“He is that. Never complains either, which is a blessing. Right, we’re getting closer now. Another few miles and we should be there.”
“The houses in this area must cost a bob or two.”
“Not short of Mayfair prices, last I heard.”
Katy approached the house cautiously. The tall wrought iron gates were locked, and there was an intercom halfway up the gatepost pillar. Katy exited the car and pressed the buzzer.
“Yes.” A man’s voice filtered through the grill.
“Hi, I’m DI Katy Foster. Is Mrs Thatcham at home, please?”
“She is. Just a moment, I’ll see if she has the time to see you. May I ask what it’s regarding?”
“It’s a personal issue.”
“Very well. I’ll be back soon.”
Katy stood upright and tilted her head towards the sun which had suddenly made an appearance through the heavy grey clouds.
The gates opened, and Katy ran back to the car to drive through them in case they were on some kind of timer and closed before she had the chance to enter.
Charlie whistled as they turned the corner of the sweeping drive. “Christ, this place is ginormous.”
“And some,” Katy agreed. “Worth a heap of money, too. He must have been really successful.”
“Either that or he was bent,” Charlie added.
They left the car and made their way across the drive, their heels sinking into the deep gravel. “You could have something there. Let’s see what the wife has to say.”
A man in a dark suit held the large double front doors open for them.
Katy and Charlie flashed their warrant cards. He nodded and motioned for them to follow him. They walked across the bright, polished white marble floor up a wide hallway to the rear of the property. The living room had a glass wall which overlooked the colourful garden and the fields beyond. The view took Katy’s breath away. She was so drawn by it that she neglected to see the smartly dressed woman seated at a mahogany desk at the other end of the huge room until the man pointed her out.
“Mrs Thatcham. Is there anything else, ma’am?”
“No, Donald. I don’t think so. Come closer, ladies.”
Katy smiled as she approached the woman with Charlie. “I’m DI Katy Foster, and this is my partner, DC Charlie Simpkins.”
“How quaint. Is that short for Charlotte or Charlene?”
Charlie smiled. “Charlene, I loathe it. Not sure what my parents were thinking when they named me.”
“We all have our crosses to bear. My middle name is Enid, go figure. Anyway, what brings the police to my door at this time of the day?”
“We’re following up on a general enquiry regarding your husband.”
Mrs Thatcham turned in her seat and crossed her long legs, the slit in her dress falling to one side, her tan accentuating her shapely pins. “Oh my, what’s Ray been up to now?”
“Perhaps you can tell us when you last saw your husband?” Katy asked.
“Yesterday morning. He was away overnight on a business meeting.”
“I see. May I ask where?”
“In the city. I know, why stay overnight when you live in the same city, right? Well, he was involved in a very important meeting and entertaining an influential client. He felt it would be better staying in a hotel overnight, especially with the amount of drink that would be consumed during the evening.”
“And you haven’t had any form of contact with him since?”
“No. That’s what I said. What’s going on here?”
“The client, were they male or female?”
“Male. Are you going to answer me? I asked you what this is all about.”
“Does your husband own a boat, Mrs Thatcham?”
“Yes, why?”
“And where is it usually moored?”
“In Sunbury-on-Thames.” She unfolded her legs and stood. “I’m not liking where these questions are leading. I must insist you get to the point and tell me why you’re here.”
“Maybe you should sit down again for what I have to tell you.”
“And maybe you should stop wasting my time and get on with it.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want. It is with regret that I have to tell you we believe your husband died in an incident…”
Mrs Thatcham screamed. A scream which appeared to echo around the room, out into the hallway and back again. “What? This can’t be true.”
Donald reappeared in the doorway. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”
“No, it’s not. Get me a large whisky and be quick about it, man.”
“Very well. Right away, ma’am.” He returned sharpish with a cut-glass tumbler half-filled with amber liquid.
Mrs Thatcham snatched the glass from his hand and downed the contents in two gulps, then she slipped into her seat again, placed her elbows on the desk and supported her head. “I can’t believe this. How?”
“We believe it could have been a boating incident, although there is reason to believe your husband was murdered.”
“What? In a boating incident? How is that possible?”
Katy peered over her shoulder at the couch. “May we take a seat?”
“Of course. Sorry.”
“No need to apologise,” Katy replied.
Charlie withdrew her notebook.
“Our investigation is in its infancy at present, so I doubt if we’ll be able to answer most of your questions. What I can tell you is, there were three other people killed at the same time. Two police officers and a female.”
Mrs Thatcham scratched her head and frowned. “Female? None of this is making sense. Are you sure it’s him?”
“We’ve just come from the mortuary. We have a photo, it’s not pleasant, we used that to match against his internet persona. If that makes sense.”
“Not really. Show me the picture.”
“I’m not sure I should do that. You’ll be asked to make a formal ID when the time is right.”
“Then I refuse to acknowledge that he’s dead. I’m going to ring him.” She picked up her mobile and tapped in a password then held the phone to her ear. When it rang and remained unanswered, she slammed it down and screamed again.
Katy stared at Charlie unsure how to proceed. Eventually, she cleared her throat and asked, “Did he
