Leave the Grave Green

“You’re quite right, my dear,” he said softly. “It was tasteless of me to go on that way, but crime novels are rather a hobby of mine.” He picked up a watercress sandwich and looked at it a moment before returning it to the plate. The eyes that met hers were a surprisingly dark blue, and guileless. “Do you think poor Connor suffered?”

“We don’t know. The pathologist didn’t find evidence indicating he’d inhaled river water, but that doesn’t rule it out.” She let the silence stretch for a heartbeat, then added, “I was hoping you might tell me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, come now, Sergeant. You can’t think—”

“You lied to me about attending the opera that night. One of the ushers saw you come in from the street just minutes before the performance ended. And I have a witness who can place you in a pub in Wargrave, having a not-too-friendly dinner with Connor Swann,” she said, tendering her bluff with all the authority she could manage.

For the first time since she had met him, Tommy Godwin seemed at a loss for words. As she studied his still face, she saw that most of his attractiveness lay not in his individual features, but in the expression of alert, humorous inquisitiveness that usually animated them. Finally, he sighed and pushed away his empty plate. “I should have known it was no use. Even as a child I was never any good at lying. I had meant to attend the performance that night—that much at least was true. Then I had an urgent message from Connor on my answer phone, saying he needed to see me. I suppose he must have been looking for me when he came to the theater that afternoon.”

“He asked you to meet him at the Red Lion?”

As Tommy nodded the waiter brought their second pot of tea. Lifting the pot, Tommy said, “You must try the Keemun, my dear. What would you like with it?”

Gemma had started to shake her head when he said, “Please, Sergeant, do have something. This was to be a special treat for you—I thought hardworking policewomen probably didn’t have too many opportunities to take afternoon tea.”

She heard Alison’s words again, and she found that no matter what else Tommy might have done, she couldn’t reject this small act of kindness. “I’ll have a scone then, please.”

Having taken a scone for himself, he poured tea into her cup from the fresh pot. “Taste your tea. You can put milk in it if you like, but I’d advise you not to.”

Gemma did as instructed, then looked up at him in surprise. “It’s sweet.”

He looked pleased. “Do you like it? It’s a north China Congou. The best of the China blacks, I think.”

“Tell me about Connor,” Gemma said, spreading clotted cream and strawberry jam on her scone.

“There’s not much to tell, really. I met him at the Red Lion, as you said, and from the beginning he behaved quite oddly. I’d never seen him like that, although I’d heard stories about the weeks after he and Julia first separated. He had been drinking, but I didn’t think he’d had enough to account for his manner. It was… I don’t know… almost hysterical, really.”

“Why did he want to see you?”

Tommy washed down a bite of scone with tea. “I found out soon enough. He said he’d decided he wanted his old job back—that he’d had enough of dealing with two-bit, small-town accounts, and he wanted me to intercede for him.”

“Could you have done it?” asked Gemma in some surprise.

“Well, yes, I suppose so. I’ve known the firm’s senior partner for years. In fact, it was I who encouraged him to go after the ENO account in the first place.” He looked at Gemma over the cup he held cradled in both hands. “It’s unfortunate that we can’t foresee the consequences of our actions. If I had not done that, Connor would never have met Gerald and Caro, and through them, Julia.”

“But you refused Connor’s request.”

“Politely at first. I told him that my reputation would ride on his performance, and that considering his previous conduct, I didn’t feel I could risk it. The truth of the matter is,” he added, setting down his cup and looking away from Gemma, “I never liked him. Not the thing to say when one is suspected of foul play, is it, dear Sergeant?” He smiled, teasing her once more, then said reflectively, “I can remember their wedding day quite clearly. It was a June wedding, in the garden at Badger’s End—I know you won’t have seen it, but it can be quite lovely that time of year. All Plummy’s doing, although Julia used to help her quite a bit when she had the time.

“Everyone said how perfect Julia and Connor looked together, and I have to admit they did make a handsome couple, but when I looked at them I saw only disaster. They were completely, utterly unsuited for one another.”

“Do stick to the point, Tommy, please,” said Gemma, wondering how she could impress the gravity of the situation upon him with her mouth full of scone.

He sighed. “We argued. He became more and more abusive, until finally I told him I’d had enough. I left. That’s all.”