They fell into silence as the gates to Crossways Hall appeared, and Kay slowed to make the turn into the gravel-covered driveway.
The family liaison officer’s car had been parked off to one side of the house and had been boxed in by three more vehicles – all were top of the range, and gleaming.
‘Visitors?’
‘Looks that way.’ Kay pulled the keys from the ignition. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
As they drew closer to the front door, it was opened and the woman Kay recalled as being the housekeeper peered out.
She put a finger to her lips, and then beckoned them over the threshold.
‘Good morning, Detectives.’
‘Good morning. We’d like to speak to Mr and Mrs Whittaker, please.’
The housekeeper arched an eyebrow. ‘Lady Griffith and Mr Whittaker are not available at the present time.’
‘Who do all the cars outside belong to?’
‘They currently have guests.’
‘Mrs – Jamieson, isn’t it?’
The housekeeper nodded.
‘I’m currently investigating the murder of Lady Griffith’s daughter. Perhaps that has slipped your memory.’
The woman took a step back. ‘Well—’
‘In the circumstances, I’d appreciate it if you would go and let them know that we’re here, and wish to talk to them.’
‘I-I can’t right now. You’ll have to wait.’ She gestured to a thinly-padded two-seater chair beside the front door.
‘Why?’
The woman wrung her hands. ‘You must wait. Until they’ve finished their prayers.’
‘Prayers?’
‘The church group is here. To lend spiritual support at this difficult time.’
Kay glared at her.
‘Please, have a seat. They won’t be long.’
Kay took one look at the seat the housekeeper indicated and shook her head. ‘We’ll stand, thanks. Actually, while we’re waiting, I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes.’ Kay lowered her voice. ‘You must overhear a lot of the conversations that take place around here.’
‘Well, I—’
‘So, what did you think of Sophie’s relationship with Josh Hamilton?’
Jamieson’s shoulders slumped. ‘It’s so sad. They were perfect for each other. He was such a gentleman to everyone. A pleasure to have here as a guest.’
‘Oh? Did you spend much time with him?’
‘Of course. I’m responsible for the running of this house, and one day he’d be my employer. He showed a keen interest in the history of the place.’ She beamed. ‘Like his father – very interested in Lady Griffith’s family.’
‘Did he and Sophie ever argue?’
The housekeeper pulled her cardigan around her chest and folded her arms. ‘Not that I ever recall, no. Like I said, he was a gentleman.’
‘What about Peter Evans?’
‘A good for nothing,’ said Jamieson. ‘Mr Whittaker had to have strong words with him the last time he showed up here. I’m not surprised he murdered our beautiful girl. I always said there was something not quite right about him.’
A bell sounded, and Jamieson’s head cocked to one side. ‘I must go. That’s Lady Griffith signalling her guests will require tea shortly. Wait here.’
The housekeeper disappeared through another doorway leading out of the hallway, and Carys began to pace the floor, her chin tilted upwards as she gazed at the various paintings on the walls.
A large grandfather clock kept a steady beat from its position next to the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and Kay scowled at it. She could never bear the sound of a ticking clock – to her, it was as annoying as a dripping tap.
She fought down her frustration at having to wait.
Sophie’s parents were grieving, after all, and she knew that with Larch watching her every move, she’d have to tread carefully.
Carys moved closer. ‘How much do you think these paintings are worth?’
Kay turned and stepped back, craning her neck to take in the thick oils that coated each canvas, the colours mottled over the years.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Some of them are mouldy, look.’ She jutted her chin towards the lower corner of one of the frames. ‘If these are family members, I guess it’d depend on who painted them. I can’t imagine you’d get much for them otherwise.’
She shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her middle, crossing her arms. ‘This place is freezing. Can you imagine what it’d be like in winter?’
‘I’d take my tiny two-bedroom place any time over this,’ agreed Carys.
They both turned at the sound of the door behind them opening, and a small group of people emerged, talking in low voices.
Matthew Whittaker followed an elderly man into the hallway, and patted his arm. ‘It was good of you to come, Richard. And thanks for joining in our prayers. It was appreciated.’
‘Least I could do.’
Kay swore under her breath, tugged Carys by the sleeve and pulled her towards the foot of the staircase out of the way as two older women bustled past, heading towards the kitchen.
‘That’s the Right Honourable Richard Fremchurch,’ she hissed.
‘DCI Larch’s friend?’
Kay nodded and pursed her lips.
‘Awkward.’
Kay said nothing, but had to agree with the young detective constable.
The conversation she’d planned to have with Matthew and Diane was going to be difficult enough, without having to worry about Larch’s threats to keep the investigation low-key and maintain the family’s privacy.
‘Excuse me?’
Kay jumped at the voice behind her, and spun round to see Mrs Jamieson beckoning to her.
‘Lady Griffith is in the sunroom, off the terrace, if you’d like to speak in private with her?’
Kay managed a small smile, thankful for the woman’s resourcefulness. In her haste to keep the police away from the guests, the housekeeper had also saved Kay from having to come face to face with the politician.
‘Thanks. We’ll need Mr Whittaker as well.’
‘I’ll ask him to join you as soon as possible.’
Kay thanked her, and then led Carys along the hallway. They emerged into the living area that had been littered with shocked guests only three nights ago. Now, the room seemed abandoned, as if it didn’t get much use between functions.
‘You can almost feel the dust waiting to pounce,’ whispered Carys.
Kay bit down on her bottom lip and glared at her.
She was right, though – now that she was
