dental records, or perhaps even DNA – though that may not be easy, because, just to add to the confusion, Phil seems to have disappeared.”
“What?”
“Apparently he didn’t turn up for work this morning.”
“Stephen, what on earth’s going on?”
“If I knew that, I’d tell you. It just all seems extremely nasty.”
“But what were the circumstances? When was Howard last seen alive – I mean, assuming he’s not alive now?”
“Gaby and I didn’t actually see him leave, because we were saying goodbye to some other people, but, according to Robert, a car had been ordered for Howard; it arrived at the hotel, and he went off in it. That’s the last time he was seen. Then early this morning somebody reported this burnt-out car off the B1393.”
“Was it the same car Howard left the hotel in?”
“Can’t be certain, because nobody can remember exactly what kind of car came to collect him, but the police think it’s possible.”
“So…what? Did the car crash into a tree and burst into flames?”
“No. According to the police, except for the fire, the car appeared to be undamaged.”
“And” – Carole pieced the known facts together – “there was only one body in the car?”
“Yes.”
“So what happened to the driver?”
“That, I would imagine, is the number-one question the police are currently asking. Who was driving the car.”
“And where is he now?”
The next day the police confirmed that the body found in the Essex lay-by was that of seventy-nine-year-old Howard Martin from Harlow. And he hadn’t been killed by the fire; he had been strangled before the car was set alight.
? The Witness at the Wedding ?
Thirteen
When Carole received that news from Stephen, she knew she had to talk to Jude. On her own. But with Gita in residence at Woodside Cottage, dropping round unannounced was not as simple as usual. So she telephoned.
The timing was good. Gita had an appointment that day with her doctor in London. Jude had initially been reluctant to let her go on her own, but Gita had insisted. Jude, welcoming this new resolution in her friend, had not argued further. Though determined to be supportive, she could not deny that the task of continuously bolstering Gita’s seesawing confidence was an exhausting one.
Carole and Jude met at High Tor, and Carole was so full of her story that she forgot her normal rules for the protocol of hospitality and served coffee at the kitchen table. The salient facts didn’t take long to spell out.
“Poor kid.” Jude sighed at the end of the narration. “Gaby. She’s a very emotional girl. This is going to hit her hard.”
“It is. I mean, having an older father, she must always have been preparing herself for his death, but for that death to come so suddenly and like this – as you say, poor kid.”
“So it’s definitely a case of murder?”
“Yes. And not much attempt to make it look like anything else. Howard’s body was found in the back seat of the car. Maybe the murderer hoped the fire would be so fierce as to hide the fact that he was strangled, but I wouldn’t have thought so.”
“Hm. From what you’ve said, Howard Martin sounded an amiable – even harmless – old guy.”
“He was. Mind you, I don’t really know anything about him, his personal history, even what job he did before he retired.”
Jude ran her fingers through her tousled blonde hair. “So why on earth would anyone have wanted to murder him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a gangland killing?” Carole hazarded.
“Oh, come on. You’re only saying that because it happened in Essex, and your image of Essex is as a seething hotbed of East End gangsters.”
“No, I wouldn’t say that – exactly. But I just can’t think of any other reason.”
“That’s because we have insufficient information.”
“
“You sound almost disappointed, Carole.”
“No, I don’t. I just…well, I feel so bad for Gaby’s sake. You know, she is almost family now.”
“Yes. She’s a sweet girl.”
“She didn’t say anything, you know, while you were being an osteopath for her?”
“I’m not an osteopath, Carole.”
“Well, whatever.”
“And there is a code of confidentiality between patient and therapist.”
“Yes, but – ”
“No ‘but’, Carole.” Jude sounded quite stern, then relented. “If there was anything she said that I thought might be relevant to her father’s death, then I’d tell you. But there isn’t.”
“Oh.”
“What we really need to find out is the identity of the driver who picked up Howard Martin from the hotel after the party.”
“I’d got that far,” said Carole tartly.
“Surely somebody must have seen him go? One of the other guests?”
“Yes, you’d have thought – oh dear.” Carole brought herself up short. “There was someone who saw Howard leave.”
And it was the last person in the world who she wanted to get back in touch with.
“Erm…hello?”
“David, it’s Carole,” she said brusquely.
“Oh, how nice to…erm…hear from you again.”
“You’ve heard about Howard?”
“Stephen rang me, yes.”
Carole had a momentary pang of jealousy. Had Stephen phoned his father before he’d phoned her? What was the pecking order between them? Resolutely she dismissed the unworthy thought.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Absolutely…erm…terrible.” Then, with one of his characteristic lunging changes of subject, he said, “Incidentally, I was discussing with Stephen the…erm…possibility of us having dinner.”
“What?”
“You, me, him and Gaby.”
“What are you talking about, David?”
“I suggested to Stephen that we should all meet up for dinner one evening. My treat. In a restaurant. I mean, my cooking’s all right for just me, but…erm…”
“David, we have far more important things to think about. Gaby’s father’s just been murdered.”
“Yes, but this dinner – ”
“I can’t think about dinners now,” Carole snapped. “You have no idea of a reason why Howard should have been killed, have you?”
“No. Well, I suppose…I don’t know. Maybe a…erm…mugging that went wrong?”
“Have the police spoken to you, David?”
“Why on earth should they speak to me?” He sounded shocked at the very idea.
