Brothers' Tears by J. M. Gregson Page B

habit, as he had. She eventually said very distinctly, ‘There were two people I was surprised to include on the list, because I knew they’d been rivals of his in the fairly recent past.’
    â€˜Did you query their inclusion?’
    She allowed herself a wry smile, which showed what an attractive woman she would be in a different context. ‘You didn’t query things with James O’Connor. He knew his own mind. If those names were on the list, they were there for a purpose.’
    â€˜But you don’t know what that purpose was?’
    She pursed her lips, looked down at her right foot in concentration. ‘I don’t know. I can speculate. My guess would be that they were former rivals whom he no longer felt were threats to him. I don’t know, but I suspect he’d taken over enterprises which were once theirs. I think perhaps their presence on Monday night was intended as a conciliatory gesture. But I should stress again that I don’t know that; I’m merely trying to be as helpful as I can, as you encouraged me to be.’
    â€˜I appreciate that. And we’d better have these names.’
    â€˜Joseph Lane and Linda Coleman.’
    Clyde Northcott made a careful note of the names, but neither of the CID men gave her any clue as to whether they recognised either of them. Instead, the tall black man said, ‘Do you remember which table these people sat at, Mrs Derkson?’
    â€˜They were both on table two, but they weren’t sitting together. I was sitting within a few yards of both of them.’
    â€˜Do you know where they were during the break which Mr O’Connor called in the proceedings?’
    â€˜No. I don’t know where they were when their host was shot down.’ She waited for a reaction to this sharpness, but received none. ‘I expect you’d like to know where I was, too. I can tell you that.’
    â€˜If you would, please.’
    â€˜I stood up and walked around the room. I found I was quite glad to stretch my legs a little and talk to one or two people I knew. I didn’t leave the main banqueting hall. So there’s one person you can rule out of your murder calculations.’
    Clyde made a note, nodding without comment. It certainly didn’t rule her out, not yet. They’d need corroboration from some other source, and if she’d spoken to different people as she claimed, it was probable that no one person would be able to confirm that she’d remained in the banqueting hall throughout the break.
    Peach said very quietly, ‘The PA is a key figure in any businessman’s life. We expect the wife to be able to tell us most about domestic arrangements and complications. The PA tells us about a man’s working life, which occupies as much or more of his time than his home life. Who do you think shot down James O’Connor on Monday night?’
    She had uncrossed her legs whilst he spoke, as if an informal pose was inappropriate for the discussion of these grave matters. She sat not with arms folded but with a hand palm down on each thigh. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know much about his family life: he preferred to keep that totally separate from his work. Any successful businessman makes enemies. I know it’s a long step from enmity to murder, but my feeling is that it was one of those business enemies who had him killed.’
    Peach nodded slowly, as if accepting the logic of this. The black eyebrows rose a little beneath the bald pate. ‘Had him killed?’
    â€˜You know far more about this than I do. I believe the use of professional killers is not unknown.’
    â€˜â€œNot unknown”.’ Peach savoured the negative for a moment, as if relishing her ladylike way of phrasing something unpleasant. ‘Contract killers, we call them. And you’re right: the use of such people is fairly common in the more dubious circles in which James O’Connor chose to