‘She does now. The police gave her a hint.’
‘How?’
‘That damn diary she kept. She referred to a Q. Gwen denied it was me to the police, but she confronted me. I told her the truth.’
‘A major mistake, Quentin. Never tell the truth until it can no longer be denied.’
‘I know, but I needed to make my peace with Gwen. There was no Amelia to confuse me.’
‘If Gwen had known, it would have been a motive for murder.’
‘Gwen could not have committed the murder, and besides, she’s pregnant. She’d not be capable.’
‘Then someone else might be.’
‘She has a cousin she is fond of.’
‘His background?’
‘The best schools, British Army.’
‘Capable of murder?’
‘I’d say so.’
‘If he could have killed Amelia and the other woman, he could kill you as well. Is he a close cousin?’
‘First cousin. You don’t think…?’
‘I don’t think anything. If you didn’t kill Amelia…’
‘I didn’t. I loved the woman for all her faults; she loved me. It was Gwen who ensured I married her.’
‘You’d better check your claim on the bank and your father-in-law’s fortune. Make sure it comes to you, and not to her cousin.’
And why was Amelia frightened of you, and why were you threatening her?’
‘You know the truth. Why ask me?’
***
Even though it was still early and the weather was cold, Wendy found herself outside Shirley O’Rourke’s door. Inside the house, silence. Wendy knocked on the front door. After five minutes, it opened. Two suitcases stood in the hallway. ‘What do you want?’
‘Are you leaving?’ Wendy said.
‘With you and your investigation, there’s not much for me to do here.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Greece.’
‘And if we need to contact you?’
‘My phone will be on roaming.’
‘Are you attempting to leave the country on a permanent basis?’
‘Why? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll be gone for two weeks, that’s all.’
Wendy could not trust the woman. She phoned Isaac for advice. ‘You’ll need to tell her that her leaving the country at this time would not be advisable,’ he said.
‘Mrs O’Rourke, it would be preferable for you to stay in this country,’ Wendy said. ‘There are further questions relating to the deaths of Amelia Brice and Christine Devon. Also, the issue of bogus insurance claims, thefts from the houses where your staff worked, is ongoing.’
‘None of which applies to me. I had a good business, and then your snooping destroys it. Nearly twenty years down the drain. I should sue the police for maligning my good name.’
‘Your inability to keep your business viable is not our concern and was certainly not caused by us. You are welcome to lodge a complaint, but you’ll need to be in this country. There still remains the possibility that you are implicated in the murders, that somehow you had obtained knowledge about Amelia, were bribing her, or she knew something about you. The woman was not always stable, but maybe she saw you at the pub, or she saw one of your cleaners helping themselves to valuables in her house.’
‘Don’t you dare come into my house and accuse me of murder. I’m just a sharp businesswoman, that’s all. I’ve heard the scurrilous rumours before, by some of my neighbours included. How could such a woman, common as muck, make so much money. I’ll tell you: hard work, long hours, and watching every penny. There’s no inheritance for me. I made it myself, and if you think I’m going to lose it by murdering two women, one rich and lazy, the other as poor as a church mouse, then you’re sadly mistaken. Now, am I going on this holiday or not?’
‘It would be better if you stay,’ Wendy said, aware that the process to legally stop her would take time, probably more than it would take for Shirley O’Rourke to drive to Heathrow Airport.
‘Very well. You’d better come in for a cup of tea.’
Apart from the suitcases, the state of the house gave the impression that the woman intended to come back. Wendy did not like the décor of the home, too dull for her. Nowhere were there photos of loved ones, a sign of an animal. It was a cold house, Wendy thought. Not the temperature, as it was warm enough, but it lacked what it was that made a house into a home.
‘Do you live here on your own?’ Wendy asked.
‘Nowadays. There was a Mr O’Rourke, but he took off. No great loss either.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I was the driving force, not him. His idea of fun was sitting in front of the television, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other.’
‘You were not close?’ Wendy asked. It had been some time since her husband had passed away, and whereas sharing the house with Bridget had been a suitable arrangement, she still missed him occasionally.
‘We were at first, but you know what happens with time.’
‘You tell me.’
‘When you’re young, it’s the love that seems more important, but with time, and a lessening of the passion, it’s material assets that take over, a secure roof over your head.’
‘And you didn’t have those feelings.’
‘I did, but he didn’t. He was an eight-to-five man, five days a week. Sometimes, I’d be out cleaning all day, and then dealing with the paperwork until two or three in the morning.’
‘How long since he left?’
‘Nine, maybe ten years.’
‘And you’ve been on your own since then?’
‘The occasional man has found his way into the house, but only on a casual basis.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What do you think I mean? They can spend the night and then out the next day before breakfast. I don’t want any
