Faith Martin - A Fatal Flaw

Clement felt his lips twitch.

Grace looked at Trudy a little shocked. ‘Do you think that’s possible?’

‘I think it very unlikely,’ Clement interposed firmly. ‘But Trudy has raised an interesting question. Have any of the girls dropped out?’

‘Only two so far,’ Grace said unwillingly. ‘But most seem determined to try and win. Even the girl who had to get her hair cut shorter is carrying on. It’s the prize you see – not the money so much, but the automatic entry into the Miss Oxford competition.’

‘Did Abby suspect anyone of being the prankster?’ Trudy asked abruptly.

‘No, I don’t think so. She never said anything about it to me if she did. But you should ask Vicky. She’d be the one who’d know. She and Abby were always thick as thieves. So if she’d told anyone, it would be her.’

‘Did you ever hear her mention anyone who was trying to help her out by giving her beauty tips?’ Trudy asked next.

‘No. Oh, I know she and some of the other girls tried all sorts of homemade things to try and help. Some girl said putting cucumber slices on her eyes at night was marvellous for stopping her getting bags, and that sort of thing. But nothing about making concoctions and stuff to drink!’

‘So you think it was an accident then, Miss Farley?’ Clement put in smoothly. He was watching Grace closely and sensed a tension in the girl that seemed rather out of place.

Like Trudy, he’d sensed her nerves the moment she’d walked into the room. But again, like Trudy, he’d initially put that down to her being in an unfamiliar environment. The legal and medical professions made most people feel nervous, and here, at Floyd’s Row, both of those combined. And, of course, a lot of people were uncomfortable around the trappings of death. As a coroner, he was used to people feeling unhappy in his presence.

But now he was beginning to think there was more to it than that. It seemed to him that Trudy’s friend was holding something back. And he wanted to find out, at the very least, where to start probing for that information.

‘An accident?’ Grace echoed, her mouth suddenly going a little dry. She darted a quick look at her friend sitting beside her, then looked at the coroner, and quickly away again. It was one thing to try and manipulate Trudy Loveday, Grace suddenly realised, but rather a different thing altogether to try and hoodwink a man like the one now sitting across the desk from her.

‘Well, what else could it be?’ she heard herself say, and looked down into her lap. There, surely that sounded feeble and unsure enough? Or maybe it didn’t? Maybe they’d just take the words at face value. Clement could see that Trudy was frowning. Clearly she was perplexed by her friend’s behaviour.

‘Grace, if you know anything, you need to tell us,’ Trudy said gently. She reached out and touched Grace’s hand, still resting on the handbag in her lap. ‘Even if you think it might not be important, or you don’t quite know what to make of it. Just tell us and leave it to us to sort it all out.’

Grace quickly looked down, a feeling of relief flooding over her. It was all right. She’d done it. She’d planted the necessary suspicions in their minds. Surely her part was now done? She could just sit back and wait for things to unfold as they must. And then she’d be safe.

Wouldn’t she?

She looked up at her old school friend, and took a deep breath. ‘Trudy, you will come to the theatre, won’t you? The Old Swan Theatre, you know the one, just off Walton Street? I’d feel so much happier if you’d just come and take a look around. It’s run by Mr Quayle-Jones. He used to be an actor himself, but now he owns and manages the theatre.’

‘Of course I’ll come,’ Trudy said, nobly ignoring Grace’s nervous habit of waffling. ‘But it’ll have to be one evening, when I’m not in uniform.’

‘Tonight?’ Grace said urgently. ‘There’s a rehearsal on for the evening gown section of the show. Some of the dresses are on loan from the dress shops, and Mr Quayle-Jones has even said we can have our pick of some of the costumes. You have to see the gowns sometime, Trudy, they’re sensational! Tonight won’t be all that exciting since the girls will just be going through the motions in their normal clothes. But it’ll give you a chance to meet everyone and…’ Grace trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

Trudy smiled and patted her hand. ‘I’ll be happy to come!’

‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ Grace said, making a show of glancing at her watch and then getting up. ‘I really have to go – I can’t be late back from lunch. So I’ll see you tonight then? About seven-thirty? Just go around the side entrance and knock. The doorkeeper will let you in. I’ll let him know to expect you.’

She nodded across at Clement and left, her step much lighter than when she’d entered.

Clement watched her go and wondered what, exactly, the curly-haired young lady was up to. Because he was pretty sure that she had some sort of agenda that she wasn’t sharing with Trudy Loveday.

‘Poor Grace,’ Trudy said, when her friend had left. ‘She’s got so much on her plate at the moment, with her mother being so unwell, and all this extra workload with the beauty contest. Still, if we can put her mind to rest about Abby, that’ll be one less thing for her to worry about.’

Clement nodded. ‘You two seem close?’

‘Oh yes. Well, we were once, at school, where she sort of looked out for me,’ Trudy felt compelled to add. ‘But you know how important and intense childhood friendships can be. At the time, I felt I would have died if Grace hadn’t been around.’

The coroner understood immediately that Trudy didn’t suspect her friend of anything underhanded. And it certainly hadn’t even crossed her mind that she might be playing some part in what was going on. He wondered, briefly, if he should say something to her about his suspicions, but almost instantly decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea. For one thing, he might just be wrong (although he didn’t think so!) But more importantly, he knew that if he told Trudy, she would begin to act differently around Grace, and as things stood at the moment, the more sanguine Grace Farley felt about things, the better he’d like it. She was far more likely to give herself away if she thought she was in the clear.

But he’d be watching her closely from now on, and one thing was for certain – when Trudy went to the theatre tonight, he’d be going with her.

‘So,’ Trudy said, ‘where do we start?’

‘What about the former boyfriend?’ Clement said. ‘He hardly spoke much at the inquest, and if anybody can tell us what sort of girl the victim was, it’s bound to be him.’

‘Great! Where does he work?’ Trudy enthused.

‘The council offices. He’s a clerk in the roadworks department.’

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