The House of Women (10 page)

6

Rowlands’s irritability grew mile for mile along the A55 towards Bangor. ‘I’m not blaming you, Prys, but we should have telephoned these people first!’

‘
Well, sir, we didn’t.’ Overtaking a fast-moving truck, Dewi added: ‘We can go again, when they’re back off holiday.’

‘
Bradshaw will not be quite so laid back about the virtual waste of a day and God knows how many gallons of petrol.’

‘
We can always tell her it was raking over old ground, and we’re therefore approaching the problem from another angle.’ Dewi braked to take the Talybont turn-off. ‘Trading Standards dumped the whole lot on us when a couple of stolen engines surfaced, but strictly speaking, there’s nothing to connect those to the clocked Tigra and the welded coupe.’

‘
The Republic of Gwynedd can’t support too many bent vehicle outfits.’

‘“
Republic of Gwynedd”, sir?’

‘
As in the locals making up their own rules as they go along, without reference to the law of the land, but you wouldn’t necessarily notice,’ Rowlands said, gazing through the window. ‘You’re part of the same culture.’ As the car flashed past an old granite house and the entrance to a lane, he turned in his seat. ‘What’s that? Surely to God you don’t bury people at the roadside!’

‘
The gypsies live down that lane.’

‘
There’s a grave by the road, with fresh flowers and a cross.’

‘
It’s a shrine for a little gypsy girl who was run over a few years ago, on her way home from school.’ Seeing the expression on Rowlands’s face, he added: ‘And it’s not morbid, sir. We think it’s rather touching.’

7

The silver Jaguar glittered hugely in the sunshine of Glamorgan Place, rays of light bouncing from its roof and bonnet and wings. McKenna drove to the top of the cul-de-sac and parked in the shade of a hawthorn tree. Its dying flowers tainted the air with a sour odour.

Eyes invisible behind dark glasses, Janet said:
‘Where does Mrs Harris get her money?’

‘
I’ve no idea.’ He walked down the short hill, stepping in her truncated shadow. She was wearing different perfume, a light, lemony scent. ‘And it’s unlikely to be relevant to Ned’s death.’

‘
I’d still like to know. Maybe she’ll tell me, if I ask her nicely.’

‘
Ask about her husband, too, if you have the opportunity.’ He paused by the gate. ‘I tried to prise some information out of Iolo Williams, but he wouldn’t take the bait.’

‘
He seems very faithful, doesn’t he? He must be one of those caring souls, so I expect my father knows him.’

McKenna walked up the path and rapped on the open front door, knocking again, more forcefully, when the hall remained empty.

The sitting room door was wrenched open, and Williams stamped towards them, screwing up his eyes as the sun struck his face. ‘It’s barely a couple of hours since you left. What do you want now?’ As he moved restlessly, the odour of stale nicotine drifted from his clothing. ‘You can’t see Edith. She’s lying down.’

‘
She needn’t be disturbed,’ McKenna said. ‘We’ve come to examine Mr Jones’s room.’

‘
Why? Have you got a warrant?’

‘
We don’t need one, professor. This is standard procedure.’

‘
It’s not convenient!’

‘
I’m sorry, but it’s got to be done.’

‘
It can be done some other time!’

Another vehicle pulled into the road, and double parked beside the Jaguar. Williams pushed past McKenna and Janet, and flapped down the path in his sandals.
‘Get away! Move that van now!’

McKenna followed him.
‘The forensic team can park up the hill beside my car, but they’re coming in.’

‘
I shall complain!’ Williams stormed back to the house. ‘You can’t invade Edith’s home and her privacy like this. You’re treating her like a criminal!’

Phoebe appeared on the doorstep, her face sodden with tears.
‘What’s happening?’ The cat crouched by her feet, tense and wary, then shot into the hall as two forensic officers came up the path, their overalls crackling.

‘
We want to examine Ned’s room,’ McKenna told her.

‘
Why are they here again?’ She pointed to the overalled men. ‘They frightened Tom!’

‘
Come inside,’ Janet coaxed. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ She put her arm around Phoebe’s shoulder, and tried to persuade her from the doorstep, but the girl refused to move.

‘
Oh, get inside, child!’ Williams snapped.

‘
I won’t! You’ve no right to tell me what to do!’

He raised his hand, palm out, and Phoebe cowered away.

‘Professor Williams!’ McKenna caught hold of his arm. ‘Leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s upset?’

Shaking himself free, Williams again pushed past Janet, and returned to the sitting room, slamming the door. Phoebe leaned against the door, and began to sob, while the overalled men stood on the path, baggage at their feet.

‘Go with DC Evans,’ McKenna told them. ‘I’ll be with you soon.’

Sobbing as if her heart would break, Phoebe shook her head, tears running from her chin and making huge splotchy patches on her shirt. He took her hand, and led her to the kitchen.
‘Where’s Annie?’

She slumped into a chair, and leaned over the table, a parody of Edith earlier that day.

‘She’s gone to the shops.’ The words were punctuated with sobs.

‘
Is Mrs Williams here?’

‘
I don’t want to see her!’ Phoebe’s voice rose ominously. ‘I hate her!’

‘
Then I’ll stay with you until Annie gets back.’ He took out cigarettes and lighter, and looked around for the ashtray. ‘What’s happened since we spoke on the phone? You were crying before we arrived, weren’t you?’

The cat sidled around the door, and jumped on the table, bulldozing her shoulder with its head. She reached out to stroke him, catching her breath in a huge sigh.
‘You’ll have to use a saucer, ’cos they’ve got the ashtrays. Solange smokes like a chimney as well. Their house stinks, and they stink, and she stinks most because she doesn’t have a bath very often. French people don’t, you know. I expect that’s why they invented perfume.’ She tickled the cat’s ears. ‘His fur smells of cigarettes when they’ve been here, like a council house cat, but you can smoke if you want, because you’re not like them. I expect you open your windows, and wash your clothes and hair, because you smell quite nice.’ She smiled wanly. ‘Like Uncle Ned, in a way. Maybe you use the same soap.’

‘
Maybe,’ McKenna agreed, taking a saucer from the dresser. ‘What’s upset you?’

She wrapped her arms around the cat, and hugged him.
‘It’s silly, really. I said Annie and me were baking, didn’t I? The cake looked so nice we decided to have some as soon as it cooled, only when I bit my piece, it tasted horrible, like sawdust, but there’s nothing wrong with the cake. It’s me.’ She caught her breath again. ‘Then I realized nothing’s tasted the same since Friday, and when I went into the garden, the flowers smelled almost rancid, and it’s all cold and damp under the tree where I used to sit with Uncle Ned, not cool and fresh like it was last week. Everything’s gone flat and sad, like it’s all over.’

‘
You’re grieving, Phoebe. You’ve lost someone you loved very much, who’s always been part of your life.’

‘
It hurts,’ she whispered. ‘It hurts so much!’

He stroked her hair.
‘Does Annie understand?’

‘
She hurts, too. And little Bethan keeps asking where Uncle Ned’s gone, and we don’t know what to tell her.’

‘
The truth is best.’

‘
But could she understand? Annie wants her to go to the funeral, but Mama said it’d be cruel, because she’s far too young.’

‘
Even if Bethan can’t understand now, she’ll remember when she’s older, and be able to put the whole picture together.’ He tapped ash into the saucer. ‘She won’t be afraid of some terrible mystery, or think people simply disappear off the face of the earth.’

‘
I suppose.’ Phoebe sniffed, scouring her face with her hands.

‘
Does your mother miss him, too? Is that why she’s so distraught?’ He heard a rustle, felt a gentle draught.

‘
My mother barely tolerated him.’ Annie Harris walked into the kitchen, plastic carrier bags in one hand, a small child with wispy fair curls clinging to the other. She dumped the bags on a worktop, and turned to face McKenna, the child leaning against her legs. ‘And my mother isn’t distraught. She’s retreated into drug-assisted hysteria, which is her usual response to stress.’

McKenna rose, and held out his hand.

‘Michael James McKenna,’ Phoebe intoned. ‘Detective chief inspector. My sister Anastasia and my niece Bethan.’ Annie shook his hand briefly, then ruffled her sister’s hair. The child gazed up at him, blue eyes wide. ‘You’ll notice,’ Phoebe went on, ‘that Bethan’s got blonde hair, only hers is genuine.’

Annie smiled.
‘You also have noticed it’s impossible to get Phoebe to shut up.’ Turning to her, she said: ‘I thought you’d gone for a lie-down.’

‘
I had, then Mr McKenna came, and the professor had a tantrum. He’s sulking in the sitting room with Solange.’

‘
Well, I hope they don’t plan to stay for dinner.’ Annie began to empty the carrier bags, and said to McKenna: ‘Janet Evans is still waiting on the stairs, you know, with the men in what Bethan calls spacesuits.’

‘
They’re forensic officers,’ Phoebe said. ‘They were here on Friday, and now they’re back to turn Uncle Ned’s room inside out for fingerprints and that sort of thing.’

‘
Why?’ Annie stopped emptying the bags.

‘
Yes, why?’ Phoebe demanded.

Still on his feet, McK
enna fidgeted with his lighter.

‘
Please don’t prevaricate,’ Annie added. ‘I need to know what to tell my mother.’

‘
Ned was killed by an allergic reaction to one of the drugs listed as potentially lethal on his SOS bracelet, which is still missing, so at the moment, we’re treating his death as suspicious.’

‘
I told you!’ Phoebe announced, shock draining the colour from her face. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

Annie sighed.
‘Yes, child, you told me. Now get the cat off the table.’

*

The seal around the door of Ned’s room was intact. McKenna watched as it was opened, then went in, Janet at his heels. Unaired for over four days, its leaded windows catching the full force of afternoon sunshine, the room was stifling, the smell of old books and musty paper overpowering.

Janet wrinkled her nose.
‘Can we open the windows?’ Noticing the chair in which Ned died, its plush seat stained and crinkled where his bodily excretions had dried out, she added: ‘And can we move this? Phoebe’s quite likely to come nosing.’

‘
When it’s been re-examined,’ McKenna said.

‘
Apart from the SOS bracelet and any tablets, what else are we looking for?’ She surveyed the desk and shelves, the stacks of papers and books, and wandered through a shaft of sunlight drifting with dust motes to look at two old wood caskets, roughly bound in brass, which stood on one of the shelves built into each chimney alcove.

‘
Don’t touch those! Please!’ Phoebe stood in the doorway.

‘
Don’t come in,’ McKenna told her.

‘
You mustn’t open them!’ Her face began to crumple, more tears imminent. ‘They were Uncle Ned’s. He called them his Box of Dreams and his Box of Clouds.’

‘
And what’s in them?’ McKenna asked.

‘
Dreams and clouds,’ Phoebe said, ‘and if anyone opens the boxes, they’ll blow away.’

Making his way back to the door, careful not to touch any surfaces, McKenna said to Janet:
‘Take care of the boxes. I’ll be downstairs.’

Phoebe clumped down ahead of him, to the waiting cat.
‘Are you going to take our fingerprints? Mine’ll be all over Uncle Ned’s things.’

‘
We’ll take everyone’s,’ McKenna said, herding her back to the kitchen.

‘
Even the professor’s?’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘He won’t like that.’

‘
I’m sure he’ll appreciate the need.’ Hand on the kitchen doorknob, McKenna asked: ‘Has he ever hit you?’

She shook her head.
‘He just shouts. He’s always raising his hand like he did earlier. He does it to Solange when he’s annoyed.’

‘
And what does she do?’

‘
Smack him down, and mutter rude things in French.’

Bethan sat on a stool by the table, sucking orange juice through a straw.
Pink rubber gloves on her hands and a butcher’s apron around her shapely waist, Annie chopped onions, tears streaming down her face. ‘Wipe my eyes, Phoebe. I can’t see a thing.’

Tearing paper towel from a roll, Phoebe obeyed.

‘And make a pot of tea while I finish the vegetables.’ She glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Shouldn’t Mina be home by now?’

‘
She wasn’t back ’til midnight last night.’

‘
Well, it’s her loss if she misses dinner,’ Annie said. ‘Do those two in the sitting room get tea?’

‘
They’ve got a bottle of wine. I expect they’ll go when it’s empty.’

‘
Good.’ Laying out a tray with mugs and biscuits, Phoebe waited for the kettle to boil, surveying McKenna. ‘I’ll take Bethan to play in the garden when the tea’s ready, so you can grill Annie while we’re out of the way.’

*

‘My baby sister’s taken quite a fancy to you.’ Annie topped up McKenna’s tea, and poured her own. Iolo Williams and his wife had left, Solange dumping two wine glasses, both smeared with fingerprints and one with lipstick, and an empty bottle, on the kitchen counter, and then, with ill grace, the ashtrays, collected from the sitting room at Annie’s request.

‘
She’s got something about her,’ McKenna said.

‘
She has, hasn’t she? And whatever it is, Uncle Ned saw it, too.’

‘
I need a lot of information.’ He stubbed out his cigarette in the saucer. ‘It’s difficult to ask your mother, and Phoebe’s too young.’