politely.
‘No, no, not at the moment. Thank you for giving me your time, Mrs Trenton. Good bye, Mrs Pickering.’
As she drove away, Jess found herself thinking: Hamlet didn’t like me, I don’t think Muriel Pickering likes me much and I’m pretty sure Poppy Trenton wasn’t delighted by my visit. Is there something, I wonder, they don’t want me to know?
Chapter 4
Carter drove out to Weston St Ambrose that evening to collect Millie. He found her ensconced, with the cats and MacTavish, on a battered sofa before a crackling log fire. His child was sorting, magpie-like, through a cardboard box containing old buttons and colourful glass beads from broken necklaces, a treasure trove of shiny objects.
‘Ah, there you are, Ian,’ said Monica Farrow comfortably. ‘Right on time. Millie and I made a quiche this afternoon. We have been waiting for you to come to sample it. I thought we could make it our supper.’
After they’d eaten, Carter carried a pile of dirty dishes into the kitchen and, carefully closing the door, turned to Monica. She raised her eyebrows and waited.
‘Monica, I know I’ve picked your brains before, your local knowledge,’ he began apologetically. ‘I hope you won’t mind if I do it again. Did you know a family called Crown?’
‘The only Crowns around here lived at Key House, the place that’s just gone up in flames. We all heard about a body being found there.’ Monica paused, then asked with a worried note in her voice, ‘The dead man – it’s not young Gervase, is it?’
‘We believe not. Gervase Crown has been living abroad and is, as we speak, preparing to return to this country to deal with the situation regarding his property here. I haven’t met the fellow, but of course we hope to interview him – even if he was in another country when the house caught fire.’ He paused and added, knowing he sounded censorious, ‘He’s thirty-five now.’
Monica pursed her lips and looked reflective. ‘Yes, I suppose he must be. Time flies. Poor little boy – I mean, he was when I knew him. His mother left them, bunked off and never looked back. He was sent off to boarding school even before that, at a very young age. I felt very sorry for him. It couldn’t have been a happy home.’
‘Sebastian Crown, the father, didn’t remarry?’
‘No, never. Threw himself into his business and made a fortune, I believe.’
‘Oh, he did that all right,’ said Carter.
‘Has Gervase married?’ asked Monica suddenly.
Carter realised that he’d never asked Foscott whether Gervase Crown had a girlfriend of any sort, let alone a wife.
‘I don’t know, Monica. All I know is that he plays golf, surfs and rides horses.’
‘Horses?’ Monica sounded surprised. ‘It used to be cars when he was young.’
Carter felt his mental antennae twitch. ‘Smashed up a couple, I’m told.’
‘Oh, yes …’ Monica turned aside, suddenly unwilling to talk.
‘A young girl was badly injured, do you remember that?’
‘Petra Stapleton, she still lives locally.’ Monica pressed her lips tightly. This was not up for discussion.
The kitchen door creaked open and Millie, clutching MacTavish, appeared framed in it, suspicion writ large on her face.
‘What are you talking about?’ She looked from one to the other of them accusingly.
‘Nothing of interest to you, young lady!’ Monica told her. ‘Have you put the lid back on the box?’ Millie nodded. ‘And got all your belongings? Because Daddy wants to be off.’
Millie disappeared to collect her other baggage. Even going somewhere just for the day, Carter had discovered, involved packing a rucksack of necessities for his daughter, just as if she were going on a journey.
‘When I come tomorrow night for her,’ he said to Monica. ‘I might have Jess Campbell with me. You remember Jess?’
‘Indeed I do! I’d like to see her again.’ Monica could not hide a note of curiosity.
‘I’d like her to meet Millie,’ Carter said,
‘No, no, not at the moment. Thank you for giving me your time, Mrs Trenton. Good bye, Mrs Pickering.’
As she drove away, Jess found herself thinking: Hamlet didn’t like me, I don’t think Muriel Pickering likes me much and I’m pretty sure Poppy Trenton wasn’t delighted by my visit. Is there something, I wonder, they don’t want me to know?
Chapter 4
Carter drove out to Weston St Ambrose that evening to collect Millie. He found her ensconced, with the cats and MacTavish, on a battered sofa before a crackling log fire. His child was sorting, magpie-like, through a cardboard box containing old buttons and colourful glass beads from broken necklaces, a treasure trove of shiny objects.
‘Ah, there you are, Ian,’ said Monica Farrow comfortably. ‘Right on time. Millie and I made a quiche this afternoon. We have been waiting for you to come to sample it. I thought we could make it our supper.’
After they’d eaten, Carter carried a pile of dirty dishes into the kitchen and, carefully closing the door, turned to Monica. She raised her eyebrows and waited.
‘Monica, I know I’ve picked your brains before, your local knowledge,’ he began apologetically. ‘I hope you won’t mind if I do it again. Did you know a family called Crown?’
‘The only Crowns around here lived at Key House, the place that’s just gone up in flames. We all heard about a body being found there.’ Monica paused, then asked with a worried note in her voice, ‘The dead man – it’s not young Gervase, is it?’
‘We believe not. Gervase Crown has been living abroad and is, as we speak, preparing to return to this country to deal with the situation regarding his property here. I haven’t met the fellow, but of course we hope to interview him – even if he was in another country when the house caught fire.’ He paused and added, knowing he sounded censorious, ‘He’s thirty-five now.’
Monica pursed her lips and looked reflective. ‘Yes, I suppose he must be. Time flies. Poor little boy – I mean, he was when I knew him. His mother left them, bunked off and never looked back. He was sent off to boarding school even before that, at a very young age. I felt very sorry for him. It couldn’t have been a happy home.’
‘Sebastian Crown, the father, didn’t remarry?’
‘No, never. Threw himself into his business and made a fortune, I believe.’
‘Oh, he did that all right,’ said Carter.
‘Has Gervase married?’ asked Monica suddenly.
Carter realised that he’d never asked Foscott whether Gervase Crown had a girlfriend of any sort, let alone a wife.
‘I don’t know, Monica. All I know is that he plays golf, surfs and rides horses.’
‘Horses?’ Monica sounded surprised. ‘It used to be cars when he was young.’
Carter felt his mental antennae twitch. ‘Smashed up a couple, I’m told.’
‘Oh, yes …’ Monica turned aside, suddenly unwilling to talk.
‘A young girl was badly injured, do you remember that?’
‘Petra Stapleton, she still lives locally.’ Monica pressed her lips tightly. This was not up for discussion.
The kitchen door creaked open and Millie, clutching MacTavish, appeared framed in it, suspicion writ large on her face.
‘What are you talking about?’ She looked from one to the other of them accusingly.
‘Nothing of interest to you, young lady!’ Monica told her. ‘Have you put the lid back on the box?’ Millie nodded. ‘And got all your belongings? Because Daddy wants to be off.’
Millie disappeared to collect her other baggage. Even going somewhere just for the day, Carter had discovered, involved packing a rucksack of necessities for his daughter, just as if she were going on a journey.
‘When I come tomorrow night for her,’ he said to Monica. ‘I might have Jess Campbell with me. You remember Jess?’
‘Indeed I do! I’d like to see her again.’ Monica could not hide a note of curiosity.
‘I’d like her to meet Millie,’ Carter said,
Similar Books
