Mortimer’s brow furrowed slightly, perhaps suspecting some sort of a dig, but after a moment’s thought, he merely nodded. ‘No, you’re quite right,’ he agreed. ‘He was, I think, after specific information about Iris. When I’d last seen her, what she’d said, did I know of anybody who she might have been planning on meeting – you know, artists or photographers or such. More especially, if she’d asked me if I could ask my contacts in London if they could do her any favours or help her find work. Or if I’d seen her talking with anyone in the village, maybe arguing with them, in the last few weeks or so. That sort of thing.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘He seemed intent on becoming a rural version of Sherlock Holmes, in fact.’
So he had been serious about trying to find Iris’s killer, Trudy thought.
‘And were you able to enlighten him?’ she heard Clement enquire drolly.
‘Not really,’ Mortimer said languidly. ‘Like I said, the girl was something of a pest, even though I could sympathise with her desperation to get out of this place and make a life for herself. Just not to the extent that I was interested in her comings and goings.’
Clement nodded and glanced at Trudy to see if she had anything else to ask. Seeing by her quick glance that she didn’t, he made to rise. ‘Well, thank you for your help, Mr Crowley,’ he said dryly.
The other man airily waved a hand in the air. ‘Oh, think nothing of it,’ he said, equally dryly. ‘Shall I show you out?’
‘Oh, I think we can find our own way,’ Clement demurred.
The moment they left the room, however, Mortimer Crowley’s smile faded and he got to his feet and cautiously approached the window. He watched as, a short while later, their figures emerged from the house and walked down the path towards the front gate.
He swore softly – and with some originality – under his breath.
So far, he’d only had to deal with the local flatfoots and that by-the-book ninny, Jennings. Which had left him feeling relatively sanguine and inclined to relax. But Dr Clement Ryder was a far different proposition. He was no know-nothing country bumpkin but a sophisticated man with a sharp mind and sharp eyes. The sort who wasn’t so easily fooled.
As he turned away from the window, he contemplated a quick return to London. Or would that look like he was running away? The last thing he needed now was to throw suspicion on himself.
He collapsed moodily into a chair, resentful about the sense of unease that now bothered him. Damn that girl, he thought savagely. Trust a beautiful, grasping bloody woman to ruin everyone’s fun.
He brooded, contemplating exactly what he should do next. He would have to be careful, obviously, and do nothing too rash or silly. As far as he knew, the police hadn’t found out anything damaging about him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
If only he knew what that damned coroner was thinking!
‘So what are you thinking?’ Trudy asked as they walked back to the Rover.
‘I think we need to find out more about this journal or notebook or whatever it is that he claims David had on him. This is the first we’ve heard of it, and I trust that … that … insect, about as far as I could throw him! I wouldn’t put it past him to make up a lie about it to put us off track, just to amuse himself. On the other hand, he strikes me as someone too intent on taking care of his own skin to do anything that might bring himself to our attention needlessly. I take it no diary was found on the body?’
‘No, I’m sure it wasn’t,’ Trudy said. If David had kept a journal, it would have been meat and drink to her DI.
Clement nodded. ‘I agree it can’t have been. It would have been listed amongst his personal possessions for a start, and noted in my files. Do you know if any of the other witnesses questioned about Iris mentioned David keeping a diary?’
‘I don’t think so. But I can’t be sure,’ Trudy was forced to admit. ‘DI Jennings, like I said, would hardly be likely to confide in me.’
Clement grunted. ‘Well, we’ll just have to ask around for ourselves then, won’t we? We need to call on his parents again at some point anyway – and if anyone would know, they probably would. And Ronnie, the best friend too, should be able to clear it up one way or another. Even if they weren’t too close right at the end, if David was the kind to keep a diary Ronnie would still have known about it.’
‘Maybe Janet Baines would know too,’ Trudy offered. ‘If David did keep a regular diary, you can be sure that Iris would have known all about it. Girlfriends ferret out all sorts of information about the men that they’re seeing, and she’d almost certainly have mentioned it to her best friend. But what if it’s a more recent thing?’ she pointed out. ‘You know, something he took up only after Iris was killed?’
Clement glanced at his watch. ‘Time’s marching on. I’ve got to get back to my office. What say we pick this up again tomorrow, first thing?’
‘Suits me,’ Trudy said happily. ‘Is it wishful thinking, or do you think we might be getting somewhere at last?’
Clement smiled. ‘Let’s hope so.’ But she was right. He too, felt as if the case was finally beginning to take some sort of a shape. And it was starting to look more and more as if they had a double-murder on their hands.
Chapter 21
Duncan Gillingham had planned his move carefully. He knew it was no use trying to catch Trudy on her own in the village of Middle Fenton, since from what he had
