we played ring-around-the-roses a few times.”
“It can’t be true,” Teresa said again, her eyes enormous in her pinched face. “Why would Annabelle do such a thing?”
“I thought perhaps you could tell me.”
“She did take her mother’s death very hard,” Teresa said slowly. “Or it seemed so to me, but I’d only worked for her a few months and didn’t know her very well.” Bitterly, she added, “Although it seems I didn’t know her much better after five years, did I? Annabelle always made it such a point to stress honesty in business dealings—but it seems that didn’t apply to her personal life.” She looked up from her teacup. “You said there was someone else?”
“Plural. It seems that Annabelle had a relationship with a man called Lewis Finch, and with his son, Gordon.”
“Lewis Finch?
“Do you know him?”
“No, I … Only by reputation,” said Teresa, but she sounded uncertain.
“Were you aware that William Hammond disliked Finch?”
“But everyone admires Lewis Finch,” protested Teresa. “He’s done so much for the Island—I know Annabelle thought he was brilliant.”
“Did Annabelle talk about him to you?”
“Not in a personal way, but I knew she’d met him.”
“And his son, Gordon? Did she ever talk about him?”
“No, never. I didn’t even know Lewis Finch had a son.”
Gemma wondered if Annabelle had kept her own counsel out of necessity or if she’d enjoyed having secrets. She said, “Annabelle spoke to Gordon Finch the night she died—he was the busker Reg Mortimer saw in the tunnel. This was just after she’d told Reg she was in love with someone else, and after they’d had a huge row over her affair with Martin Lowell. You can see this puts things in rather a bad light for Reg.”
Teresa started to rise, then closed her eyes and sat down again, looking quite white and ill. “I’ve been a bloody fool.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Gemma asked quickly.
Teresa opened her eyes and stared at Gemma as if realizing what she’d said. “It’s personal.… Reg never said —it’s nothing to do with your investigation.”
“Teresa, if this has something to do with Reg, you’re better off telling us now. You could make yourself an accessory if you’re protecting him out of some mistaken sense of loyalty.”
“No, I don’t know anything, honestly. It’s just …” She hesitated, then said in a rush, “Have you ever done something so stupid that you think you must have taken leave of your senses?”
Involuntarily, Gemma thought of dancing with Gordon Finch in the park. Had Teresa been as susceptible to Reg? “Why don’t you tell me about it?” she said gently.
“No, I …”
Teresa jumped as the phone rang, and after a glance at Gemma fumbled it off the hook. She listened, murmuring an occasional reply, then gently returned the phone to its cradle.
“That was Mr. Hammond. He’s requesting a meeting of the board tomorrow morning, at Martin Lowell’s insistence.”
“And this means—”
“They’ll decide who’s going to take over Annabelle’s job as managing director.”
“Is it between you and Reg, then?” asked Gemma.
“Unless William decides to take over again himself. Or they could bring someone in from outside.” Teresa reached for a stack of papers, put them back, and looked about distractedly. “I’ve the financial reports to prepare. …”
Gemma leaned forward. “Teresa, you need to tell me what’s happened between you and Reg. You can’t judge what bearing it has on our investigation.”
Teresa shook her head firmly, but Gemma saw that the fair skin on her throat had suffused with color. “No, I can’t. I won’t. I’ve just been a silly cow, because I wanted to think I could offer some comfort—” She swallowed and her hands moved over the papers again. “But it wasn’t comfort he wanted. He wanted to get back at Annabelle, make it even, because he found out what she’d done. And I just happened to be convenient.”
“Teresa, did you sleep with Reg? Is that what you’re saying? If he confided in you—”
Teresa smiled. “Apparently, he hasn’t told me half as much as he’s told you. I can’t help you.” She rose. “I’ve the data to prepare for the financial reports, and it looks as though I’ll be putting together the marketing reports as well, since Reg has made himself scarce.”
Knowing she’d get no further at the moment, Gemma took a card from her handbag and placed it on Teresa’s desk. “You ring me if you want to talk, or if you think of anything you haven’t told me. Anytime, day or night, all right?”
When Teresa nodded, Gemma took her leave, but stood for a moment on the catwalk, looking down at the main floor of the warehouse. She thought about the relationships among the people who had come together in this building, bound by a web of concealments and half-truths that had just become exponentially more complicated. Because she knew something now she hadn’t known half an hour ago.
If her instincts served her right, Teresa Robbins was in love with Reg Mortimer, and Reg had taken full
