‘What word would you use?’
The barrister shrugged. ‘I haven’t quite put my finger on what it was about the Kenworthys that annoyed so many of us. I’m not convinced it was the issues – the noise and all the rest of it. I think it was the people themselves. There was something about them that was deeply off-putting. I’ve seen it in court, many a time. A jury takes against a defendant for no clear reason and it’s almost impossible to make them see sense, no matter how many facts you have at your fingertips.
‘For what it’s worth, I would have said the meeting was more about conciliation than confrontation. It seemed a good idea to discuss the issues before they got out of hand.’
‘They got out of hand – big time,’ Dudley muttered.
‘It was unfortunate that the Kenworthys decided not to come. They sent a text while we were together, after we’d arrived. It didn’t go down well.’
‘The meeting was your idea?’ Hawthorne asked.
‘The idea presented itself when I was talking to Adam. It’s long been my experience that it’s all too easy to get a false impression of someone if you don’t talk to them. You imagine the worst and that’s what they become. There’s a poem by William Blake.’ He closed his eyes, recalling the words. ‘“I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.”’ He smiled. ‘The poem is called “A Poison Tree”. I suppose we met to avoid cultivating one.’
‘There must have been a lot of anger in the room,’ Hawthorne said.
‘Wrath,’ Dudley corrected him.
‘Again, that’s not the case. Tom was probably more annoyed than anyone because of the parking situation – quite rightly, as it turned out. A man died in his surgery when he couldn’t get there to save him. Roderick and Felicity were determined to fight the swimming pool. They’d just received notice of the planning application. We all had. If it went through, they would lose their view – not at all helpful when you’re bedridden. But nobody said anything particularly aggressive and certainly nothing that might be deemed illegal. Adam didn’t complain at all, as far as I can recall, although of course his most precious chess set hadn’t been smashed at the time. That happened later. May actually said what a lot of us were thinking, which was that we should do everything by the book. The important thing was not to let the situation escalate. In the end, it was quite a pleasant evening, albeit a short one. There was no point hanging around if they weren’t going to show up.’
‘But then things got worse,’ Dudley said.
‘It’s true. The next six weeks were very trying.’
‘Mrs Winslow lost her dog.’
‘The dog belonged to both her and her companion. I was with them when they found him. He was at the bottom of the old well in the corner of my garden and in considerable pain, poor thing. They’d had a long dispute with the Kenworthys – I’m afraid the dog had a habit of burrowing into their garden – but there’s absolutely no evidence that either Giles or Lynda had anything to do with it.’
‘What did it do, then? Commit suicide?’ Dudley was unimpressed.
‘May and Phyllis believe that Giles Kenworthy ordered Sarah Baines to do away with it. It’s true she had scratches on her arms the following day, but I’ve spoken to her and I believe her when she says she would never have done anything like that. For that matter, I’m not sure that the Kenworthys would have given the order.’
‘You mentioned Adam Strauss’s chess set,’ Hawthorne said.
‘That was the children playing cricket. No doubt about that.’
‘They also rode their skateboards over some of your flowers.’
For the first time, Andrew Pennington was taken aback, losing some of his poise. When he spoke again, his voice was low. ‘Yes. That was Hugo and Tristram Kenworthy again. They’re very young and I’m sure they meant no harm, but we have repeatedly asked their parents to keep them under control.’
He wanted to stop there, but Hawthorne and Dudley waited in silence, expecting more.
‘You may have noticed the roundabout in the centre of the close. With the permission – indeed, with the encouragement – of the other residents, I had planted it with shrubs and flowers that had a special significance for my late wife, Iris. She died of cancer just as I retired and I have to tell you, I miss her terribly. I try to keep myself busy. I’ve joined a bridge club and I play twice a week – Mondays and Wednesdays. In fact, I’m playing tonight. There’s a walking group. Swimming in the summer. But it’s not easy without her, which is perhaps why the display means so much to me.
‘Anyway, I came home one evening to discover wheel marks from two skateboards cutting right through the beds. A lot of the flowers were severed. In fact, the whole bed was decimated. I would say “profaned”, but perhaps that’s going too far.’ He tried to make light of it. ‘It’s not hugely important. I can always plant more. But I was upset because it happened to be the fifth anniversary of her death.’ His eyes met Hawthorne’s. ‘Perhaps that leads you to think that I had a motive to kill their father. He didn’t even apologise. The boys still race around on their skateboards.’
‘It might do.’
‘Well, I’ll give you a much better motive if it will help you with your inquiries, Mr Hawthorne. Giles Kenworthy was a card-carrying member of the UK Independence Party.’
‘What of it?’
‘I think it informed the way he treated me.’
‘And how was that, Mr Pennington?’ Hawthorne asked.
‘With disdain.’
‘Are you saying he was a racist?’
‘I’m asking what sort of man puts jingoistic slogans in his front window and flies a Union Jack in his back garden?’
‘A patriot?’
‘I’m afraid it’s been a very long time since the Union Jack was associated with patriotism, Mr Dudley,’ Andrew replied.
‘The UK Independence Party wouldn’t call itself racist,’ Dudley said.
‘Their leader said he wouldn’t want to live next to a Romanian. One of their councillors was recorded admitting she had a problem with “Negroes”. The Prime Minister himself has referred to them as “closet racists”. Maybe the view is different when you’re seeing it from your side of the fence, Mr Dudley. But as I understand it, the police are even looking into a possible political connection in the attack on Marsha Clarke. You won’t have heard of her, but there have been quite a few stories about her in the local press.’
‘She was the old lady being looked after by the Beresfords’ nanny.’
‘That’s right. Apparently, an Independence Party leaflet has been found in her letter box. It may have been a calling card.’
Hawthorne and Dudley took this in. Marsha Clarke, a woman living in Hampton Wick, had been the victim of what might have been a racist attack. Her assailant might have belonged to a right-wing political party. Giles Kenworthy supported the same party. And he happened to have lived next door to the young woman who had been caring for Marsha.
There might be a connection, but it was definitely an oblique one.
‘Giles Kenworthy never spoke to me,’ Andrew went on. ‘He never invited me into the house. He always looked at me with a sense of superiority, almost contempt. I used to think that he deliberately revved the engine of his car outside my house to wake me up.’
‘Why are you telling us all this, Mr Pennington?’ Hawthorne asked.
‘Because I think you’re focusing on the wrong angle. All the trivia of a suburban close means nothing at all. Nobody ever murdered anyone because they played their music too loud. It may be that Kenworthy was a racist and a deeply unpleasant man who deserved to die.’