‘Was the witness called Paul Draper?’ asked Strike.
‘Can’t remember the name. Short boy. Vacant look. Seemed scared. Thought he was in trouble, y’know, because he’d seen the gel Cherie drivin’ Daiyu out of the farm.’
‘The people who saw the van leaving the farm
‘Well, that’ll all have been part of the Waces’ act, won’t it?’ said the colonel, frowning at Strike. ‘Probably told the gel to make sure people saw them leavin’, so they could give the witnesses hell afterwards. Pretend they weren’t behind it.’
‘You think the Waces ordered Cherie to drown her?’
‘Oh, yerse,’ said the old soldier. ‘Yerse, I do. She was worth a quarter of a million, dead. And they didn’t give up hope of gettin’ their hands on this house, either, until we’d spent more money on lawyers to shake ’em orf.’
‘Tell me about Cherie,’ said Strike.
‘Feather-brained,’ said Colonel Graves at once. ‘Blubbed a lot in the witness box. Guilty conscience. Clear as day. I don’t say the gel ackshly pushed Daiyu under. Just took her there in the dark, where they knew there was a strong current, and let nature take its course. Wouldn’t be difficult. Why were they swimmin’ at all, that time in the mornin’?’
‘Did you by any chance put O’Connor onto Cherie Gittins?’
‘Oh yerse. He tracked her down to a cousin’s house in Dulwich. “Cherie Gittins” wasn’t her real name – she was a runaway. Real name was Carine Makepeace.’
‘That,’ said Strike, making another note, ‘is extremely useful information.’
‘Goin’ t’find her?’ said the colonel.
‘If I can,’ said Strike.
‘Good,’ said Colonel Graves. ‘She got the wind up when O’Connor approached her. Took off next day and he wasn’t able to find her again – but she’s the one who really knows what happened. She’s the key.’
‘Well,’ said Strike, looking over his notes, ‘I think that’s everything I had to ask. I’m very grateful for your time. This has been extremely helpful.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ said Phillipa, getting unexpectedly to her feet.
‘G’bye,’ said the colonel, holding out his hand to Strike. ‘Keep us posted if you turn up anythin’, what?’
‘I will,’ Strike assured him. ‘Thanks very much for the tea and cake, Mrs Graves.’
‘I do hope you find something,’ said Allie’s mother earnestly.
The elderly Labrador woke up at the sound of footsteps and lolloped after Strike and Phillipa as they left the room. The latter maintained her silence until they’d descended the steps onto the gravel forecourt. The dog waddled past them until he reached an immaculate stretch of lawn, upon which he crouched and set about producing a turd remarkable for its size.
‘I want to say something to you,’ said Phillipa.
Strike turned to look at her. Wearing the same kind of flat pumps favoured by the late Princess Diana, Phillipa was a full eight inches shorter than he was, and had to throw her head back to look at him with her chilly blue eyes.
‘Nothing good,’ said Phillipa Graves, ‘can come of you digging around into Daiyu’s death.
Strike had met other people during his detective career who’d expressed similar sentiments, but he’d never managed to muster any sympathy for them. Truth, to Strike, was sacrosanct. Justice was the only other value he held as high.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, as politely as he could manage.
‘
He looked down at her, as baffled as he’d have been on meeting an entirely new species.
‘And you don’t want to see them in court?’
‘No,
Strike wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it was the first time Phillipa Graves had ever said these things. Her face had turned red and she was shaking slightly, not like her mother, but because every muscle was knotted with rage.
