A Family Concern (27 page)

‘Oh, I'm so sorry! I don't know her well, but you're terribly alike, aren't you?'

‘So we've been told.'

‘Allow me to remedy the situation,' Patrick put in smoothly. ‘Rona Parish, meet Carol Hurst.'

By an effort of willpower, Rona held her smile in place. Jonathan's wife! Then he'd be here as well. How would he react to seeing her?

‘It must be lovely to be a twin,' Carol was saying. ‘I was an only child, and always felt I missed out. Are you a solicitor, too?'

‘No,' Georgia answered for her, ‘Rona's a writer.'

‘Oh dear! Should I have heard of you?'

‘Not unless you read biographies or
Chiltern Life
.'

‘Neither, regretfully. I'm not much of a reader, I'm afraid; I never seem to have the time. I have two children, and since we live outside town, I'm always having to ferry them to after-school activities or friends' parties. When I
am
able to relax, I promptly fall asleep! My husband despairs of me!' She turned back to Rona. ‘Whose biographies have you written?'

‘Arthur Conan Doyle, Sarah Siddons and William Pitt the Elder,' Rona replied. ‘A motley crew, aren't they?'

‘Are the books in the library? I promise to take one out and educate myself.'

Rona laughed. ‘I won't hold you to that.'

She liked her, she realized with a pang. This attractive, friendly woman believed she was happily married, and all the time—

‘Ah, there you are, darling!'

The remembered voice. Rona turned, saw his eyes widen in shock. Perhaps he, too, had in that first instant mistaken her for Lindsey.

‘Jon, this is Rona Parish. She's a writer, but I'm afraid I mistook her for her sister. My husband, Jonathan.'

Rona hesitated, but Jonathan acted swiftly, holding out his hand with a bland, unrecognizing smile. ‘How do you do? Rona, is it? Is your sister here?'

Briefly, Rona considered teasing him, but thought better of it. ‘No, she doesn't know the Grants very well.'

‘They are alike, aren't they, Jon?' Carol said again.

‘In appearance, certainly,' Jonathan agreed smoothly. ‘It must lead to a lot of misunderstandings.' A dig there. Before she could react, he had taken his wife's elbow. ‘If these good folk will excuse us, there's someone I'd like you to meet,' he said, and, with a general smile of apology, led her away.

‘Suave devil,' Patrick commented.

More than he realized. Though to be fair, Jonathan couldn't have admitted to knowing her; it would have involved telling his wife that they'd had dinner together, along with his mistress, that self-same twin. She must find Max and warn him not to give the game away.

‘Another drink, Rona?' Patrick was saying.

‘Oh.' She saw with surprise that her glass was empty. ‘Thank you, yes.'

‘Rona!'

Magda and Gavin were approaching, and Magda gave her a quick hug. She looked very exotic, with her dark hair pinned up and held in place by a red rose, complementing her chiffon dress.

‘I must say, you're a good advertisement for your boutiques!' Georgia told her. ‘I love the scalloped hemline.'

‘Available in red or black,' Magda replied, ‘and a bargain at the price!'

They all laughed, and under cover of it, Magda said in Rona's ear, ‘I gather all's well with Max again?'

‘Yes, thankfully, though he's been a bit grouchy this last week.'

‘So has Gavin. It's the time of year. They see the joint bank account rapidly diminishing.'

The evening wore on, and Rona was introduced to a group of people from Woodbourne.

‘What's all this about skeletons in wells?' one man asked jovially, helping himself to a canapé. ‘Makes a change from closets, I suppose.'

‘Yes, you've been hitting the headlines, haven't you?' a woman cut in. ‘And I always thought Marsborough was such a quiet, respectable place!'

‘She means dull!' said someone else.

‘Do you know the people involved?' the first man asked curiously, and to Rona's relief, Max materialized at her side.

‘They're the town's best jewellers,' he said. ‘We've been in the shop countless times.'

‘Reckon any of them could be a murderer?'

The woman laughed in embarrassment. ‘Really, Pete! That's enough!'

‘They're a very pleasant family,' Max said firmly. ‘I'm sure none of them has anything to hide.'

The man called Pete shook his head. ‘I shouldn't bet on it,' he said with owlish solemnity. ‘It usually turns out to be the nearest and dearest.'

Across town, Tom and Catherine were also discussing the murder.

‘You actually knew her, when you were all young?' Catherine asked with interest.

‘Not knew, exactly, but I saw her around, and we were at some of the same parties.'

‘What was she like?'

‘To look at, gorgeous – no denying that. But she was the kind of girl who flirted with every man she met, and getting married didn't stop her.' He gave a short laugh. ‘I even saw her try it on once with her brother-in-law. It must have been hard on her husband.'

‘Some husbands like to think other men fancy their wives.'

‘I doubt if that applied to Tarlton. When she was carrying on, he used to look as if he could murder her.' He broke off with an embarrassed laugh. ‘Forget I said that.'

Catherine topped up his coffee. ‘But do you think he could have done?' she asked calmly.

Tom stared at her for a minute. ‘Good God,' he said slowly. ‘You read about murders all the time, don't you, but you never expect them to happen to anyone you know, even vaguely. Nor do you expect to look at someone who's been around for years in the light of a potential killer.'

He drank his coffee. ‘Is a
crime passionnel
a let-out in this country? I think perhaps it should be. It's possible, in certain circumstances, to be driven to extremes.'

‘You didn't answer my question,' Catherine reminded him. ‘
Do
you think her husband could have killed her?'

‘Let's just say I shouldn't like to be in the jury box,' Tom replied.

Lindsey said, ‘I told Rona the other day that I wasn't sleeping with you.'

Hugh looked at her sharply. ‘We could soon remedy that; though what the hell it has to do with your sister is beyond me. Don't be influenced by her,' he added, refilling her wine glass, ‘she's never liked me.'

‘I'm not influenced by anybody,' Lindsey said lazily.

He sat down on the couch opposite her. ‘Can we stop playing games? You know how much I want you, and what's more, you want me, too.'

She shook her head.

‘Then why break your own rule and come here this evening?'

‘Because I've never seen your flat, and wondered if it was like Pops's. Not that I've seen his yet, either, but Rona says an invitation's imminent.' She glanced across at him. ‘I'm sorry if you took my arrival as the green light.'

‘What else was I to think? God knows, we've spent a fair bit of time together over the last month or two. It's a natural progression, surely?'

‘Not with us. Remember what happened last time.'

‘We've both grown up a bit since then.'

‘But I enjoy things as they are, Hugh; dinner, goodnight kisses – fine, but I don't want things to get too heavy.'

‘They needn't.'

‘But they would, you know they would. With us, once the touchpaper's lit, it's a question of “retire immediately”.'

‘To bed?' he asked with a faint smile. ‘That's what I'm suggesting.'

‘You know what I mean; when we get together, we're dynamite. We've blown our lives apart once; let's not risk it again.'

‘But it worked well, all those months I was in Guildford, and came up at weekends.'

‘That's because it was finite. I knew you'd be going back on the Sunday.'

‘Well, thanks very much!' He stared down into his glass. ‘You're seeing someone else, aren't you?'

‘I don't have to answer that.'

‘Is it the chap I saw you with at the pub that time?'

‘I haven't said there is anyone.'

‘Oh, there is, all right. If there weren't, you'd be more amenable to my advances.'

She laughed lightly. ‘You sound like something out of Jane Austen!'

‘You're a heartless little devil, aren't you, Lindsey? You enjoy keeping me dangling – it suits your vanity. Well, I warn you – I'll only dangle for so long.'

She shrugged. ‘You're a free agent.'

He stood up abruptly, seized both her wrists and pulled her to her feet. ‘One of these days,' he said unevenly, ‘you'll get more than you bargained for. That's what happens to teases.'

And as she stared at him, suddenly uneasy, he started to kiss her savagely. Immediately, as always happened with Hugh, her body responded and her passion rose to match his.
Just
, she thought incoherently, what she'd wanted to avoid.

With an immense effort of will, she tore herself free of him and they stood looking at each other, both of them breathing heavily.

‘Thanks for the drinks, Hugh,' she said shakily. ‘Don't worry; I shan't break the rules again.' She picked up her coat and let herself out of the flat, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, looking after her.

Sunday morning, and as usual they were still in their dressing gowns. Max had cooked a full English breakfast, including fried bread and sausages, and they were now reading the papers while they finished their coffee.

‘I see our murder's made the Sundays,' he observed, ‘albeit only a paragraph on an inside page.'

‘Is there any hope of finding who did it, do you think, after all this time?'

‘I doubt it, unless the murderer jumps out of the woodwork and confesses.'

‘I'd love to know how the investigation's going.'

He looked up. ‘Oh, no you don't!' he said firmly. ‘It's in the police's hands, you keep well away.'

‘I haven't much option, have I? But that doesn't stop me wondering.'

She returned to her portion of the paper, and Max glanced at her surreptitiously. Should he, he wondered, have told her about Adele's behaviour last Wednesday? He'd learned to his cost that it wasn't wise to keep such things from her; someone was bound to say something, and it would be much better coming from him. But how to explain why he'd not told her at once? She'd realized he had something on his mind.

He sighed. This awkwardness always arose when Adele's name was mentioned. Still, it would be as well to take the bull by the horns, and now was as good a time as any.

He cleared his throat, and as she looked up at him expectantly, the doorbell chimed.

He frowned. ‘Who the hell can that be, at this time on a Sunday morning?'
Not, please God, Adele! He wouldn't put anything past her.

‘I'd better go,' Rona said. ‘I'm marginally more respectable than you, and it might be Lindsey.'

She ran up the basement steps and opened the front door, surprised to see two uniformed policemen on the step, one of them Archie Duncan, a former student of Max's.

‘Archie!' she exclaimed.

He did not return her smile. ‘Good morning, Mrs Allerdyce. Is your husband at home?'

‘Well, yes, but he's—'

‘Could we have a word, do you think?'

‘Yes, of course, but I'm afraid he's not dressed, either. We had a late night last night, and we're—'

‘If you could just tell him we're here?'

Rona frowned, belatedly apprehensive. ‘Is something wrong?' she asked sharply.

Neither man replied, and with a frustrated click of her tongue, she turned and went to the head of the stairs. ‘Max,' she called, ‘Archie Duncan's here to see you.'

A minute later Max came barefoot up the stairs. ‘Archie! You've caught me déshabillé, I'm afraid. There's some coffee downstairs …' His voice trailed off as his eyes moved to the other policeman, silent at Archie's side.

‘It's not a social call, sir.' Archie was unusually stiff, not meeting their eyes.

Max frowned. ‘Then what the hell is it?'

‘Mr Allerdyce, I'm arresting you on suspicion of assault on Mrs Adele Yarborough. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court.'

‘
What?
'

‘I'd be grateful if you'd accompany us to the station for questioning. We'll wait in the car while you get dressed.'

And the two policemen turned in unison and went back down the steps. Max stepped forward and slammed the door behind them.

Rona was staring at him in shock. ‘They can't do that, can they?'

‘It seems they already have,' he said grimly. He started up the stairs, and she ran after him.

‘I'll come with you.'

‘No, you most definitely won't. God knows what garbled story they've got hold of, but I don't doubt we can sort it out. It might take time, though, and I don't want you hanging around the station all day.'

She stood helplessly in the bedroom, watching him dress.

‘I don't see how they can possibly—'

‘She must have fabricated something. She was behaving very oddly at the last class. I – meant to tell you.'

‘But you didn't,' Rona accused, her apprehension deepening.

‘Well, I'm telling you now.' He pulled on a sweater. ‘She intimated to the whole class that we'd been meeting over cups of tea—'

‘Which you had.'

‘Not at my instigation. And then, if you please, she gave me a Christmas present.'

Rona stared at him. ‘What did you do with it?'

He smiled grimly. ‘When they'd all gone, I hurled it across the room and it shattered in pieces. It was a sugar basin.'