Wake the Dead Read online

  ‘If this mystery woman had anything to do with the murder, she wouldn’t have hung about. She’d have been gone long before you got that organised.’

  ‘You could say the same of anyone, if it wasn’t one of the family.’

  ‘True,’ said Lineham gloomily. He brightened up. ‘But with all that loot lying around waiting to be inherited, I bet you anything it was.’

  Thanet laughed. ‘I won’t take you up on that, it could prove expensive.’

  SIX

  ‘Ah, that’s better.’ Thanet laid down his knife and fork with a little sigh of contentment. Joan and her mother had eaten long since, but had saved supper for him: thick, succulent slices of ham on the bone, new potato salad with chives, a salad of apple, celery, walnut and yoghurt, and crusty home-made rolls. Now, comfortable in his own clothes again, he leaned back in the capacious basket chair and relaxed.

  They were sitting on the little paved terrace at the back of his mother-in-law’s house. Margaret Bolton was a keen gardener and the scent of nicotiana and old roses hung in the warm, still air. Although it was ten o’clock it was such a lovely evening that they had all been reluctant to go indoors and shut the windows against marauding insects.

  ‘Delicious supper, Margaret.’ Thanet took out his pipe and began to fill it.

  Margaret Bolton smiled. ‘I should think you were ready for it.’ She ran a hand languidly through her hair, raising it a little from her scalp and letting it fall gently back into the soft curls which framed her face. ‘Lovely to be able to sit outside so late, like this.’

  Joan nodded. ‘We could almost imagine we were in France.’

  She and Thanet exchanged affectionate smiles, remembering their first joint holiday in France many years ago, on their honeymoon. They had loved the Dordogne, revelled in the delight of lingering outside on many an evening such as this, and had since returned time and again to savour the unique pleasures of rural France.

  ‘Let’s hope it lasts,’ said her mother. ‘More coffee, anyone?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Just half a cup for me, Mum.’ Joan waited until her mother had poured out the coffee and then said, ‘Anyway, how did it go today, Luke?’

  ‘So so. As well as could be expected, I suppose.’

  ‘How are they, the Fairleighs?’ said Margaret Bolton.

  ‘Oh, all right. Shocked, of course. But not exactly devastated.’ It occurred to Thanet that his mother-in-law might be able to give him an outsider’s view of the family. She had lived in Thaxden for years, was a member of the local Conservative Association and no doubt came into contact with them fairly frequently at local events. ‘I shouldn’t think the old lady was too easy to live with.’

  ‘You can say that again! Her poor sister, the way she bossed her about … I don’t know how Letty put up with it.’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t have much choice,’ said Joan.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Mrs Bolton. ‘She used to keep house for her father and the way I heard it, he was a pretty improvident type. When he died the house had to be sold to pay off his debts and Letty was left with virtually nothing. I don’t think she was ever trained to do any kind of job and I expect she was only too glad to accept Isobel’s offer of a home.’

  ‘When was that?’ said Thanet.

  ‘Oh, ages ago. A couple of years after you were married.’

  ‘Somewhere around 1965, then?’

  ‘I should think so, yes.’

  ‘I imagine the Fairleighs could well afford to have her live with them.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I think they’re pretty well off. I don’t know how long the family has been living in Thaxden Hall, but for two or three generations, anyway. They had a town house in London, too, but that was destroyed in the Blitz during the war. It was rather tragic, really, Hugo’s grandparents were staying in it at the time, and they were both killed. His father was their only son and presumably inherited everything.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘I didn’t know him as well as I know his son. He didn’t mix in village affairs as much as Hugo. He was also the MP for Sturrenden, if you remember. Hugo followed in his father’s footsteps.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Didn’t he die unexpectedly, of a heart attack?’

  ‘That’s right, two or three years before the Conservatives got back into power in the 1979 election. It was the year before Hugo got married, I do remember that. It was a great shock to the family, he was what was commonly called a fine figure of a man and seemed very fit, walked a lot, played tennis and so on. I believe he was tipped for Ministerial Office, if he’d lived.’

  ‘But Hugo Fairleigh didn’t stand for election immediately after his father’s death, did he? I seem to recall that we had another MP in between.’

  ‘Yes. Arnold Bates. No, when Hugo’s father died Hugo was only just launching into politics. He’d been to Oxford and been called to the Bar and presumably Central Office thought he ought to have some more experience before offering him a safe seat. So they let him cut his teeth on a tough Labour by-election and then, when Arnold Bates also died unexpectedly only a couple of years later, Hugo was selected to fight the Sturrenden by-election. He made a very good showing, got in with a slightly increased majority. That was in 1978. Then the following year there was a General Election and he increased the majority still further. He’s been our MP ever since.’

  ‘He’s pretty well thought of as an MP, isn’t he?’

  ‘I think so, yes. He works hard, and he’s very conscientious, listens to what people say and tries to do something about it. I think he’s definitely on the way up. And of course, the first time he fought the seat there was a lot of sympathy for him locally. His son died halfway through the by-election campaign and people admired the way he managed to carry on. All the local associations really put their backs into helping him.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I remember now,’ said Joan. ‘A cot death, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. It really was a tragedy. It was the only child they’ve ever had, and it was a Down’s syndrome baby. It was born in the spring of that year, 1978, and died in September. It was a terrible shock for his wife. Despite the fact that it was mentally handicapped she absolutely adored that child and almost had a nervous breakdown when it died. It took her years to recover – in fact, I’m not sure that she ever has, not properly.’

  ‘Was she looking after the baby herself?’ said Joan.

  ‘No, there was a nanny. Rita something. There was an inquest of course and she was completely exonerated, but I think Grace always blamed herself, felt that if she had been looking after the baby herself all the time as a proper mother should, it would never have happened. You know how it is in such cases, there’s such a lot of irrational guilt around.’

  They nodded. Joan as a probation officer and Thanet as a policeman had both come across cases of sudden infant death syndrome as it was officially called; had had to comfort distraught parents whose immediate reaction, however careful and loving they had been, was to blame themselves for their child’s death.

  ‘How did Hugo Fairleigh feel about the baby?’ said Thanet. He found it difficult to imagine Fairleigh with a Down’s syndrome child. He had a feeling that had the child lived it would have been hidden away in an institution as soon as it was old enough to be separated from its mother. And if Grace Fairleigh had, as Margaret seemed to think, been really attached to the child, there would have been all kinds of problems ahead.

  ‘I don’t really know. I’m sure it’s been a great disappointment to him, since, that there have been no more children. It always must be, when there’s no future generation to inherit a family home like Thaxden Hall.’

  ‘I imagine old Mrs Fairleigh was pleased he won that by-election,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Oh, delighted, I’m sure. I think that when her husband died so unexpectedly she just transferred her ambitions for him to her son.’

  Now Thanet put the question he had been wanting to ask all along. ‘
What was she like?’ He was fond of his mother-in-law and respected her judgement. He awaited her reply with interest.

  Margaret Bolton was silent for a while, considering. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘as you’ve no doubt already worked out for yourself, she was a pretty formidable person, really. Bossy, managing. Liked to get her own way. She was on lots of committees, and usually managed to manoeuvre herself into being chairman and running the show.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound as though you liked her much,’ said Joan.

  ‘No, I didn’t. She always behaved as though the world should be organised to suit her and was prepared to go to any lengths to make sure it did. And people usually gave in to her because she was so overpowering. Mind, she could be charming when it suited her. She was very manipulative. I’ve seen her persuade people into doing things they didn’t want to do without their ever realising how she’d managed it.’

  ‘She liked power, then,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Yes, I’ve never thought of it quite like that but yes, she did. I remember she once told me her father had wished she was a boy so that she could have gone into politics – he was a politician too, did I say? Though he never got very far.’

  ‘Why didn’t she, I wonder? Go into politics, I mean,’ said Joan.

  Margaret Bolton shrugged. ‘Women didn’t so much, in those days. Perhaps, as a woman, she was encouraged rather to aim for marrying a promising young politician and becoming the power behind the throne. Well, we all know that happens, don’t we? And certainly she was always very much in evidence as the MP’s wife.’

  ‘She must have found it hard to take a back seat, after her husband died and before Hugo was elected.’

  ‘Yes, she must. Though she soon adjusted. She simply rechannelled her energies into local organisations and charities. And she’s always kept them up, since. She had an amazing amount of energy, you know. It made us weaker mortals feel exhausted just watching her, sometimes.’

  Thanet grinned. ‘She certainly sounds a doughty old bird. But not the easiest of people to get on with at close quarters. How do you think her daughter-in-law coped?’

  Margaret Bolton shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. I don’t know either of them well, only the faces they showed in public. I wouldn’t say there was any affection between them, but neither did they show any animosity, either. I imagine Isobel Fairleigh was a rather difficult person to be fond of, and Grace just made the best of it.’

  ‘Hugo Fairleigh and his wife don’t seem particularly close, either.’ Thanet knew that he was getting very close to the realms of gossip, of which his mother-in-law fiercely disapproved, and he wondered how she would react to this feeler.

  As expected, she gave him a reproving look. ‘I wouldn’t know. I do think, though, that it must be very difficult for people in their position. They live their lives so much in the public eye that they have to erect a façade behind which they can retain some privacy.’

  Thanet held up his hands. ‘All right, all right, I stand corrected. Let’s change the subject!’ He looked from Joan to Margaret. ‘I don’t suppose either of you saw anything that struck you as odd, this afternoon?’

  ‘We talked about that, over supper,’ said Margaret. ‘And I’m afraid I was just too busy on my stall to have noticed anything much. But Joan did, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Joan slowly. ‘I’m not sure if it’s worth mentioning, but there was one little incident I did notice. You wouldn’t have seen, you were doing something at a sideshow nearby at the time. I was just standing around waiting for you, near the white elephant stall.’

  ‘Miss Ransome’s stall?’

  Joan nodded. ‘That’s right. Well, while I was there a funny little man went around to the back of the stall and whispered something in her ear. She gave him a sharp look, they exchanged a few words, then she glanced at her watch and nodded. He went off and a second or two later she said something to the woman who was helping her on the stall and hurried off towards the house.’

  ‘Any idea what time that would have been?’

  Joan shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. Some time in the middle of the afternoon. I wasn’t exactly keeping an eye on the clock.’

  ‘No, quite.’

  ‘From Joan’s description I think I know who the man was, if that’s any help,’ said Margaret. ‘I think it was Ernie Byre, the Fairleighs’ gardener and stable hand.’

  ‘That’s why I wondered if it was worth mentioning,’ said Joan. ‘He might well have been on some errand to do with the fête.’

  But if so, and as a result Letty Ransome had had to go into the house, why hadn’t she mentioned it? Though the fact that she left the stall a few moments after this reported conversation didn’t necessarily mean that her departure had anything to do with it. ‘You say she went off towards the house?’

  ‘Well, in that direction. But she could have been going to speak to someone about something, pass a message on, whatever …’

  ‘Quite. Well, thanks for mentioning it, anyway.’

  It was time to go. It was definitely getting cooler now and his mother-in-law, he noticed, was rubbing her bare arms. He stood up. ‘You’re getting cold, Margaret. Time we were on our way.’ He picked up his plate, cup and saucer. ‘We’ll just give you a hand with these …’

  ‘No, leave them. There’s hardly any washing up anyway. Joan and I did it earlier.’

  As they wound their way home through the quiet country lanes it occurred to Thanet that Joan seemed unusually preoccupied.

  ‘Anything the matter?’

  She shook her head half-heartedly.

  ‘Come on, what is it? Not Bridget?’

  ‘Oh no. No, nothing to do with the family.’

  ‘One of your clients?’ It was unusual for Joan to bring anxieties about a client home with her, but he knew that even an experienced probation officer occasionally came across a case which was difficult to switch off.

  ‘It’s Michele.’

  ‘The battered girlfriend?’ Joan had talked about this case before. Michele, who was in her mid-twenties, had first been placed in Joan’s care after being picked up joy-riding with her boyfriend. Apart from the fact that she had been driving at the time, she had been well over the limit. As it was a first offence she had been let off relatively lightly, being put on probation and having to attend a drink-driving course once a week for a year. It hadn’t taken Joan long to discover that the boyfriend – with whom Michele was living – was regularly beating her up. Thanet remembered their first conversation about her.

  ‘It’s a classic case, Luke. She positively invites him to hit her. She provokes him, goads him, until he loses control. And she won’t bring charges against him. I think she feels it’s only right that he should beat her, that she deserves it.’

  ‘As a punishment, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Well, that’s what we were talking about today. Apparently, when she was in her early teens, her father walked out on her and her mother. She’d been giving them a lot of trouble at the time – playing truant from school, staying out at night until all hours, the usual sort of thing, and there’d been a lot of rows at home. So when he went she was convinced it was because of her, that she’d driven him out.’

  ‘As you say, a classic case. She’s blamed herself ever since, feels a thoroughly bad lot, makes sure everyone else gets the message, and picks a man who’ll punish her for being what she is. And is she?’

  ‘A bad lot, you mean? No, I don’t think so. In fact, I’m sure she’s not. She has a lot of good qualities, only she seems incapable of acknowledging them.’

  ‘Think you’re going to get anywhere with her?’

  ‘I can only try.’

  Joan had been trying ever since, almost a year, now, and had failed dismally. The girl’s image of herself was fixed, and whatever approach Joan tried got her nowhere.

  ‘So, what’s happened?’

  ‘You remember I told you h
er mother died?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago. Yes.’

  ‘Well, she had a letter from her father yesterday. He wants to see her.’

  ‘Ah. And is she going to?’

  Joan was silent for a while, considering. ‘She’s dithering, of course, but I think she probably will. I don’t think she’ll be able to resist the temptation.’

  ‘She’s never heard from him before, in all this time?’

  ‘No. Of course, it’s possible that this could be the breakthrough we need.’

  ‘Unless, of course, she finds she’s been right all along. That he did leave because he couldn’t take any more from her.’

  ‘Oh come on, Luke. We both know that when two people split up it’s very rarely because of the children. It’s almost always because the parents’ relationship has broken down beyond the point of recall.’

  ‘True. But you have to face the possibility.’

  Joan sighed. ‘I know.’

  They had arrived home. Alexander’s Porsche was parked outside and lights were on all over the house.

  ‘They’re back, then,’ said Thanet. ‘And they’re still up.’ He was tired and had hoped that he and Joan would be able to slope quietly off to bed.

  His tone had not escaped her. ‘Come on, darling,’ she said, getting out the car. ‘Better come and be sociable for a little while at least.’

  He followed her reluctantly up the path to the front door.

  SEVEN

  When Thanet left home next morning the rest of the household was still sunk in Sunday-morning slumber. He drove through the deserted streets enjoying his after-breakfast pipe – Lineham hated him smoking in the office and he had long since capitulated except in unusual circumstances. It was another glorious summer morning, the sun hot, the sky a clear, unblemished blue.

  As he expected, Lineham was already hard at work. The sergeant was very much an early bird and it was rare for Thanet to be there before him.