There was a pub, the Fox and Duck, on the other side of the Petersham Road and after they left The Stables, Hawthorne and Dudley walked over there and found a table outside for a late lunch. The two of them had met very early that morning and had travelled to Richmond together. Neither of them had had time to eat. Dudley ordered a pie and chips with a glass of lemonade and didn’t seem aware of Hawthorne watching him over a black coffee and a cigarette. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, until the food had been served. Then Hawthorne leaned forward.
‘Thoughts?’ he asked.
‘Not a bad pie,’ Dudley replied.
‘That’s not what I meant, mate.’
‘Well, of course, they’re all lying . . . the whole lot of them. I agree with you that Lynda Kenworthy was shagging the French teacher. Roderick Browne is in meltdown either because he committed the murder or because he knows who did. The wicked witch with the silver jewellery thinks her husband did it, and she’s certainly talked about killing Giles Kenworthy at some time, even if she wasn’t being completely serious. And I wouldn’t have thought anything happens in Riverview Close without Adam Strauss and his wife knowing about it. I hated that bloody chess set, by the way, but then I never much liked
Hawthorne examined his assistant with both curiosity and concern. ‘So, how are things going with you?’ he asked.
‘I’m all right.’
‘How’s the flat working out?’
‘It’s great. I’m very grateful to you.’ Dudley paused. ‘How much longer am I going to be able to live there?’
Hawthorne shrugged. ‘As long as you like.’
‘And rent-free? How does that work?’
‘The people who own it aren’t short of cash.’
‘Well, it’s very handy. And if I ever need a cup of sugar, I know where to go.’
‘I don’t have any sugar.’
‘I was talking about the Waitrose round the corner.’
Dudley continued to eat, almost mechanically. There could have been anything on his plate. Hawthorne finished his cigarette. He was very rarely ill at ease, but he hesitated before asking: ‘Are you still seeing Suzmann?’
Dudley stopped, the fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Now and then,’ he said.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Do you mind me asking?’
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’ Dudley put down his knife and fork, making sure they were parallel on the plate. ‘It’s been a year now since it happened. Bristol courthouse and all the rest of it. But I’ve got things under control, largely thanks to Dr Suzmann. And thanks to you, Danny. I like doing this job and I’m grateful to you. I’m getting things together in my own way, one day at a time. All the rest of it’s behind me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave it alone.’
‘I only asked,’ Hawthorne said, stubbing out his cigarette.
‘I appreciate it.’
‘So what do you suggest we do next?’
‘It would be nice to get hold of the barrister – Pennington. He arranged the big get-together everyone’s been talking about. And there was something about his flowers getting trashed.’
‘And Sarah Baines.’
‘Oh yeah. The gardener.’ Dudley took out his notebook and turned to a page. ‘Accused of theft and some sort of financial espionage. She had access to Roderick Browne’s house and she was in and out all the time. She’s also sending text messages to Mr Browne and it may have been her who threw that poor bloody dog down the well.’ Dudley snapped the book shut. ‘Yes. I’d definitely like to speak to her.’
There was a single policeman standing guard at the entrance to Riverview Close, keeping away any sightseers, but otherwise the whole place was eerily empty by mid-afternoon, when Hawthorne and Dudley returned. All the investigating officers, including Khan, had disappeared, as if, just a couple of days after a particularly violent and unusual murder, they had decided there was nothing more for them to do.
‘Have they made any arrests?’ Hawthorne asked the young constable – who at least knew who he was.
‘No, sir. Not that I heard.’
They walked through, into the close.
‘You think they’ve pulled Roderick Browne in?’ Dudley asked.
Hawthorne nodded. Dudley could have been reading his mind. ‘I’m not sure he murdered Giles Kenworthy – although he did his best to convince us otherwise. But I don’t think DS Khan will be able to resist it. Pull him in. Give him a night in police custody. Hope to terrify him enough into talking.’
The door of Well House was the first they came to and Dudley rang the bell. It was opened by Andrew Pennington, who seemed to know exactly who they were and had been expecting them. ‘Adam called me after you spoke to him,’ he explained. ‘He said you might want to speak to me.’ He leaned out and looked around the close. ‘It looks as if everyone else is out.’
‘Do you talk to each other a lot?’ Dudley asked.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You and Mr Strauss. It seems to me that the whole lot of you are pretty tight. You keep each other informed of what’s going on.’
