them of his innocence. Then he slid the door back down.

Hawthorne and Dudley found themselves standing in the driveway that led back to the main courtyard. But Hawthorne hadn’t quite finished. There was a gate beside the garage, opening into the Brownes’ garden, and he walked through it, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he went. He stopped on the other side, taking in his surroundings.

The garden was long and rectangular, with a fence on one side and a line of shrubs at the end. It hadn’t rained for a while and the lawn was covered with brown patches. Many of the flowers were wilting in their beds. At the same time, the fruit trees had been left to look after themselves and the branches were spreading out, fighting each other for space. Looking over the shrubs, Hawthorne could see that the garden belonging to the Brownes’ elderly neighbours was in much the same state.

‘Did you get the caller’s number?’ Hawthorne asked.

Dudley nodded. ‘The name came up on the screen. Sarah Baines.’

‘Sarah the gardener?’

‘Must be. He didn’t want me to see.’

Hawthorne examined the garden. ‘Funny, isn’t it. He described her as hard-working and helpful . . .’

‘Yeah. I thought that. It doesn’t look as if she’s done anything hard or helpful here!’

Meanwhile, on the other side of the folding garage door, Roderick Browne had taken his phone out again. He listened carefully to make sure that Hawthorne was nowhere close.

Then he opened his phone to see what he had missed.

4

The Tea Cosy bookshop was open for business, but neither May Winslow nor Phyllis Moore was in any mood to sell books.

They were sitting at one of the empty tables close to the main door. In fact, all the tables were empty. Nobody had come in yet and although they often passed the time reading, knitting or playing gin rummy together when they had no business, today they were just sitting in silence. They had already given full statements to Detective Superintendent Khan and, after they had been forced to take the whole of Tuesday off, he had allowed them to leave for work – so long as they promised not to discuss the murder with any of their customers. Well, there was no chance of that today.

Phyllis had been agitated all morning. ‘I need a burner!’ she announced, suddenly.

May stared at her. ‘A cigarette?’

‘I can’t just sit here thinking about it all. I’m going outside.’ She reached down for her handbag, then rummaged in it for a pouch of Golden Virginia tobacco.

But before she could get up, May reached out and laid a hand on her companion’s arm. ‘I think we should talk,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘You know very well.’

‘You’ve been sitting here all morning. You haven’t said a word.’