That was before she’d seen the file on Abigail Mantel, which he kept in his desk and pored over, like some pervert slobbering over downloaded porn.
Pride had stopped her acting immediately. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that she could be that wrong about anyone. Then she’d stood in the village and watched him walking with Emma Bennett up the lane from the river, attentive and careful, and she’d seen the way Emma had looked at him. This was another bonny young lass. Not as young as Abigail had been when she’d died, but there were some days when Emma still looked like a teenager. And she’d known Abigail, found the body. Perhaps there was a thrill in that for Dan. You could never tell how some people’s minds worked. Not even the psychiatrist could manage that. Or perhaps he wanted to get close to Emma to find out how much she remembered. If he’d had any sort of relationship with the dead girl, he’d want to know if she talked about it before she was killed.
Pride was a terrible thing, Vera thought. It had always let her down.
So she swallowed her pride and went to see Caroline Fletcher. She did it properly too, calling in advance to check if it was convenient. There was no fuss this time when she stood on the doorstep of the desirable executive home, no show.
Caroline had changed from her business suit into jeans and a baggy jumper which reached almost to her knees. The boyfriend was nowhere to be seen and Vera didn’t ask after him. He’d be playing squash, she thought. Or staying late at the office. Something normal In the living room there was a bottle of white wine standing in a cooler on the floor by the armchair, one glass taken out of it. Caroline had been holding the glass when she opened the door.
“Would you like some?” she said, seeming ready to build bridges herself.
Vera preferred red, but it would have been churlish to refuse.
“What’s this about?” The woman’s voice was cautious but not unfriendly.
“Dan Greenwood,” Vera said.
“What about him?”
“What did you make of him?” Caroline looked at her without answering and Vera was forced to elaborate. “You worked closely with him. Did you ever have any concerns? I mean, did the breakdown come out of the blue?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“As a colleague. A friend.”
“I wasn’t expecting it,” Caroline said. “He seemed to be holding it together. Perhaps, though, it was inevitable. He let things get to him, took them to heart.” She paused. “I don’t think he’s stupid, but he wasn’t really up to the job. The politics, the games you have to play. The rules you have to keep to or bend. He says what he means and he can’t understand when other people don’t do the same. He talked about resigning at the same time as me. I shouldn’t have discouraged it.”
“You’d resigned before he went on sick leave?”
“Yes. Getting Jeanie Long to court was the last thing I did.” She paused. “Everyone said I was going out on a high.”
“How soon after the court case was Dan’s illness?”
“I’m not sure. It’s hard to judge time when you look back from this distance. It all becomes a bit of a blur. Not long though. A couple of months. Six at the most. You could check. Personnel might still have it on file. Someone there would probably remember better than me.”
“I don’t really want to make it official. Not yet.”
Vera sipped the wine which was still cold and very dry. Caroline looked at her over her glass. “What’s all this about?” she said again, more forcefully, meaning, Cut the crap, lady. I’ve played these games too in my time.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Vera asked, matter of fact.
“No!” Caroline gave a hoot of laughter, so spontaneous and joyful Vera knew it was genuine. “Where did you get that idea?”
“We all get daft notions in our heads from time to time.”
“You didn’t come out here just to ask me that.”
For a moment Vera didn’t respond. In this investigation, she’d started off thinking she couldn’t trust this woman as far as she could throw her. It came hard now to pass on information she hadn’t even shared with Joe Ashworth.
“Dan Greenwood has a file on the Mantel case. He keeps it in his desk at the pottery, takes it out and reads it every now and again. It could mean anything. Guilt because he didn’t stand up to you over the Jeanie Long arrest. Nostalgia for a time when he was part of a team and he had friends he seems a bit of a loner now. Or it could be more sinister. Some sort of trophy, maybe. It could mean he killed her.”
Caroline listened carefully. She didn’t dismiss the idea out of hand. She knew what it had cost Vera to be there.
“What’s in the file?”
Vera shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a chance to look. Duplicates of the case papers and the investigation log. A duplicate of the post-mortem report. Postmortem photographs. A glossy picture of the girl before she died, looking dressed up and glamorous.”
“We might have asked Keith for a photo for publicity,” Caroline said quickly. An appeal through the media asking for witnesses to come forward. It doesn’t mean Dan knew her before she died.”
“I thought you didn’t bother much with that sort of publicity. You took Jeanie Long into custody pretty quickly.”
“It doesn’t mean we didn’t make other plans at the beginning…”
“Do you remember asking Keith for a photo?”
“No, but I wouldn’t after all this time.”
“Strange, anyway, Dan holding onto it for ten years.”
“Yes,” Caroline said. “Perhaps.” She poured herself another glass and waved the bottle towards Vera, who shook her head. She’d wait until she got back to the hotel, then have a proper drink. They sat again in silence.
“What happened to the clothes Abigail was wearing when she died?” Vera asked.
“God knows. After all this time… Why do you want to know?”
“No reason.”
Caroline looked at her suspiciously, but didn’t push it. “Dan was a bit of a loner even then. I mean friendly enough, a part of the team, no one ever minded being partnered up with him, but not really one of the lads. Do you know what I mean?”
Vera nodded. He wouldn’t get pissed with them. He wouldn’t swear about the bosses, or get sentimental and pour out his heart.
“Has he ever been married? I didn’t check that either.”
“God, no.” Caroline considered, then added. “I don’t know why that should seem so unthinkable. I suppose he didn’t seem the type. And he never mentioned anyone.”
“Gay?”
“No.” Then after more thought, “At least I don’t think so.”
“He fancied you, didn’t he?”
“Probably, but you get used to that. A woman in a team of men who feel the job’s screwed up all the other relationships in their lives. After a while it’s not flattering any more.”
I’d be flattered, Vera thought. Trust me.
“You never felt threatened by his attentions?”
“Not once.”
“Is there any way he could have got to know Abigail socially?”
“I can’t think of one.”
“Perhaps you invited him to one of Keith’s parties?”
“None of my colleagues knew about Keith. We were very discreet.”
“Dan guessed. During the investigation.”
“Did he? He never said.” Caroline seemed amused rather than surprised.
“Where was Dan living when Abigail was murdered?”
“In Crill. He had a flat in one of those big terraced houses on the se afront I picked him up from there a couple of times.”
“Did you ever go in?”
“Once or twice. Sometimes he wasn’t ready if I was early to collect him for a job. Once he asked me in for a beer at the end of a shift.”
“What was it like in there?”
“Bloody cold,” she said. “It had old sash windows that let in all the draughts.” She looked sharply at Vera. “There weren’t any photos of naked schoolgirls on the walls, if that’s what you mean.”