Read Online Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rodney Hobson
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that was the general idea," was the best he could manage.
"If you love your partner it's certainly a bonus," Mrs Jones went on unabashed, "but it's not the basis of marriage. Marriage is a working relationship. Not quite a business arrangement - that's too cold. But certainly a working relationship.
"Yes, I did love him once, before we were married - and afterwards. But you have to get on together, make compromises, share interests."
This Amos understood. He had much the same relationship with his own wife. His work had made a long-term passion unrealistic. The long irregular hours, bad enough when he was a constable on shifts, had got no better as he climbed the ladder, each higher rung bringing its own demands. However many people you have to give orders to, you are always at someone else's beck and call.
"I understand," he replied simply.
"I don't think Ray ever had an affair," Mrs Jones picked up. "I'm sure he didn't. He was too tied up with his ever-increasing business empire.
"Empire!" she repeated with a dry laugh. "He was a giant carp in a little puddle. Well, it's all history now but, as I told you earlier, we rather started to lead separate lives. It was all pretty amicable, no bitterness, no hard feelings.
"I actually admired him for his achievements. Some of the business people we entertained were real snobs but Ray told them his mother had gone out cleaning when the family store went through a bad patch to give her three children a better chance in life. They all went to university. Ray was the middle one. He was at Leeds studying psychology. He realised it helped him in his business dealings.
"Anyway, Ray pursued his business career and I finally went off to Nottingham. We kept in touch. Infrequently, but in touch."
"Did you have children?"
“No. We never found out for certain why not. There was nothing physically wrong with me. Ray wouldn't go for tests. It was unspoken between us but I think we both assumed the problem was with him. That was one reason why he threw himself more into the business.
"He gradually lost interest in sex. By that stage I wasn't too bothered anyway because it was clear that our relationship was going no further."
Amos leaned forward. "The Sunday he was supposed to see you," he said. "How did that come about? Who got in touch with whom?"
"Ray rang me," Mrs Jones replied. “In fact, he got in touch the previous week. We hadn't spoken for quite a while when he rang up and said he wanted to see me."
"And he never turned up," Amos mused thoughtfully.
"Yes he did," the women opposite butted in quickly. "At least, he did on the first Sunday. He came to see me and we had a chat over tea and chocolate éclairs. It was all very civilised."
Mrs Jones inserted another of the pauses she made for effect. She knew she was putting a whole new light on the investigation and she was quite relishing her power.
She's not all that upset about her husband's death, Amos thought. Sad, but not grief stricken.
Amos let the silence roll on, hoping for the psychological victory of making Mrs Jones continue her story unprompted.
More tea had arrived with a plate of digestive biscuits. Not quite up to chocolate éclairs standard, Amos thought, but after all this was only police canteen fare. They sipped the tea, still in silence. It was Amos who cracked.
"What did you talk about over ..." he looked ruefully at the biscuit in his hand "... over your dairy cream éclairs?"
"As I said earlier, Ray wanted me to come back to him. He said we made a great couple despite our differences. In fact, he said it was the differences that made life interesting. He couldn't promise to give up his business deals - at least he was honest about that - but he promised there would be no more embarrassments.
“No more Sunday nights at the ice cream van, no more quiet drinks in a dark corner of the pub with Jim Berry while I sat on my own
"If you love your partner it's certainly a bonus," Mrs Jones went on unabashed, "but it's not the basis of marriage. Marriage is a working relationship. Not quite a business arrangement - that's too cold. But certainly a working relationship.
"Yes, I did love him once, before we were married - and afterwards. But you have to get on together, make compromises, share interests."
This Amos understood. He had much the same relationship with his own wife. His work had made a long-term passion unrealistic. The long irregular hours, bad enough when he was a constable on shifts, had got no better as he climbed the ladder, each higher rung bringing its own demands. However many people you have to give orders to, you are always at someone else's beck and call.
"I understand," he replied simply.
"I don't think Ray ever had an affair," Mrs Jones picked up. "I'm sure he didn't. He was too tied up with his ever-increasing business empire.
"Empire!" she repeated with a dry laugh. "He was a giant carp in a little puddle. Well, it's all history now but, as I told you earlier, we rather started to lead separate lives. It was all pretty amicable, no bitterness, no hard feelings.
"I actually admired him for his achievements. Some of the business people we entertained were real snobs but Ray told them his mother had gone out cleaning when the family store went through a bad patch to give her three children a better chance in life. They all went to university. Ray was the middle one. He was at Leeds studying psychology. He realised it helped him in his business dealings.
"Anyway, Ray pursued his business career and I finally went off to Nottingham. We kept in touch. Infrequently, but in touch."
"Did you have children?"
“No. We never found out for certain why not. There was nothing physically wrong with me. Ray wouldn't go for tests. It was unspoken between us but I think we both assumed the problem was with him. That was one reason why he threw himself more into the business.
"He gradually lost interest in sex. By that stage I wasn't too bothered anyway because it was clear that our relationship was going no further."
Amos leaned forward. "The Sunday he was supposed to see you," he said. "How did that come about? Who got in touch with whom?"
"Ray rang me," Mrs Jones replied. “In fact, he got in touch the previous week. We hadn't spoken for quite a while when he rang up and said he wanted to see me."
"And he never turned up," Amos mused thoughtfully.
"Yes he did," the women opposite butted in quickly. "At least, he did on the first Sunday. He came to see me and we had a chat over tea and chocolate éclairs. It was all very civilised."
Mrs Jones inserted another of the pauses she made for effect. She knew she was putting a whole new light on the investigation and she was quite relishing her power.
She's not all that upset about her husband's death, Amos thought. Sad, but not grief stricken.
Amos let the silence roll on, hoping for the psychological victory of making Mrs Jones continue her story unprompted.
More tea had arrived with a plate of digestive biscuits. Not quite up to chocolate éclairs standard, Amos thought, but after all this was only police canteen fare. They sipped the tea, still in silence. It was Amos who cracked.
"What did you talk about over ..." he looked ruefully at the biscuit in his hand "... over your dairy cream éclairs?"
"As I said earlier, Ray wanted me to come back to him. He said we made a great couple despite our differences. In fact, he said it was the differences that made life interesting. He couldn't promise to give up his business deals - at least he was honest about that - but he promised there would be no more embarrassments.
“No more Sunday nights at the ice cream van, no more quiet drinks in a dark corner of the pub with Jim Berry while I sat on my own
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