‘You look as though you’ve been training for the marathon.’
‘I’ve run over from The Heights.’
‘But what on earth brings you here? I mean we’ve never…’
‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. Please, can we go inside and talk? I hate to bother you, but I’ve been mulling this over in my mind and you’re the one person who can help me. You can tell me what to do.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
A thought slapped Kirsty. ‘Is Chris in?’
‘No, he’s out in Kendal, talking to someone who runs a folk club. I’m not expecting him back for an hour, longer if he gets engrossed.’
‘Thank goodness. We can talk in private.’
‘Talk about what?’
‘Do you mind if we go in? You see, the thing is, I need to ask you a favour, a big, big favour. Look, I’m ever so sorry to disturb you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t desperate. But there’s nobody else I can turn to.’
Peter Flint talked rapidly, Adam’s apple bobbing, hands moving up and down for emphasis. Hannah could understand the appeal of his boyish animation for Tina, even if a bespectacled boffin and a satyr’s widow made strange bedfellows.
‘It was an appalling business, Chief Inspector, appalling. Warren wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to die like that…it doesn’t bear thinking about. Not even I can quite imagine what it must have been like for Tina and the children. It’s taken a long time for them to get over it — if you ever can get over something like that. So it’s scarcely surprising that they dread a new inquiry. Utterly dread it. Painful memories are bound to come flooding back.’
Hannah glanced at Tina. Following her lover’s arrival, she had emerged from behind her desk and now they were all sitting together in Peter’s office. His presence seemed to soothe her. Her body language was mellowing, her smile losing its glacial edge.
‘You have to do what you have to do, Chief Inspector,’ Tina said. ‘Just remember that the murder turned our lives upside down. It wasn’t an easy time.’
‘We appreciate the sensitivities, Mr Flint, but you’ll understand that I have to ask you about your relationship with Warren Howe.’
‘Personal or professional?’
‘Both.’
Hannah would bet any money that Tina had called him as soon as she’d heard from Kirsty. The party line would already be agreed. She’d be told what they wanted to tell her, no more.
‘We both shared the same passion,’ Peter Flint said.
Hannah’s gaze flicked over to Tina. Yes, I bet. But since when?
‘I mean, Warren and I were fascinated by gardens. By gardening.’ He spread his arms, reminding Hannah of a magician’s stooge trying to fathom an illusion. ‘It becomes an addiction. Once you’re in its clutches, the tendrils wrap around you like a Russian vine. There’s no escape.’
‘How about your business — any problems?’
‘My goodness, have you ever known any business without problems? As it happens, we were lucky, we had more contracts than we could handle. Above all, we loved the work.’
‘With an added bonus,’ Tina murmured. ‘They divided the tasks, so they could keep out of each other’s way.’
Peter grinned. ‘Which is probably why we seldom had cross words. I concentrated on design and marketing. Warren was our out-of-doors man. He did the labouring, as well as dealing with the nurseries. We made a damn good team. After Warren died, frankly, our revenue fell off a cliff. It wasn’t easy to find a replacement, let alone a plantsman of the same calibre. Customers cancelled agreements, it took years to get the firm back on an even keel.’
‘Is that why you wanted Mrs Howe to work for the company?’
‘When we were struggling, I couldn’t afford to buy out her share. Now, of course, I wouldn’t want to.’
‘And Sam?’
‘He worked for me during his summer holidays as a schoolboy. After he left school, he flitted around from job to job. When I needed another pair of hands, he was the obvious choice. The lad was born with green fingers; it’s in the genes. All he needs to do is realise that he needs to put in the hours, bend his back more often.’
‘And your personal relationship with Warren Howe?’
‘What can I say? He was a rough diamond. The sort of man whose idea of philosophy is: never spend your money on anything that fucks, floats or flies.’
Hannah couldn’t help smiling at the gruff impersonation. She would never know whether Peter had captured Warren’s tone of voice, but she’d bet he had. ‘Not exactly your kind of chap, then?’
‘Apart from gardening we didn’t have much in common.’
‘What about your wife?’
Two pink spots appeared in Peter’s cheeks. ‘What about her? I wasn’t Gail’s keeper. She’s always cherished her independence. That’s why she devoted her time to her own business ventures rather than Flint Howe. Whatever she got up to was, to coin a phrase, her own affair.’
‘Even while you were married?’
‘Even then.’
‘You were aware of the gossip about the two of them?’
‘I take no notice of gossip, Chief Inspector. It’s the curse of village life. The idle chatter of small-minded people doesn’t interest me.’
‘Did you confront her, ask her outright if she was having an affair?’
‘Of course not.’ He sniffed, as if at a bad smell. ‘Listen, we’d married young. I fell head over heels, I don’t mind admitting. Gail’s an attractive woman, it took many years for me to realise that wasn’t enough. That’s why we stayed together for so long. Too long, if I’m truthful. Today — I’m just thankful it’s over. I’m happier now than ever before.’
Tina reached across the table and patted his hand. They smiled as they looked into each other’s eyes. Hannah stifled a sigh of exasperation.
‘So you weren’t jealous?’
Peter Flint cocked his head. ‘I suppose if someone had proved to me that Warren was sleeping with my wife, yes, I would have been unhappy. Thank heaven, it never arose. Warren didn’t rub my nose in it, and I’m not plagued by the green-eyed monster.’
‘Is it true that your wife’s involvement with Warren Howe ended a short time before he was killed?’
‘If I don’t know for sure that there was any involvement, how could I know if and when it ended?’
‘How did she react to the news of his death?’
Peter blinked. ‘You’re surely not wondering whether…’
‘All I’m trying to do is to get a clear picture of Warren Howe’s life. His relationships.’
‘Gail didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I haven’t suggested it.’
‘She has a tongue like a stiletto, I don’t deny it. Especially after she’s had a few drinks. But she isn’t a murderer.’
Tina frowned and Hannah sensed a warning. Don’t overdo it.
‘Your divorce, Mr Flint. Was it acrimonious?’
He lifted his chin. ‘Aren’t all divorces?’
‘Was it your decision to part?’
‘After Warren’s death, it was as if for a time, in some strange way, the tragedy brought us together. But we were only papering over the cracks.’ More gesturing with the hands. You’re like a politician, Hannah thought, only answering the questions you like. ‘We’d become different people since our marriage. Both self-employed, working long hours trying to make ends meet. Between us, we’d sunk every penny into our businesses. We had very little time together. It was never going to work out, we both came to recognise that. A mutual decision, let’s say.’
‘The anonymous letter, did you see it?’
