White Lies (27 page)

“It’s too obvious. Jimmy’s only just got out of prison for theft. I’m not saying he wouldn’t do it but he wouldn’t be stupid about it. He knows he’d be the obvious suspect.”

“So why didn’t you tell your inspector about him?”

“Because I didn’t want Inspector White to just assume the worst of him. Jimmy’s a reformed character, I’m sure of it.”

“Then where was he last night?”

“At home in his enormous penthouse flat? How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

“Ask him then. I bet you know his phone number.”

“I do, as it happens, but only because I was investigating his brother’s death.” She pulled her bag across the table and picked up her mobile, turning away from Dafydd to dial. She stood as it rang, moving away from him through the short, shelved corridor into the shop. “Jimmy? It’s Meinwen. Look, I need to know where you were last night.”

“Why? Worried I’ve found someone else already?”

“Something like that. It’s important.”

“All right. I went out.”

“Where?”

“For a drink. I don’t know. Some pub”

“All night?”

On the other end of the line, Jimmy huffed out a long sigh. “No, not all night. Look, I went to that house, all right? The one John was going to.”

Meinwen’s heart sank. Jimmy couldn’t have framed himself better if he worked for the National Gallery. “Not The Larches?”

“That’s the one. It doesn’t matter anyway. Your man was out, not expected back until the early hours. I couldn’t talk to him anyway.”

“So who did you talk to?”

“Some bint in a maid’s uniform. Cute, I suppose, if you like them that old.”

“Jennifer.”

“If you say so. Why all the questions, anyway? I’d have told you if I’d found anything out.”

“Richard’s dead. He was murdered last night.”

“Shit.”
He hissed. “And you think I did it?”

“No, but you’re going to be number one on the suspect list.”

“Great. And me with a record too. They’ll lock me up and throw away the key.”

“They might be a bit biased toward you, especially after we’ve been badgering them to get your brother’s case investigated as a murder.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t come knocking on the door already.”

“They probably have, just at the wrong house.”

“Damn. Yes, good point.”

Meinwen leaned against the shop counter and began doodling in the dust. It was ridiculous how much accumulated when the shop had only been closed for a couple of days. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted out. At least you weren’t anywhere near the crime scene so they’ll have nothing to connect you to that.”

“No, of course not. I didn’t go into the house at all. Not even the hallway.”

“The house? Richard wasn’t killed in the house. He was killed in the cemetery.”

“The cemetery? The one between the house and the park?”

“Yes, there’s only one cemetery. Why?”

“I walked through it on the way back to town.”

“That’s just great. Why?”

“It was a short cut and you warned me not to drive John’s car.”

“That’s all we need.” Meinwen took a deep breath. “Look, the best thing to do is go down to the police station and give yourself up. You didn’t do it, and they can’t prove you did. Any evidence they have will be purely circumstantial. If they arrest you, and I very much doubt they will, we’ll get a solicitor and get you out on bail. We’ll get whoever did this, Jimmy, you wait and see.”

“I hope so, Meinwen.”
He sounded defeated.
“I was just looking forward to a new life, an’ all. Now it looks like I’ll be doing life instead.”

“Not if I can help it.” Meinwen closed the connection and pressed the phone against her mouth. She needed to talk to the inspector to see if they had any leads yet. Any leads other than Jimmy, at least. She heaved herself upright and looked down at the doodles on top of the counter. Hearts? When did she last draw hearts?

She swept them away with her open palm.

Chapter 25

Meinwen returned to the back room where Dafydd was reading the previous month’s issue of
Sacred Cow
with his feet propped up on the table. She knocked them onto the floor. “I eat off that.”

“Really?” He closed the magazine and lobbed it toward a pile stacked for recycling next to the sink. “I generally use a plate myself. Still, it takes all sorts and Mam always said a bit of dirt never hurt.” He leaned forward to brush off some dry soil. “There’s some good Welsh clay there, look you. I should charge you extra for that. It’s probably a spell component for a love charm.”

“Maybe one to make it rain all day.”

Dafydd rose and picked up the kettle. “Another cuppa?”

“I thought you didn’t like it?”

“It’s not too bad with a bit of sugar in.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I know. It’s part of my natural charm.”

“Go on with you.” She gave him a mock-thump on the arm and he laughed.

“That snooty bint’s at the back door.”

Meinwen looked past him. Sure enough, Mary was peering through the glass, a heavy black coat with a hood shadowing her face and protecting her from the wind and rain. She hadn’t expected to see Mary again after the way she’d spoken at the house. She hurried to let her in, shooting back the bolts and stepping back. She was about to close it again when Mary’s partner Peter appeared as well, a fob of keys jingling in his hand. She let him pass and closed the door.

“Sorry for the unexpected visit but I didn’t want to be seen arriving.” Mary took in the clutter of the little kitchen. “You could really do with a maid in here, you know.” She shrugged off her coat and handed it to Peter, who handed it to Dafydd.

“It’s her day off, I expect.” Dafydd scowled but catching Meinwen’s glance, hung it on the back of the door. “I was about to make some tea.”

“No, nothing for us, thank you.” Mary looked at Meinwen. “Can we talk? In private?”

“We’ll go in the shop.” Meinwen laid a hand on Dafydd’s arm. “We’ll just be a minute or two.”

“Fine.” Dafydd’s tone was at odds with the statement. “Got any biscuits? I’m starving.”

“You had a bacon sandwich not an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but men need extra calories, see. It comes of all the exercise this morning.” He winked and Meinwen stifled a giggle of embarrassment.

“There are some oat cakes in the Rovers tin in the cupboard.” She pointed, then turned to Mary. “Shall we?”

Mary followed her through the curtains into the shop. The store was dim. Any daylight managing to filter through the flyer-bedecked windows was utilized by displays and trinkets before it ever managed to illuminate the back of the shop. Meinwen crossed to a bank of switches.

“Don’t.” Mary held up a hand. “Putting the lights on will draw attention to us. What part of ‘I didn’t want to be seen’ didn’t you understand?”

“Sorry.” Meinwen went back to the counter. Mary’s face was a lighter patch in the general gloom, Peter’s a higher one. “So what did you want to talk about? This morning you couldn’t wait to throw me out of the house.”

“That was mostly for Mummy’s benefit. She really doesn’t like you very much. I don’t know why.” She pursed her lips. “Actually I do. You cleared Richard of killing Uncle Robert and deprived her of the position. She was all ready to take up the mantle of Lady Larches until you paraded Richard in front of her.” She gave a small chuckle. “Mummy’s face at the sight of him! I shall never forget the way her lips wrinkled. That’s part of the reason I made a determined effort to lose weight. I do not want to end up like her.”

“It’s not her weight that’s the problem.” Meinwen closed her mouth before she reeled off a list of Jean Markhew’s faults. “So...mind telling me why you’re here?”

“I do want you to look into Richard’s death. I’m a bit upset about it, to be honest but Mother seems so pleased. I mean, I’m sure she didn’t kill him but she should at least show some sympathy other than the crocodile tears she offered the police this morning.”

“Problems with the insurance claim?”

“You heard, did you? They won’t even consider a pay out until the beneficiaries have been cleared of murder. How ridiculous is that? Richard’s debts won’t pay themselves.”

“A few might. Have you contacted his creditors? Some of them will scrap the debt if the person dies and some companies insist on taking life assurance with the loan in case of...well, situations like this.”

“You might be right.” Mary wandered about the shop as she spoke, her fingers trailing over the furniture, the books, the small statues of gods from different cultures. She held a pair of silver moons to her ear and looked at her reflection in a mirror decorated with driftwood and animal bone. “I know some of them prefer a more direct method of regaining their loans on the debtor’s death.”

“More direct methods?”

“There was a gentleman at the house at lunchtime who showed me his Louisville Slugger. I wasn’t even aware you could buy a baseball bat in England. I mean, who plays baseball here?”

“You’d be surprised. They started playing it at St. Pity’s high school when the boys wouldn’t play rounders because they thought it a girl’s game.”

“I used to play rounders.” Mary smiled. “Actually, that’s a lie. I was usually the last to be picked so I generally watched rounders from the trees at the edge of the sports field.” She returned to the front of shop and lowered herself into a Gothic-style chair carved with skulls and surmounted by a pair of ram’s horns. It matched the leather and brocade outfit she wore, though Meinwen was unsure if it was Mary’s general wardrobe or chosen specifically for mourning. It certainly showed her cleavage to best advantage.

“Who benefits from Richard’s will?”

“In the absence of children the house will go to me. The money divided between all parties, just as my uncle did.”

“Once his debts are paid.” Meinwen fingered the necklace she wore. She was rarely uncomfortable around people and Mary, in particular, had been one of her first friends in the town, having turned up at her shop before it was even officially open, looking for a love potion.

“Oh fiddle to that.” Mary waved a hand nonchalantly. “He had enough insurance to cover them. I just need them to pay up before we all have our kneecaps bashed off.”

“What were the debts for? I thought Richard had a reasonable income?”

“He did until he took up with that estate agent fellow and Catherine divorced him. She ate through most of the bank account and his gambling took care of the rest.”

“Gambling? Since when was Richard a gambler?”

“Since he blew his remaining money on a portfolio of shares. It’s been his primary source of income for the last couple of years, at least until he started making bad investments.”

“I see.” Meinwen drummed her fingers on the countertop. “They were divorced, then, Richard and Catherine? I’d heard they were only separated.”

“God! I bloody hope they were divorced. I wouldn’t want that little cow to get her hands on the estate. We’d all end up homeless. Where did you hear otherwise?”

“I don’t remember.” If she’d had any suspicion about Mary being the murderer, it would be gone now. Mary could never hide her love for money above all else. She’d never have risked losing her insurance payout

Mary leaned into the high-backed chair, one hand draped casually over the skull motif carved into the armrest and left unstained, the natural beech giving it the look of aged bone against the dark-stained supports. She raised her legs up, her stomach muscles taut under her velvet top. Peter scooted underneath and curled into a ball as a human footrest, his necklace hanging free and flashing in the light from the distant windows. She glanced at her phone, scrolling through several texts before she returned her attention to Meinwen. “How much is the chair?”

“Five ninety-nine.” Meinwen indicated a price tag looped through the artfully carved nasal cartilage. “And ninety-nine pence.”

“Splendid.” Mary heaved a sigh of contentment that made her ample bosom expand like a balloon on a tank of helium. “I’ll take two.” She smiled. “When the insurance money comes through, naturally.”