Ramsay 06 - The Baby-Snatcher by Ann Cleeves Page B

let him into the house. He thought it was a place where he could have lived. There was a lot of polished wood and white paint. It was not so tidy that it was intimidating. They sat in the kitchen with the door open so Emma could keep an eye on the boys playing in the other room. The floor was covered with toys. He knew nothing about children but it seemed to him that so many could only confuse. It was very different from the houses where his work usually took him.
    ‘It was David’s birthday at the weekend,’ Emma said. ‘ He had loads of new things. It should keep them quiet for a bit.’
    But almost as she finished speaking there was a scream of rage from the other room. The smaller boy had been fixing together pieces of wood to form a railway track. The blocks making a bridge had fallen apart. He picked up the painted train and hurled it away from him, then lay on his back, pounding his feet on the floor. Emma went in to him. When she tried to comfort him he pushed her away, punching at her with his fists. At last the sobs subsided and he fell limp in her arms. She set him gently on the floor and returned to the kitchen.
    ‘Just a temper tantrum,’ she said. ‘Now he’s past the terrible twos perhaps they’ll stop.’ Then, as if she felt some explanation was necessary, ‘David’s speech is very poor for his age. They say there’s nothing really wrong. Boys are often slow developers. But he gets frustrated when he can’t communicate.’ She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and he had the impression of a real anxiety.
    ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ he said. He felt she needed reassurance.
    ‘I hope so. My husband says I’m making a fuss about nothing, but he doesn’t speak at all.’
    Through the open door they watched the boy return to his game.
    ‘You have two children?’
    ‘Three. The baby’s asleep. Coffee?’
    ‘Please.’
    She ground beans, fiddled with a percolator. There was a jar of instant on the work top and he wondered why she didn’t use that. Was she trying to impress or did she need time to collect her thoughts? She poured coffee into pottery mugs.
    ‘This is a murder investigation,’ he said. ‘ Mrs Howe didn’t die by accident.’ He waited for some response. ‘You’re not surprised?’
    ‘There’s been talk. The men that helped pull her out of the water thought … You know what the gossip’s like in a place like this.’
    ‘I shouldn’t have thought you’d get involved in that. Not living up here.’
    ‘Brian – my husband – goes to the club.’
    ‘Ah.’ They’d used the club as a base the day before. It was somewhere the pathologist could get out of the rain. Of course there’d be talk.
    ‘We believe Mrs Howe was killed on Saturday,’ Ramsay said. ‘We need to eliminate anyone who was on the Headland then. I understand you held a party. We’ll need a list of all the guests and an address or a phone number for each one.’
    ‘Of course.’ She looked up from her coffee. ‘But no one who came here knew Mrs Howe. What reason would they have to kill her?’
    ‘As I said, it’s a question of elimination. And of finding witnesses.’
    ‘Yes.’ She seemed reassured. ‘I see.’
    ‘Besides,’ he went on gently, ‘it’s not exactly true, is it, that none of the visitors to the Coastguard House knew Mrs Howe? Both her daughter and her husband were here on Saturday afternoon. And her sister is your nanny.’
    ‘I didn’t mean…’ She blushed. ‘I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I meant the guests. They wouldn’t have known the Howes.’
    ‘They didn’t mix in the same social circles?’
    ‘No, well, I suppose not.’
    ‘But you will be able to give me a guest list?’
    ‘Of course. I put a list of names and addresses on the computer before I sent out the invitations. I’ll print you a copy.’
    She returned with a sheet of paper and a baby. The baby was round faced with downy hair and curls damp and flattened where she’d been lying in