Lindsay looked round. The area was crowded with women and several small children. The assortment of clothes and hairstyles was a bewildering assault on the senses. The warm, steamy air smelled of bodies and tobacco smoke. The first woman to speak this time was an Irish woman; Lindsay thought her name was Nuala.
“I think Deborah’s right,” she said in her soft voice. “I think we were unfair the way we spoke before. Just because someone broke the conventions of the camp was no reason for us to be hostile, and if we can’t be flexible enough to let an outsider come in and work with us, then heaven help us when we get to the real fight about the missiles. Let’s not forget why we’re really here. I don’t mind telling Lindsay everything I know about this murder. I was in my bender with Siobhan and Marieke from about ten o’clock onwards. We were all writing letters till about twelve, then we went to sleep.”
That opened the floodgates. Most of the women accepted the logic of Nuala’s words, and those who didn’t were shamed into a reluctant co-operation. For the next couple of hours, Lindsay was engaged in scribbling down the movements of the forty-seven women who had stayed at the camp the night before. Glancing through it superficially, it seemed that all but a handful were accounted for at the crucial time. One of that handful was Deborah, who had gone on alone to the van while Lindsay talked to Jane. No-one had seen her after she left the sing-song in Willow ’s bender.
Trying not to think too much about the implications of that, Lindsay made her way back to the van. She looked at her watch for the first time in hours and was shocked to see it was almost eight o’clock. She dumped the alibi information, then went down to the phone box yet again. She checked in with the office only to find there were no problems. She phoned Cordelia to find she had gone out for dinner leaving only the answering machine to talk to Lindsay. She left a message, then she checked in with Rigano.
“How is our deal progressing?” he asked at once.
“Very well. I’ll have the alibi information collated by morning, and I should have a fairly interesting tape transcribed for you by then. Tomorrow, I’m going to see William Mallard. Do I need your help to get in there?”
“I shouldn’t think so. He’s been giving interviews all day. The standard hypocrisy-greatly admired, much missed, stalwart of the association.” She could picture the expression of distaste on his mouth and thought a small risk might be worth the taking.
“Any mention of the financial shenanigans?” she enquired.
“What financial shenanigans would they be, Miss Gordon?”
“Come, come, Superintendent. You live here, I’m just a visitor, after all. There must have been talk, surely.”
“I heard they had a disagreement, but that it had all been cleared up. The person you want to talk to in the first instance is not Mallard but a local farmer called Carlton Stanhope. He was thoroughly disenchanted with the pair of them.”
“Do you think he’ll play for an interview? That’s just the sort of person I need to crack this,” Lindsay said.
“I don’t know. He’s not as much of a stick-in-the-mud as a lot of them around here. He’s been helpful to me already. He might be persuaded to talk to you off the record. Being outside his circle, he might tell you a bit more than he was prepared to tell a policeman. And, of course, you could pass that on to me, unofficially, couldn’t you?”
“Any chance of you helping me persuade him?” In for a penny, thought Lindsay.
There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Lindsay crossed her fingers and prayed. Finally, Rigano spoke. “I’ll ring him tonight and fix something up. I’m sure if I ask him, he’ll give you all the help he can. Besides, he might even enjoy meeting a real journalist. How about half past ten tomorrow morning in the residents’ lounge of the George Hotel in Fordham?”
“Superintendent Rigano, you could easily become a friend for life. That will do splendidly. I’ll see you then.”
“Oh, there won’t be any need for me to be there. But I’ll see you at ten o’clock in my office with the information you’ve gathered for me so far. Goodnight, Miss Gordon.”
By the time she got back to the camp, Lindsay was exhausted and starving. She made her way to Jane’s bender, where she found her deep in conversation with Nuala. Jane looked up, grinned at her and said, “Cara’s with Josy’s kids. Deborah’s in the van cooking you some food. You look as if you could do with it, too. Go on, go and eat. And get a good night’s sleep, for God’s sake. Doctor’s orders!”
Lindsay walked back to the van, realising that she was beginning to find it hard to remember life outside the peace camp with real houses and all their pleasures. But the thought was driven from her head as soon as she opened the van door. The smell that greeted her transported her back into the past. “Bacon ribs and beans,” she breathed.
Deborah looked up with a smile. “I got Judith to whizz me round Sainsbury’s this morning. Cooking your favorite tea’s about all I can do to thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Wonderful,” said Lindsay, “I’m starving. Is it ready now?”
Deborah stirred the pot and tried a bean for tenderness. “Not quite. About fifteen minutes.”
“Good, just long enough for you to tell me your version of events on the night of the murder during the crucial time for which you have no alibi. Care to tell me exactly what you did?”
Deborah left the stove and sat down at the table. She looked tired. Lindsay took pity, went to the fridge and took out a couple of coolish cans of lager. Both women opened their beer and silently toasted each other. Then Deborah said, “I’m afraid you’re not going to like this very much.
“After I left you, I came back to the van and made sure Cara was sleeping quietly. I was just about to brew up when I remembered I wanted to get hold of Robin. He’s staying at my place just now. We did a deal. I said he could stay rent free if he did the plumbing for me. I’ve never been at my best with water. It’s the only building job I always try to delegate. Anyway, I’d been thinking that I wanted him to plumb in a shower independent of the hot water system.
“So I thought I’d better let him know before he went any further, and I decided to phone him.”
Lindsay broke in. “But your house isn’t on the phone.”
“No. But if I want to get hold of Robin, I ring the Lees. They’ve got the farm at the end of the lane. They send a message up with the milk in the morning telling Rob to phone me at a particular time and number. It works quite well. So I went to the phone.”
“Which box did you go to?”
“The wrong one, from our point of view. The one nearer Brownlow Common Cottages.”
“Will the Lees remember what time it was when you phoned?”
“Hardly. No one answered. They must have been out for the evening. So I just came back and made a brew.”
“Did you see anything? Hear anything?”
“Not really. It was dark by the perimeter fence anyway. I thought I might have seen Crabtree walking his dog, but it was quite a bit away, so I wasn’t sure.”
Lindsay sat musing. “Any cars pass you at all?”
“I don’t remember any, but I doubt if I would have noticed. It’s not exactly an unusual sight. People use those back lanes late at night to avoid risking the breathalyser.”
Lindsay shrugged. “Oh Debs, I don’t know. I just can’t seem to get a handle on this business.”
Deborah smiled wanly. “You will, Lin, you will. For my sake, I hope you will.”
Later, fortified by a huge bowl of bacon and beans, Lindsay settled down to work. It took her over an hour to transcribe the tape, using her portable typewriter. Next came the even more tedious task of typing up her notes of the camp women’s alibis. It was after midnight before she could put her typewriter into its case and concentrate again on Deborah, who was curled up in a corner devouring a new feminist novel.
“You look like a woman who needs a hug,” said Deborah, looking up with a sympathetic smile.
“I feel like a woman who needs more than a hug,” Lindsay replied, sitting down beside her. Deborah put her arms round Lindsay and gently massaged the taut muscles at the back of her neck.
“You need a massage,” she said. “Would you like me to give you one?”
Lindsay nodded. “Please. Nobody has ever given me back-rubs like you used to.”
They made up the bed, then Lindsay stripped off and lay face down on the firm cushions. Deborah took a
