might add, in Chelsea.”
“Did you provide for your sons in a will, Mr. Arrowood? Or did Dawn inherit your estate?”
He glared at her. “I’ve poured money down those boys’ throats since they were children, with no thanks and less result. Of course I’ve left the bulk of my estate to Dawn; she was my wife.”
“And your sons knew this?”
“I never particularly discussed it with them. But what you’re suggesting is absurd—”
“Absurd or not, these things happen, and we have to explore every possibility. Did Dawn work, Mr. Arrowood?”
“My wife had no need to work.”
How very antiquated of you
, thought Gemma, exchanging a glancewith Melody, but she asked merely, “Then what did she do with her days?”
“She had the house to manage. She helped in the shop occasionally. She saw her friends.”
“Any friends in particular, other than Natalie?”
“I didn’t keep her social calendar,” Arrowood answered so sharply that Gemma suspected he hadn’t a clue what had filled the long hours of his wife’s day.
“And yesterday, I believe you said you had just arrived home from a meeting when you found your wife?”
“I’d had drinks at Butler’s Wharf with a European dealer.”
“His name?”
Arrowood’s eyes widened in surprise, but he shrugged and answered, “Andre Michel.”
Gemma wrote down the man’s name and London address, as well as the time Karl Arrowood claimed he’d left his friend, although she knew there was no way to prove how long the drive from Tower Bridge to Notting Hill would have taken in evening traffic; nor, once he arrived home, would it have taken Arrowood more than five minutes to murder his wife and call for help.
“Mr. Arrowood, did you notice anything odd about your wife’s movements or behavior in the past few days? Did Dawn give you any indication that she might be frightened?”
“She did seem a bit distracted yesterday morning. But I thought it was just because the damn cat was off-color.”
“That’s Tommy?”
“Rotten little beast. I’ve told Dawn a thousand times to keep that cat out of the …” Arrowood trailed off, as if realizing he’d have no more opportunities to chastise his wife. The muscles in his strong face sagged abruptly, and he rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I can’t believe she’s really gone.”
K INCAID HAD RISEN WITH G EMMA AND SEEN HER OFF IN A GRAY DAWN that presaged rain. She’d been pale and pinched with exhaustion,but he knew it would serve no purpose to nag her about getting more rest.
After fixing Toby his favorite breakfast of fried eggs, Kincaid deposited the boy at Hazel’s and drove to his office through a steady downpour. He had always liked the Yard on a Saturday. Although the place was never truly quiet, the normal cacophony of activity was reduced to a hum, the ringing of telephones intermittent rather than constant, and he often took advantage of the opportunity to catch up on unfinished business. First, he called the prospective tenant he had lined up for his flat and arranged a viewing; then he rang Denis Childs, telling him they would be occupying the Notting Hill house as soon as possible.
Then, after a token shuffling of papers, he came to the conclusion that he could no longer delay acting on the disquiet that had niggled at him since the previous evening, despite his fear that Gemma would feel he was undermining her authority. Retrieving Marianne Hoffman’s file, he read it from beginning to end. When he had finished, he picked up the phone and rang Denis Childs back, requesting permission to liaise with Notting Hill CID in the investigation of the murder of Dawn Arrowood.
S HE JUST COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT MADE HER NEW NEIGHBOR tick. Betty, her name was, Betty Thomas. If you spoke to her, she smiled and answered in her soft Caribbean accent, but that was all. If you tried to continue the conversation, she’d dig her toe in the pavement and look away, and after a minute you’d give
“Did you provide for your sons in a will, Mr. Arrowood? Or did Dawn inherit your estate?”
He glared at her. “I’ve poured money down those boys’ throats since they were children, with no thanks and less result. Of course I’ve left the bulk of my estate to Dawn; she was my wife.”
“And your sons knew this?”
“I never particularly discussed it with them. But what you’re suggesting is absurd—”
“Absurd or not, these things happen, and we have to explore every possibility. Did Dawn work, Mr. Arrowood?”
“My wife had no need to work.”
How very antiquated of you
, thought Gemma, exchanging a glancewith Melody, but she asked merely, “Then what did she do with her days?”
“She had the house to manage. She helped in the shop occasionally. She saw her friends.”
“Any friends in particular, other than Natalie?”
“I didn’t keep her social calendar,” Arrowood answered so sharply that Gemma suspected he hadn’t a clue what had filled the long hours of his wife’s day.
“And yesterday, I believe you said you had just arrived home from a meeting when you found your wife?”
“I’d had drinks at Butler’s Wharf with a European dealer.”
“His name?”
Arrowood’s eyes widened in surprise, but he shrugged and answered, “Andre Michel.”
Gemma wrote down the man’s name and London address, as well as the time Karl Arrowood claimed he’d left his friend, although she knew there was no way to prove how long the drive from Tower Bridge to Notting Hill would have taken in evening traffic; nor, once he arrived home, would it have taken Arrowood more than five minutes to murder his wife and call for help.
“Mr. Arrowood, did you notice anything odd about your wife’s movements or behavior in the past few days? Did Dawn give you any indication that she might be frightened?”
“She did seem a bit distracted yesterday morning. But I thought it was just because the damn cat was off-color.”
“That’s Tommy?”
“Rotten little beast. I’ve told Dawn a thousand times to keep that cat out of the …” Arrowood trailed off, as if realizing he’d have no more opportunities to chastise his wife. The muscles in his strong face sagged abruptly, and he rubbed a hand across his mouth. “I can’t believe she’s really gone.”
K INCAID HAD RISEN WITH G EMMA AND SEEN HER OFF IN A GRAY DAWN that presaged rain. She’d been pale and pinched with exhaustion,but he knew it would serve no purpose to nag her about getting more rest.
After fixing Toby his favorite breakfast of fried eggs, Kincaid deposited the boy at Hazel’s and drove to his office through a steady downpour. He had always liked the Yard on a Saturday. Although the place was never truly quiet, the normal cacophony of activity was reduced to a hum, the ringing of telephones intermittent rather than constant, and he often took advantage of the opportunity to catch up on unfinished business. First, he called the prospective tenant he had lined up for his flat and arranged a viewing; then he rang Denis Childs, telling him they would be occupying the Notting Hill house as soon as possible.
Then, after a token shuffling of papers, he came to the conclusion that he could no longer delay acting on the disquiet that had niggled at him since the previous evening, despite his fear that Gemma would feel he was undermining her authority. Retrieving Marianne Hoffman’s file, he read it from beginning to end. When he had finished, he picked up the phone and rang Denis Childs back, requesting permission to liaise with Notting Hill CID in the investigation of the murder of Dawn Arrowood.
S HE JUST COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT MADE HER NEW NEIGHBOR tick. Betty, her name was, Betty Thomas. If you spoke to her, she smiled and answered in her soft Caribbean accent, but that was all. If you tried to continue the conversation, she’d dig her toe in the pavement and look away, and after a minute you’d give
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