go?’ she said.
They looked at her in surprise, then Brock shrugged and said, ‘Be my guest, Kathy. Give him ten minutes to think about things first, eh?’
‘Yes.’
She got herself a mug of tea and after a while took it in to the interview room with her, together with a uniformed woman officer, who remained by the door.
‘I suppose you’re going to be nice to me, are you?’Gilbey said.
‘If I can.’
He heaved a deep sigh. ‘That boss of yours isn’t very nice, is he? I thought he seemed a decent bloke when I met him before.’
‘Tracey’s been missing for two weeks, Reg. DCI Brock’ll do whatever’s necessary to get her back.’
‘Yes, yes, I know… It’s just not very pleasant to be on the receiving end. It’s not like on TV. I feel… gutted.’ Another deep sigh.‘No chance of a smoke, I suppose?’
‘I think this is a smoke-free workplace, Reg.’
‘Gawd help us. Well, he’s wrong about me hiding Stan.’
‘Is he?’
‘Anyone could have put that bag in my bin. Maybe the builders. Stan might have been hiding in one of their buildings.’
‘We looked.’
‘Yes, I suppose you did. I feel bad about Tracey too, you know.’
‘She was a very pretty little girl, wasn’t she?’
Reg looked wary.‘True.’
‘Did you paint her at all?’
‘I’m not Renoir. Pretty little girls aren’t what I paint.’
‘But you did paint the children in the playground, didn’t you?’
‘That’s different, a pattern of shapes, light and shade.’
‘That’s probably what Renoir said.’
‘Maybe he did, I wouldn’t know. But if you’re trying to suggest I’m a pervert, you’re wrong.’
‘Did she ever come to your house?’
Kathy caught a flicker of perturbation in Reg’s eye that would never have registered on the monitor. He hesitated, and to Kathy’s mind it seemed as if he was calculating the odds of getting away with something.
‘Betty brought her up to my studio once. She wanted to show the girl that portrait I did of her as a young woman.’
‘Did she stay long?’
‘A while… She liked the smell and the feel of the oil paint I was using. Her father and those other so-called artist friends of his don’t use oil paint any more. I gave her a brush and a small canvas to muck about on. A self- portrait, looking in the mirror, all blonde hair and blue eyes.’
Of course, Kathy thought, the little painting Betty had shown her. And now it occurred to her that she hadn’t noticed it in Betty’s house after her death.
‘Did she come again?’
‘Em, yes… she came one other time. That’s all.’
‘And was Betty there?’
Reg held Kathy’s eye so steadily that she was certain he was about to lie.‘Yes.’
Kathy reached for her mug of tea, letting Reg study the puzzled look on her face. ‘You couldn’t be getting mixed up about that, could you, Reg? About Betty being there?’
‘She was there,’ he insisted, pressing his thumb nail so hard into a finger that the flesh went white.
Lying but also telling the truth, Kathy thought. ‘For part of the time,’ she prompted.
He looked startled. ‘Ah… you may be right. I’m not sure.’
‘When was this?’
‘A couple of months ago. Look, you’re barking up the wrong tree. It was all perfectly straightforward and innocent.’
‘Then there’s no need to be secretive, is there? I need to know all about that visit, Reg.’
‘I’m not sure I can remember.’ He was speaking more slowly, trying to give himself time.
‘Yes you can,’ Kathy said briskly.‘It was a weekday?’
‘Um…yes.’
‘Afternoon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, come on, there was a knock at the door…’
Reg was staring at Kathy as if she must be reading his mind.‘She was standing on the doorstep.’
‘Alone.’
‘Yes. She wanted to finish her self-portrait.’
‘So you took her upstairs…’
‘To the studio, yes. She sat down in front of the mirror and got on with her painting. It was a warm afternoon. The window was open, sun shining on the trees of the gardens…’
‘She’d want your advice,’Kathy cut in gently.‘She’d want you to hold her hand, show her how to put the paint on.’
‘No! She was quite confident, didn’t need my help. I got on with my own work. We hardly exchanged a word.’ Gilbey came to a stop.
‘Go on, what happened then?’
‘There was another ring at the front door. It was Sir Jack, for a sitting. His driver had dropped him off and gone to find a parking space. I took him upstairs and introduced him to Tracey, and he admired her painting.’
‘What did he say, exactly?’
‘I don’t really remember. I think he said it was very lifelike.’
‘Was she pleased at being praised?’
‘Yes, of course. She was proud of it.’
‘So she smiled and flashed her big blue eyes.’
‘You make it sound indecent.’
‘I’m just trying to get the picture. What happened then?’
‘Em… the doorbell rang again. I thought it was Sir Jack’s bodyguard, but it was Betty. She…’ Reg hesitated, frowned.
‘Come on, Reg.’
‘Well, you know what she was like, flying off the handle for no reason. She’d been in the gardens, feeding her birds, and she’d seen Tracey up in my window. She blew her top, thought I’d kidnapped her or something. She marched in screaming blue murder and charged up the stairs.’
‘So while this was going on, Sir Jack was upstairs alone with Tracey.’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Betty flew into the studio and grabbed Tracey. When I got there she had her arms around the girl, abusing Sir Jack. It took Tracey to calm her down. She told Betty she was fine, and showed her the painting she’d done, then she and Betty left. Tracey never came to my house again.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us about this before, Reg?’
‘Why would I? It wouldn’t help you find Tracey and it was just embarrassing for me. You were bound to put the worst construction on it, just as he said.’
‘Who said?’
‘Sir Jack. When we heard about Tracey being abducted, he suggested I’d be wise not to mention being alone in the house with her that day. He said he knew how the police mind works, and he was right, wasn’t he?’
‘Let me get this straight; Sir Jack Beaufort suggested that you lie to us.’
‘Not lie, no! Just not mention Tracey’s visit that day. I mean, it wasn’t significant. But I didn’t lie, and now you’ve asked me point-blank, well, I’ve told the truth, haven’t I?’
