DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2, стр. 306

‘Mr Palmer,’ Larry said, ‘we have suspects for the murder of your brother, but the link is tenuous. We don’t understand why a criminal element would have been interested in your brother.’

‘I can’t help you there.’

‘We’re told that he was honest.’

‘He prided himself on that, and he was looking to go upmarket, to sell luxury vehicles, and the people who have the money for them don’t want a fly-by-night, smart-arsed, glib-tongued hustler to deal with.’

‘Let’s come back to the women at the funeral. Did you know them? Were you introduced, or did they make themselves known to you?’

‘There were three of them. One I knew, Liz Spalding.’

‘How?’

‘I was in the same class at school with her. I fancied her back then, still do, but it was Stephen who was taking her out. Jealous as hell I was back then, and there she is at the funeral, lovely as ever. She was polite to me, upset over Stephen. She had wanted him to marry her, but it wasn’t likely.’

‘Why?’

‘Stephen was taking out more than one woman at the time, he told me that.’

‘The other woman?’

‘He’d not say.’

‘The second woman?’ Larry reminded Palmer.

‘Oh, yes. There were three women at the funeral. Liz Spalding, I’ve mentioned. The second woman was blonde, slim, beautiful face. She seemed a few years younger than Stephen’s usual girlfriends.’

‘Her name?’

‘Bec Johnson. She introduced herself, told me how important Stephen had been to her, how he had helped her to find herself.’

‘What does that mean?’ Wendy asked.

‘I’ve no idea. You’ll have to ask her. As I said, she was younger than him by a few years. At the funeral, she would have been about twenty-two or twenty-three. A pleasant woman with a lovely voice. She wasn’t as upset as Liz Spalding who wept profusely through the service, and when they lowered the coffin into the ground, she was on her knees. I had to help her up, and she clung to me tight from then on, something she would never have done at school. Strange, isn’t it? All those years, I had wanted her close, and then it was my brother that brought us together.’

‘Together? Are you saying that you’re still with her?’

‘After the funeral, I hoped we would be, me on the rebound, but it wasn’t to be. I never saw her again, although I’m told she married a doctor or a lawyer, had a couple of kids, divorced, remarried.’

‘Bec Johnson?’

‘She’s still in the area, never married. I see her occasionally when I’m out at the shops. She always stops for a chat, and sometimes we have a coffee. I’ve no idea what it was with her and Stephen, and she never opened up about it. No doubt he was sleeping with her, but she never said as much, and I wouldn’t ask.’

‘Did you ask her out?’

‘In my clumsy way. I’m never sure what to say.’

‘The third woman?’ Larry said, tired of listening to the man. He wanted facts, names, addresses, somewhere to go, someone to question, someone to arrest. Sitting there, his stomach was in contortions – the bowl of cereal for breakfast had only agitated it and a motorway café latte, no matter how expensive it had been or what fancy name it had been given, wasn’t a pint of beer. He needed a pub lunch, a glass of beer, a big steak with chips and all the trimmings. He knew he wasn’t going to get it.

If he had a drink before he went home to his wife that night, the first night after he had admitted that he had problems at work and he couldn’t keep off the drink, then she’d throw a fit, scream at him.

To Larry, he was between the devil and the deep blue sea; he was in hell.

‘The third woman?’ Larry repeated the question. Palmer had a faraway look about him, no doubt dreaming of Liz Spalding and Bec Johnson, Larry thought, imagining it had been him with the two women instead of his brother.

‘She sat at the back of the church, a handkerchief to her face, although I can’t remember any tears. And then at the grave, she stood to the back, mouthing some words to herself.’

‘What sort of words?’

‘I couldn’t hear, but I don’t think it was a prayer. One minute she’s there, and then after I had taken hold of Liz Spalding, I looked around, and she was gone. I’ve no idea who she was.’

‘Describe her?’

‘Not so easy. She was dressed in black, and her hat had a wide floppy brim which covered part of her face. It also had some sort of veil. But as I said, I never spoke to her.’

‘Did anyone else?’

‘I wasn’t looking that keenly. I had organised the funeral, and that occupied my time. And if I had been looking at any woman, not that I was that day, it would have been Liz.’

‘It’s important, the third woman,’ Wendy said. ‘Think hard, anything else about her. A mysterious woman who keeps to herself at a funeral, not looking at anyone, leaving before the end. It could be important.’

‘It’s seventeen years since we buried him, 3rd April 2002. He would have been thirty-four on the day of his funeral if he had been alive. Murdered at thirty-one for no apparent reason. It doesn’t make for a great epitaph, does it?’

‘We intend to find the reason and to bring the perpetrators of this crime to justice. Sergeant Gladstone’s right, we need to find this woman,’ Larry said.

‘Very well. Attractive, as best I could tell. Slim, although starting to put on weight. Average height, well-dressed, not cheap clothes, black stiletto heels. An air of confidence about her.’

‘What does that mean?’ Wendy said.

‘Some people slouch, I know that I do.