minutes.”
“But you saw him earlier that day, didn’t you? At Badger’s End, after lunch, and you had a row.”
He saw her chest move with the quick intake of breath, as if she might deny it, but she only watched him quietly for a moment before answering, “It was such a stupid thing, really, such a petty little end note. I was ashamed.
“He came upstairs after lunch, bounding in like a great overgrown puppy, and I lit into him. I’d had a letter that morning from the building society—he’d not made a payment in two months. That was our arrangement, you see,” she explained to Kincaid, “that he could stay in the flat as long as he kept up the payments. Well, we argued, as you can imagine, and I told him he had to come up with the money.” Pausing, she put out the cigarette she’d left burning in the ashtray, then took another little breath. “I also told him he needed to think about making other arrangements. It was too worrying, about the payments, I mean… and things were difficult for me at home.”
“And he didn’t take that well?” Kincaid asked. She shook her head, her lips pressed together. “Did you give him a time limit?”
“No, but surely he could see that we couldn’t go on like that forever…”
Kincaid asked the question that had been bothering him from the beginning. “Why didn’t you just divorce him, Julia? Get it over with, make a clean break. This was no trial separation—you knew when you left him that it couldn’t be mended.”
She smiled at him, teasing. “You of all people should know the law, Duncan. Especially having been through it yourself.”
Surprised, he said, “Ancient history. Are my scars still visible?”
Julia shrugged. “A lucky guess. Did your wife file against you?” When he nodded, she continued, “Did you agree to her petition?”
“Well, of course. There was no point going on.”
“Do you know what would have happened if you had refused?”
He shook his head. “I never thought about it.”
“She would’ve had to wait two years. That’s how long it takes to prove a contested divorce.”
“Are you saying that Connor refused to let you divorce him?”
“Got it in one, dear Superintendent.” She watched him as he digested this, then said softly, “Was she very beautiful?”
“Who?”
“Your wife, of course.”
Kincaid contrasted the image of Vic’s delicate, pale prettiness with the woman sitting before him. Julia’s face seemed to float between the blackness of her turtlenecked jersey and her dark hair, almost disembodied, and in the lamplight the lines of pain and experience stood out sharply. “I suppose you would say she was beautiful. I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”
Realizing that his rear had gone numb from sitting on the hard table edge, he pushed off with his hands, stretched and lowered himself to the Persian rug. He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at Julia, noticing how the difference in perspective altered the planes and shadows of her face. “Did you know about Con’s gambling when you married him?”
She shook her head. “No, only that he liked to go racing, and that was rather a lark for me. I’d never been—” She laughed at his expression. “No, really. You think I had this very sophisticated and cosmopolitan upbringing, don’t you? What you don’t understand is that my parents don’t do anything unless it’s connected with music.” She sighed, then said reflectively, “I loved the colors and the movement, the horses’ grace and perfect form. It was only gradually that I began to see that it wasn’t just fun for Con, not in the sense it was for me. He’d sweat during the race, and sometimes I’d see his hands tremble. And then I began to realize he was lying to me about how much he’d bet.” Shrugging, she added, “After a bit I stopped going.”
“But Con kept betting.”
“Of course we had rows. ‘A harmless pastime’ he called it. One he deserved after the pressures at work. But it was only toward the end that it became really frightening.”
“Did you bail him out, pay his debts?”
Julia looked away from him, resting her chin on her hand. “For a long time, yes. It was my reputation, too, after all.”
“So this row you had last Thursday was old business, in a sense?”
She managed a small smile. “Put that way, yes, I suppose it was. It’s so frustrating when you hear yourself saying things you’ve said a hundred times before—you know it’s useless but you can’t seem to stop.”
“Did he say anything different when he left you? Anything that varied from the normal pattern of these arguments?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
And yet he had gone straight to Kenneth. Had he meant to borrow the money for the mortgage? “Did he say anything to you about going to London that afternoon, to the Coliseum?”
Julia lifted her head from her hand, her dark eyes widening in surprise. “London? No. No, I’m sure he didn’t. Why should he have gone to the Coli? He’d just seen Mummy and Daddy.”
The childish diminutives sounded odd on her lips, and she seemed suddenly young and very vulnerable. “I’d hoped you might tell me,” he said softly. “Did you ever hear Connor mention someone called Hicks? Kenneth Hicks?” He watched her carefully, but she only shook her head, looking genuinely puzzled.
“No. Why? Is he a friend?”
