‘We’ve just had months and months of trouble and anxiety over Olympia and Nolan, we’ve had the TV people and reporters in droves, driving us mad with their questions, we’re only just beginning to feel free of it all... and I can’t bear it... I can’t bear it... it’s
I borrowed the Land Rover and at Doone’s request led him down to the village and into Harry and Fiona’s drive. I was surprised that he still wanted me with him and said so, and he explained a little solemnly that he found people felt less
‘Don’t you want them to feel threatened?’ I asked. ‘Many policemen seem to like it that way.’
‘I’m not many policemen.’ He seemed uninsulted. ‘I work in my own way, sir, and if sometimes it’s not how my colleagues work then I get my results all the same and it’s the results that count in the end. It may not be the best way to the highest promotion,’ he smiled briefly, ‘but I do tend to solve things, I assure you.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Chief Inspector,’ I said.
‘I have three daughters,’ he said, sighing, ‘and I don’t like cases like this one.’
We were standing in the drive looking at the noble facade of a fine Georgian manor.
‘Never make assumptions,’ he said absent-mindedly, as if giving me advice. ‘You know the two most pathetic words a policeman can utter when his case falls apart around him?’
I shook my head.
‘I assumed,’ he said.
‘I’ll remember.’
He looked at me calmly in his unthreatening way and said it was time to trouble the Goodhavens.
As it happened, only Fiona was there, coming to the kitchen door in a dark blue tailored suit with a white silk blouse, gold chains, high-heeled black shoes and an air of rush. She smiled apologetically when she saw me.
‘John,’ she said. ‘What can I do for you? I’m going out to lunch. Can you make it quick?’
‘Er...’ I said, ‘this is Detective Chief Inspector Doone, Thames Valley Police. And Constable Rich.’
‘Policemen?’ she asked, puzzled; and then in terrible flooding anxiety, ‘Nothing’s happened to Harry?’
‘No, no. Nothing. It’s not about Harry. Well, not exactly. It’s about Angela Brickell. They’ve found her.’
‘
Doone was very adroit, I thought, at letting silence itself break the bad news.
‘Oh my dear,’ Fiona said, after a few quiet revelationary seconds, ‘is she dead?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so, madam.’ Doone nodded. ‘I need to ask you a few questions.’
‘Oh, but...’ She looked at her watch. ‘Can’t it wait? It’s not just a lunch, I’m the guest of honour.’
We were still standing on the doorstep. Doone without arguing produced the photograph and asked Fiona to identify the man, if she could.
‘Of course. It’s Harry, my husband. And that’s my horse, Chickweed. Where did you get this?’
‘From the young woman’s handbag.’
Fiona’s face was full of kindness and regret. ‘She loved Chickweed,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I could come back when your husband’s at home?’ Doone suggested.
Fiona was relieved. ‘Oh, yes, do that. After five tonight or tomorrow morning. He’ll be here until about... um... eleven, I should think, tomorrow. Bye, John.’
She hurried back into the house, leaving the door open, and presently, from beside our own cars, we saw her come out, lock the back door, hide the key under the stone (Tut, tut, Doone said disapprovingly) and drive away in a neat BMW, her blond hair shining, cheerful hand waving goodbye.
‘If you had to describe her in one word,’ Doone said to me, ‘what would it be?’
‘Staunch,’ I said.
‘That was quick.’
‘That’s what she is. Steadfast, I’d say.’
‘Have you known her long?’
‘Ten days, like the others.’
‘Mm.’ He pondered. ‘I won’t have ten days, not living in their community, like you do. I might ask you again what people here are really like. People sometimes don’t act natural when they’re with policemen.’
‘Fiona did. Surely everyone did who you’ve met this morning?’
‘Oh yes. But there’s some I haven’t met. And there are loyalties... I read the transcript of part of that trial before I came here. Loyalty is strong here, wouldn’t you agree? Staunch, steadfast loyalty, wouldn’t you say?’
Doone might look grey, I thought, and his chatty almost sing-song Berkshire voice might be disarming, but there was a cunningly intelligent observer behind the waffle, and I did suddenly believe, as I hadn’t entirely before, that usually he solved his cases.
He said he would like to speak to all the other stable girls before they heard the news from anyone else, and o the men, but the women first.
I took Doone and Rich to the house in the village which I knew the girls called their hostel, though I’d never been in it. It was a small modern house in a cul-de-sac, bought cheaply before it was built, Tremayne had told me, and appreciating nicely with the years. I explained to Doone that I didn’t know all the girls’ names: I saw them only at morning exercise and sometimes at evening stables.
