Read Online Corpse in Waiting by Margaret Duffy - Free Book Online Page B

rang.
    â€˜I might be a bit late. I’m going to give James a hand for a while longer but with something that isn’t really anything to do with the case as he’s snowed under. And Alex has had some photos she took when we first met emailed from London by a friend. As they include some of the rectory and Mum and Dad I thought I’d take a look at them with a view to having them ourselves.’
    â€˜That’s fine. You and I can eat later,’ I said.
    â€˜No, it’s all right. You have yours with the family. I’ll have a pie and a pint, or something.’
    I was stung to say, ‘But surely she could email them to you .’
    â€˜She says she doesn’t know how to. See you later.’
    I did not throw my mobile across the room after this conversation, it doesn’t like it.
    â€˜But she runs an agency of some kind,’ I heard myself say out loud. ‘A business . How can she not know . . . ?’
    â€˜The house owner’s nephew’s name is David Bennett,’ Patrick said, coming into the kitchen where I was having an early breakfast. ‘He was due back from New Zealand last week but for some reason hasn’t shown up.’
    â€˜How did you find that out?’ I enquired.
    â€˜I leaned on the solicitors handling the sale. The SOCA ID card seemed to do the trick.’
    He had arrived home at a little after ten the previous night, apparently looking very tired – I was writing, or trying to, and had not seen him come in – had not had his usual chat with his father, and then gone to bed. By the time I had gone up he had been fast asleep.
    â€˜Did you find out anything else about him?’ I asked. ‘D’you want toast?’
    â€˜Please. Yes, he has dual British and New Zealand nationality and goes out there quite a lot where it would appear he has business interests.’
    I fixed the toast.
    Buttering busily Patrick then went on to say, ‘While it’s still iffy whether Irma and Imelda Burnside are the same person or not I think I’ll go up to London later this morning and work from HQ. Carrick’s happy for me to meet this man at the airport and interview him there if I can find out when he plans to return to the UK. It will be easier to do that checking from London too.’
    â€˜Better intelligence?’
    â€˜Of course. Provincial forces simply don’t have the resources SOCA does.’
    â€˜You won’t be able to arrest him though.’
    â€˜No, unless he refuses to answer questions.’
    I sat down at the kitchen table opposite to him and regarded him steadily. Then I said, ‘What were the photos like?’
    He looked a bit blank for a few seconds. ‘Oh, those. They’re not very good. She takes lousy pictures, chopping off people’s feet and heads. I don’t think I’ll bother with them.’
    â€˜It was all a bit of a con then.’
    He loaded on marmalade. ‘No, not really. There were a couple of good ones of the village street.’
    I carried on gazing at him. It was a bit like having a remote control with flat batteries and the TV channel would not change.
    He glanced up, mid-spread and our eyes locked.
    I said, ‘You know, up until now I really thought you weren’t like other men. Silly of me.’
    â€˜What d’you mean?’
    â€˜I’d thought you were of above average intelligence too.’
    He dropped his gaze and shrugged.
    â€˜Where are you, Patrick?’ I asked softly.
    He said nothing.
    â€˜She’s reduced you to this,’ I said. ‘She’s taken my husband, the man I love more than anyone in the world and brought him down to this level; ordinary, sheepish, just any old bloke in the street. It’s a disease. It’s a kind of character POX!’
    I had bellowed the last word and he actually jumped.
    I went on, ‘I don’t know whether we were talking about houses, or husbands, but