‘By the way,’ said Cooper. ‘Professor Robertson - he’s a widower.’
‘Oh?’
‘Don’t get excited - there were no suspicious circumstances. His wife died of cancer.’
As soon as Fry had gone, Cooper made the call he’d forgotten.
‘We’d be wasting our time,’ said the forensic scientist, when he’d stopped laughing. ‘All right, it might not have been exposed to the sun, but one thing you’ll definitely get inside
276
a compost heap is bacterial activity. Any DNA present in cells from the gut lining will be degrading away in there and disappearing like - well, like shit off a shovel.’
In the background, his colleagues began laughing again.
‘It was just an idea,’ said Cooper.
‘Tell you what, DC Cooper, let us know when your suspect has produced some fresh evidence.’
With deliberate tenderness, Madeleine Chadwick reached out a hand to the rose and cupped it in her palm. Its petals were still damp from the dew, and it glittered against her fingers, blood red on her white skin.
‘Fair Flora,’ she said. ‘Yes, it’s what my grandfather used to call me as a child. Flora is my middle name, you see. It’s an old family name, but I’ve never liked it very much, so I don’t use it. Besides, nobody understands the classical reference these days. It’s the name of some kind of margarine, isn’t it? I’m sure my parents didn’t know that when they christened me.’
Mrs Chadwick was tall and straight-backed, dressed in old jeans and a baggy sweater that would have made anyone else look shabby. But she carried herself so well that on her it hardly mattered. Cooper guessed she might be in her early forties, though it was difficult to judge. She had good bone structure, and skin that had been expensively cared for.
‘Your grandfather was Sir Arnold Saxton, is that right?’ he said.
‘Yes. And my father was James Saxton. He died recently, which is why the estate is being sold.’
‘So your father didn’t inherit the title as well as the estate? Wasn’t he the eldest son?’
‘He didn’t inherit the title because my grandfather was a knight, not a baronet. There’s a difference.’
‘Ah.’
Cooper tried not to look embarrassed, and Mrs Chadwick
277
turned away, as if to help him. He imagined she’d wear a hat to protect her skin if it was sunny. Something with a broad brim that shaded her eyes. But today had been merely bright and overcast, no danger from the ultra violet.
‘You must have been very sorry to leave Alder Hall,’ he said.
‘Devastated. When you’ve grown up in a house like that, it’s very hard to leave. Fortunately, this cottage is mine. The old barn has been converted into two holiday homes, so the property brings in some income.’
Cooper looked at the house she referred to as a cottage. The views were what an estate agent would describe as ‘panoramic’. The gardens alone were extensive, and there were also several acres of paddock around a modern stable block.
‘You have horses?’
‘Yes, but they’re not kept here at the moment. They’re in livery.’
‘The house must be listed, I suppose?’
‘Grade Two, I believe.’
Through a window he glimpsed oak beams and a spiral stone staircase, fringed lampshades and a carved horse mounted on a rosewood base. Pathways meandered through lawns and flower borders, stopping now and then at seats. An in-and-out driveway led to two double garages. One of the garage doors was open, and Cooper could see an internal WC. Who had a toilet in their garage?
There had been a gold-coloured Mercedes standing on the drive near the house. And in the depths of the garage, he thought he could also see a small blue Peugeot. He wondered if the engine was still warm, but could think of no excuse for checking.
‘I visited Alder Hall earlier today,’ said Cooper. ‘You’re familiar with the statue, I take it?’
‘I used to visit her regularly when I lived at the hall. When I was very small, my grandfather took me to look at her. I
278
recall that I was bit scared of her at first. Grandfather told me I’d be a beautiful lady just like her when I grew up. But I didn’t want to be a statue and stand alone in the woods all day. I thought she looked rather unhappy. But I got to know her better over the years.’
‘Have you been back since your family left the hall?’
‘To see Fair Flora? No, I haven’t.’
‘Not at all?’
She turned cool grey eyes on him in silent reproach. ‘I just said so. Why do you ask?’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Chadwick. But somebody has been leaving flowers at the statue. I wondered if it might have been you.’
‘Why on earth would I do that?’
But Cooper didn’t answer. He was looking around her garden. It was too big to see everything from one spot. There were more flower beds beyond the trees and alongside the lawns.
‘Do you grow chrysanthemums?’ he asked.
Mrs Chadwick gave a faint smile. ‘White ones, perhaps?’
