‘You only have Megan Sinclair’s word for that.’
‘We also only have Megan Sinclair’s word for the fact that your affair with her husband broke up their marriage.’
‘And I keep telling you that that affair never happened.’ Jude was beginning to lose her cool.
‘Megan seems convinced it did. And why should she make it up? Has she any reason for wanting to get you into trouble?’
‘I don’t know. Megan is … mentally very confused. She seems to have convinced herself that the affair did happen, so in her mind it did.’
‘Just in her mind?’
‘Yes!’
‘Very well. Then we come on to your recent behaviour. If you had nothing to do with the crime, why have you been going round contacting witnesses?’
‘Well, obviously, to find that vital piece of information, evidence, whatever, that will convince you I had nothing to do with it! Don’t you believe me?’
‘Yes, of course.’ said the Inspector, who clearly didn’t.
Jude felt she was up against a brick wall. ‘Look,’ she asked, as near to despairing as her positive nature ever allowed her to get, ‘short of getting a confession out of me – which you’re not going to get; I am not in the habit of confessing to crimes I didn’t commit – what would be the next stage of your investigation, so far as I’m concerned?’
Rollins looked thoughtful. ‘Well, if we can’t get any more useful information from you, and we don’t get any new information out of any of the other witnesses—’
‘People like Steve Chasen? He said he hasn’t spoken to you yet.’
‘We left a message for him. We’ll get round to him in time.’
‘So, apart from talking to people like him, what would your next step be?’
‘I suppose at some point we would apply for a warrant to search your premises.’
‘To search here? To search Woodside Cottage?’
‘Yes.’
Somehow this news, more than anything else that had been said, made Jude realize how seriously she was being taken as a suspect. ‘And then – what? If you can find some chopped walnuts in my kitchen, that’s it? I must have committed the murder?’
‘I’m not sure that—’
‘Go on then!’ Jude was up on her feet, gesturing towards the kitchen door. ‘Have a look! See what you can find! Do it now, why not? There’s no time like the present!’
There was a silence. The two detectives looked nervously at each other, not quite sure how to take the invitation that had been presented to them.
‘Well, don’t hang about,’ said Jude. ‘It’s a good offer. Detective Sergeant Knight, I guess this might be your territory. Why don’t you search my kitchen while the Detective Inspector keeps an eye on me to see that I don’t try to escape?’
‘Well …’ Knight looked again at Rollins. ‘We don’t actually have a search warrant.’
‘You don’t need a search warrant, do you,’ demanded Jude, ‘if I’ve given you my permission?’
She appealed to the Detective Inspector, who nodded and gestured the Detective Sergeant to go into the kitchen. As he went through, Knight pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket. And put them on.
‘Good,’ said Jude. ‘Let’s get this thing sorted out, shall we? Now, while he’s doing that, is there anything else you wanted to ask me?
Rollins had recovered her equilibrium by now. ‘Not so much what I want to ask you, but perhaps a few things I should tell you.’
‘Yes?’
‘Whatever happens next, I think you would be very ill-advised to continue to pursue your own investigations into Burton St Clair’s death.’
‘Oh no!’ Jude clutched both hands to her ample bosom. ‘This happens in every television cop show I’ve ever seen. I’ve been taken off the case!’
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Detective Inspector Rollins did not see the humorous side of this response. She continued as if nothing had been said. ‘I obviously cannot give you orders as to who you should or should not talk to, but your making contact with other potential witnesses might give the impression that you were trying to influence the testimony that they give.’
‘Yes, fine, I get the point. But, Inspector, please tell me you can at least understand why I want to make contact with such people.’
Rollins looked more po-faced than ever. ‘No, I can’t really understand that.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Jude was getting really rattled now. ‘To clear my name! To find some evidence which proves that I have nothing to do with Burton St Clair’s death! I just want to get at the truth!’
‘Exactly what we want to do, Jude. But I think we might get to the truth more quickly if you stopped withholding information.’
‘I am not withholding information! And I haven’t lied to you either. I just come back to the same thing. How many more times do I have to say it? I had nothing to do with the death of Burton St Clair!’
Jude saw the Inspector’s gaze move towards the kitchen. She turned. Detective Sergeant Knight standing in the open doorway. Between finger and thumb of his gloved right hand he held the neck of a bottle.
‘I found this, Inspector. It’s walnut oil.’
THIRTEEN
‘It’s the huile de noix I bought when I was in Périgord last summer,’ said Jude. ‘I’d forgotten I’d got it.’
‘“Forgotten I’d got it”?’ Detective Inspector Rollins echoed sceptically.
‘Yes, I was doing a week’s Mindfulness Workshop.’ Rollins’s expression suggested that Mindfulness Workshops weren’t high on her list of priorities. ‘There were a lot of other healers of various disciplines there, and there was one who was raving on about the health benefits of huile de noix. I mean, it’s full of Omega-3 fatty acids, supposed to be good for lowering blood pressure and reversing the hardening of blood vessels. Some people also use it in the treatment of eczema.’
Detective Sergeant Knight looked down at the bottle he was holding. ‘This is only about half full. Some of it’s been used.’
‘I wanted to test whether it did have any beneficial effects, so I tried it out on some of my clients. I’m always open to testing different kinds of therapy.’
‘Good,’ said Detective Inspector Rollins drily.
From somewhere the Sergeant had produced an evidence bag, into which he placed the bottle of oil.
His superior rose from her seat. ‘I don’t think we need trouble you any further this evening, Jude.’ And though she didn’t actually emphasize the words ‘this evening’, the implication was clear that there would be further ‘troubling’ at some future date. ‘But I would just like to reiterate that your continuing to contact people who might have relevant information about Burton St Clair’s death will not help your cause.’
‘“Cause”,’ Jude repeated. ‘Are you sure you don’t mean “case”?’
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’
‘What I am saying, Inspector, is that you seem to be building up such a strong case against me as the murderer of Burton St Clair, I’m surprised you don’t arrest me right now and get it over with.’
‘We don’t have enough evidence to make any arrest at this point,’ Rollins replied primly. ‘Good night. We can see ourselves out.’
Carole Seddon was not used to hearing her doorbell ring after eight o’clock at night. In common with most of the residents of Fethering, unless she had planned to go out for an evening or, much more rarely, invited someone to visit her, the drawbridge of High Tor was firmly up as soon as Gulliver had had his final walk.