‘I’ve told you once too often now, I kept my emotions in check. I’m not a foolish or frivolous woman. I’m not looking for an Adonis, just someone who’ll look after me and the family name, that’s all.’
Isaac deemed that there was no more to be gained. He thanked Amelia Bentham for her time, and he and Larry left the house.
***
Tony Mason sat on a kitchen chair, having refused to make himself more comfortable. The man had been suspicious when it had been Wendy who had entered the house first, her warrant card opened for him to see.
‘Sergeant Wendy Gladstone, I’m here with Christine and Gwen,’ she said.
‘What for?’ Mason’s reply. ‘And why Gwen? She’s not been here for years.’ He looked over at his wife. ‘Friends with your sister again, is that it?’
‘I’m in trouble,’ Christine said, her face almost stiff, with no movement, no blinking eyes, her nervous tremble a giveaway to Gwen who had her arm around her sister.
‘It’s serious,’ Gwen said. ‘I’m here as Christine’s sister, also as her lawyer. We’ve agreed to talk to you here, not at a police station.’
‘Are you under arrest?’ Mason said to his wife. Wendy observed no sign of affection between the two, just a look of accusation from one to the other.
It was a good house, Wendy could see that. Upmarket, the stockbroker belt for those with high annual incomes, but if, as reported, Tony Mason was selling weapon guidance systems into the Middle East, then his salary had to be high. Higher than the house would suggest, she thought, not that she knew much about weapons’ sales, let alone guidance systems.
‘No,’ Christine replied. ‘Nothing like that, but someone’s been murdered. I had hoped to keep you out of it, but the police tell me that I can’t.’
‘Did you kill this person?’ Mason said. The tone was accusatory, Wendy noted. She wasn’t sure if that was the man’s manner or whether there was more to it.
‘I’ve killed no one, but I’m involved. I knew the man,’ Christine said. She was also sitting on a chair, her eyes downcast, not making contact with her husband’s.
‘I don’t like other people to be around,’ Tony Mason, a less commanding presence than Wendy had imagined, said. She had thought that he would look like a senior politician, distinguished, his voice authoritative and forceful. On the contrary, he was a smallish man, no taller than Christine, with greying hair, a slight paunch, and most noticeably, a squeaky voice.
‘It has to be this way, Tony,’ Gwen said.
‘Then let’s get it out in the open,’ Mason said. ‘It gives us a starting position.’
‘This is not a trade deal,’ Wendy said. ‘This is a serious matter, and you, Mr Mason, by default, are a suspect.’
‘Me? What have I done? You come in here, tell me there are a few questions and that I’m about to hear bad news, not that I’ve heard it yet. And now I’m a murderer. Someone had better start talking quick, or I’m out of here.’
‘I’m afraid, Mr Mason, I’ve taken the precaution of making sure there’s a police car outside, a couple of uniforms. The only place you can go to from here is Challis Street Police Station. Not that I want to do that, as what you are about to hear is bad enough.’
‘Then tell me what it is.’
‘I was involved with the man,’ Christine said, her eyes still downcast.
Wendy looked at Tony Mason, attempted to see signs of the man’s reaction to what to most would be startling news. She could see none.
‘An affair? If that’s what it is, then say so. I can’t stand this beating around the bush. A spade is a spade, not a fork or a shovel. If you’ve been screwing him, then say so. It’ll explain why I’ve been getting the cold shoulder these last few months. There I am, out there in the desert, attempting to put the food on the table, and what do I get? You, flat on your back. Thank you very much.’
It was a reaction, that was plain to see, but whether it was feigned or real, Wendy couldn’t tell.
Christine Mason raised her head and looked her husband in the face. ‘Yes, it was.’
‘Not the first, is it? I had hoped you had got over screwing around, but that was asking for too much, wasn’t it?’
Wendy looked over at the woman’s sister, hoping to catch her eye, hoping to see if she could gain some inkling from the woman about the exchange between the two people.
‘You were away for so long,’ Christine said.
‘I was working, not screwing around.’
‘I need affection.’
‘You need something else, and it’s not that.’
‘Mr Mason, Christine, regardless of the traumatic circumstances of this meeting, we need to address certain issues,’ Wendy said.
Tony Mason stood up and walked into the other room. He returned shortly with a glass of whisky. ‘You’ll forgive me, I’m sure. Today’s not turned out well,’ he said. He smiled at Wendy, cast a glance at his wife, looked at Gwen, holding his gaze on her for a few seconds. His facial expression gave no sign of emotion, one way or the other.
‘Mr Mason, a frank and honest admission,’ Wendy said. ‘Did you suspect your wife of having an affair?’
‘Suspect, yes. But that doesn’t mean I killed the man. Or does it? It’s happened before. Has Christine told you?’
‘We are aware of past relationships.’
‘Relationships? That’s a fancy word for what she gets up to. Don’t expect me to be shocked or upset by what’s been revealed. My wife has an unhealthy appetite for men.’
‘It’s not unhealthy,’ Christine said. ‘If you hadn’t been so career-driven, none of this would have happened.’
Wendy was there as a police officer, not as
