Unfinished Portrait (23 page)

‘I wish I knew, Mum,' Rona replied.

Lindsey, however, on a more positive note, suggested they meet for lunch, an arrangement Rona was only too glad to accept.

Meanwhile, her planned routine for the day had gone by the board. Though she forced herself to sit at her desk with the brochures spread before her, she found herself reading the same sentences over and over while she waited for the next hourly update. But the only new fact that emerged during the morning was that the attack was believed to have occurred during a burglary.

But what about the alarm system? Rona thought – and immediately answered herself. When someone was in the house, it was switched off. Had the burglar known that? And since Elspeth had been absent for eighteen months, why had he chosen this particular time to break in?

Before leaving to meet Lindsey, she switched on Channel 4 midday news, waiting impatiently as world events were reported, before, to her horror, finding herself gazing at Elspeth's house, a yellow police tape stretched across the gateway and men in white coats going up and down the path. It was several seconds before she could take in what the reporter was saying.

‘— a broken pane in the back door, and though it's not yet been established if anything is missing, there are indications of a hurried search, possibly interrupted by the victim.'

But that's not right, Rona thought; the victim, whoever she was, must have already been in the house, or the alarm would have been on. Unless, on this one, fatal occasion, someone had forgotten to reset it.

Numbly, she switched off the set and went to meet her sister.

‘We're not going to talk about it,' Lindsey said firmly, as they sat down. ‘If I know you, you've been worrying yourself to death all morning and getting precisely nowhere. So, the subject of Elspeth, her house and everything else relating to her is categorically banned for the duration of the meal. And to make doubly sure, please switch off your mobile. OK?'

Rona smiled weakly and complied.

‘So once we've ordered, I'm going to give you a room-by-room description of the flat. It really is something, Ro. The girls have done a fantastic job.'

Lindsey was as good as her word, and Rona, still on edge, was grateful for the respite. They were at the Bacchus, and the rather dim atmosphere, the muted conversation from neighbouring booths, and, not least, the red wine in her glass, gradually combined to steady her.

‘So,' Lindsey said, as she ended her virtual tour of the flat, ‘the question is, when are you coming to see it for yourself?'

‘When we're asked!' Rona replied, with the ghost of a smile.

‘How about Saturday, then? Are you free?'

‘Yes, I . . . think so.'

‘Excellent. I know for a fact Dominic's not going abroad for a couple of weeks, so at long last we can have that meeting we've been talking about.' She paused, adding uncertainly, ‘I do hope Max likes him.'

Rona laid an impulsive hand on hers. ‘I'm sure he will.'

‘Are you? They're not at all alike, you know.'

‘Don't forget I've met Dominic, albeit very briefly, and I'm quite sure they'll get on fine.'

Lindsey smiled. ‘Good! Then all I have to do is plan a menu I can wow you all with!'

When Lindsey returned to her office, Rona found, to her surprise, that rather than being anxious to hurry home for the latest news, she was now reluctant to do so, and opted to defer hearing any developments by taking Gus for an extended walk round the park. By the time they'd completed the circuit and he'd had his free run on the upper slopes, the afternoon had grown chill, and there was a hint of mist in the distance, reminding Rona they were halfway through November. Soon, they'd have to start thinking about Christmas.

When she could delay her return no longer and a blueness was beginning to seep into the atmosphere, she called the dog, refastened his lead and set off for home. It was nearly four thirty. What had been reported in her absence? Had the name of the victim been released? She gave a little shudder, thankful that Max would be back in an hour or two.

She was hanging her jacket in the hall when the phone started to ring. Tess? Gwen?

She caught it up, and a strained voice said, ‘Rona? Is that you?'

‘
Naomi
!' Rona felt her eyes fill with tears of relief.

‘Obviously you've heard the news?'

‘I . . . thought it might have been you,' Rona said.

‘Oh, my dear, how thoughtless of me! I should have got on to you sooner. No, it was Mary Strong, poor woman.'

‘
Mary?
' For some reason, Rona had never considered her. Yet why not? Yesterday was Tuesday, after all – Mary's day for the cottage. On Tuesday last week . . .‘What happened, do you know?'

‘Not really. It was the annual dinner at Bill's men's club, and he went there straight from work, so it wasn't till he got home about ten that anyone realized she was missing.'

So while she'd been happily relaxing with Barnie and Dinah, Mary had been lying in the empty house, dying or already dead.

Blocking the thought, Rona said quickly, ‘And it happened in the morning, while she was there working?'

‘It must have done; they won't know the exact time till the post mortem, but between nine and twelve.'

‘Surely it's unusual for burglary to take place in daylight?'

‘Yes; but I suppose whoever it was knew the house was empty. Or should have been.'

‘You mean they knew it was Elspeth's house?'

‘The police seem to think so, but then that's no secret; half of Buckford knows it.' Naomi paused. ‘She was lying at the bottom of the stairs, with her head bashed in.'

‘And it was her husband who found her?' Rona asked, horrified.

‘Bill
and
Lionel, actually. He phoned us in quite a state, saying she wasn't home and hadn't left a note or anything to say where she was. He wondered if she'd been taken ill at the cottage, and asked if he could borrow a key. Of course, Leonard went with him, thank God. The poor man collapsed when he saw her.'

Rona swallowed. ‘And there's no clue as to who it could have been?'

‘No. The police think he must have broken in while Mary was dusting upstairs. She'd have heard the glass smash, and come down to investigate.' Naomi's voice wavered. ‘And if that
was
the case, he didn't panic and run off after killing her, as you'd expect; he searched the bureau in the sitting room, then went upstairs, no doubt stepping over her, and riffled his way through Elspeth's drawers. They were all lying on the carpet, their contents scattered around them. God knows what he was after, but as far as I could tell, nothing was taken.'

Rona pictured the pleasant room she'd stood in only the week before, feeling the essence of its owner. Now, it was marred for her for ever.

‘I've not seen Mary myself for some time,' Naomi was saying. ‘I suppose she didn't say anything that could throw any light on this? About seeing anyone hanging around, or anything?'

Rona shook her head, realized Naomi couldn't see her, and said, ‘No, nothing. She didn't seem the fanciful type, though. I doubt if it would have entered her head that anything like this could happen. After all, you say she's been going in once a week for the last eighteen months.'

‘Exactly,' Naomi said expressionlessly. ‘I can't help wondering, why now?'

Bracing herself, Rona put into words the thought that had been haunting her all day. ‘I hope to God it was nothing to do with the biography.'

‘Oh, I didn't mean that! And I don't see how it could have been; it's not as though it's been announced publicly. Very few people know about it – only family, really.'

There was some small comfort in that. ‘Perhaps it'll bring Elspeth home?' Rona mused. Then bit her lip, adding hastily, ‘Since it's been on the national news, I mean.'

‘If she's still alive herself,' Naomi said. ‘After all this time, I'm beginning to wonder.'

Rona closed her eyes on a wave of almost unbearable frustration. Should she say something? At least it would be easier than telling Elspeth's parents. But perhaps this latest development would encourage Richard to make a clean breast of it; she should at least give him the chance to do so.

Almost as though reading her thoughts, Naomi said, ‘I must go; I promised to visit my parents; obviously, this has shaken them pretty badly. But if you remember anything Mary said, however vague or seemingly unimportant, do please let either me or the police know about it.'

‘I will,' Rona promised, and, as Naomi rang off, put down the phone. No messages waiting for her, she noted. Then, with a start, remembered she'd not switched on her mobile after lunch.

She retrieved it from her bag and did so, and immediately the red light lit up. Two missed calls, one from Tess and one from Gwen Saunders, both, no doubt, returning the calls she'd made earlier. She tried Gwen first.

‘Ms Saunders? It's Rona Parish. I'm sorry I missed your call.'

‘I can imagine why you were phoning, Ms Parish.' The usually efficient voice sounded strained. ‘This has been a great shock to us all.'

‘I'm sure. I've just been speaking to Mrs Harris.'

‘Then you'll know we haven't much information as yet.'

A sudden thought struck Rona. ‘Did the intruder, whoever he was, break into the studio as well?'

‘No; the thinking seems to be that either he was anxious to get away, or, alternatively, he didn't know it existed. Obviously he went round the back, since he broke into the kitchen, but he mightn't even have registered the studio. At a casual glance, it just looks like an outbuilding.'

‘I suppose we can be thankful for that.'

‘It didn't help Mary Strong, though.'

‘No.'

‘I believe you met her last week?'

‘Yes, I did. She was . . . very helpful.' Rona took a deep breath. ‘Ms Saunders, can I ask you something?'

‘Of course.' The voice sounded cautious.

‘Have you been in touch with Miss Wilding since she left?'

There was a long silence. Then: ‘Why are you asking me that?'

‘Because I rather think you might have been. I . . . shan't repeat anything you tell me, you have my word.'

A pause, while Rona held her breath. ‘Then the answer is yes, there has been occasional contact between us.'

Bingo! ‘Do you know where she is?'

‘No. And that's the truth.'

‘Then how do you contact her?'

‘It's she who contacts me, by telephone. But there have been a couple of times when she wanted something forwarding, and then I sent them to a post box in London.'

‘London?' That wasn't what Rona had expected.

‘You sound surprised.'

She backtracked, anxious not to betray Richard. ‘Not really. Has she given any hint as to when she's coming back?'

‘Nothing definite, but I've a feeling it won't be long now. Actually—' The woman broke off.

‘Yes?'

‘She . . . telephoned me this morning. About Mrs Strong. She was very upset, as you might imagine, and wondered if I had any further details. Sadly, I didn't.'

So Elspeth had been in contact this very day! Rona felt a wave of excitement.

‘She's still very anxious to keep it from the family,' Gwen Saunders continued. ‘I do have your word?'

‘Yes, of course, but thank you for confiding in me.'

‘To be honest, it's been rather a burden, this knowledge, when Mrs Harris and the others are so concerned about her. But she was adamant I shouldn't tell them.'

Rona said carefully, ‘Do you know if she's been in touch with anyone else?'

‘Her dealer, I believe, from time to time. About the new collection she's building up.'

So Elspeth's ‘disappearance' hadn't been as total as she'd supposed. It seemed the blackout had been restricted to her parents and sister. Rona wasn't sure if that said more about them or about Elspeth herself.

She ended the conversation with Gwen, and phoned Tess.

‘This is your friendly neighbourhood reporter,' said Tess's cheerful voice. ‘Hi, Rona. Don't tell me you're involved in this Buckford murder?'

‘Hello, Tess. No, not really, though I did meet the victim last week.'

Tess gave a low whistle. ‘You really are the kiss of death, aren't you?'

‘Don't say that!' Rona said sharply.

‘Sorree! Joke!'

‘Well, it wasn't funny.'

‘No, it probably wasn't, in the circumstances. So how come you met her?'

‘I'm writing a bio of Elspeth Wilding.'

‘Ah, the reclusive artist. Have you met her, too?'

‘No. Look, Tess, I was just wondering if you know any more than has been reported in the media?'

‘I
am
the media!' Tess pointed out.

‘Yes, but you know what I mean.'

‘All I can tell you is that the murder weapon is thought to have been a hammer, but whether he'd intended it as such, or brought it to smash the window and the padlock on the gate, is open to debate. It doesn't make much difference to the victim, but my guess is he'd thought the house would be empty and was taken by surprise.

‘This woman was the cleaner, right?' Tess added, when Rona remained silent.

‘Right. She . . . showed me over the house, so I could get the atmosphere.'

‘Bet it's changed a bit!'