“Yes, it did.”
“You probably didn’t enjoy this much . . .” He made an effort to say something but she shushed him. “A talk like this, whatever else it does, it makes me feel a tiny bit less shut in, just for a few minutes. Maybe you just have a smell of the outside world. Perhaps you could come again, in a doctorish sort of way.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
Tabitha didn’t think it was very likely.
Thirty-Nine
Tabitha found it disconcerting to see Terry George sitting across from her in the visitors’ room.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the shop,” she said.
“It’s your whole life,” said Terry cheerfully. “If you don’t enjoy it, then don’t do it. Because I live above the shop, I open up at seven and I’m not done till half past six. You’ve got to like it. And you’ve got to like people.”
Tabitha went through the ritual of thanking her for coming, but she was clearly enjoying herself. She had dressed up in a purple velvet jacket over a tight green blouse, and her eyes were bright with curiosity.
“I’ve been watching you on the CCTV,” said Tabitha.
“I know, I was there when they took it all away. Quite a business.”
“So I know that you didn’t do it,” said Tabitha. “The camera shows you were there the whole day.”
“I’m lucky if I get two minutes for a toilet break,” Terry said, laughing loudly. It felt like a laugh that had been developed for getting through the hours in the Okeham village day, from the groups of boisterous children on their way to school and back from school, the older people in the village who needed someone to talk to as they bought their single baking potato. You couldn’t afford to lose a customer. There were only about a hundred of them.
“I’d have brought something,” Terry continued, “but someone told me that they don’t let you bring anything in.”
“That’s all right. I just wanted to talk to you. I’ve always thought that you’re the person who knows what’s going on in the village.”
“I don’t know about that. I try to have a word with everyone when they pop into the shop.”
“I wanted to ask you about that. When I looked at the footage of the shop on the morning of the murder, I saw that Rob Coombe was talking to you. He looked angry about something. He was gesticulating a lot.”
“Sounds like Rob.”
“Do you remember what he was saying?”
“No.”
Tabitha smiled, although she didn’t feel like smiling.
“That’s a bit certain. I thought you might take a moment to try and remember.”
“I can’t tell one day from another. That’s what I told the police. The same people come in and out all the time. I remember the odd ones, the strangers. But not my regulars. So I can’t tell one day from another; I can’t tell one year from another.”
She laughed again. Tabitha knew that Terry’s husband had left her last year. People said it was the strain of running the shop. Tabitha thought it could have been the strain of listening to that laugh day after day.
“All right, you can’t remember. But is it possible that he was angry with Stuart Rees?”
For the first time Terry seemed to be considering how to reply.
“The point of living in a place like Okeham is that it’s like family. You’ve to rub along with people because you’re all living together, you’re seeing each other every day.”
“I know that Stuart had complained about Melanie Coglan. And I think he had some problem with Dr. Mallon.”
“I’m not going to say anything against Stuart Rees,” said Terry firmly. “I never do. And I never speak ill of the dead. I’ll just say that nobody went to his funeral who didn’t have to go.”
“Did you go?”
“I have to go. It’s part of my job.”
Tabitha didn’t quite see how it was part of Terry’s job as proprietor of the village shop to go to funerals, but she let it go.
“But with Rob Coombe,” said Tabitha. “There was nothing specific.”
“No.” There was a pause. “Except for the land.”
“The land.”
“You know the bit of his farm up on the cliff, overlooking the bay?”
“I know that his farm is up there.”
“He was applying for permission to build some holiday homes. It was going to be his pension. Then it was all halted. There was an objection.”
“By Stuart?”
Terry’s expression changed to one of disapproval.
“That’s what people said. I wouldn’t repeat it myself. I don’t know anything about it. He was just someone who had his finger in every pie, wanted to be involved in everything.” She looked at Tabitha with a sudden expression of alarm. “I didn’t mean . . . I mean.”
“It’s all right,” said Tabitha. “I suppose everyone knows now about my . . .” She hesitated for a single beat. “My involvement with Stuart. Years ago.”
“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to things like that.”
“It doesn’t matter. But you must pay attention to some things. Did you see anyone out of the ordinary on that day? I saw the school bus driver was in there at the same time as me.”
“Sam,” said Terry. “He comes in and buys his cigarettes every morning. I always think those bus drivers are a bit dodgy. I think the police should have a word with him.”
“Except that he was driving the bus,” said Tabitha.
“That’s true,” Terry said, looking a little disappointed.
“Maybe he heard something.”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Can you tell him I’d like him to visit me? I’ll put him on the list and he can come anytime. But as soon as possible.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“There was the deliveryman as well. He delivered the package to Stuart and then got stuck in the village.”
“That’s true. Polish fellow. Poor love. He sat in the café for hours. He was drinking tea and then he had lunch. The police gave him a right going over. Poles, you know. It’s completely unfair, of course.”
“Of course,” said Tabitha. Then she had a thought. “Rob Coombe was there
