He sighed. ‘That her dream cottage boasts a garden that celebrates death and hides a coded suicide note?’
She contrived a wry smile. ‘Tricky, huh? Best of luck.’
The doors closed and Louise waved. He blew a kiss and called out to her as the train pulled away from the platform.
‘I may need more than luck.’
Chapter Seventeen
Gail Flint stood in the doorway of her grey cottage, tightly wrapped in a silk kimono, screwing up her eyes against the early morning sunlight. It was only half seven and she hadn’t had a chance to disguise her bleariness with make-up.
‘May we come in?’
Hannah caught a fruity whiff of stale gin on Gail’s breath as she squinted at the warrant card. ‘The organ grinder as well as the monkey? My, my. I suppose I ought to be honoured, Chief Inspector, but it’s really not a good time.’
‘We’ll only take a few minutes, Mrs Flint.’
Hannah glanced past Gail into the hallway. A large blue nylon jacket, bearing the legend Allin of Esthwaite Drains and Rodding Services, hung from a coat-stand. A rusting Ford van similarly emblazoned was parked on a yellow line outside the cottage. A thud came from upstairs. Someone overweight, clambering out of bed.
‘Sorry to interrupt.’
‘You’re not interrupting anything at all,’ Gail muttered. ‘Though couldn’t you make an appointment? I do have a business to run, as I told DC Waller here the other day.’
‘We thought an informal conversation might be preferable to asking if you’d come to the police station with us.’
Gail glared. ‘This is about Kirsty Howe?’
‘It would be easier to talk indoors, Mrs Flint.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake.’ Upstairs, a lavatory flushed. ‘All right, have it your own way.’
She padded unsteadily along the hall carpet, shepherding Hannah and Linz into a large and crowded sitting room. A leather suite jostled with a couple of filing cabinets, a desk and a computer. A Bang and Olufsen hi-fi system gleamed in one corner, a plasma television screen was suspended from the wall in another. On the table by the sofa were a couple of empty bottles of Rioja, two unwashed glasses and a CD of
‘I insist on Peter mowing for me personally,’ she said. ‘I made my lawyer include it in the terms of settlement.’
‘You didn’t prefer a clean break?’
‘Where’s the fun in that? He may not have been the ideal husband, but he is a bloody good gardener. Besides, a monthly alimony cheque didn’t seem penance enough.’ Gail waved the detectives towards the armchairs. ‘Go on, then. Take the weight off your feet.’
Hannah nodded at the PC. ‘You run your business from home?’
‘Why spend precious cash on fancy office premises? I’ve survived one or two business mishaps over the years, but Roz Gleave has given me good advice on keeping control of cashflow. I don’t hold too much stock.’ She bared her teeth. ‘Besides, I’d be tempted to guzzle it, and that would never do, would it?’
Hannah heard someone — or perhaps a small army — tramping down the stairs. Gail shuddered and called out, ‘And don’t think you can send me an invoice, Tod Allin!’
The front door slammed and moments later the van’s engine started up. Gail curled up on the sofa, tucking her bare legs beneath her, and pouted at the two women.
‘Tradesmen are so unreliable these days, aren’t they? Tod assured me that blocked passages were his speciality.’ A rictus smile. ‘Very well, Chief Inspector, what can I do for you?’
‘A few days ago, we received information about the murder of Warren Howe. An anonymous message accused his wife Tina of the crime.’
‘So what, she’s the obvious suspect, isn’t she?’
The skin seemed to have been stretched too tightly over Gail’s cheekbones. On close inspection, not a marvellous advertisement for cosmetic surgery. The main benefit of entrusting your face to the surgeon’s knife, Hannah decided, is to make it difficult for people to figure out when you are lying.
‘You believe Tina killed Warren?’
‘Your colleagues never came up with a better solution.’
‘And the motive?’
‘Jealousy, rage, a combination of the two, how would I know?’
‘No reason for her to be jealous of your affair with Warren, was there?’ Hannah asked softly. ‘It was over.’
‘He didn’t dump me! It was a joint decision, perfectly amicable. Our relationship had run its course, that’s all. The affair might not have been going anywhere, but then neither was his marriage.’
‘And yours?’
‘I went back to Peter, didn’t I?’
‘How did he feel about being cuckolded by his business partner?’
‘Cuckolded?’ Gail savoured the word as though it were a vintage wine. ‘Oh, poor Peter. He didn’t murder Warren, if that’s what you’re hinting. There was no need. He turned a blind eye; he knew I cared for him more than Warren.’
‘So why the affair?’
‘I wanted a change, a touch of passion in my life. Is that so terrible? Excitement’s in short supply after you’ve been married a number of years.’ Gail’s high-pitched giggle set Hannah’s teeth on edge. ‘The temptation to sample forbidden fruit becomes impossible to resist. Perhaps you find that yourself, Chief Inspector?’
Hannah wasn’t going there. ‘The excitement died for both you and your husband, didn’t it? Hence the divorce.’
Gail made a dismissive movement with her shoulders. ‘These things happen.’
‘You didn’t want it to happen, though.’
‘As a matter of fact, the divorce was my suggestion.’
‘Anticipating the inevitable, surely? When you realised that your husband had fallen for Tina Howe.’
‘She started working in the business. Called herself a personal assistant, but she was no more than a shorthand typist with attitude. And a skirt short enough to let the boss catch a glimpse of knickers. Flaunt yourself long enough and you’ll hook your man. It’s the oldest trick in the book.’
‘You were the jealous one, not Tina.’
Gail sat upright. ‘Rubbish!’
‘She has the settled relationship. With a man you still care for.’
Linz said, ‘While you’re left — waiting for your annual service from the plumber.’
Gail folded her arms. ‘Don’t think your sidekick can rattle me, Chief Inspector. I’ve got a pretty thick skin, you know.’
‘I can tell.’ Hannah’s gaze lingered on the chiselled features. ‘Is this why the divorce took so long to finalise — you were fighting a rearguard action, trying to slow it down, hoping he’d change his mind?’
‘Bollocks!’
‘And when everything was finalised, you took revenge. Not against Peter, but against Tina and her family. You accused her of murdering Warren.’
Gail lifted her chin. It was as pointed as a dagger. ‘If you think I’m going to admit writing anonymous letters, you’re mistaken.’
