“But we can’t just barge in on her without an appointment. And besides, I came here to talk to Deborah about her pending court case.”
“Oh God,” said Lindsay in exasperation. “Yes, of course. But after that we’ve just got to see Alexandra Phillips as soon as possible.”
Judith, looking startled and apprehensive, rattled machine-gun sentences at Deborah. Following the demise of the sole prosecution witness, she told her, the police could offer no evidence against Deborah in the Crown Court, and the case would therefore fall since she had made no admissions of guilt. It was unlikely that the police would be able to find an eye-witness at that late stage, particularly since they were pursuing that line of enquiry with something less than breathtaking vigour.
“Except in so far as it overlaps with the murder enquiry,” Lindsay muttered nonchalantly.
“Thanks for the reassurance,” Deborah remarked. “Why don’t you two run off now and prevent the police from making too many mistakes about me?”
Judith rose hesitantly. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, Alexandra is something of a friend, or at least a friend of the family. I can’t imagine she’s going to take too kindly to us barging in and demanding answers about Rupert…”
“Look at it this way,” said Lindsay. “Events are conspiring to force Debs into Rigano’s arms as the obvious and easy villain. Debs is your client. Therefore you’d be failing in your professional duty if you didn’t explore every possible avenue to establish her innocence. Isn’t that so?”
Judith nodded dubiously. “I suppose so,” she conceded. “But it doesn’t mean I feel any better about going through with it.” Lindsay treated Judith to a hard stare. The solicitor pursed her lips and said, “Oh, come on then. If we go now, we’ll probably catch her at the office. I think it would be easier from every point of view if we saw her there.”
It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach Alexandra’s office thanks to Judith’s driving, rendered doubly appalling by her apprehensions about the approaching interview. Her nervousness grew in the fifteen minutes they spent in the waiting room of Hampson, Humphrey and Brundage while Alexandra dealt with her last client of the day. When they were eventually summoned by buzzer, Judith bolted into the office with Lindsay behind her. Barely bigger than a boxroom, Alexandra Philips’s office was dominated by filing cabinets and a standard-sized desk which looked enormous in the confined space.
Yet the surroundings did not diminish its occupant. Alexandra was stunning. Lindsay instantly envied Rupert Crabtree and despised herself for the reaction. The woman who rose to greet them, was, Lindsay estimated, about five-foot-nine tall. Her hair was a glossy blue-black, cut close to a fine-boned head dominated by almond-shaped, luminous brown eyes. Her skin was a healthy glowing golden. Hardly the typical English rose, thought Lindsay. The clothes weren’t what she expected either. Alexandra wore a black velvet dress, fitting across the bust, then flaring out to a full swirling skirt. She should have had all the assurance in the world, but it was painfully obvious that self-possession wasn’t her long suit. There were black smudges under the eyes, and she looked as if tears would be a relief. The exchange of greetings had been on the formal side, and Judith threw a pleading look at Lindsay, expecting her to take over from there.
Lindsay took pity and launched in on a explanation. “Judith has a client called Deborah Patterson.” Alexandra’s eyebrows flickered. “I can see the name means something to you. Debs is one of my oldest and closest friends, and the way things are going at the moment it looks as if she’s likely to stand accused of Rupert Crabtree’s murder, which I can assure you she did not do. Judith and I are determined to see that the charge won’t stick, which is why I’m sticking my nose in where it’s not wanted.”
Alexandra looked puzzled. “I don’t actually understand either your status or what you want with me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lindsay, “you do deserve a better explanation than that. I’ve no official status,” she went on. “I’m a journalist. But as it happens my first concern with this business is not to get good stories but to make sure Debs stays free. I’m also cooperating, to some degree, with the police on behalf of the women at the peace camp. I find that people don’t always want to tell things to the police in case too much emphasis gets placed on the wrong things and innocent people start to appear in a bad light. All I’m trying to do, if you like, is to act as a sort of filter. Anything you want kept within these four walls stays that way until I get the whole picture sorted out, and I can be fairly sure of what’s important and what isn’t.”
“It’s called withholding evidence from the police in the circles I move in,” Alexandra countered. “I still don’t understand what brings you to me.”
The last thing Lindsay wanted was to start putting pressure on the young solicitor, but it appeared that in spite of Alexandra’s seeming vulnerability, that was what she was going to have to do. “Rupert Crabtree’s will is going to be public knowledge soon. If the police haven’t already been here, they will be. And so will reporters from every paper in the land. You can bet your bottom dollar they aren’t going to be as polite as me. Now, you can try to stall everyone with this disingenuous routine, but eventually you’ll get so sick of it you’ll feel like murder.
“Or you can short-circuit a lot of the hassle by talking to me. I’ll write a story that doesn’t make you look like the Scarlet Woman of Fordham. You can go away for a few days till the fuss dies down. You’ll be yesterday’s news by then, if you’ve already talked once. And by talking frankly to me, you can maybe prevent a miscarriage of justice. Now, I know you had been having an affair with Rupert Crabtree for over a year, and I know you were trying to get out of that situation. Suppose you tell me the rest?”
Alexandra buried her head in her hands. When she lifted her face her eyes were glistening. “Nice to know who your friends are, Judith,” she said bitterly.
“Judith has done the best thing she could for you by bringing me. She could have thrown you to the wolves for the sake of her client, but she did it decently.” Lindsay said with a gentleness that was sharp contrast to her previous aggression.
“You’re not one of the wolves?”
“No way. I’m the pussycat. Don’t think Judith has betrayed you. There will be plenty of others happy to do that over the next few days.”
Alexandra gave a shuddering sigh. “All right. Yes, I was Rupert’s mistress. I’m not in the least ashamed of that.”
“Tell me about him,” Lindsay prompted.
Alexandra looked down at her desk top and spoke softly. “He was wonderful company, very witty, very warm. He was also a very generous lover. I know you might find it hard to believe that he was a gentle man if all you’ve heard is the popular mythology. But he was very different when he was with me. I think he found it refreshing to be with a woman who understood the intricacies of the job.”
Lindsay prodded tentatively. “But still you wanted to end it. Why was that?”
Alexandra shrugged. “There seemed to be no future in it. He always made it clear that he would never leave his wife, that his domestic life was one he was not unhappy with. Well, I guess I felt that I wanted more from a long-term relationship than dinners in obscure restaurants and illicit meetings when he could fit them in. I loved him, no getting away from that, but I found I needed more from life. And just when I was at that low ebb, I fell in with someone I knew years ago, someone very different from Rupert, and I realised that with him I could have a relationship that held out a bit more hope for permanence.”
“And you told Rupert it was all over?”