Stephanie thought again of her father, counting the minutes. Thea had not brought her phone with her, so he couldn’t call to demand where they were. But now Bronya was leaving, much of the tension was going with her.
Digby sighed. ‘She killed him, you know,’ he said, as if imparting some barely relevant news. ‘She enticed him into the woods, late on Thursday, and used my battery to kill him. Isn’t that so, my lady? She’d intended to throttle him, I fancy, but changed her mind when I turned up. Not that I realised, of course.’
‘You’re talking nonsense,’ Ant said angrily. ‘Pure fantasy.’
‘It would be nice to think so. There was a fantasy, of a sort, I suppose. I’ve dreamt for years of ways to do away with that man. Murder must be easy, I thought, if the bastard who killed my girl could get away with it. The pacemaker clinched it. Fibrillation, you see. That’s the thing. If you can interrupt the heart’s rhythm with an electric current, it never gets right again, and the person dies. Really quite simple in the theory, but extraordinarily complex in the execution. But thanks to loud voices and the digital revolution, I was greatly helped by this young lady.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Bronya. ‘You know nothing.’
‘I know he was after you for sex. Every time you came visiting, he’d be chasing you around, day and night. And I could see you weren’t keen. Microphones, in case you’re wondering. Tucked into the wall of your precious parterre all summer, and under the windowsills. Placed under cover of darkness out of view of your nasty cameras. I heard you and him go out on Thursday night and grabbed my chance.’
‘Dad, be quiet!’ Ant ordered. ‘You sound as if you’re boasting about killing someone.’
‘Oh, but I didn’t. That’s what I’m telling you. Thanks, as it happens, to your poor innocent mother.’
‘She said she came back,’ Ant remembered slowly. ‘When? What did she see?’
‘She saw Bronya and Rufus in the woods, apparently doing the dirty deed. And because old Percy had somehow got out and followed me, when I went up there with the battery and other things, she assumed it was me rather than Rufus. She gave a bit of a shout, and tipped the wheelbarrow over. The dog might have got acid on him – I don’t know. I picked it all up again, left Bronya to her fate and scooted back home with the barrow, thinking to set things right with Bev. But she just drove off and didn’t come back until today.’
‘Did Bronya know you were there, planning to kill Rufus?’ Thea asked. The Russian woman was unmoving, saying nothing. It looked as if at least some of Digby’s account was new to her.
‘Oddly enough, no. The plan, you see, was to get him while he was next to his damned fence, whack him with the kit I’d assembled, preferably with Bronya’s willing assistance, and hope the cops would think it was an accident. After what I’d heard, I didn’t think she would raise any objection. And I was right.’ He looked at the statuesque woman with something close to affection.
‘Nobody will believe such a crazy story,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘Or if they do, they’ll charge you as an accomplice. Or worse.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Digby meekly. ‘I won’t argue if they do.’
The sound of the Old Stables landline pealing imperiously brought them all back to the present. ‘It’ll be Dad,’ said Stephanie.
And it was.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was Wednesday afternoon before Gladwin phoned and Beverley Frowse visited. It had not snowed and Damien was on his way. Drew was doing his best to forgive the flouting of his instructions regarding Thea’s return from Crossfield. Jessica was all packed up, and had exchanged five texts with Finch Graham on matters not concerning murder.
‘I gather we should thank you,’ said Gladwin, when she phoned.
‘Is it all sorted now?’
‘We’re still not quite there, but at least people are talking to us. I ought to warn you, though, I think you’ve probably lost a friend.’
‘Even the dog doesn’t like us much,’ Thea agreed. ‘We shut him in the kitchen and he whined all night.’
‘You’ve got their dog?’
‘Stephanie insisted. She was the only one with a clear head yesterday. That’s why we went back there in the car, you see.’
‘Not really, but it probably doesn’t matter. You met Bronya Blavatskaya, I take it. I still don’t entirely follow what went on between you, but she’s being gratifyingly co-operative.’
‘I met her, but I have no idea what to make of her. Stephanie says she looks like Jessica, but I can’t see it myself.’
‘She’s luscious,’ said Gladwin. ‘There’s no other word for it.’
‘And a murderer.’
‘So it seems.’
There was considerably more helpful information from Beverley. ‘I’ve come for Percy,’ she said, appearing at the Slocombes’ front door. The dog rushed to greet her, as dogs so often did – claiming to have been separated for at least twenty years.
‘Come in,’ Thea instructed, brooking no argument.
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try and fill you in a bit,’ the woman conceded. ‘All I ever do at the moment is answer questions, anyway. Serves me right for trying to keep everything to myself, I guess.’
Thea made tea and sat the visitor down. ‘Where’s Digby?’ she began.
‘At the police station. It’ll take them a while to get the story straight. I’m not sure I understand it myself, despite Ant’s best efforts. Poor old Ant – he’s never going to feel the same about either of us again. He keeps insisting that Bronya’s really the victim in the whole thing.’
‘The way it sounded to us, Digby had been planning to kill Rufus for ages, and somehow Bronya brought it all to a head last week, and then killed him herself. In a nutshell, as it were. Have I got that right?’
‘Remember I haven’t seen Digby. They let me go
