In Vino Veritas (23 page)

In the event, things worked out pretty well. Bert Hook disappeared into the woods on two holes, but elsewhere produced some sensible and occasionally outstanding golf to take advantage of his handicap strokes. John Lambert was his usual steady self and the pair fitted their scores together to stay alongside the experts to the very end of the game. On the eighteenth hole, with the match all square, Tom Bowles followed an excellent drive with a seven-iron to eight feet. He then directed a curling putt into the heart of the hole, to secure a splendid win for the young tigers and an honourable defeat for the CID pair.

Tom Bowles's partner made his excuses and left, casting a longing eye at the drinks Lambert was carrying from the bar for the others. He explained that he had to go and eat a dutiful Sunday lunch with his aunt and uncle, who lived in Monmouth. He made them sound ancient; Lambert reflected that they were probably in their fifties and about the age of Christine and himself.

Tom Bowles took an appreciative pull at his pint and said, ‘I expect you've cracked the case of the murdered vineyard owner by now.'

Lambert gave him the quiet, unrevealing smile of long practice and prepared to change the subject. But before he could speak, Bowles added reflectively, ‘I played a match in the first round of the knockout against someone from there – Jason Knight, who runs the restaurant. He put it across me on the eighteenth, rather as I did to you two today.'

‘I played Jason last year. He beat me very comfortably,' said Bert Hook. He didn't even need to look at John Lambert. Both of them knew the rules here without even thinking about it. If anyone asked you about the case, you gave them nothing, politely putting up the confidential shutters. If, on the other hand, anyone chose to speak to you about people involved in the case, you let him talk. Nine times out of ten it was no more than extraneous gossip; on the tenth you picked up something useful.

Bowles nodded. ‘He's done wonders for the place. I've eaten there a couple of times, and the food's very good. Jason was telling me they've trebled the number of tables since he started there. I wonder how the death of the owner is going to affect him.' He took another swallow of his bitter, whilst Lambert and Hook remained reflectively silent. ‘Perhaps he'll be able to get the say in policy he wants, now that Martin Beaumont's gone.'

‘Too early to say yet what's going to happen to Abbey Vineyards,' said Lambert. ‘Not our problem, I'm happy to say.'

‘No, I suppose not. Jason will be anxious to know, though. He's ambitious, as well as being an excellent chef. I wouldn't mind betting that he'll be having a big influence on the future of Abbey Vineyards.'

‘I expect you're right there,' said Bert Hook, studiously non-committal. He sensed that murder was as usual exercising its ghoulish glamour. This pleasant young man, whether he was conscious of it or not, didn't want to relinquish the subject and his tenuous connection with it.

Tom said, ‘Jason wouldn't have got very far whilst Beaumont controlled things, as far as I could see. I told him that.'

‘You did?'

Tom Bowles nodded, moving into the anecdote he realized now that he had always been anxious to offer them. ‘I'm an industrial lawyer. Pretty dull stuff, as far as most people are concerned. But Jason was anxious to pick my brains after our match was over. He said he was asking for advice on behalf of a friend, but I suspect both of us knew perfectly well that it was his own situation he was talking about.'

‘We have the same problems as policemen, sometimes,' said Lambert gnomically. ‘People tend to think we're experts on all aspects of the law, when we're often as ignorant as they are. At least you had the benefit of having professional knowledge to draw upon.'

‘Yes. I couldn't offer much hope to Jason Knight, though. As a key member of the team at the vineyards, he was anxious to get more power for himself, to have a greater share in policy. I told him that he could perhaps buy his way in, but he hadn't the capital for that. And from what he said, Martin Beaumont had control of the business neatly tied up – I couldn't see how Jason was going to get the say in things he wanted, unless his employer was willing to give it to him.'

‘Which people tell us he wasn't,' said Bert Hook, taking a drink and shaking his head sadly over the obstinacy of autocrats.

‘No. I wonder what Jason would have done about that. He was certainly pretty keen to get more of a say in things. Perhaps he'll get what he wanted without needing to do anything, now. Another drink, gentlemen?'

‘Sorry, I think we need to be on our way,' said John Lambert quickly.

Even in this ancient part of England, there are not many thatched cottages left. This one had been little altered externally since it was built in the seventeenth century. Inside, its nooks and crannies retained the essence of its quaintness, but accommodated the fittings now considered essential for modern living.

Vanda North said, ‘I made a pot of tea when I saw you reversing the car into the drive. You need some compensation for having to work on a Sunday afternoon.' There were biscuits which looked home-made on a china plate beside the teapot. Vanda North did not look to Bert Hook like the sort of lady who made her own biscuits, and Bert was something of an expert on such things. Probably, though, a lady with good taste, who knew where to get the best things in life. Her fair hair was short and expertly cut. Her blue eyes, above a nose which was just a little too prominent, were observant, despite her conventional phrases. He had no doubt that she was measuring them as intensely as they were assessing her.

He flicked open his notebook and retreated into the conventional first question. ‘How long had you known Mr Beaumont, Ms North?'

‘I use Miss. I find the Ms clumsy to pronounce and tiresome to operate. I'd known Martin for just over fourteen years in all.'

Lambert took over the questioning as Hook made his first note. ‘Then obviously you knew him very well. Would you say you were a friend of his as well as a working colleague?'

She smiled at him with her head a little on one side, apparently not at all disturbed to be questioned by the chief superintendent in charge of a murder enquiry. ‘I would, yes. But there's something you should be aware of from the start. I knew Martin better than most people. I was his mistress for several years.'

She looked at him to see how her little bombshell would be received, but she could not tell from his reactions whether he had already known it. Probably he had, she thought; it was their business to find out such things and someone would surely have told them about it, even though Jane said she hadn't mentioned it when she'd spoken to the police. It was strange how she now thought of the Mrs Beaumont she had feared to meet as Jane and a friend. Life was very unpredictable.

Lambert's long, grave face told her nothing. He said, ‘Thank you for being so frank, Miss North. Obviously honesty is helpful to us. The people we talk to normally find that complete openness is the best policy for them too. How long ago did this close relationship end?'

She smiled at his use of that anodyne phrase. ‘You mean when did I stop going to bed with Martin? Eight years ago now. When I was past forty and he decided that I was getting a little long in the tooth. Men like young flesh between the sheets, when they can get it, don't they?' She heard her bitterness come out in the question. Before they arrived she had been determined to be cool and detached, so as to distance herself from this killing. That hadn't lasted very long – perhaps it was something to do with Lambert's congratulating her on her honesty. She had better treat this man with his reputation as the Great Detective with due care, if she was not to make herself even more of a suspect.

‘You're telling us that Mr Beaumont had other women, which confirms what others have suggested. Was there someone particularly close to him at the time of his death?'

‘I don't know. I've made it my business over the last few years to know as little as possible of his private life. It seemed the best policy once I had recognized that our affair was over and that I had been no more than one of a series of bits on the side for Martin over the years.' She heard again the asperity she had been resolved to conceal. ‘Incidentally, I have no wish to emerge to you as an expert on sexual matters. I did not take Martin into my bed casually, and it is not in my nature to flit from one man to another.'

‘Thank you, but it is no part of our brief to take moral stances in these things. We need the facts, but in the main we confine ourselves to those.'

‘Of course you do. But it was also no part of my brief to come over to you as a high-class tart.'

She grimaced a little on her last phrase, and Lambert felt a sudden sympathy for the spirit and courage of the woman. He said quietly, ‘I'm surprised you stayed around to work with Mr Beaumont over the last few years, in view of the circumstances.'

He was studiously polite, but he wasn't going to let her get away with anything. Vanda found herself warming unexpectedly to this grave-faced opponent, enjoying the excitement of the contest a little despite herself. ‘You're asking the question I've asked myself a few times over the years, though not recently. There are practical considerations, Chief Superintendent. All my capital is tied up in Abbey Vineyards. It was in my interests to see that the company succeeded, as Martin was often pleased to remind me. Over the last few years, the development and the management of residential accommodation at the vineyard has been in my hands, and we have been very successful.'

‘Nevertheless, there must have been a time eight years ago when you felt like withdrawing your investment and leaving Beaumont to it.'

She gave him that knowing smile again, partly to conceal her irritation at his probing of this area and partly out of respect for his intelligence in fastening upon it. ‘There were indeed. There are two reasons why I am still around at Abbey Vineyards. The first is that Martin had tied things up legally so that it proved very difficult for me to withdraw my capital from his company. I only have about a fifth of what he has invested in the company, and my junior partnership was drawn up very much on his terms. I could not withdraw my funds, or even sell on my share in the company to someone else, without his permission. I do not need anyone now to tell me that these are very foolish terms to accept. I signed all the agreements when I was completely infatuated with Martin, in the early stages of our relationship. I trusted him to look after my interests. He took very good care to look after his own.'

‘You've investigated the possibilities of withdrawal?'

‘Indeed I have. The latest occasion was only last month. The lawyers tut-tutted and told me as lawyers delight in doing that I should never have signed such documents without their expert advice. The legal expertise was all Martin's; the stupidity in trusting him to safeguard my interests was all mine. That left me in a situation where I couldn't afford to take on a legal case with no guarantee of success and with Martin able to employ the best lawyers. It was his habit to ensure that he had the big artillery on his side. He was usually at pains to let his opponents know that.'

Lambert let her bitterness hang in the quiet, low-ceilinged room like a tangible thing, making sure that all three of them appreciated the strength of her motive to murder. It was Hook who eventually looked up from his notes and reminded her, ‘You said there were two reasons why you had continued to work with Martin Beaumont. What was the second one, Miss North?'

Vanda measured her reply carefully. It was important to her that she should convince them of this. ‘I do not think I am without ability, but I have no formal qualifications to speak of, other than a secretarial diploma acquired a long time ago in another life.' She was silent for a moment, as if contemplating the person she had been in those vanished years. ‘I have enjoyed developing the residential wing at Abbey Vineyards. I think I have a skill in recognizing what the people who stay with us want and how much they are prepared to pay for it. I enjoy managing the staff involved, who are even more vital to success in residential work than in other fields, and I think they are happy with the way I handle things. To use a phrase that now seems to be overworked, I have job satisfaction. I also have a generous salary, which I could certainly not command if I moved away from the company. So long as he remained in control of things, Martin always recognized efficiency and was prepared to pay for it. I think the other senior staff at Abbey Vineyards would agree with that.'

Hook nodded, then without any change in his quiet tone, asked, ‘Where were you last Wednesday night. Miss North?'

She smiled as she set her cup and saucer back on the tray, as if it were important to show them how unruffled she was at this key point. ‘I expected you to ask that, of course I did. I am not the only one with a motive, but I clearly stand to gain by having Martin out of the way. There would be a better chance of withdrawing my stake in the firm, if I wished to. The irony is that with Martin off the scene I may not wish to do that.' She looked from Hook's reassuringly ordinary face into the intense grey eyes of Lambert. ‘The answer to your question is embarrassing. No, not embarrassing – I'll change that to surprising. I was with Jane Beaumont. The woman I had gravely wronged during the years when I was Martin's mistress.'

If she had expected amazement, she was disappointed. Hook's expression changed not a muscle as he made a careful note of the fact in his round, surprisingly swift hand. Lambert's eyebrows lifted the merest fraction before he said, ‘I take it, then, that the two of you are now friends.'

She weighed the word with a small smile, her face softening a little with the thought. ‘We are. If you think that an unlikely situation, I can only say that a month ago the notion would have surprised me too.'