‘Oh, Jack, of course!’ He grinned. ‘I remember now. And have you kept up with Angela?’
‘No, haven’t heard of her for ages. How about Jack? What’s he doing now?’
‘Ah, he died, I’m afraid. Massive heart attack, ten years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
‘God, I need a drink.’ Sophie had appeared at Douglas’s shoulder, and was regarding Suzanne keenly.
‘Of course, darling. I want you to meet someone I used to know, a very long time ago.’
He made introductions, then Suzanne had to explain her presence once again while he found Sophie a glass.
‘So you were an old girlfriend of Dougie’s? And you came into the house on Monday, did you?’ She had a faint smile, but made it sound dubious. ‘I’m afraid it was probably a mess. We’re still trying to get the place straight after a major renovation.’
‘No, it looked lovely,’ Suzanne said lamely. ‘I had such fond memories of it, the high ceilings, the elephant’s foot in the hall.. .’
‘The what?’
She explained, feeling more and more uncomfortable talking about Sophie’s own house from a time before she knew it, as if Suzanne were claiming some prior knowledge.
‘How disgusting.’
Suzanne assumed she was referring to the elephant’s foot, and was relieved when Douglas reappeared with Sophie’s wine. He seemed offhand now. ‘Get that down, old thing,’ he said abruptly, looking at his watch, ‘and then we really must go. God, these things are a bore.’ Then he caught his wife’s eye. ‘Not you, darling. You were brilliant, as always.’
‘Yes,’ Suzanne said. ‘Absolutely gripping.’
‘Nice to meet you again,’ Douglas said, offering his hand. ‘Good luck with the antiques business.’ Then he took his wife’s arm. ‘Let’s round up the others.’ nineteen
‘ Y ou sound happy.’
Kathy looked up at Bren’s voice. She realised she’d been humming to herself.
‘Oh.’ She grinned. ‘I’m all right. How about you?’
‘Spring flu,’ he said, looking exhausted. ‘Not me, so far. Working its way through the family.’
‘Oh dear. The girls?’
He nodded wearily.
‘How’s it going with Rafferty?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing much, except that he does seem to spend a hell of a lot on the horses. How’s Interpol?’
‘Interesting.’ She knew he was running two other cases, and didn’t press.
‘You should wangle a trip to Lyons,’ he said, moving off, then gave a violent sneeze.
She did feel happy. It was amazing, really, how a little thing could change the whole way you felt. Well, it hadn’t been that little
…
But she still felt impatient about Marion’s case. She had worked out that, of the ten people on Tina’s list of key words, five had been connected with ‘the Scottish poisoner’-there was Lena Wardle and Madeleine Smith herself, then her husband George Wardle, and James Smith who had attended and been a witness at her wedding, and finally H. Haverlock, whom she had discovered to be the other witness. At some point she was going to have to talk to da Silva, but she wanted to go armed and prepared, knowing the right questions to ask, the right weaknesses to probe.
She remembered the letter Marion had received from the American university, and wondered if they might have some information. It was too early to phone them, and she made a note to try that afternoon. For an hour she worked on her Interpol files, then put her pen down. It occurred to her that Sophie Warrender should be able to throw some light on the Madeleine Smith angle, and picked up the phone. The author seemed less friendly than when they’d met at Marion’s house, but she agreed to meet Kathy at her home in Notting Hill in an hour. On impulse Kathy looked her up on Google, where her eye was also caught by an entry for Douglas Warrender. It referred to a speech he’d given at a banking conference, and gave a reference to his company, Mallory Capital, with an address in St James’s Square.
•
Kathy was impressed by the house when she caught sight of it along Lansdowne Gardens, its new paintwork gleaming beneath a blue spring sky. When she rang the doorbell it was answered by a woman who introduced herself as Rhonda Bailey, Sophie’s secretary, and led her across a hall and down a passage lined with green wallpaper printed with a pattern she thought similar to the William Morris designs illustrated in da Silva’s book.
Sophie was on the phone, arguing with someone about a publicity campaign, and Rhonda showed Kathy to a seat and offered her a cup from a pot on the coffee table, then returned to her keyboard.
After a while Sophie slammed the phone down and turned to Rhonda. ‘Bloody idiot. How does he expect to expand sales if they won’t invest a little in publicity?’ She took off her glasses and stood up, coming over to Kathy. She seemed agitated and didn’t offer her hand. ‘So, what can I do for you, Inspector?’
‘There were a couple of little things I thought you might be able to clear up. Sorry, I can see you’re very busy. Would you like me to come back later?’
Sophie waved a dismissive hand. ‘No, no. Now’s as good a time as any.’
‘Well, first of all, I know I asked this before, but are you absolutely sure you didn’t inadvertently take a copy of Anthony da Silva’s Rossetti biography from Marion’s house?’
She watched Sophie’s hackles rise again. ‘Absolutely not! I already have that book-it’s over there-and neither I nor Emily removed it. What’s so bloody important about it anyway?’
‘Sorry, I just have to account for everything. It really doesn’t matter. Can I ask you if you recognise this woman?’ She handed over the photograph of Madeleine Smith.
Sophie glanced briefly at it. ‘No. Why?’
‘Her name was Madeleine Smith, and she married William Morris’s manager, George Wardle.’
‘Oh, the murderess. Yes, I know who you mean. What are you after?’
‘It seems Marion was very interested in her, and since she had been accused of poisoning her lover with arsenic…’
‘Oh, the morbid fascination with arsenic angle, yes, I see. Look, I went over all this with your boss, what’s his name? Brock. It was the reason I contacted him in the first place. I told him about Marion’s theories about the role of arsenic in Victorian society. I really do rather resent having to repeat myself.’
‘He told me about your conversation, Mrs Warrender, but it was Madeleine Smith in particular I wanted to ask about. Did Marion discuss her with you?’
Sophie frowned. ‘We did talk about her, now you mention it. Marion sympathised with her predicament-you know, having that lover who would rather ruin her than let her go. But there was something else… She’d had some disagreement with Dr da Silva about Madeleine Smith, I think. I seem to remember she got quite agitated about it. Do you recall, Rhonda? Were you here that day?’
‘Actually, she told you that Madeleine Smith was the key to the whole business.’
‘Did she?’ Sophie raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t remember that.’
‘What business?’ Kathy asked.
‘Well, her disagreement with Dr da Silva, whatever that was.’
‘It wasn’t really of any interest to my work,’ Sophie said. ‘She did tend to go off on a tangent. I had to remind her several times who was paying for her time.’ She checked her watch pointedly. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘Not really. I’m sorry to have interrupted you when you must be so busy after your time away.’
‘Yes, it has been rather hectic. Bloody phone, after four weeks of blissful peace.’
‘I’ve never been to Corsica, but I’d like to. An ex-boyfriend of mine is in Calvi. Is that near where you are?’
‘Not far. Our house is in the north of the island too, at St Florent, between Calvi and Bastia, the main city in the north. He didn’t join the Foreign Legion, did he? That’s where they’re based.’
‘Really? No, I’m sure he didn’t.’ But thinking about it she wasn’t so sure. ‘He said Corsica is beautiful at this time of year,’ she lied, ‘with the wild spring flowers over the hills. Is it like that where you are?’
