Хилари Боннер - Wheel of Fire

Vogel stepped back again. This time the door opened.

A small bird-like woman stood in the doorway. Vogel thought she was probably in her early forties, about the same age as her husband, but she looked older. Her hair was grey and unkempt. Vogel reflected obliquely on how unusual it had become for women to allow their hair to go naturally grey, even when they were in their seventies and eighties. His Mary was not a vain woman, nor in any way preoccupied with physical appearance, but she had immediately chosen to have her hair highlighted as soon as the first streaks of grey began to show in her natural light brown.

Janice Grey’s opening remark was not promising.

‘I can’t help you,’ she said, standing full square in the middle of the doorway, her body language making it quite clear she had no intention of inviting the two officers in. Vogel thought she looked as if she may have been crying. Which he supposed was not surprising. In spite of that, and her small stature, she was clearly no pushover.

‘I don’t know where my George is,’ Janice Grey continued. ‘I have no idea why he walked out of hospital or where he’s gone to. So, it’s no good asking me. I didn’t know nothing about it until this woman copper from Taunton phoned me. I told her that then, and now I am telling you.’

She made a move to shut the front door. Vogel stepped forward and thrust his foot in the doorjamb. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that, and found he rather enjoyed it.

He pushed against the door forcing Janice Grey back into the hall.

‘We need to come in, Mrs Grey,’ said Vogel authoritatively, stepping forward as he spoke.

With an air of resignation, the woman made way for him and Saslow to enter, and led them into the sitting room. It was a predominantly pink room, and chintzy, the soft furnishings and the floral curtains distinctly cottagey in style. Vogel wondered whether the Greys had been responsible for the décor, or the Kivels. He somehow suspected the latter. Nonetheless the place remained well cared for. Everything was neat and tidy. The restful, homely atmosphere thus created at once seemed incongruous considering the recent events at Blackdown Manor; which included arson leading to two violent deaths, a possible invasion of armed intruders, and now the disappearance of the principal witness who was also the prime suspect.

‘Look, Mrs Grey,’ Vogel began. ‘What I would like to know from you first, before we move on to the events of the last twenty-four hours, is how you and your husband came to be in the employment of Sir John Fairbrother in the first place?’

The woman sat down abruptly on an upright chair by the fireplace. She did not ask Saslow and Vogel to sit. Saslow did so anyway, perching herself on the edge of the chintzy sofa. Vogel kept standing. If he had sat on any other of the available chairs in the room he would have found himself at a lower level than Janice Grey. And Vogel would never allow that. When he was working, and particularly when conducting something as serious as a murder inquiry, Vogel was always conscious of the necessity of preventing almost anyone he encountered from taking even the hint of psychological advantage — and of never inadvertently putting himself at a disadvantage.

‘George arranged everything, I don’t know nothing about it,’ Janice Grey replied.

‘Oh, come on, Mrs Grey, I don’t believe that,’ persisted Vogel. ‘You don’t seem to me to be the sort of woman who would meekly uproot herself and move halfways across the country on the say so of her husband. Or any man, come to that. You and George are Londoners, city people. Not likely candidates at all. Leaving aside any other considerations, how did you both get this job?’

‘We applied for it,’ said Mrs Grey abruptly.

‘I think I need a little more detail than that,’ said Vogel. ‘How did you apply for it? Did you go through an agency?’

‘No, my Georgie saw an ad in the paper.’

‘Which paper?’

‘I dunno. The Standard I expect. He always used to get the Standard , did my Georgie.’

‘So, why did he apply for this job?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Mrs Grey, I’ll say it again, you and your husband are Londoners, through and through. What made George apply for a job which involved looking after a country house, miles from anywhere?’

Janice Grey shrugged. ‘We both wanted a change, didn’t we?’ she said.

Vogel assumed it was a rhetorical question.

‘And what on earth does your Georgie know about gardening?’ he continued.

Janice Grey shrugged again. ‘’E only has to mow the lawns, more or less. ’E ’as one of those bloody great mowers you sit on, don’t he? He likes that. Otherwise, he would just drive the boss about, not that he ever went out much, and do little jobs around the house when he could.’

She paused.

‘He’s quite handy about the house, my George you know,’ she said somewhat defensively.

I’ll bet he is, thought Vogel, particularly when it comes to breaking into them.

‘Mrs Grey, your husband has a criminal record,’ he continued. ‘Was Sir John aware of that?’

Janice Grey frowned. ‘Might ’ave known you’d get onto that,’ she muttered.

‘Well yes, Mrs Grey, obviously we are checking out everyone close to Sir John. Two people have died and now your husband appears to have gone missing. Doesn’t look very good, does it?’

‘Not to you, I don’t suppose,’ said the woman, still muttering.

‘I’m going to ask you again, Mrs Grey,’ said Vogel. ‘Was Sir John Fairbrother aware of your husband’s criminal record?’

‘I dunno,’ replied the woman, this time a tad belligerently. ‘I told you, my Georgie dealt with all that sort of stuff.’

‘All right, Mrs Grey, moving on to last night, when were you first aware that there was a fire at the manor?’

‘When Sophia called George. Woke us both up. He told me straight away, before he went over to try to help.’

‘And you just stayed here, in The Gatehouse, is that correct?’

‘Yes. Until the explosion. Frightened the life out of me, I can tell you. I went outside then, and what a terrible sight it was. That beautiful house, just a ball of fire. One of the fireman said I should get back in, so I did. And I stayed here until a policeman came and said my George had been injured and they were taking him to hospital.’

‘But that would have been more than three hours later, wasn’t it, Mrs Grey? You’ve just told us about the explosion. Weren’t you worried about your husband, when he didn’t come back?’

‘Of course I was. But there was nothing I could do.’

Vogel was considering whether or not to press Janice Grey further on her somewhat questionable account of the night’s events, when Saslow’s phone rang and she left the room to take the call.

He decided he might learn more from a more indirect line of questioning.

‘You were both in Sir John’s employ, Mrs Grey, not just your husband, is that right?’ Vogel continued, in Saslow’s absence.

‘Yes.’

‘So, what exactly were your duties?’

‘I was sort of housekeeper. We had a girl from the village come in two mornings a week to do the heavy cleaning, she wasn’t allowed in Sir John’s bedroom though, and he used to stay in his room when she was in the house. I did that, and made sure everything was how Sir John liked it. He was only living in part of the house anyway.’

‘Did you do anything else?’

‘Well, I helped look after him. Sophia was live-in, of course. I used to do shifts to relieve her, and occasionally we had an agency nurse from Exeter.’

‘You did nursing shifts? I’ve been told Sir John was suffering from Parkinson’s. Is that correct?’