‘The conjectural poison must have been in his drink?’ Oliver was slightly sending her up with his scepticism.
‘Exactly. Which means it was either in the water he drank during his talk or the wine he drank after it.’
‘The wine came from bottles everyone else was having their glasses filled from. There hasn’t been news of a massive death toll of Fethering library-goers, has there?’
‘Not that I’ve heard of, no.’ Jude didn’t think it was the moment to mention Burton’s walnut allergy. She and Oliver Parsons were really just playing games. She didn’t want too much reality to intrude into their speculation.
Increasingly she was beginning to think that Oliver’s interest in Burton St Clair’s death was just an excuse to get to know her better. And, increasingly, the more time she spent with him, she found herself warming to the prospect.
‘So I think, Jude, we should probably concentrate on the water he drank during his talk. As I recall, it came from a half-litre plastic bottle. I didn’t notice the brand. Did you?’
‘No.’
‘But if there were poison put into that bottle, we have to ask ourselves who would have had the opportunity to put it there?’
‘I think there can only be two suspects. The two librarians. Di Thompson and Vix Winter.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, think about it. Presumably they were the only ones there when Burton arrived. They’d have set up the room, moved the chairs and so on. They would also have put up the screens from his publishers, and made everything else ready for his talk, setting up his table and chair … and his water bottle and glass.’
‘I suppose you’re right. So perhaps we should be investigating Di Thompson and Vix Winter.’
‘Perhaps we should.’ Though why? Jude wondered. She herself had a personal interest in the case; the attitude of the police made her want to remove her name firmly from their list of suspects. But why was Oliver Parsons so interested? She asked him.
‘Oh, my interest arises, like so many things in my life, from sheer idleness. Or do I mean boredom? As I said, for a while I got fascinated by reading about amateur sleuths. Now I’m fascinated, at least for the time being, by the idea of being one. It’s just a game, nothing more than that.’
‘You enjoy playing games?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Well then, let’s move to the next stage of the game …’
‘Very well.’
‘… and imagine what would happen if the poison was not in the water that Burton drank, but in the wine …?’
‘I’m happy to run with that.’
‘I was thinking back to last Tuesday, and when Burton actually got his glass of wine. There was some confusion, as I recall.’
‘That’s right.’ Oliver snapped his fingers unconsciously as he tried to visualize the scene. ‘They’d run out of red, and the junior went into the staff room to get another bottle. And I think Di went in too.’
‘She did. Yes, she seemed quite keen to get away from Burton, I remember.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘If past form’s anything to go by, Oliver, it would be because he’d just made a pass at her.’
‘Ah. Right.’
The scene was now coming back very vividly to Jude. ‘Then suddenly both librarians were bustling Steve Chasen out of the staff room. And you told him he’d had too much to drink and helped him on his way out of the main doors. And Vix said something about a wine bottle having been knocked over …’
‘And Di said Steve had been responsible …’
‘And Vix said she’d clear it up. So, if we are going down our poison in the wine scenario …’ Jude began to sum up, ‘Steve Chasen went into the staff room …’
‘Ostensibly to get himself a glass of wine, but in fact to put poison in the bottle from which Burton’s glass would be poured; and then, once it had been poured, he knocked over the bottle, to ensure that no one else got poisoned …’
‘And Vix Winter cleaned up the mess, which effectively removed any evidence of the crime that had been committed …’
Glowing with triumph, Jude’s eyes engaged with Oliver’s. His looked equally triumphant.
‘I think the next thing we have to do,’ he said, ‘is to talk to Steve Chasen.’
Jude didn’t object to his use of the word ‘we’. In fact, she rather liked it.
She had enjoyed her evening. It had been fun playing amateur sleuths with Oliver Parsons. And as he dropped her outside Woodside Cottage she looked up at High Tor with a slight feeling of guilt. After all, it was Carole with whom she usually played amateur sleuths.
TEN
Jude’s first client wasn’t booked till two p.m., so she didn’t hurry to get up in the morning. The world beneath her duvet was a comfortingly warm one. And her evening with Oliver Parsons had done much to restore the spirits brought down by her encounter with Megan Sinclair.
Though she had not realized until getting home, her mobile had stayed on her bedroom table while she was at the Hare & Hounds. There was another message on it from Detective Inspector Rollins. And one on the landline. Jude didn’t feel inclined to answer them in a hurry.
Around eight-thirty in the morning she went down to the kitchen for long enough to make herself a cup of coffee and then crawled back to bed with it. She didn’t read or put on the radio, she just enjoyed the snugness.
This feeling was increased when, on the dot of nine, she had a call from Oliver. He said how much he’d enjoyed their evening. ‘And, what’s more, I have made a positive move following it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Left a message with Steve Chasen. Said I’d like to meet.’
‘Do you think he’ll get back to you?’
‘I’m certain he will. I said I had some other ideas of publishers to whom he could offer his science-fiction novel.’
‘You’re a crafty bastard.’
‘Thank you. I take that as the compliment I’m sure it was meant to be. I’ll let you know when I hear back from him. You must come along too when we meet up.’
‘And how will you explain my presence?’
‘I’ll say you’re a literary agent.’
She must have gone back to sleep again, because when she was wakened by the ringing of the doorbell, her watch told her it was nearly ten.
She tugged on a woollen dressing gown and went downstairs. When she opened the front door, she found herself confronted by Rollins and Knight.
‘Good morning, Mrs Nicholls,’ said the Detective Inspector.
‘I told you “Jude” was—’
‘I left a series of messages, to which you didn’t reply.’
I know. I—’
‘Didn’t it occur to you that not getting back to me might make it look as though you had something to hide?’
And didn’t it occur to you that I might have other demands on my time? Jude was shocked by how near she had been to saying the words out loud. The last thing she needed to do at that moment was to antagonize the police any more.
‘May we come in? We need to talk to you.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Jude moved back into the hall. ‘Do you mind if I just go up and put some clothes on?’
‘Very well,’ said Detective Inspector Rollins. ‘This may take some time.’
‘Do sit down. I’ll make you some tea or coffee when I’ve—’
‘We don’t need any, thank you,’ said Rollins.
‘No, we don’t,’ confirmed Knight, not willing to be left out.
It was not in Jude’s nature to feel guilty. In her personal and professional relationships, she was scrupulous about her honesty towards other people. And, unlike some people, she never felt the necessity to feel responsible for events over which she had no control.
But, as she quickly dressed in her customary layers of floaty garments up in her bedroom, she could not deny that she felt uneasy. She didn’t need convincing of her own innocence, but she feared that bringing Detective Inspector Rollins round to the same view might be an uphill struggle.