“How?” asked Carole, incredulous.
“Because I’d win!” replied Melanie Newton, as if speaking to an idiot. “I’d win a lot of money and then have the freedom to do what I wanted.”
“But did you win a lot of money?”
“Sometimes,” came the defiant reply.
“Did you need a lot of money, though? If you had a good job in PR, and your husband must have been earning quite a bit in oil exploration…”
“I didn’t need money then. And soon I won’t need it again.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she explained patiently, “I’ll soon have a big win. Soon I’ll pay off all the debts, on all the credit cards. And then I’ll get my life back on track.”
Carole indicated the computer screen. “Through roulette?”
“I’m playing roulette at the moment. I’m on a winning streak on the roulette. You have to be sensible, you know. When you’re on a losing’ streak, you must change games. Then your luck will change.”
“And does your luck often change?”
All that got was another recalcitrant “Sometimes.”
“Melanie, have you ever asked for help?”
“Help? I don’t need help. I can gamble perfectly adequately on my own, thank you.”
“I meant help with stopping gambling.”
This sparked another paranoia of suspicion. “Has someone sent you? Is Giles behind this?”
“No, I have come completely of my own accord. I’m nothing to do with your debts or your gambling problem. I’m – ”
“I don’t have a gambling problem,” Melanie Newton insisted. “When I get the big win, everything’ll be sorted out.”
“All right.” Carole held her hands out in a pacifying gesture. “Then I’ll just ask you what I came to ask you.”
“What was that?” The woman sounded distracted now. Her eyes kept darting to the laptop screen and her hand was itching for the keyboard.
“About Tadeusz Jankowski…”
“The boy. Oh yes.”
“How did you come to meet him?”
“He came to the house in Fedborough last autumn.”
“Just out of the blue?”
“No.”
“By arrangement then?”
“Yes.”
“So, after your first meeting in Leipzig you kept – ?”
“What?” Melanie Newton asked curiously.
“Your husband told me that you went travelling in Holland and Germany last summer.”
“I wanted to get away. I wanted a clean break. Giles was abroad, as ever. I thought going off on my own might be the answer. It wasn’t. I’d booked a fortnight and I came back after five days.”
“But during those five days you met Tadeusz Jankowski?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He came to see me in Fedborough in answer to an advertisement.”
“An advertisement for what?”
“I put a card in the newsagent’s window. Advertising a room in the house. I…Well, the fact is…I was rather hard up. Giles was going to be away for four months. He would never know if I got in a lodger – not that I’d have cared much if he did find out. We’d already decided to split up and sell the place. I thought a bit of income would help the interest payments on the credit cards, so I advertised. Tadeusz Jankowski was about the only response I got.”
“But he didn’t take the room?”
“No. He didn’t think he could afford what I was asking. He said he’d look around and get back to me. But he never did.”
“Though you did see him again in the betting shop?”
“Yes. That was while I still used to go in there.”
“Why did you stop going?”
The woman gestured to her laptop as if it were something of exotic and unparalleled value. “Why bother making the effort to go into a betting shop when I can get all this at home?”
Carole found it sad to see how narrow the focus of the woman’s life had become. “So what did you say to Tadeusz Jankowski in the betting shop?”
“I can’t remember. We’re talking about last October. I don’t know. I suppose I said hello, how are you, asked him about how his girlfriend was.”
“His girlfriend?” Carole, who had been about to question Melanie Newton about her affair with the boy, was completely wrong-footed.
“Yes. He mentioned a girlfriend when he came to see the room. He said she was why he had come to England. But that he just wanted the room for himself, they wouldn’t be cohabiting.”
“Did he tell you her name?”
“No.”
“Anything about her?”
“Just that she went to the University of Clincham. He asked me how to get there. I didn’t know where it was, so he asked somebody else.”
“Ah,” said Carole. “Thank you.”
? Blood at the Bookies ?
Twenty-Eight
Andy Constant strode through the University of Clincham campus as though he owned the place. And the proprietorial manner was increased when he pulled out a large bunch of keys to open the block marked ‘DRAMA STUDIO AND REHEARSAL ROOMS’.
“Is this where the admissions records are kept?” asked Jude, with some scepticism.
“I keep everything to do with me here.”
“A little empire?”
“Yes, one that has declared UDI from the rest of the university and its policies.” He pushed open the glass door and ushered her into the unlit lobby. As Jude knew he would, he put his arm around her ample waist as he propelled her into the darkness.
He opened another heavy door and she found herself in a space which felt larger, but was totally black. Andy released his hold on her and said, “Just get some light on the situation.”
He seemed to know the way around his empire blindfold. There was a click of another door, then after a few seconds, the space was filled with light. Not bright light, but subtle warming light which seemed to focus on the edges and corners of the room. Jude looked up and saw the source, stage lights hanging from a gantry in the ceiling, their harshness muted by gels of pink and orange.
The space they revealed was painted matt black, a functional studio for drama workshops or even small-scale productions. Folding audience chairs were stacked against the walls. On the floor were large blocks, a free-standing door in a frame, other chairs, all painted matt black. Against the wall were a couple of crestfallen sofas and – surprise, surprise – a double bed mattress covered with black sheets.
Andy Constant appeared from the lighting box, a bottle of whisky and two not very clean glasses in one hand. “Drink?” he asked.
Jude nodded. “You seem to have got yourself very nicely set up here.”
