‘Of course you do, sir.’
Penrose smiled. It was a relief to talk to someone who could not only help, but who also understood the pressure that he was under, and he felt better simply for giving the instructions. ‘I’m going to call the local force down here now and get reinforcements over to the Mount as soon as possible, together with some forensic help. I’ll also try to track down Hartley’s sister-in-law and break the news – she might be able to tell me something useful – but I want any information as soon as you have it. If the line is engaged, just keep trying – there’s only one bloody telephone here.’
Fallowfield rang off, and Penrose noticed Jonathan’s fiancée waiting to speak to him. ‘Can I help you, Miss …’
‘Carter. Violet Carter. I can see you’re busy, so I won’t keep you, but I just had to ask if what you said to Johnny about last night being too late to help was right, or if you were just being kind?’
‘No, I wasn’t being kind. We’ll have to wait for an expert to confirm a more precise time of death, but I’m as sure as I can be that Mrs Soper died much earlier in the day.’
‘Thank God,’ she said, looking relieved. ‘It was me that held us up, you see. Johnny would have been hell-bent on getting there last night, but I talked him into booking us in here. We didn’t always get on, me and his mother, so I wasn’t in a hurry to get over there. Now I feel awful about it, but you know what it’s like. Families at Christmas …’
He smiled. ‘How well did you know Mrs Soper?’
‘Not very well at all. We’d only met a couple of times, but that was enough to remind me that no girl will ever be good enough for a boy’s mother.’ She shrugged. ‘It wasn’t personal, but Johnny meant the world to her. He wasn’t as close to his father – always said his dad never really wanted to take him in.’
‘Take him in?’
‘Yes. Johnny was farmed out when he was a baby.’
‘And his real family?’
‘He doesn’t know, and he’s never wanted to. I’d be curious, but perhaps that’s a woman’s thing. He’s not bothered.’
‘Do you know Mrs Soper’s maiden name?’ Penrose asked, wondering if it had been an informal adoption within the family or something more official.
‘No, sorry.’ She glanced back to the bar, where her fiancé was sitting silently with Trannack and Mathews. ‘He wants to go back to the Mount with you. Will that be all right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘They look after each other over there, don’t they?’ she said, and he couldn’t tell from her tone if she meant it as a blessing or a curse. ‘What an awful thing to happen. I bet that other woman’s pleased she missed it now.’ She noticed his bemused expression, and added: ‘One of the guests who was booked in at the Mount. She was here last night when we arrived.’
‘Mrs Carmichael?’ Penrose asked, remembering Hilaria’s missing guest.
‘I don’t remember her name, but she signed in just before we did. She said she was here as a surprise for someone.’
That was strange, Penrose thought; Hilaria hadn’t said anything about a surprise. He wondered which guest the late arrival was connected with, and looked round for the hotelier to see if there was any information he could add, but he was far too busy in the dining room with a Christmas pudding and a bottle of brandy. Violet thanked him again and returned to the bar, and Penrose went back to the telephone but it rang before he got there. ‘What have you got for me, Bill?’ he demanded, much to the surprise of the woman on the other end who was calling about a last-minute room for the night. ‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to call back later,’ he said, replacing the receiver. It rang again immediately. ‘We’re fully booked,’ he barked down the telephone.
‘Moonlighting again, sir?’
‘Bill, thank goodness. Anything useful?’
‘I tracked Dick Robertson down over his Christmas dinner,’ Bill said, and Penrose recognised the animated tone of voice that the sergeant always used when he had something important to report. ‘I thought you’d want to hear this straight away.’
‘Go on. Have you got a description?’
‘I have, but I don’t think you’ll need it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because whatever your bloke looks like, I’m sure he doesn’t answer to the name of Alexandra.’
‘Alexandra?’
‘That’s right, sir. Alex Fielding – the one who works for The Times, at any rate – is a woman.’
Penrose was quiet for a moment, trying to take in the news. ‘So where is she?’ he said, as much to himself as to Bill. He looked at the man who called himself Fielding, now sitting with the rest of the islanders and engrossed in conversation. ‘And who the hell is he?’
‘I can’t help you on the second one, but I’ve got Miss Fielding’s address. It’s in Southwark. Do you want me to send someone round to have a look while I carry on here?’
‘No. Give the phone calls to someone else and go yourself. I need every scrap of help from that house, and you’re the best pair of eyes I know. What do we know about her?’
‘Young, ambitious and very talented, apparently. She’s put a few people’s backs up to get where she is, and she doesn’t always play by the rules.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘The first thing Robertson said when he knew who I was calling about was “What’s she done now?”‘
‘But as far as he was concerned, she was at St Michael’s Mount? There wasn’t a last-minute change of plan?’
‘No. Miss Fielding had a train ticket for Thursday, but he hasn’t heard from her since she left the office late on Tuesday night. She was supposed to telephone him on Christmas Eve with an update, but he wasn’t surprised that she didn’t. He told me that she pretty much pleases herself once she’s on a job, and he puts up with it because she’s good enough to get away with it. As tough as any of the boys, apparently.’
‘What about her personal life?’
‘That was interesting. Robertson said he knows nothing about her at all, even though he’s been her editor for five years. He’s asked to be kept informed – in confidence, obviously.’
‘All right, thanks. And you say he’s at home?’
‘That’s right, sir, and he’ll be there all day. I’ve told him you might want to speak to him.’
Penrose took down the number. ‘Good. You’d better get going, Bill, while I decide what to do. If I leave it too long, we won’t be able to get back across to the Mount, but I’d rather not take Fielding back there until I’ve heard from you. Telephone me here as soon as there’s some news.’
8
Their house felt safe after the confusion of the day, but Nora knew it couldn’t last. For now, though, she let Tom fuss around her without criticism, using the wrong tea and forgetting to warm the pot – all the things that usually drove her to distraction, but which suddenly felt like the small acts of love that might just save her. She watched him in silence, afraid to open her mouth in case she said something that destroyed the closeness between them. Now that she had had the peace and time to think about it, she knew what he had done for her in Emily’s house: nothing else made sense.