Tainted Ground by Margaret Duffy

back from the door of number six. ‘Therefore I won’t use my skeleton keys to gain entry and have a look around as I might have done in the good, bad old days. And for all we know everyone’s still in bed and has no intention of answering the door.’
    â€˜It might not be any kind of lead but Mrs Brandon had an idea Janet Manley told her that her husband had been in the police.’
    â€˜I’ll check up on that before we do anything else,’ Patrick said, but before he could reach for his mobile the door across the landing opened, revealing a man wearing a bathrobe.
    â€˜Sorry, I was in the shower,’ he said. ‘Are you the police?’
    Patrick introduced us.
    â€˜I thought you’d be back.’ He spoke with just a hint of a French accent. ‘I am Pascal Lapointe,’ he went on. ‘This is my partner, Lorna Church.’ Here he gestured in the direction of an attractive woman, also attired in a bathrobe, who was making coffee in the adjoining open-plan kitchen. ‘Do sit down. Is it too late in the morning for coffee for you?’
    We accepted even though by this time it was actually early afternoon.
    â€˜We didn’t know these unfortunate people well, you understand,’ Lapointe began by saying when he had seated himself. Lorna had gone away to get dressed. ‘The truth is that we felt sorry for Chris and Janet. They did not say a lot but we got the impression they felt themselves exiled here, not really suited to country living, after a life in the city – London, I think it was.’
    â€˜Their choice, surely,’ Patrick said.
    A Gallic shrug. ‘Ah, but there is a difference between retirement and exile, yes?’
    â€˜Do you think they were running away from something?’ I enquired.
    â€˜Perhaps. But you must understand, this is just my own thoughts. Lorna says I have an overactive imagination.’
    I was not alone there, then.
    â€˜We asked them up here on a couple of occasions. We have gatherings of friends, mostly from Bristol where we both work. You can love the rural life but it can be
too
quiet. Sometimes there has to be good conversation and plenty of good food, music and wine.’
    â€˜They didn’t really fit in to that either,’ said Lorna, reappearing all at once wearing a black velour tracksuit and big fluffy pink slippers. They made an attractive couple; he slim and tanned, she a Nigella Lawson lookalike.
    â€˜You are just a little bit snobby,’ Lapointe told her.
    She pouted. ‘It’s true, though. Neither of them had any conversation and if you’re honest you’d admit they didn’t really enjoy themselves. They didn’t like the food, didn’t know what they were drinking and didn’t even come properly dressed. Even you said that the English live in jeans and T-shirts whatever the occasion.’
    â€˜And the other man?’ Patrick said. ‘Keith Davies? Did you invite him up here too?’
    Lapointe shook his head emphatically. ‘No. At least – and I think you will find this strange – I sometimes got the impression that he was not far away. I once opened the front door when we had a crowd here as it was a very warm summer’s evening and the flat was stuffy even though we had all the windows open, and he was out on the landing, smoking.’
    â€˜He wasn’t our sort at all,’ Lorna drawled.
    â€˜But there must have been a connection between the three of them,’ Patrick said. ‘Perhaps he felt left out and that was his way of letting you know.’
    â€˜He did not appear to be a sociable person,’ said Lapointe. ‘He—’
    â€˜You
said
,’ Lorna interrupted, ‘that he was as rough as rats and you wouldn’t want him here.’
    â€˜Perhaps I was a little annoyed at the time and hasty in my judgement,’ he told her, giving her a reproving look.
    â€˜Did the Manleys mention him at