Courses taught you only so much about dealing with unusual situations, and simulations even less. When it came right down to it, Winsome thought, there was no book to go by, only instinct. She wanted to hurt him, but she didn’t want to hurt him in the way she knew she was going to do. The image of Hayley Daniels lying there on the pile of leather like a fallen runner caused her breath to catch in her throat.
Winsome took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry I have to tell you this, Mr.
Daniels,” she said, “but I’m afraid it’s about your daughter.”
Daniels stopped struggling. “Hayley? What about her? What’s happened to her? Has there been an accident?”
“Sort of,” said Winsome. “I’m afraid she’s dead. It looks very much as if she was murdered.” There, it was said, the dreaded word that 5 6 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
would change everything, and its weight filled the room and seemed to suck out all the air.
“Murdered?” Daniels shook his head. “But . . . she can’t be. It must be someone else.”
“I’m sorry, sir. There’s no mistake. She was carrying her driving license and an address book with her name in it.”
“Was she? . . . I mean, did he . . . ?”
“I’d rather not say anything else until we get back to Eastvale,”
Winsome said. “Your wife’s waiting for you there.”
Martina came out of the bathroom in time to hear this. She looked at Winsome. “Can I untie him now?” she asked.
Winsome nodded. Since she had told Daniels the news about Hayley, she had forgotten that he was still naked and tied to the bed. He seemed to have forgotten it, too. And somehow, humiliating Daniels didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t a cruel person; she had simply wanted to quash his arrogance and hear an alibi from Martina before the two of them had time or reason to make anything up. In both these matters, she thought she had succeeded, but now she felt a little ashamed of herself.
Martina got to work on the scarves as Daniels just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Finally freed, he sat up and wrapped the bedsheet around himself and cried. Martina sat beside him, glum and f lushed. She tried to touch him, but he f linched. He had curly dark hair, a Kirk Douglas cleft in his chin and sideburns reaching the line of his jaw. Perhaps he was the kind of man some white women liked to mother, Winsome thought, but he did less than nothing for her. He looked up at her through his tears like a penitent schoolboy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That remark I made earlier . . . it was uncalled for. I . . .”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Winsome, “but untying you wasn’t my first priority. I needed to know why you were lying to your wife and where you were last night.” She pulled up a chair and sat down. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
Daniels got to his feet and pulled on his underpants and trousers.
Then he put on a shirt and started tossing socks and underwear from the drawers into an overnight bag. “I must go,” he said. “I must get back to Donna.”
F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
5 7
“Donna?” said Martina. “What about me? You told me you were going to leave her and get a divorce. We were going to get married.”
“Don’t be stupid. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got to get back to her.”
“But Geoff . . . What about us?”
“I’ll ring you,” Daniels said. “Go home. I’ll ring you.”
“When?”
“When? When I’ve buried my bloody daughter! Now bugger off, won’t you, you stupid cow. I don’t think I can stand the sight of you anymore.”
Sobbing, Martina picked up her bag, not bothering to go and pick up her toiletries from the bathroom, or anything she may have put in the wardrobe, and headed for the door. Winsome headed her off. “I need your name, address and phone number,” she said.
Martina glared over at Daniels. “Ask
Winsome stood her ground. “I want you to tell me.”
Martina paused, then gave Winsome the information. Next she opened the wardrobe and took out a three- quarter-length suede jacket.
“Mustn’t forget my birthday present,” she said to Daniels, then she was out of the door and off down the corridor.
Daniels stood with his grip in his hand. “All right,” he said. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Winsome looked at him, shook her head slowly and led the way out.
K A R E N D R E W ’ S body had been removed according to the coroner’s instructions, but the SOCOs were still clustered around the wheelchair at the cliff edge when Annie and Tommy Naylor got back after their visit to Mapston Hall.
The wind had died down a little, leaving a light tepid drizzle. The SOCOs had tented the area to protect it from the elements while they worked, collecting samples and bagging them for evidence. The surrounding area had been thoroughly searched in a grid pattern, yielding nothing of immediate interest, and no weapon had been found at the bottom of the cliff, or anywhere else. It could have drifted out to sea, or Mary, if she was the killer, could have taken it away with her.
5 8 P E T E R
