“Ah.” Jude made the monosyllable light and noncommittal, neither confirming nor denying that she already knew about the confession. “Well, good luck when you tell all that to the police. I don’t think they’re going to be terribly pleased about the fact that you lied to them.”
“No.” But he didn’t sound too worried. In fact, relieved by unburdening himself to Jude, Nicky Dalrymple appeared to have regained some of his old confidence. “Probably get a rap over the knuckles for my little white lie. But at least I haven’t done anything worse than lying. There’s nothing else the police can get me for.”
Oh no? thought Jude. There are crimes other than murder, you know. And, in the view of some, no less serious. Like domestic violence, for one.
31
“I don’t know, Carole. I don’t think Nicky was telling out-and-out lies. There was some truth in there. I mean, he’d got himself into a position where he had to admit that he was at Long Bamber Stables on the relevant evening.”
“Or you had got him into a position where he had to make that admission.”
“Whichever.”
“No, there’s a big difference. From what you say, I think you played him very skilfully, Jude. Credit where credit’s due.”
“Well, thank you. So yes, Nicky Dalrymple was at Long Bamber Stables, but I’m not entirely convinced about the reasons he gave me for his being there.”
“You’re not suggesting he actually killed Walter?”
“I don’t think so. His description of how he found the body was pretty accurate, and he did seem genuinely affected when he spoke about it. No, I don’t think Nicky Dalrymple’s our murderer.”
“So Alec Potton is.”
“I’m not yet entirely convinced about that either. Mind you, there is one useful detail that Nicky’s given me.”
“What’s that?”
“The timing of the murder. I’ve assumed-I don’t know whether the police have too-that the person I heard leaving the yard was Walter Fleet’s murderer. But now I know that person was Nicky Dalrymple. Well, the stabbing could have happened at any time after the last owner left the yard, which I think was established to be about five o’clock. Maybe the police have already worked that out from the postmortem.”
“I doubt it,” said Carole, recalling her Home Office experience. “I don’t think time of death can be established quite that accurately.”
“Hm. But it does open out the time frame a bit, doesn’t it? Raises the possibility of other people being at Long Bamber Stables between five and six that evening.”
“Yes. What we really need to do, Jude, is to establish some alibis.”
“Which I’m sure the police have already done.” She ground her teeth in frustration at their lack of information. “I wish I knew what Alec Potton was doing during the relevant hour that evening, and sadly the police are the only people who could tell us about that.”
Carole chuckled. “Oh, come on, he’s the one person who we do know about-or at least in his case we know what the police think he was doing. If he’s confessed, he must have told them that he was at Long Bamber Stables, stabbing Walter Fleet.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Oh, if only the police would let us have access to their files.” Jude smiled lugubriously across at her neighbour. “No fun being an amateur detective, is it, Carole?”
“Hello, Jude?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Sonia. Listen, I’ve just had a rather worrying phone call from Imogen Potton.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently she’s staying with her grandmother in Northampton, but she’s very upset.”
“Hardly surprising, given her father’s being charged with murder.”
“But that doesn’t seem to be what’s upsetting her. In fact, she didn’t mention Alec at all. First, she asked if I was all right. Then she wanted to know if Nicky was home. And, finally, she got round to what was really upsetting her. She’s worried about Conker.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Conker, is there?”
“No, no, she’s fine. I’ve checked with Lucinda. It’s just, you know, Imogen feels very close to that pony.”
“Yes,” Jude agreed. “She channels most of her emotions through her. Displacement anxiety. The pony’s easier to deal with than her parent’s divorce-and no doubt her father’s murder charge.”
“But Imogen’s terribly worried about her.”
“Anything specific?”
“She keeps going on about the Horse Ripper.”
“Why? There hasn’t been another incident, has there?”
“Not so far as I know. But there were a lot around this area. For some reason Imogen’s got it into her head that Conker’s going to be the next victim.”
“And she feels that, stuck up in Northampton, she can’t do anything about it?”
“Exactly. Oh, I’m sure it’s just an adolescent girl’s overactive imagination at work, but she does sound in a bad state. I’ve tried to reassure her, but I don’t think I’m much use at the moment to anyone.”
“Don’t say that, Sonia. Do you have Imogen’s grandmother’s number?”
“No, but Immy rang me on the mobile. I’ve got that.” She gave it to Jude. “If you wouldn’t mind ringing her…”
“I’ll try, but she didn’t have much time for me when we last met.”
“Please.”
“All right.”
“I’m sorry, Jude, I feel I should do something, but I just know if I suggested the idea, Nicky would forbid me from having anything to do with any of the Pottons.”
“By the way, did he tell you he came to see me?”
“Nicky?” At the other end of the phone, Sonia Dalrymple sounded thunderstruck. “Why on earth would he come to see you?”
“He wanted to check some things that the police had said to him. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
Of course he wouldn’t have. No way Nicky Dalrymple was going to spoil his image of infallibility for his wife, was there?
“Imogen?”
“Who is this?” The girl’s voice on the phone was guarded. There was the sound of traffic around her; she was in the open air somewhere-presumably Saturday evening in Northampton.
“My name’s Jude. Do you remember, we met at Sonia Dalrymple’s.”
“Oh yes, you were trying to heal Chieftain. And failing,” said Imogen with some satisfaction.
“I just couldn’t get through to him.”
“Huh.” It was one of those expressions of total contempt that only teenage girls can really do properly. “But Donal could. He really understands about horses. Anything to do with horses, Donal’s the person you want to talk to. I don’t know why Mrs. Dalrymple didn’t ask him to do it in the first place.”
“Nor do I.” And the thought reminded Jude to check why Sonia had been so unwilling to have dealings with the Irishman. She had claimed to know nothing about his squatting in her hayloft, but there was some reason why she wanted to keep away from him. Presumably the blackmail? Jude had asked Donal enough about that. Maybe the time had come to put a few more direct questions to Sonia on the subject.
