Читать книгу St Oda's Bones - Marcus Attwater - Страница 17

Will and Lucy Delamere lived in a stately Georgian terrace house on Pewter Lane which could easily have accommodated a family of twelve. If you thought about it though, that did square perfectly with the councillor's campaign for 'a house within your means', since - as Sally muttered a little too audibly - he must be swimming in it.

'So for purposes of investigation we are a couple, are we?' she said, sizing him up. 'At least you scrub up well.'

'You'll do yourself,' he said. She was wearing a simply cut dark blue dress with a sea-green silk wrap trailing off her shoulders. It was the first time he'd seen her with her hair pinned up, and wearing make-up. 'But the idea I think is to sort of let people believe we are a couple unless they ask directly.'

'That's all right with me.'

'Have you told your boyfriend about this?'

Her face tightened. 'We broke up half a year ago. Sir.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that,' he said stupidly. He didn't know much about Sally's life outside the force at all. Detectives tended to bring their work home with them, not the other way around.

'Never mind,' she said, with false brightness, 'I'm well shot of him. How's Mr Walsingham, by the way?'

Ouch. At this rate they'd be fighting like an old married couple before the night was out. How would that be for verisimilitude?

He wasn't sure yet what he thought of this evening's business. It was all very well for the councillor to invite a DCI of his acquaintance, but what would his other guests think of two constabulary nobodies turning up? But he needn't have worried about that. They were received by Mrs Delamere, who introduced them to several other couples in rapid succession, accompanied by a rattle of explanations no one paid any attention to.

'Alice, Martin, have you met Owen and Sally - they are detectives, would you believe it? We met at the Handel concert at the cathedral. Didn't you go? Oh no, you were in Costa Rica at the time, weren't you? How was it? We really should be taking a holiday soon…' and on she swept, leaving Collins and his colleague as established guests. They accepted drinks, Sally patiently suffered several jokes about her name, while Collins murmured mild protests to several digs at the shortcomings of the police. Among their fellow guests he recognised the bishop and his wife, Ms Jolland, who was another councillor, Mr and Mrs Harwood, and the manager of the city theatre.

'We are getting paid for this, aren't we?' Sally asked in an undertone.

Lucy Delamere invited them into the dining room. 'I think the idea is we're getting fed,' Collins whispered back.

During dinner, he observed his host and hostess. He guessed Mrs Delamere's chatty enthusiasm was put on for the party, but he couldn't tell whether that was just a habit or whether it disguised a deep unhappiness. Her husband was relaxed and affable, giving no indication that a scandal was about to break over him.

The theatre manager asked whether they were working on any interesting cases right now. Studiedly not looking at Sally, Collins gave a bare outline of the Abbey Hill case.

'Abbey Hill?' Delamere said, 'My mother grew up in the Old Hall. I lived there myself in my teens, when I wasn't at boarding school.'

'I believe you are from there as well, sir?' Collins asked, turning to Mr Harwood.

Harwood seemed to regard that question as an affront rather than an innocent enquiry. 'You should know well enough, if you are colleagues of that Pardoe chap who asked all those stupid questions about my mother.'

'Mr Collins is not accusing you of anything, dear,' his wife said soothingly. She turned to him, 'You are right, Peter's father was the rector at Abbey Hill for years, and my mother-in-law lived there until her death.'

Having obligingly talked shop, Collins asked theatre manager if there would be anything interesting showing this winter. It was widely known the new manager would prefer to stage more experimental and avant garde productions, but the board insisted on balancing that with the kind of Shakespearean favourites which actually sold tickets. Collins always rather enjoyed Shakespeare plays. They had proper stories.

The party moved back into the living room after dessert. Delamere's colleague was complaining to the bishop about not being able to get anyone to clean the gutters.

'Full of leaves, they are, the weather we've been having. So I called one of those student outfits, promise they'll do anything,' Collins heard her say, 'But when push comes to shove they say they're too busy, they can't spare anyone right now. I ask you!'

The bishop mumbled something about it was good to see youngsters finding useful employment. Delamere circulated, filling glasses and joking with his guests. Collins wondered how they were supposed to get the councillor to themselves long enough - and sober enough - to discuss crime. But that had been taken care of.

'You would like to see the library?' Delamere asked, when his round brought him into their vicinity, loud enough for those near them to hear, 'Of course, I'll take you up.'

'My father-in-law's collection, mostly,' he explained, showing them into a high-ceilinged, book-lined room on the first floor. It had armchairs in front of an empty fireplace. 'I like to read, although I have little time for it, but I know nothing about old books. Please, be seated.'

He poured himself a scotch, the detectives declined. They had both stuck to mineral water during the meal, prompting the disconcerting question from the bishop's wife if they were about to be parents.

'Well,' Delamere said, 'I understand from Bridget Flynn that she has fully acquainted you with what happened. I suppose you should just ask what more you need to know from me.'

'What we would most like to know of course is who is blackmailing you,' Collins replied.

'Oh, but I have no idea. I know no more than you do, Inspector. The message was anonymous, no clue as to who sent it.'

'But surely, the lad you were filmed with…'

'I never saw him before or after ­- what was his name now? - and I'm sure it can't be him. That was my hotel room you saw in that clip. Perhaps the police can think of a way someone who didn't know he was going to be there could fix it up with a camera beforehand, but I can't.'

'That complicates matters,' Sally said, 'Most blackmailers don't care if their victim knows who they are, since they have a greater hold over them than the other way around. You cannot think of anyone else you know who might be involved? Some enemy who wouldn't mind taking you down a peg, perhaps?'

'I can think of several people, but if they got hold of something like this I'm sure they would prefer to sell it to the papers, not back to me.'

'We would like their names, even so, sir.'

For the first time Delamere's urbane demeanour showed a crack. 'Look, I can't just start incriminating my enemies, not without a lot more to go on. That's your job.'

'Our job is a process of elimination, as often as not, Mr Delamere. And I'm not asking you to provide a list of everyone who has ever disagreed with you. But perhaps you know of someone who may feel you did them a bad turn, or someone who is envious of your success. You are being prosecuted either by someone who knows you well, or has spent considerable time familiarising themselves with your life. Isn't there anyone you can think of?'

Delamere looked thoughtful, but didn't speak.

'Someone you've slept with? I don't mean the boy in the video, but perhaps a previous… partner?'

'No need to be mealy-mouthed about it, Inspector. I usually pay for sex, it's a good way of ensuring there are no complications. But naturally my 'partners', as you call them, would know about this side of my life.'

'We're looking for someone who knows how to cover his tracks, probably clever with IT. Anyone come to mind?' Sally asked.

'We're talking about rent-boys here, Miss Holmes, I don't usually ask how their exams are coming along. Really, I know no more than you do.' He rose. 'If you'll wait here, I expect you'll want to talk to my wife.'

When they were alone, Sally put her head on one side, eyebrows raised, as if she couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard. It was a habit she had caught from Bridget Flynn.

'He's a cool one isn't he? I mean, even granted there's nothing wrong in it, wouldn't you be at least a bit embarrassed if you had to show intimate videos of yourself to perfect strangers?'

'Would I be if it was me? I'm embarrassed now.'

'Still,' Sally mused, 'I suppose some men get off on that.'

'He didn't strike me as very excited about it one way or the other. More like something had got out of place and had to be dealt with.'

'I bet his wife doesn't think of it like that!'

Sally would have lost her bet. Lucy Delamere was as cool as her husband had been, and a lot more composed than she had appeared downstairs. 'Inspector, Sergeant, it was so good of you to come. I'm afraid there is little I can tell you that Will hasn't, but if you have any questions…'

'Can you think of anyone who wants to harm your husband, Mrs Delamere?'

She considered this. 'You think the aim of the blackmailer is spite rather than gain? I hadn't thought of that. But it all appears so impersonal. As if it isn't someone who knows us.'

Or someone who knows him very well who has had enough of his infidelities, Collins thought. Could she act that well?

'Why do you say that?' he asked her.

'Well, I think that most people confronted with a demand like that pay out of panic, don't they? But my husband always thinks things through. Politically, if this comes out it will be harmful. But he has committed no crime, he will not be subject to an official enquiry, or required to make public apologies. Naturally he'd rather not, but if necessary he could ride it out.'

He wondered if the Delameres were not underestimating the power of public opinion. There was a large Christian contingent among Delamere's voters, and they wouldn't be forgiving about infidelity and prostitution. But that was speculation. What was bothering him right now was Lucy Delamere's equanimity.

'And how do you feel about that, Mrs Delamere? Will he be required to make private apologies?'

She smiled. 'You are thinking 'she's hiding her jealousy very well' aren't you? You probably expected our domestic situation to be rather fraught. But you see, I have always known my husband has this fondness for a certain type of young man, and he has never lied to me about it.'

'And you do not mind?' Sally asked, disbelief tingeing her voice despite her best efforts.

'No, Sergeant Holmes, I do not mind. We all have our passions. I play the violin myself.'

For a moment Collins thought she was using a sexual metaphor he wasn't familiar with. Then he realised she was simply stating the case as she saw it.

'You think I'm being facetious, but you see, that is the only way for me to comprehend. I do not have sexual feelings myself. I do not like to talk about this, for people tend to assume that you are either repressed or traumatised. I can assure you I am neither. If anything, I find the whole business slightly comical. My husband, obviously, does have sexual feelings, but no wish to share his life with the objects of those feelings. So there you have it.'

'A marriage of convenience.'

'No, don't get me wrong, I love my husband. If someone else were getting his attention, his affection, his thoughts, then I would be jealous,' she said emphatically, 'As it is, I am concerned about him, and discomfited by the prospect of seeing our private life made public. But I am not such a coward as to advise Will to pay up in the hope that it will just go away.'

They left soon after, with promises to get in touch about the next steps in the investigation.

'He got the best of the bargain there, I think,' Collins said, after Delamere waved them down the front door steps.

'Oh, I don't know,' Sally said, hitching her wrap over her shoulders with a shiver. 'If ever a woman got married with her eyes open it must be her.'

'You think so? Just because she doesn't fancy him doesn't mean love isn't blind.'

'You don't like him much do you?'

But that wasn't quite it. He had felt Delamere's charm, he really was an attractive man. He was almost too good to be true, and Collins understood the journalists' eagerness to get some dirt on him. It was as if even his weaknesses were fashioned to show him in the best light. And wasn't there something of the show-off in the way he had taken matters to the police, his assertion that he would weather the storm in the interests of justice?

It wasn't until he had dropped Sally off at her flat and was driving home that Collins figured out what it was that bothered him about Delamere. It was his attitude to his young bedfellows. He had been off-hand, almost contemptuous. Boys like that were good enough for a fuck, but he wouldn't dream of having a conversation with any of them. It was exactly the kind of attitude men in his position had for centuries had towards women, in fact. Charming and liberal he might be, but in matters of sex Will Delamere was a proper chauvinist prick.