saw Gerry’s body tense, as if he was fighting the temptation to land a punch. Knowing it was up to him to calm the situation, he touched the boss’s back gently. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve heard but a young woman was found dead yesterday. We’re treating her death as suspicious.’
The group exchanged looks.
‘Kassia’s been missing since yesterday.’ Ursula sounded anxious. ‘She never turned up for rehearsal. Or for last night’s concert.’
Wesley addressed the man who was obviously in charge. ‘What’s your name, sir?’ He made a great show of taking his notebook from his pocket.
‘Dan Hungerford. I’m the musical director,’ he answered, more subdued now that things were on an official footing.
Wesley turned to Ursula. ‘When did you last see Kassia? What’s her full name by the way?’
Ursula looked at him gratefully, as though she was glad someone was taking her seriously. ‘It’s Kassia Graylem. And we last saw her at the opening concert on Friday night.’
‘She’s let us down badly,’ said Hungerford quietly.
‘Has Kassia done anything like this before?’
The group shook their heads, as if in unison.
‘Did she mention that she might be going somewhere? Meeting someone?’
It was the young man who answered. He had fair hair that flopped over his forehead and looked like a relic of the 1920s in his cricket jumper and corduroy trousers. ‘I’m Harry Treves by the way. To be honest we don’t know Kassia that well.’ He looked at Hungerford accusingly. ‘You took her on, Dan. Wasn’t she a student of yours?’
All eyes were now on Dan Hungerford. Wesley usually tried to keep an open mind; he of all people knew the downside of prejudice. Nevertheless there was something about Hungerford he didn’t like. An arrogance maybe, or perhaps it had been his sneering response to Gerry’s questions about Rosie.
Hungerford cleared his throat before replying. ‘I teach music and music history at Morbay University. But I’ve never actually taught Kassia. In fact I spotted her when she was busking in Neston. She was playing a viol, which is unusual to say the least. I was looking for musicians for Palkin’s Musik at the time and I persuaded her to audition. She’s never studied music formally but she has a remarkable talent and a good voice.’
‘Do you have an address for her?’
‘She lives outside Neston,’ said Harry. ‘In a squat. Not sure of the exact address.’
‘How do you contact her?’
It was Hungerford who answered. ‘She gave me a mobile number but it’s not hers. Belongs to someone else in the squat, she said.’
‘A boyfriend?’ Gerry asked.
Hungerford shrugged. ‘I only rang it once and a woman answered.’
‘Have you been trying it?’
‘Of course. But there’s no answer.’
Wesley looked at Ursula and Harry. ‘What about you? Do you know anything about her?’
The question was greeted with blank looks.
‘Are you students?’ Wesley asked.
Ursula shook her head. ‘Not any more. I did study music but now I work in the box office at the Morbay Hippodrome.’
‘I teach music,’ said Harry. ‘Brass and woodwind. Dan got in touch when he was forming Palkin’s Musik. I’ve always been interested in old instruments so…’
‘Can you tell us anything else about Kassia?’
‘Not really,’ said Ursula. ‘She keeps herself to herself and she’s always rather vague about her background. She’s a bit of an enigma, if you ask me.’
‘You wouldn’t have a photograph of her, by any chance?’ Wesley said, looking from face to face hopefully.
Dan Hungerford sighed. ‘There’s a publicity shot of Palkin’s Musik in the festival programme. Hang on.’
He delved into the depths of his brown leather briefcase which lay on the table beside the instrument cases and brought out a glossy booklet. Wesley had seen quite a few of them around but he hadn’t been inclined to look at any, taking the attitude of many Tradmouth residents that
The group exchanged looks.
‘Kassia’s been missing since yesterday.’ Ursula sounded anxious. ‘She never turned up for rehearsal. Or for last night’s concert.’
Wesley addressed the man who was obviously in charge. ‘What’s your name, sir?’ He made a great show of taking his notebook from his pocket.
‘Dan Hungerford. I’m the musical director,’ he answered, more subdued now that things were on an official footing.
Wesley turned to Ursula. ‘When did you last see Kassia? What’s her full name by the way?’
Ursula looked at him gratefully, as though she was glad someone was taking her seriously. ‘It’s Kassia Graylem. And we last saw her at the opening concert on Friday night.’
‘She’s let us down badly,’ said Hungerford quietly.
‘Has Kassia done anything like this before?’
The group shook their heads, as if in unison.
‘Did she mention that she might be going somewhere? Meeting someone?’
It was the young man who answered. He had fair hair that flopped over his forehead and looked like a relic of the 1920s in his cricket jumper and corduroy trousers. ‘I’m Harry Treves by the way. To be honest we don’t know Kassia that well.’ He looked at Hungerford accusingly. ‘You took her on, Dan. Wasn’t she a student of yours?’
All eyes were now on Dan Hungerford. Wesley usually tried to keep an open mind; he of all people knew the downside of prejudice. Nevertheless there was something about Hungerford he didn’t like. An arrogance maybe, or perhaps it had been his sneering response to Gerry’s questions about Rosie.
Hungerford cleared his throat before replying. ‘I teach music and music history at Morbay University. But I’ve never actually taught Kassia. In fact I spotted her when she was busking in Neston. She was playing a viol, which is unusual to say the least. I was looking for musicians for Palkin’s Musik at the time and I persuaded her to audition. She’s never studied music formally but she has a remarkable talent and a good voice.’
‘Do you have an address for her?’
‘She lives outside Neston,’ said Harry. ‘In a squat. Not sure of the exact address.’
‘How do you contact her?’
It was Hungerford who answered. ‘She gave me a mobile number but it’s not hers. Belongs to someone else in the squat, she said.’
‘A boyfriend?’ Gerry asked.
Hungerford shrugged. ‘I only rang it once and a woman answered.’
‘Have you been trying it?’
‘Of course. But there’s no answer.’
Wesley looked at Ursula and Harry. ‘What about you? Do you know anything about her?’
The question was greeted with blank looks.
‘Are you students?’ Wesley asked.
Ursula shook her head. ‘Not any more. I did study music but now I work in the box office at the Morbay Hippodrome.’
‘I teach music,’ said Harry. ‘Brass and woodwind. Dan got in touch when he was forming Palkin’s Musik. I’ve always been interested in old instruments so…’
‘Can you tell us anything else about Kassia?’
‘Not really,’ said Ursula. ‘She keeps herself to herself and she’s always rather vague about her background. She’s a bit of an enigma, if you ask me.’
‘You wouldn’t have a photograph of her, by any chance?’ Wesley said, looking from face to face hopefully.
Dan Hungerford sighed. ‘There’s a publicity shot of Palkin’s Musik in the festival programme. Hang on.’
He delved into the depths of his brown leather briefcase which lay on the table beside the instrument cases and brought out a glossy booklet. Wesley had seen quite a few of them around but he hadn’t been inclined to look at any, taking the attitude of many Tradmouth residents that
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