never mentioned. It was her life and there was no rule that compelled children to tell their parents everything. I blame her father,' she said in a drained voice, turning her shoulder to freeze Charles out. 'She couldn't leave home quick enough to get away from him, so of course there were things we would never know.'
The Superintendent absorbed this in silence, careful to keep his face neutral. 'When did she tell you she was moving in with Leo?' he asked after a moment.
'During that telephone call. 'We're going to live together until we get married,' she said. 'Leo has a house in Chelsea and I'm moving my stuff in now, but I don't want you to tell Dad because I can't take any more lectures.' Then she said they were going to France until the fuss died down and that she'd phone her answering machine regularly for messages.' She fingered her handkerchief, pulling out the crumples. 'She said we'd stop worrying once we met Leo, and promised to bring him down as soon as they came home. And I said, what about poor Jinx? And Meg said Jinx would survive because she always has. Then we said good-bye.' She held the handkerchief to her eyes.
To Frank's ears, this description of Meg was an unflattering one and he wondered if Mrs. Harris was aware of the picture she was painting. 'Tell me about Meg,' he invited. 'What was she like?'
Her sad face brightened. 'She was a beautiful person. Kind, thoughtful, very loving. 'Don't worry, Mummy, I'll always be here'-that's what she used to say.' The tears welled again. 'She was so intelligent. She could do anything she set her mind to. 'I'm going places,' she always told me. Everyone adored her.'
Frank turned to the vicar. 'Is that how you saw her, sir?'
Charles glanced at his wife's rigid back. 'She had faults, Superintendent, we all do. She was a little self- centered perhaps, rather too careless of other people's feelings, but yes, she was a popular girl.' He folded his hands in his lap. 'Our son, Simon, could give you a better idea of what she was like. He's worked in various London parishes over the years and saw far more of her than we did. As Caroline told you, we effectively lost her when she went to university. She used to come down two or three times a year, but other than that we had very little contact.'
'Is he still in London, sir?'
'No, he was given a parish of his own two years ago. It's a village called Frampton, ten miles to the northeast of Southampton.' He lifted the cuff of his cassock to look at his watch. 'But he'll be at the vicarage in Littleton Mary by now. I thought it would be easier for us if he came up.'
'Easier for you, you mean,' said Caroline unsteadily, swinging round to face him. 'You think he's going to take your side.'
Charles shook his head. 'There's no question of anyone taking sides, Caroline. I hoped we could support each other.'
Her cheeks blazed suddenly. 'There's been too much secrecy. I can't stand it anymore.' She reached out a claw to clutch at the Superintendent's sleeve. 'I knew we'd lost her,' she said. 'I prayed we'd only lost her to Leo, but in my heart of hearts, I knew she was dead. I kept asking myself why Jinx had tried to kill herself.' Her eyes rolled alarmingly and Frank glanced towards the WPC for assistance, but Caroline went on in an unsteady voice: 'She did the same thing after Russell was murdered, you know, but that time she tried to starve herself to death. If it hadn't been for her father, she'd have succeeded. This is Jinx's doing, Superintendent. She won't have her men taken away from her.'
'You're talking nonsense, Caroline,' said her husband severely.
'Oh, am I?' she snapped. 'Well, at least I'm not a hypocrite. You know the truth as well as I do. We're talking about jealousy over Meg, Charles, something you know all about.'
He pressed his hands to his face and breathed deeply for several seconds. 'I really don't think I can continue, Superintendent,' he said unexpectedly. 'I do apologize. Can I urge you to talk to Simon? I'm sure he's the best person to give you an objective view of this sorry business.'
Fraser, who was sitting a few yards apart, looked up and caught Cheever's eye. 'Sorry business' was a peculiarly cold-blooded way to describe a brutal murder, but then it hadn't occurred to either of them at that stage how much the Reverend Charles Harris had disliked his daughter.
THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-1:00 P.M.
'Are you busy, Dr. Protheroe?'
He glanced up from his desk to find Jinx hovering, poised for flight, in the doorway, a look of indecision in her dark eyes. 'We're very informal here, you know. You can call me Alan if you want.'
The idea of anything so intimate appalled her. 'I'd rather stick with 'Dr. Protheroe,' if you don't mind.'
'Fine,' he said indifferently. 'Come in then.'
She stayed where she was. 'It's not important. I can come back later.'
He gestured towards a vacant armchair. 'Come in,' he said again. 'I could do with a break from the paperwork.' He stood up and walked around the desk, ushering her in and shutting the door behind her. 'What's up?'
With her escape route barred, Jinx accepted that the die was cast. She crossed the parquet flooring, but instead of sitting down, took up a position by the window and gazed out across the garden. 'My father phoned to say he wants me out of here. I wondered why. Do you know?'
'No,' he said, resuming his seat and swinging round to look at her back.
'Did you phone him about the police visit?'
'No.'
She turned round to study his face closely, and nodded in relief. 'Then I don't understand,' she said. 'Why does he want me to leave?''
'I suppose it may have something to do with the fax I sent him.' He reached inside his top drawer and removed both the fax in question and the reply he had received that morning. 'Read them,' he invited. 'My extraordinarily anodyne letter is typical of a hundred more on file, so why should your father find it threatening?''
She perched on the edge of the armchair and read both pieces of paper before handing them back to him. 'What was your brief?'' She chewed nervously on the side of her thumb.
