Deadly Stuff (14 page)

She was obviously and, to Jenny’s mind at least, genuinely struggling to convey the impression she’d received from watching them. The trouble was, she wasn’t really succeeding.

‘I’m still not sure I know what you mean,’ Trevor said cautiously. His copper’s instinct was definitely quivering now, but Jenny for one didn’t blame him for being uncertain.

She leaned forward slightly, saw the inspector tip her the wink to go ahead and try and sort it out, and began cautiously, ‘Do you think Pippa Foxton was genuinely pursuing him?’

‘Oh no. That’s just it. Sometimes, even when she was flirting with him and at her most outrageous, I couldn’t help but feel as if there was some real antipathy there as well.’

Jenny nodded. ‘Do you think she might be unbalanced shall we say?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,’ Vicki said, sounding a shade alarmed now. ‘I’m not a shrink, and I’m not saying that she’s touched in the head or anything like that. But … there was just something about her when she was around Maurice that made me uneasy. I just sensed that something wasn’t quite right, there.’

Vicki shook her head and held up her hands. ‘Look, I can see now that this was a mistake. After all, you’re not likely to be interested in my “feminine intuition”, are you?’ she said, using her fingers to make quote marks in the air. ‘It’s hardly evidence is it? Just forget I said anything, all right?’ she said and, giving them all a general all-purpose apologetic smile, she said goodbye and left.

After she was gone they were all silent for a while. ‘And just what was that all about?’ Peter Trent finally broke the silence. ‘You think she’s jealous of this Foxton girl and just wanted to dob her in it?’ he asked, but without much conviction.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Trevor said.

‘I think she was genuinely trying to tell us what she knew,’ Jenny concurred. ‘And a woman like that usually has good instincts,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘If she thought something was amiss, it probably was. Of course, it might have nothing to do with the case,’ she pointed out. ‘Perhaps Miss Foxton just has father-figure issues or something. She does have an alibi, doesn’t she?’ she asked casually.

‘Oh yes. With her boyfriend’s class all morning,’ Peter Trent confirmed.

‘Hmm. But she was first on the scene after you’d discovered the body,’ Trevor said to Jenny. ‘We’d better have her back in and see what she has to say for herself, just in case there’s something in it. Peter, see if you can find her and send her down, will you? And get on with those other things too. Time’s a-wasting.’

Trent nodded. ‘Yes, guv.’

That morning, Pippa Foxton was wearing a long, lightweight turquoise and silver-coloured flowing poncho over white stretch skinny jeans. She was wearing her obviously much-adored Jimmy Choo shoes, and was in full make-up. Jenny, who had never seen her in the same outfit twice, wondered about the size and quantity of the luggage she must have brought with her.

‘Hello, everyone,’ she said cheerily, shooting Jenny a surprised look as she sat down in the seat offered by Peter Trent. ‘You were lucky to catch me – I was just about to go to lunch with Ian. He says there’s this really recommended little café in St Aldate’s that we must try.’

Peter smiled and left to do his boss’s bidding, and Jenny, despite the continued curious glances sent her way by the younger woman, settled herself down more comfortably.

‘I have just a few more questions, Miss Foxton,’ Trevor began. ‘I hope you don’t mind Miss Starling’s presence, but
sometimes we’ve found that it helps to have an impartial female to sit on interviews,’ Trevor flimflammed with a smile.

‘Oh that’s fine. Really, I’m not the nervous type.’ Pippa waved a hand vaguely in the air, and Jenny noticed, with some amusement, that her fingernails had been painted a matching turquoise colour. The girl’s make-up was flawless as well, and she wondered just how long it took her to get ready in the mornings. Hours, probably, Jenny surmised without envy.

‘That’s nice to hear,’ Trevor said, and hoped she meant it. ‘We just want to go over your movements the morning Maurice was found dead,’ he said, not quite truthfully.

‘Oh, I thought I said.’ Pippa batted her lashes at the inspector. ‘I had breakfast with Ian and the others, we listened to the opening speeches, then I went to Ian’s first lecture/demonstration for all the newbies. Then I left, and bumped into you on the way back and … well … that’s that.’

Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she wondered if she should warn Pippa that she needed to be more comprehensive and accurate in her details. Then decided that the inspector probably wouldn’t appreciate her interrupting the flow of the interview and decided it would probably be best not to butt in.

The inspector, unaware of the cook’s thoughts, nodded absently. ‘Yes. Were you surprised when you realized that Maurice was dead?’ he asked mildly.

Pippa frowned. ‘Well, of course I was. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? You don’t expect people you know to just die, do you?’

‘No, of course not. And I understand that you had a, shall we say, somewhat complicated relationship with Mr Raines, so you must have been upset to hear of his death?’ he persisted gently.

Pippa stiffened a little on her chair and Jenny was sure that, underneath all that camouflaging make-up, she had paled. ‘Well, I was upset. I mean, I’m human, the same as anyone else. And just what do you mean, complicated? There wasn’t
anything complicated about it. I hardly knew the man.’

‘Ah, but we’ve had several accounts from people who said that you and he were pretty friendly.’

Pippa’s pretty face tightened ominously. ‘There’s some people around here with very dirty minds then, that’s all I can say. I wasn’t any more friendly with Maurice than I was with anyone else, and don’t you let Ian go hearing you say otherwise,’ she said grimly, ‘or he’ll go mad.’

‘So you’re denying that you liked flirting with him?’ Trevor said gently, and allowing himself to sound faintly surprised.

Jenny, listening and watching, silently admired his technique.

Pippa gave a sudden, nervous laugh. ‘Oh
flirting!
Well, yeah, I flirted with him a bit. He was good-looking and expected it. But it was just a bit of harmless fun, that’s all. Nobody took it seriously. Or rather’ – she frowned grimly again – ‘nobody should have. Look, what’s this all about then? Who’s been saying stuff against me?’ she demanded belligerently, her small chin jutting out in pugnacious petulance.

‘It’s been suggested though,’ Trevor said, ignoring her question, ‘that there was something a bit darker than mere flirting going on between you.’

Pippa looked flummoxed for a moment. ‘Darker? What do you mean,
darker
?’

‘It’s been suggested that you might have felt some antipathy towards Mr Raines.’

Seeing that Pippa didn’t understand the meaning of the word antipathy and obviously didn’t want to show it, Jenny coughed slightly, and said helpfully, ‘Someone thought that, although you flirted with Maurice, underneath, you didn’t really like him,’ she clarified quietly.

‘Oh,’ Pippa said. Then shrugged. ‘Well, that’s daft, isn’t it? I just told you, I didn’t really know him. He was just the sort you flirted with, you know? An old codger who thought he could
still pull the birds. It seemed kinder to play along, that’s all. He used to call me “foxy lady” because of my surname, right, and thought it was really clever and nudge-nudge-wink-wink. As if I hadn’t heard that a thousand times before!’ Pippa rolled her eyes. ‘Besides,’ she said, her face flushing darkly with sudden anger, ‘I’ll bet I know who’s been saying all this rubbish. It was that woman who’s in charge of the money, wasn’t it? That Vicki cow.’

‘No need to get personal, Miss Foxton,’ Trevor said, whilst Jenny thought that it was very interesting indeed that Pippa had got it right first time. She might give the impression of being a bit of a dumb bimbo at times, but clearly she was very astute when it came to social interaction and reading people.

‘Well, she’s a one to throw stones,’ Pippa muttered rebelliously. ‘Especially since Maurice was on to
her
, all right.’

Trevor felt his hackles rise. This was the first he was hearing of his murder victim being suspicious of one of his fellow conference-goers. ‘Sorry? On to her how?’

Pippa sighed. ‘I’m not really sure, to be honest,’ she admitted, clearly annoyed to have to admit as much. ‘It’s just something Maurice said about her once, that’s all. I never listened to him half the time; he could talk the hind legs off a donkey, he liked to hear his own voice that much.’

‘Can you think what it was about, exactly?’ Trevor prompted patiently. ‘It could be important.’

Pippa sighed. ‘Well, he said something about knowing what she’d been up to, and that she wasn’t the only one good with figures. ‘Course, then he had to go on and comment about mine.’ Pippa smiled, pulling the poncho down over her generous curves to show what she meant. ‘But he was talking about financial figures, I think. I got the impression that that Vicki woman might have been cooking the books or something, and he was on to her. She is the one in charge of the money, right? I daresay she just helped herself to some petty cash or
something, and he found out about it. It couldn’t have been any big deal, anyway, could it, since she was still the treasurer?’

Jenny caught Trevor’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

Trevor nodded thoughtfully. ‘Interesting,’ he said quietly.

Pippa smiled, clearly pleased to have sent the ball slamming back into her opponent’s side of the court.

‘And you’re sure you yourself had no serious issue with Mr Raines?’ Trevor said, catching her self-satisfied smirk.

‘No,’ Pippa said flatly.

‘And you never argued with him?’

‘No, I never.’

Trevor nodded. ‘All right, Miss Foxton. Thank you for your time.’

Pippa nodded, clearly not sure whether to be relieved that the interview was over, or indignant over the aspersions cast on her character, and in the end simply stalked off in a wave of expensive perfume.

‘Well, that might be an interesting little tidbit, if true,’ Trevor said, and reached for the telephone. Jenny listened, with only half an ear, as he ordered someone with financial savvy to check over the society’s books as a matter of urgency and get back to him straight away.

‘Don’t forget Vicki Voight has an alibi too,’ Jenny reminded him absently. She really was going to have to get the search for that mobile phone underway. She slipped down off her stool. ‘I’ll get going, if you don’t mind, Inspector,’ she began, and then shot around as Peter Trent all but ran into the room.

He excitedly beckoned his chief over towards the door and Jenny, following on more slowly, was just in time to hear the sergeant’s words.

‘Guv, she’s shown up at last. Raines’s wife. She just walked into the police station in St Aldate’s, asking to speak to the officer in charge.’

Jenny watched the two happy men rush away, and frowned
thoughtfully.

She wondered what Mrs Maurice Raines would have to say for herself.

And then she wondered just how long it would take the inspector to arrest her for the murder of her husband.

Laura Raines looked up as the door to the interview room opened and two men walked in. Her eyes went between them, lingered for a while on the older of the two, but then went back to the weighty man with brown hair and curious brown eyes.

‘Are you the one in charge of my husband’s case?’ she asked calmly, and Trevor, taking a seat, nodded. He introduced himself and his sergeant, for both the recording device and the widow’s benefit, stated the time and then folded his hands comfortably in front of him on the table. He looked at her mildly.

‘First of all, Mrs Raines, let me say that I’m sorry for your loss. Perhaps we can just go over the preliminaries and get things in order before we start. You are the wife of Mr Maurice Raines, I take it.’ He cited the victim’s address, and Laura nodded. Then she cleared her throat.

‘Yes.’

Trevor nodded, trying to get the measure of this witness and potential suspect. She was still a very attractive woman, with fair hair and big grey eyes and a slender figure. Her make up was discreet, and she was wearing a skirt and jacket of moss green, with a cream blouse. She wore little jewellery – just a plain gold watch, and pearl stud earrings, but both looked to be of high quality. She was, in his opinion, typical of the kind of woman who’d always known money, and was sure of her status in life.

‘Can I ask, Mrs Raines, where you have been for the last few days?’ he enquired quietly.

Laura took a deep breath. She’d discussed what they must
do with Simon earlier this morning, and they’d both agreed that they needed to get back to Oxford and see what was happening. And, as the victim’s wife, it would look very suspicious indeed if she didn’t come forward. Not that it hadn’t taken all her nerve to walk into the police building in this unknown city, not knowing what might be waiting for her on the other side. It had been awful waiting for this moment to arrive, and now it came as something of a relief to her to be getting it over with.

But she’d never lacked nerve, and now she needed to be both calm and clearheaded.

‘Yes, certainly,’ she began, taking a slow, long breath. ‘When my husband goes away on these interminable conferences of his, I take the opportunity to have a little holiday of my own. This time, I decided to spend some time on the south coast. Hayling Island in fact.’

She didn’t volunteer the name of the inn, but she knew she’d have to, eventually. And, of course, the staff would confirm the presence of that hoary old chestnut, ‘the other man’. But she was in no hurry to start volunteering information just yet.

Well, none that would be of any use to the police, anyway. She needed to find out as much as she could about what had been going on first.

‘This morning, I rang my children, just to check in, and they told me about … about what had happened to Maurice. Naturally, I came here straight away.’ She stared down at her hands in her lap, noticed her wedding ring and quickly looked back up at the inspector.