could make her a difficult companion.
“I’m not so sure,” Carole went on sniffily. “Anyway, if what you say is true, who’s our murderer?”
“Well, having seen the kind of anger Andy’s capable of when he’s thwarted, I think he has to be way up the top of the list.”
“You think he killed the boy?”
“Two rivals for the love of the same woman. Wouldn’t be the first middle-aged man who’s felt his virility challenged by a young upstart.”
“But…But, Jude, there’s so much we don’t know, Tadek came to England to follow Sophia Urquhart…all right, it sounds from what his friend Pavel said that that’s true. So he was in love with her. But was she in love with him? And what did she think about her Drama teacher? Or him about her? It all seems terribly vague. You don’t know Sophia was having an affair with her teacher.”
“I’ve told you, Carole. I overheard Sophia apologizing to Andy that ‘Joan’ could not go back with him, because she was getting a lift home with her father. And that made him angry because he ‘wanted’ her. We now know ‘Joan’ didn’t exist, but was a nickname for Sophia. And I actually travelled in the car from the university with Sophia, so it was her father who was giving ‘Joan’ a lift home. It can’t be plainer than that.”
“I don’t know,” said Carole, infuriatingly unconvinced.
“Anyway,” Jude looked at her watch, “I’ll soon be able to find out about whether Sophia went to Leipzig or not.”
“How?”
“Because her brother Hamish is due here in ten minutes.”
“Why’s he coming?”
“To value the house.”
“Oh.” Carole also looked at her watch. She had already exercised her dog on Fethering Beach that morning, but she said curtly, “I must go. Gulliver needs a walk.”
¦
There was something of the play-actor about Hamish Urquhart. His manner was studied rather than spontaneous. Maybe, Jude reflected, being an estate agent was similar to the professions of lawyer, doctor and teacher, where young recruits took on the manners of people much older than themselves. In Hamish’s case, of course, he took on the manners of his father, becoming a hearty facsimile of Ewan Urquhart.
He was dressed in a gold-buttoned blazer and mustard-yellow cords. Under’his arm was a brown leather briefcase, from which he produced a clipboard, some forms and a pocket-sized laser distance measure. He also handed Jude his business card and some stapled sheets of details from houses Urquhart & Pease had recently sold.
“The property market’s still very buoyant at the moment, I’m pleased to say. Particularly down here in the south-east. We could sell every house that comes on to the market three times over. Just not enough product, that’s the problem. No, we’d have no problem in getting you a very good price for this.” He looked without total conviction around the clutter of the Woodside Cottage sitting room. Jude reckoned he was thinking, ‘even in this condition’. But he was too courteous to vocalize the thought.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d just like to go around the property, take some details, make some notes. You may accompany me if you like, or…”
“No, you just wander round at your own pace. The place is empty apart from me. I do have a friend staying, but she’s out this morning. Anyway, I’ve got some stuff to put in the washing machine.”
“Fine. Well, I’ll have a look at the kitchen first, and then be out of your way doing the rest of the house.”
“Yes. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”
“No, thanks. Just had some at the office.”
He quickly checked out the dimensions of the back garden and the kitchen, then said, “It’s not pivotal at this juncture, but when you do sell, you’ll have to decide whether you’d want to take or leave your kitchen equipment. Oven, washing machine, what-have-you…”
“Oh, I’m not definitely thinking of selling. Just sort of…testing the water, trying to find out where I stand financially.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs…er, Miss…”
“Just call me Jude.”
“Right. Jude.”
She had decided that she’d question him about his sister after he’d finished the valuation, so she set her load of washing going while he surveyed the house. It didn’t take long. Soon he was downstairs again, tapping at the kitchen door. They sat down either side of the kitchen table for him to give his verdict. Jude told him to push aside some of the clutter so that he would have room for his clipboard. She noticed that Zofia had left her notebook open on the table from the night before.
“Well, to be quite honest, Jude,” said Hamish cheerily, “Urquhart & Pease could get you a buyer for this property tomorrow. No problems at all. Fethering is quite a property hot-spot, a much sought-after area, because it’s still one of those villages which has kept its…Englishness.”
“I’m sorry? What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, most of the people…Not to put to fine a point on it, you don’t see too many coloured faces in Fethering…and you don’t hear too many Eastern European accents when you’re shopping in Allinstore.” The guffaw which followed this, not to mention the sentiments expressed, made him sound exactly like his father.
Jude didn’t approve of what Hamish had said, but made no comment and let him continue. “So, as I say, very much sought-after. And you’d be surprised how many wealthy city folk are looking for that ideal of a country retreat. Woodside Cottage would tick all the boxes for them. So far as I can tell, the structure’s very sound, though…” A blush spread across his face and down to his thick neck “…not everyone might share your taste in decor. Some of the windows are getting a bit shabby, and the exterior paintwork needs to be done. So I think any potential purchaser would be looking to spend a bit of money on the place. Or you could have some of the work done yourself before you put the place on the market. Mind you, having a house redecorated with a view to selling doesn’t always work, either. In a lot of cases, the new owners are going to want to redo everything, anyway.”
“Yes, it’s supposed to be a natural human instinct. Marking one’s territory. Like dogs peeing at lampposts.”
“Really?” The young man looked puzzled. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“So what sort of price would we be looking at?” Although she’d had an ulterior motive in asking for the valuation, Jude was still intrigued to know how much her property was worth.
After a bit of professional hedging and prevarication, Hamish Urquhart named a figure. It was considerably in excess of what Jude had been expecting. Of course she’d read the constant newspaper reports about the inexorable rise in house prices, but was still shocked to hear the sum spelt out for Woodside Cottage. She was sitting on a little gold-mine.
“That’s very gratifying,” she said.
“Yes. As you say, you’re not looking to sell at right this moment, but, you know, when you do make the decision, I hope you’ll remember Urquhart & Pease. There are, of course, other estate agents around, the area’s bristling with them, but many are branches of big chains, and I think you’re guaranteed a more sympathetic experience dealing with a family firm like Urquhart & Pease.” He reached once again into his briefcase. “I do have a sheet here, spelling out the terms of our business transactions, fee structure and so on, and I think you’ll find Urquhart & Pease are competitive with…” He looked, puzzled, into the recesses of his case. “Damn, I don’t seem to have brought it with me.”
“Never mind, Hamish. I’m sure we can take those details as read. I’ve just put the kettle on. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a coffee?”
“Oh, well…” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a bit of time before my next appointment. Why not?”
Making the coffee gave Jude a good excuse to change the subject. “Very interesting seeing that play your sister was in last week…”
“Yes. Pretty damned odd, I found it. I mean, I don’t pretend to know much about the theatre. Like a good musical…you know, Lloyd Webber, that kind of thing. Something where you don’t have to think too much. But that thing of Soph’s…can’t say I got all of it. I mean, she was very good, but…Also, the message it seemed to be putting across…I’m not sure I went along with it.”
