you?”
Jude apologised that she hadn’t got any Jameson’s, only Famous Grouse. Donal agreed that he’d make an exception.
“Can I get you a glass?”
“No, the bottle’ll do just fine.”
She ran upstairs to fetch a notebook from a bedside drawer, said good-bye to an already-imbibing Donal and left.
Before getting back into the cab, Jude knocked on the door of High Tor. She would have liked to have Carole with her for the next encounter. But there was no reply.
She told the driver where she wanted to go.
On the short drive to Unwins, Jude tried to separate out the conflicting strands of information that she had received in the last dramatic hour.
Of Nicky Dalrymple’s violence-whose existence she had never much doubted-she now had firsthand experience.
Another nugget of information rose to the surface of her confusion. Donal had actually given more details of how he was blackmailing the Dalrymples. He had talked about something he’d seen from the hayloft. Jude would have pursued the hint at the time, but that was just when Nicky had arrived with the knife, and in the ensuing drama it had been forgotten.
Damn. She should have asked Donal before leaving him at Woodside Cottage, but the idea had gone completely out of her mind.
There was something else, though, some scrap of information, some oddity, something that didn’t quite strike the right chord.
Something to do with Nicky Dalrymple. Painful though it was to remember, Jude tried to reconstruct everything that had happened, everything that had been said during their recent confrontation at Cordham Manor stables.
The most striking detail was Nicky’s response when she had first mentioned Donal’s name. He had seemed surprised. His reaction had certainly not been that of a vengeful man whose quarry has just been named.
In other words, contrary to Jude’s assumption, Nicky Dalrymple had not arrived at the Cordham Manor stables in search of Donal Geraghty.
He had come for another reason.
She shuddered as she took in the implications of this.
“Why don’t you stay for lunch?”
“Oh no, really. I’d better be getting back to High Tor. There’s rather an aggrieved dog there who hasn’t been out since about half past five this morning.”
“Having waited this long, another hour’s not going to kill him. Beside, if you started at that time, you must be starving by now. Did you have any breakfast?”
Carole admitted that she hadn’t had any.
“Then, no question, you must stay. My little thank-you to you for bringing Immy safely home.”
The invitation was an appealing one. Carole certainly felt extremely hungry.
And, even though Alec Potton’s confession seemed to have sewn up the case, she would still get the chance to ask more questions about the murder of Walter Fleet.
Besides, Hilary Potton had led her through to the kitchen, and was already opening a bottle of white wine.
Jude asked the driver to stop on the road outside Unwins. She didn’t want the noise of tyres on the gravel to alert the residents to her arrival. If the front door was locked, she would have to ring the bell for admission in the traditional way. But if it wasn’t…
The door was locked, and when Sonia Dalrymple opened it, Jude felt embarrassed about the dramatic scenarios she had been spinning in her mind. Everything at the house seemed so ordinary, so peaceful. Sonia looked once again beautiful and soigne, the dark cloud of Nicky’s presence once again removed from her horizon.
“Oh, Jude, what on earth are you doing here? I was just about to ring Lucinda and sort out picking up Conker. I’m thinking it’s probably safer if she drives one of the horse boxes over, rather than riding Conker back on the roads.”
“Yes.” She had been steeling herself for this confrontation, but now she was actually at Unwins, she was having difficulty working out the best approach. To say straight away that Sonia’s husband had just tried to stab her to death might be dramatic, but might not help her towards the information she needed. So she contented herself with asking a question that was already answered by Sonia’s demeanour and the absence of a large BMW in the drive. “Has Nicky gone?”
“Yes, about an hour ago. He was driving straight up to Heathrow.”
No, he wasn’t. He was making a detour via Cordham Manor.
“Do come in, Jude. Would you like a cup of tea?”
She would certainly like something. The woody carrot lay uneasily on her stomach. They went through to the kitchen, where Sonia made tea. When she offered a packet of shortbread biscuits, Jude fell on them.
She still hadn’t quite worked out what she was going to say next. But, as she frequently did, she opted for a direct approach. “Sonia, I saw Donal again recently.”
“Oh.” The very name was enough to set her clattering teacups.
“And I know he’s blackmailing you over something he saw from the hayloft.”
Sonia said nothing, but sank into a kitchen chair, as though all strength had been drained out of her. But, at the same time, she showed signs of relief. Maybe at last the cancer of the secret she had been holding inside for so long could be removed.
“I knew it would have to come out eventually.” Her voice was weak, but calm. “Probably as well it’s come out now, when Nicky’s just gone away. Gives me a few days to prepare myself for his reaction.” Her face looked grim. “He’s not going to like it. This will be the row to end all rows.”
“Literally? This might be the one that makes you leave him?”
Sonia looked across at Jude with yearning hopelessness in her eyes. “If only…”
The phone on the table rang. “Probably Nicky, saying he’s safely at Heathrow and checking whether I packed something. He usually manages to find something I’ve forgotten, something that puts me in the wrong.” She reached for the phone.
“If he asks whether you’ve seen me, say no,” Jude hissed.
With a look of surprise, Sonia answered the call. As predicted, it was her husband. As predicted, he asked if she’d remembered to pack the charger for his shaver. When she said she hadn’t, a predictable earful ensued. Then, after a few more yes and no answers, the call ended.
Sonia looked across the table in bewilderment. “He did ask if you were here.”
“And you said no?”
“Yes. Jude, what’s going on?”
“It’s something rather nasty.”
“About Nicky?” Sonia asked, knowing what the answer would be.
“Yes, about Nicky. You said there are some nights he doesn’t stay at home?”
“He spends most of his life travelling the globe.”
“I know that. But you said sometimes he stays in a hotel round here.”
“Oh yes. After we’ve had a particularly major row.”
“Like you did last night?”
“Yes.”
“And when you have those major rows, does he hit you?”
Sonia gave her answer as if it was the first time she’d thought about the question. “No, he doesn’t. That’s odd, actually. He hits me over small things. The big rows, he…no, he just leaves me, goes out.”
