Part 41 (1/2)
”No.”
Charlotte stared at Golding, hoping she had somehow misunder-stood. ”Knows nothing? He said that?”
”He denies ever reading or possessing such letters. Hence he also denies they were stolen from him. By Mr Abberley or anybody else.”
”But we saw them,” shouted Ursula, stubbing out her cigarette so violently the ashtray vibrated beneath it. ”At least we saw one of them.”
”So you said.” There was a flatness in Golding's voice, a deliberate suppression of meaning.
Charlotte looked straight at him. ”Don't you believe us, Chief Inspector?”
”It's certainly hard to imagine why you should invent such an elaborate story.”
”We didn't invent it.”
He smiled faintly. ”Well, that remains to be seen, doesn't it? As a detective, I have to keep an open mind. I have to consider every possibility.”
”Including the possibility that we're lying?”
”Exactly so, Miss Ladram. Including the possibility that you're lying. ”
CHAPTER.
NINE.
The first telephone call Derek Fairfax received after reaching the office on Wednesday proved what he had begun to suspect: that the death of Maurice Abberley amounted to rather more than the newspapers had revealed.
”Fairfax.”
”Good morning, Mr Fairfax. My name's Golding. Detective Chief Inspector Golding of Thames Valley CID.”
”Thames Valley?”
”I'm investigating the murder of Mr Maurice Abberley. Perhaps you've read about it.”
”Er . . . Yes, I have.”
”Your name's been given by the murdered man's sister, Miss Charlotte Ladram, as somebody able to corroborate certain aspects of the evidence she's laid before us.”
”Really? What evidence?”
”I'd like to talk to you about it. Would that be possible?”
”Well . . . Yes, of course. But-”
”Could I call on you later? This afternoon perhaps?”
”You mean . . . here?”
”If it's not inconvenient.”
”No, no. I'm sure-”
”Shall we say two-thirty?”
”Well . . . all right.”
”Until two-thirty, then. Goodbye, Mr Fairfax.”
Derek put the telephone down slowly, frowning as he did so. If he had not been so taken aback, he might have suggested a different venue. But it was too late now. What form of corroboration did Golding have in mind? he wondered. Why had Charlotte Ladram decided to involve him when she had previously been so eager to exclude him? Impulsively he grabbed the telephone directory, looked up her number and dialled it. But there was no answer.
He tried again ten minutes later, then at half hourly intervals H A N D I N G L O V E.
253.
throughout the morning. But the result was always the same.
Charlotte Ladram was not at home.
Charlotte was in fact driving west along the M4 to South Wales, intent upon extracting from Frank Griffith some explanation of why he had misled Chief Inspector Golding. By noon she was on the Brecon by-pa.s.s and less than an hour later was steering gingerly between the ruts on the rough and winding track to Hendre Gorfelen.
It was as she was approaching the last crest before the house came into sight that she suddenly had to stamp on the brakes as a Land Rover came pitching round the hillside. The two vehicles came to a halt virtually b.u.mper to b.u.mper, with no room to pa.s.s each other between the dry stone walls. And there, staring back at Charlotte from the cab of the Land Rover, unsmiling and motionless, was Frank Griffith.
Charlotte switched off the ignition and climbed out. The Land Rover engine rumbled on as she walked round to the driver's door and waited for him to look at her. Eventually, just when she thought he never would, he turned it off.
”Frank?”
He continued to stare straight ahead.
”You must have been expecting me.”
Still there was no response.
”Why did you lie to the police?”
Now, at last, he did acknowledge her presence, with a faint nod and a stubborn extension of his lower lip. ”I did what you wanted me to do,” he said.
”What I wanted you to do?”
”Forget the whole thing. Leave well alone. Stop causing trouble to you and your family.”
”I never said that.”
”You meant it, though.” He glared round at her. ”Why else would you have left me that note? You didn't believe McKitrick had stolen the letters, did you? It was a lie. So, before you start demanding to know why I lied, perhaps you'd like to tell me why you lied.”