of studies done on that.”
His face looked drawn and tired. The corners of his mouth were turned down, making him look older.
“You look knackered,” Penny said.
Davies nodded. “I am, a bit,” he agreed. “But it’s more than that. It’s bad enough when people die at Christmastime, but now we’ve got a major investigation to run and, frankly, the timing is terrible. If we don’t get this sorted by Christmas, I’ll have to assign young officers to this case-ask them to give up time that they should be spending at home with their wives and children.” He glanced at Penny beside him, her face glowing from an afternoon spent in the fresh air doing something she enjoyed.
“And of course, there’s my own agenda here, too. I was hoping to take some time off and that maybe we, that is, you and I, could go away somewhere nice for a few days. I’ve been on the Internet… there are hotels in Chester or Bath that do lovely Christmas breaks and I thought perhaps this would be something you’d enjoy. We’d arrive the afternoon of Christmas Eve, warm mince pies and a glass of mulled wine in front of a crackling fire…”
He stopped as Victoria entered bearing a small tray with a mug of coffee and a couple of digestive biscuits on a small, violet-patterned plate.
“I think I got the milk and sugar the way you like it.”
“If it’s warm and wet, it’ll do.” He took a grateful sip and told her it was just fine. Sensing that she had interrupted something, Victoria gave an apologetic shrug.
“It’s all right, Victoria,” Penny said. “We were just discussing Christmas, and Gareth was saying what with all this business at the castle that he might not be able to take any time off.”
Gareth took a bite of his biscuit and smiled at her. “I’m sure we’ll all sort out something nice for Christmas.”
“Of course we will,” Penny said brightly. “You and Bethan will come to us here-Victoria and me.” She looked at Victoria, who nodded. “Right, now that that’s all settled,” Penny began eagerly, “let’s move on. You must know more by now about what happened at Conwy Castle. What else can you tell us? Do you know who the victim is?”
“Ah,” said Gareth, “that’s a bit tricky, and the answer, I guess is yes and no.”
The two women leaned forward.
“We’ll need formal identification, of course, and I have no idea who will be able to do that. But I saw the body myself and I recognized the man I met at Mrs. Lloyd’s open house, who was calling himself Harry Saunders. But he had no papers on him and we don’t know yet where he was living. So we don’t know for sure if Harry Saunders was even his real name. I doubt it was. It was likely one of many. The body will be fingerprinted and we’ll get on to the American embassy and see if they know who he is. We’ll also try dental records and DNA, if we have to.”
“Yes, I remember you had your suspicions about him,” Penny said. “That’ll be that policeman’s instinct we hear so much about.”
Davies tapped his nose. “Sometimes things just don’t smell right. And I’ve been doing this a long time, remember.”
“Well, you’ll be speaking to Mrs. Lloyd, of course,” said Victoria. “She knew him better than anyone and was becoming very fond of him, by all accounts. I think she had high hopes there.”
Davies groaned. “I haven’t spoken to her yet, but that’s what brings me to Llanelen tonight. I just wanted to have a word with you first, to see if you’d remembered anything else that you didn’t think at the time worth mentioning to Bethan.”
Penny shook her head. “No, sorry. Just what I told her.”
“Then that’s going to be a problem, I’m afraid. No one really saw anything.” He set down his mug. “But someone certainly saw something.” He started to rise from the sofa, but Penny laid a hand on his shoulder. As he glanced over at her, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean ‘someone saw something’? How do you know? The stairs were really slippery and I’m sure it was just as bad up there on the wall walks. Signs were posted everywhere warning people to be careful. And you know those open spots in the wall are really low. I thought how easy it would be for someone to fall over the side. You just lean over a little too far… He could have slipped over the side.”
Davies nodded.
“Well, nine times out of ten a fall is just a fall. But not this time. Unfortunately for him, he had some help going off that wall. In fact, until we get the results of the postmortem, we won’t know for sure, but it may not even have been the fall that killed him.”
The room became still. Penny was aware of Victoria’s quiet breathing.
“Are you saying he was pushed?” Victoria asked. “How can you tell that?”
“Pushed? Well, maybe, but certainly he was given a helping hand over the side.” He looked from one to the other.
“When the officers on site got a closer look at the body, they found something pretty nasty in his back. A letter opener that had once apparently belonged to one Arthur Lloyd.”
Penny gasped.
“No! Surely you’re not suggesting that Mrs. Lloyd had anything to do with this!”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Davies replied smoothly. “We’re just following up and going where the investigation leads, and the letter opener is certainly leading us in a certain direction. For now, at any rate.”
He drained the last of his coffee, handed the empty mug to Victoria, and stood up.
“Right, well, thanks for the coffee, and I’m sure you’ll let me know if anything else comes to mind. Sometimes we remember things later. Every little bit of information helps, remember, no matter how trivial it might seem to you.”
“You’re on your way to Mrs. Lloyd’s house now, aren’t you?” Penny asked, handing him his coat. “You’re meeting Bethan there.”
Davies put on his coat and headed for the door.
“I have to speak to her, yes. And Bethan will be present.”
Penny closed the door quietly behind him and then, frowning, returned to Victoria. The two women looked at each other.
“There must be an explanation,” said Victoria. “Mrs. Lloyd? That can’t be right.”
“Never in a million years,” agreed Penny.
Fourteen
“Oh, it’s you. You’d better come in, then.”
Florence stood aside as Davies and Bethan Morgan crowded into Mrs. Lloyd’s hallway.
“Give me your coats,” she instructed. “And from the look of your boots, best if you took them off. If you don’t mind,” she added. The two visitors dutifully bent over, removed their boots, and set them down neatly, side by side, on a plastic tray.
“I expect you’ll be wanting a word with Evelyn. She’s in the sitting room, but she’s pretty shaken up. Come through.”
Mrs. Lloyd, her face creased with anxiety, stood up as the two police officers entered the sitting room. A cheerful fire blazing away did its best to dispel the gloom that seemed to hover around her. She waved her hand in the general direction of the sofa and the two officers sat down. As Bethan took out her notebook, Davies addressed Mrs. Lloyd in a neutral, calm voice, as Florence remained standing in the doorway.
“Now, Mrs. Lloyd, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but pending formal identification, we believe that your, um, friend, Harry Saunders, died at Conwy Castle this afternoon.” Before he could continue, Mrs. Lloyd’s shoulders sagged as she held her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs desperate to escape. Bethan reached out to pat her hand, and the two police officers waited for a few moments as Mrs. Lloyd struggled to control herself.
“I know this comes as unpleasant news,” Davies continued, “but I’m afraid I have to ask you about your whereabouts at the castle this afternoon.”
Mrs. Lloyd said nothing. Florence disappeared and returned a few moments later holding out a box of tissues. Mrs. Lloyd gave her a weak smile, pulled two or three from the box, and dabbed at her eyes.
