“Why would he do that, do you think?” Janssen was intrigued. Ken looked over at him.
“Funny in the head, that boy.” He tapped at his forehead with two fingers, emphasising his point. The words were more of a statement as if that put the question to bed.
“Mrs Francis?” Janssen encouraged her.
“Jane, please,” she replied with a smile. “I don’t know really. He was standing there. I was a little way away but he had this strange look on his face, almost mesmerised by it, I would say. As soon as he saw me watching him, he was off.”
“And then?”
“I went over to see what was going on.” She cast her eyes downward, staring into her bowl and absently stirring the soup with her spoon. “Then… I… saw her. To be honest, I didn’t know what he was doing there until I found her.”
“What do you think he was doing there?” Janssen asked, noticing Eric’s attentive attitude towards his question. His tone certainly changed. He was curious about her veiled intimation. She backtracked almost immediately.
“I’ve no idea… not really…” She stammered, appearing to register Janssen’s interest and judging it negative. “I mean… he was there. I’m not saying he did anything.”
“Of course.” Janssen found her response interesting. Quite possibly, a narrative of events was already starting to take shape and he wanted facts, not opinion, to guide the case. “Did you see him touch the body?” She shook her head. “Did you?”
“I did, yes. I touched her leg. She was cold. I’ve never seen a… anyway, she was gone. It was obvious. I called an ambulance anyway.”
“Did you know her, Holly?” This was a small community. Everyone knew everyone else as well as their business. It was that type of place. Even newcomers found out pretty quickly their privacy was seldom their own even if they sought to maintain it. He found his eyes drift to Ken. He was approaching his food with less enthusiasm than before, toying with the food on his plate and paying less attention to the story. Janssen found Jane looking directly at him as he studied her husband. Her expression was impassive, hard to read.
“We knew her a little, yes. She’s been here before.”
Janssen failed to mask his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Here, at your house?” Jane nodded.
“That’s not unusual. Many people in the community have been here. Ken is quite the celebrity. His artworks, both paintings and sculptures, are quite sought after. We sell them abroad, run exhibitions at galleries and the like. We’re hoping to convert the old byre into something of a gallery of our own, one day. A second phase of the renovations. Isn’t that right Ken?”
Her husband was lost in thought, almost failing to register she was talking to him. He looked up, seeing all eyes on him. Raising his eyebrows, his mouth dropped open and he glanced between them.
“The gallery, Ken.” Jane was stern, inclining her head slightly to one side.
“Yes, absolutely.” He finally responded, momentarily flustered before resuming the more familiar role of consummate professional. The performance part he’d adopted since their arrival. “Hopefully, later in the summer. It would be nice to encourage visitors early next year, perhaps in the spring. Catch a share of the tourism pound that drives the local economy, you know?”
Janssen nodded. There was something in the exchange between the two of them. Something unspoken, not comprehensible unless you were in on the information that only a husband and wife shared with each other. The nuances of their relationship were tough to decipher. He chose to let it go for now.
“What happened then, after you checked whether she was alive?”
Jane shrugged, picking up a glass of water. “Like I said. I called the ambulance. I knew it was too late for poor Holly but… I didn’t really know what else I should do.”
Eric piped up from the other end of the table. “You didn’t mention to me that you knew her.” To Janssen, Jane seemed startled by that question, slightly taken aback.
“Did I not? I don’t remember. It was a bit of a shock. I wasn’t really thinking.” She took a mouthful of water, replacing the glass gently on the table and reaching for the jug. It was closer to him and Janssen picked it up first, refilling her glass. She thanked him but didn’t meet his eye.
“Well, I think that will do for now,” he said, smiling at their hosts in turn. Eric here, can take your official statement later on, if that’s okay but I wanted to hear your story first hand. Thank you for lunch. It’s very kind of you to accommodate us.”
“Not at all, Inspector. Call round anytime.” Jane smiled at him warmly. There was something behind the smile, held back. No matter how hard she tried to disguise her reticence there was more to be said but perhaps not right now.
“Agreed. You’re more than welcome.” Ken’s voice boomed. Their imminent departure took his enthusiasm up a notch, almost as if he was maximising to fill the space.
Janssen stood, Eric following suit, cramming in another mouthful of bread as he did so. Janssen wondered if the young man had skipped breakfast. He would have said goodbye to the children but any interest in the visitors had long since dissipated. Jane escorted them to the door and they stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine. The day was warming as expected. In Janssen’s mind at least, so was the investigation.
Chapter Six
Getting into the car neither of them spoke but Eric was itching for Jane Francis to go. As soon as she disappeared back inside, closing the door, he looked across. “She definitely gave me no indication she knew Holly.” He
