that Russell was a sort of Svengali who'd influenced her against her will. Simple logistics-she wasn't with him the day of the murder. Myself, I'd probably pick the Svengali option because that would explain why she had to die this time. If she'd known Leo for eleven years, then it must have been clear to anyone who knew them both that she was an equal party to all decisions made. You need to find out who else knew about the affair with Russell. Isn't that the key?'
DI Maddocks cleared his throat. 'I could almost buy this theory if it wasn't for one small snag. Like Superintendent Cheever says, we've read her diaries, or what there is of them, and nowhere is there a mention of another man who lasted longer than three or four months. So who is this mysterious lover? You knew her better than anyone else, Miss Kingsley. Do you know who it is?'
'No,' she said, 'I don't.'
Maddocks was watching her carefully. ' 'So give us a handful of likely candidates, and leave us to ferret out what we can.'
'Ask Josh,' she said, evading the question. 'He knew her men friends far better than I did.'
'We'll do that. Did he also know her women friends better?'
'Probably.'
'Did she have many?'
Jinx frowned, unsure where he was leading. 'A few close ones, like me.'
'That's what I thought.'
She flicked him a puzzled glance. 'Why is it important?'
He quoted her own words back at her. ' 'Why say no, if you both want to do it? Meg had a masculine approach to life.' ' He held her gaze. 'I wonder if this jealous lover was a woman, Miss Kingsley.'
CANNING ROAD POLICE STATION, SALISBURY-3:30 P.M.
Blake showed Miles into an interview room. 'You can wait here till the solicitor comes, although I may have to move you if the room's needed by someone else.'
'How long are you planning to keep me here?'
'As long as it takes. First we wait for the solicitor, then we ask you questions. It could be several hours.'
'I don't have several hours,' he muttered, glancing at his watch. 'I need to be out of here by five at the latest.'
'Are you saying you don't want to wait for the solicitor, Mr. Kingsley?'
He thought rapidly. 'Yes, that's what I'm saying. Let's get on with it.'
THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC-3:30 P.M.
'Which way?' asked Maddocks as he turned out of the clinic gates. 'Salisbury CID or back to Winchester?'
'Stoney Bassett airfield,' grunted the Superintendent. 'Young Blake will keep Miles on ice till we get there. Let's face it, he's not going anywhere in a hurry.'
HELLINGDON HALL, NEAR FORDINGBRIDGE- 3:30 P.M.
Betty put down the extension in her bedroom and dragged herself to her dressing table stool, pools of sweat gathering under her arms and drenching her corset at the back. She thrust her fat face at the mirror and desperately applied powder in an attempt to repair the ravages of time and her husband's neglect. She listened for his footsteps on the stairs, knowing that it was over. This time there would be no reprieve for her or the boys. As usual, she turned her resentment on the first Mrs. Kingsley whose ghost had defied every attempt she had ever made to lay it. It wasn't fair, she told herself. Okay, so no one had ever promised her a rose garden, but no one had warned her that marriage to Adam would be a bed of thorns, either. 'Hello, Daddy,' she said with desperate gaiety as the door was flung open, 'it's been a bugger of a day one way and another, hasn't it?'
STONEY BASSETT AIRFIELD, NEW FOREST, HAMPSHIRE-4:15 P.M.
They stood on the bleak, heather-strewn plain where broken tarmac runways, covered in weeds, were all that remained of the wartime airfield. 'What are we looking for?' asked Maddocks, careful to keep his tone neutral. He could happily have kicked his boss from here to eternity. Like Fraser yesterday, a few clever words and a troubled smile had made him doubt the girl's guilt, and for the life of him, Maddocks couldn't see how she did it.
Frank pointed to the concrete stanchion which reared up like a single broken tooth some yards from where they were standing. 'We'll start there,' he said. 'Presumably, that's what she drove at. How wide would you say it was?'
'Nine feet square,' guessed Maddocks.
'Interesting, don't you think?' murmured Frank.
'Why?'
'I thought it was much narrower. You've seen the photographs. The car appeared to be wrapped around it like a metal fist.' He cocked his head from side to side, studying different angles. 'It must have impacted on one of the corners and the arc lights threw everything else into shadow.' He moved forward to prowl around the structure.
'What difference does its size make?' asked Maddocks, following him.
The Superintendent squatted down to examine an area of gouged and heavily scarred concrete on both faces of one corner. 'If you were driving at a nine-feet-wide wall with the intention of smashing into it, wouldn't you head straight for the middle? Why aim for one end?'
There was shattered glass from the windshield still littering the ground, and intermittent tire traces to a point fifty meters back where the car had obviously been sitting until, at maximum revs, she had released the brake to hurl it and herself at the concrete structure. Frank spent ten minutes walking back and forth across a broad expanse of area around the stanchion; then he returned to stand and gaze at the burnt-rubber marks where the tires had spun before biting into the tarmac. He crouched down and followed the line the car had taken. 'She was absolutely square to the middle of that wall when she set off,' he said, 'so how come she ended up wrapped around the right- hand corner?''
