"It's a set-up," he told the DCI. "They've got his alibi off pat. I spoke to each one in turn, asked them to give me an account of their movements on the evening of Saturday, the sixth of November, and each one told me the same story. They were watching the portable telly and drinking beer in Hughes's room when Hughes walked in at nine o'clock. He stayed there all night, as did his van which was parked in the road outside. I did not mention Hughes once, nor imply that I was at all interested in him or his blasted van. They offered the information gratuitously and without prompting."
"How could they know he'd told us nine o'clock?"
"The solicitor?"
Charlie shook his head. "Very unlikely. I get the impression he doesn't like his client any more than we do."
"Then it's a prearranged thing. If questioned, Hughes will always give nine o'clock as the time he returns to the squat."
"Or they're telling the truth."
Cooper gave a snort of derision. "No chance. They were scum. If any of them were tamely watching telly that night, I'm a monkey's uncle. Far more likely, they were out beating up old ladies or knifing rival football supporters."
The Inspector mulled this over. "There's no such thing as an alibi applicable in all situations," he said thoughtfully. "Not unless Hughes always makes a habit of committing crimes after nine o'clock at night, and we know he doesn't do that, because Ruth stole her grandmother's earrings at two-thirty in the afternoon." He fell silent.
"So what are you saying?" asked Cooper when he didn't go on. "That they're telling the truth?" He shook his head aggressively. "I don't believe that."
"I'm wondering why Hughes didn't produce this alibi yesterday. Why did he keep mum for so long if he knew his mates were going to back him up?" He answered his own question slowly. "Because his solicitor forced my hand this morning and demanded to know the earliest time that Mrs. Gillespie might have died. Which means Hughes had already told him he was in the clear from nine o'clock, and hey presto, out comes his alibi."
"How does that help us?"
"It doesn't," said Jones cheerfully. "But if it was the set-up you say it is, then he must have done something else that night that required an alibi from nine o'clock. All we have to do is find out what it was." He reached for his telephone. "I'll talk to my oppo in Bournemouth. Let's see what he can come up with on the crime sheet for the night of Saturday, November the sixth." The answer was nothing.
Nothing, at least, that remotely fitted the modus operandi of David Mark Hughes. Hence Cooper's tetchiness.
He tut-tutted crossly at Sarah as he examined the key on the table. "I thought you had more sense, Dr. Blakeney."
Sarah held on to her patience with an effort, remembering Jane's admonishment not to let events sour her nature. "I know. I'm sorry."
"You'd better hope we do raise someone else's fingerprints, otherwise I might be inclined to think this was a stunt."
"What sort of stunt?"
"A way of leaving your fingerprints on it legitimately."
She was way ahead of him. "Assuming I was the one who used it to get in and kill Mathilda and had forgotten to wipe my fingerprints off it at the time, I suppose?" she said tartly.
"Not quite," he said mildly, "I was thinking more in terms of a Good Samaritan act on behalf of someone else. Who have you unilaterally decided is innocent this time, Dr. Blakeney?"
"You're not very grateful, Cooper," she said. "I needn't have told you about it at all. I could have put it back quietly and kept my mouth shut."
"Hardly. It has your fingerprints all over it and someone would have found it eventually." He glanced at Joanna. "Did you really not know it was there, Mrs. Lascelles?"
"I've already told you once, Sergeant. No. I had a key to the front door."
There was something very odd going on between her and Dr. Blakeney, he thought. The body language was all wrong. They were standing close together, arms almost touching, but they seemed unwilling to look at each other. Had they been a man and a woman, he'd have said he'd caught them in flagrante delicto; as it was, intuition told him they were sharing a secret although what that secret was and whether it had any bearing on Mrs. GUlespie's death was anyone's guess.
"What about Ruth?"
Joanna shrugged indifferently. "I've no idea but I wouldn't think so. She's never mentioned it to me, and I've only ever known her use her front door key. There's no sense in coming all the way round the back if you can get in through the front. There's no access on this side." She looked honestly puzzled. "It must be something Mother started recently. She certainly didn't do it when I was living here."
He looked at Sarah who spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "All I know is that the second or third time I came to visit her, she didn't answer the door, so I walked round to the french windows and looked into the drawing-room. She was completely stuck, poor old thing, quite unable to push herself out of her chair because her wrists had packed up on her that day. She mouthed instructions through the glass. 'Key. Third flowerpot. Coal bunker.' I imagine she kept it there for just that kind of emergency. She worried all the time about losing her mobility."
"Who else knew about it?"
"I don't know."
"Did you tell anyone?"
Sarah shook her head. "I can't remember. I may have mentioned it in the surgery. It was ages ago, anyway. She started responding very well to the new medication I gave her and the situation didn't recur. I only remembered it when I came round the back this afternoon and saw the flowerpots."
Cooper took a couple of polythene bags out of his pocket and used one to inch the key off the table into the other. "And why did you come round the back, Dr. Blakeney? Did Mrs. Lascelles refuse to let you in at the front?"
For the first time Sarah glanced at Joanna. "I don't know about refusing. She may not have heard the bell."
"But it was obviously something very urgent you needed to discuss with her or you wouldn't have been so determined to get in. Would you care to let me in on what that was? Presumably it concerns Ruth." He was too old and experienced a hand to miss the look of relief on Joanna's face.
"Sure," said Sarah lightly. "You know my views on education. We were discussing Ruth's future schooling."
She was lying, Cooper thought, and he was startled by the fluency with which she did it. With an inward sigh, he made a mental note to review everything she had told him. He had believed her to be an honest, if naive, woman, but the naivety, he realized now, was all on his side. There was no fool like an old fool, he thought bitterly.
But then silly old Tommy had fallen a little in love.
There is no truer saying than "Revenge is a dish best eaten cold." It is so much sweeter for the waiting, and my only regret is that I cannot broadcast my triumph to the world. Sadty, not even to James, who is duped but does not know it.
This morning I heard from my bank that he has cashed my cheque for Ł12,000 and has therefore by default agreed to the insurance settlement. I knew he would. Where money is concerned James has the intemperate greed of a child. He spends it like water because cash in hand is the only thing he understands. Oh, to be a fly on the wall and see how he's living, but I can guess, anyway. Drink and sodomy. There was never anything else in James's life.
I am Ł36,500 richer today than I was yesterday, and I glory in it. The cheque from the insurance company for the various items stolen from the safe over Christmas while Joanna and I were in Cheshire came to an astonishing Ł23,500, the bulk of which was for the set of diamond jewellery belonging to my grandmother. The tiara alone was insured for Ł5,500, although I imagine it was worth more than that as I have not had it valued since Father's death. Extraordinary to have such a windfall for items I, personally, would not be seen dead in. There is nothing so ugly or heavy as ornate Victorian jewellery.