Ann Cleeves - Killjoy

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said impatiently. ‘ Of course she’s up to it. It’s a group piece. She won’t be on her own. Besides, shouldn’t you ask her, before making up her mind for her?’

‘Yes,’ Prue said. ‘I suppose I should.’

But Gus had walked away without waiting for an answer and she was left in the theatre alone. She shivered with a sudden panic and was tempted for a moment to phone Stephen Ramsay. But what would she tell him? That she was concerned by her boss’s reaction to the news of Amelia Wood’s murder, that he seemed under some psychological strain? The call might give her fears more weight than they deserved. It might even give the impression that she saw Gus Lynch as a murderer.

She was still in the theatre when Ramsay arrived at the Grace Darling. He left Ellen Paston in the lobby and went to look for Prue, wanting to get the most awkward interview over first. She heard the door bang and watched him walk across the polished wood floor to join her. In the unnatural light of the theatre she saw him as a stranger and wondered even if she would have recognized him that first evening if he had not given his name.

‘I’m sorry for the intrusion,’ Ramsay said. ‘ You’ll have heard about Mrs Wood?’

She nodded. She was wearing the jeans and sweater of the night before and her face was tense and strained. He wanted to comfort her and to make her smile.

‘I’m afraid I have to ask you some questions about your movements yesterday evening,’ he said.

She did not answer.

‘What did you do after I left?’

‘I went to see a friend,’ she said. ‘Anna wasn’t very good company and I needed someone to talk to.’

‘I’ll need the name of the friend,’ Ramsay said apologetically. ‘You do realize we’ll have to check.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘ Of course. Her name’s Judy, Judy Delaney. She’s a solicitor. She lives in a flat just round the corner from me.’

‘You won’t mind if someone goes to speak to her?’

‘Not at all. She’ll love the drama. She’s quite a character, great fun.’ She paused. ‘I needed fun,’ she said. ‘Last night.’

‘Was Anna left in the house on her own?’ Ramsay asked.

‘Of course. She’s not a child. I tried to persuade her to come with me to Judy’s but she said she wanted to be on her own. In fact she practically begged me to go out. She had a bath and went to bed early. When I got back she was already asleep.’

‘Did you take your car to visit your friend?’

‘No. I’ve told you. It was just around the corner. Otterbridge isn’t New York.’

‘Does Anna drive?’

She looked at him, horrified. ‘What are you saying?’ she demanded. ‘That Anna drove my car to Martin’s Dene and strangled Amelia Wood? You must be mad!’

‘I have to ask,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘I don’t like it any more than you do.’

‘She hasn’t passed her test,’ Prue said angrily.

‘But she has taken lessons? It would be possible for her to drive your car?’

‘Yes,’ she said reluctantly. ‘She only failed her test last time because of nerves. But it’s impossible. She wouldn’t do it. What motive could she have?’

‘None,’ he said. ‘ Probably none. But you do understand that it’s my job to ask?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘But it’s a shitty sort of job.’

They stood in silence, staring at each other. The hostility made her feel closer to him than she had in all their previous polite exchanges. There was an emotional charge between them. She wondered again whether she should pass on her anxieties about Gus Lynch but before she could make up her mind to speak Ramsay had apologized again for taking up her time and walked away.

When Ramsay knocked at Lynch’s office door the man was on the telephone. He shouted for the policeman to come in then, with his hand over the receiver said: ‘ Sit down, Inspector. This’ll not take a minute.’

‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Lynch spoke in a brisk, business like way into the phone, but his eyes flickered wildly about the room. ‘I’m busy now. I’ll call you later.’ He replaced the hand set and focused his gaze on the policeman. ‘I suppose this is about Mrs Wood?’

Ramsay nodded.

‘How can I help you, Inspector? I can’t give you much time. I’m very busy today.’

‘When did you last see Mrs Wood?’

‘On Monday evening. Just before Gabriella’s body was found.’ He spoke as if Ramsay was a fool.

‘She hadn’t been in touch since then?’

‘No. Why should she?’

‘I’ll need an account of your movements yesterday evening,’ Ramsay said.

‘Good God, man!’ Lynch said with an unpleasant laugh. ‘You know where I was. Your sergeant came to see me.’

‘Hunter arrived at your house at five o’clock and left at about half past,’ Ramsay said calmly. ‘I’d like some details of your movements after that please.’

‘There were no movements,’ Lynch said. ‘ How could there be? You’ve still got my car.’

‘But I understand from my sergeant that you had gone out earlier by foot.’

‘Oh that!’ Lynch said. ‘That was just to get some fresh air. I was only gone ten minutes. I didn’t go out again.’

‘Can anyone corroborate that?’ Ramsay asked quietly.

‘Of course not. I was in the flat on my own.’

‘Did you receive any phone calls, for example?’

‘No,’ Lynch said. ‘No.’

He got to his feet as if he expected the interview to be over, but Ramsay remained seated and he returned awkwardly to his chair.

‘I’d like you to tell me about your business dealings with Mr Wood.’ Ramsay said.

‘I have no business dealings with him.’

‘I understood that you’d bought your flat from his company.’

‘Oh. Yes, of course. But that was a very straightforward transaction.’

‘You never met him since then?’

‘I don’t think I even met him at the time,’ Lynch said. ‘One of his staff showed me around the property and all the negotiations were done through our solicitors or by post.’

‘They were lengthy negotiations? You questioned the asking price?’

‘Of course. Doesn’t everyone when they’re buying property? Look, Inspector, I don’t mean to be rude but I don’t understand what this has to do with Mrs Wood’s murder.’

No, Ramsay thought. Nor do I. But he knew Lynch was anxious about something and wished he knew what lay behind the fear.

‘Just routine enquiries,’ he said. Blundering around in the dark, he thought.

John Powell left Hallowgate Central Library and walked through the empty streets towards the square. At the Grace Darling he stopped and went into the lobby to use the pay phone there. Joe Fenwick looked up from his desk and stared at him.

‘It is all right to use the phone?’

‘Oh, aye,’ the man said. ‘That’s all right.’ But still he was staring and John turned his back to him and spoke softly so he wouldn’t be overheard. He dialled the Starling Farm Community Centre and asked to speak to Connor.

‘Are you on for tonight?’ he asked.

‘No.’ Connor’s voice was guarded. ‘Not tonight.’

‘Why? Is there a problem?’

‘You could say that,’ Connor said. ‘Haven’t you heard the news?’

‘What news?’

‘It’s our friend Mrs Amelia Wood. She was found dead this morning on St Martin’s Hill. She’d been strangled.’

‘I don’t see,’ John said, ‘what that’s got to do with us.’

‘No?’ Connor said shortly. ‘Think about it.’

Prue Bennett left work early, irritated by Gus Lynch and anxious about Anna. She knew that in Otterbridge her daughter should be safe but she could not relax while she thought of her in the house on her own. When she arrived home she saw that Anna was already there. Her coat was hanging over the bannister in the hall and music came from her room.