Murder in Abbot's Folly (18 page)

So Barbara could well have been unmarried at the time of the murder, Georgia realized, stowing the information carefully away in her mind – together with her recollection of Barbara's saying he was a womanizer. ‘A difficult question I know, but did you think Max was guilty?'

‘No.'

The answer was too quick, Georgia thought. Esther would have been expecting this question, and so it was reasonable to assume she'd considered it in advance.

‘He told me he was innocent,' Esther continued, ‘and that was enough for me. Max never lied. The licence motive was rubbish. He minded about it, but not that much. We were going along nicely.' Her words were coming rapidly now. ‘So why would he muck it up by suddenly losing his cool? He was annoyed that morning and said he was going to see Bob about something, but whatever it was he wouldn't have shot Bob for it.'

‘The gun was his though,' Peter pointed out.

Esther brushed this aside. ‘Back in 1985 the rules about where they were kept weren't quite so strict. Max kept it in a drawer of the dresser in the hallway. Our part of the house, but easy for anybody to get to. Anyone could have taken it
and
put it back in the cellar where it was found. We were running a pub not Fort Knox.' She was flushed with annoyance, and Georgia hastened to switch subjects.

‘Did you know Amelia Luckhurst well?'

‘Naturally. We didn't get on. She was Max's department, not mine. She was always pestering him, but she wasn't his type.'

‘Tim said you knew about the tunnel at Stourdens.'

A split-second pause, but Esther recovered well. ‘I don't remember telling him, but I could well have done so when he told me about Stourdens. I suppose I knew about it from Max. Does it matter?'

Peter quickly cut in. ‘We heard that Max had great plans for the Edgar Arms. Were you a Jane Austen fan too?'

‘Not me. I was all for expansion if it made us some cash, but it was Max who was so keen on this Austen story. Amelia was up for our having a joint approach to the development of Stourdens and the Edgar Arms together, and he liked that idea. Once Bob was dead, though, she dropped the plans and dumped Max in the firing line.'

‘Are you suggesting she might have killed her husband?'

‘Why not? Tough as old nails is Amelia, and nothing gets in her way. Poor Bob was wet putty in her hands. The only time I knew him dig his heels in was over the Austen collection. Refused to go along with her plans.'

‘That must have upset Max too, if his ideas for the pub depended on Stourdens?' Peter asked mildly.

Esther wasn't fooled. ‘If you mean, did it give him a motive for killing Bob, no it didn't. Max was ambitious but not an idiot. He knew there were plenty of Jane Austen connections in Kent and other organizations and houses, and that he might be able to link up with them. Or go it alone.'

‘Was Max a Jane Austen fan irrespective of the pub and the letters?' Georgia asked.

‘Good grief no. She was part of his plans for the pub, so he got interested in this love affair story. He walked into those rotten floor-boarded, sad old Assembly Rooms and saw them through rose-coloured specs, all romantic candlelight, fires, violins playing and pretty ladies dancing the cotillion.'

‘Do you by any chance have a photo of Max?' Peter asked casually.

David chuckled. ‘Do me a favour. Think I'd want to see his face everywhere I went?'

‘Nor me,' Esther chimed in. ‘I threw them all out.'

‘Wouldn't Max feature on photos of Tim as a baby?' Georgia pushed.

‘I only kept the ones of Tim alone.' Esther looked apologetic. ‘There are times in life when you need a clean break and this was one of them.' A pause. ‘Give my regards to Barbara. She went through a rough patch when Craig was born, but Tim tells me they're both on to a good thing when Stourdens pulls its socks up.'

On Thursday morning, Georgia found Peter sitting with a mug of coffee staring into space, and there were no signs that he had done anything else for some while.

‘What's wrong?' Georgia asked guardedly. She had not been to the office the previous day, but there seemed a big change from his confidence when they had left Esther Wilson's home. He'd been sure then that they were getting to grips with this case.

‘Almost too eager to talk, wouldn't you think?' he had commented.

She had not been sure. ‘Something odd certainly,' she agreed. She had put that down to the Tim factor, although that had not satisfied her either.

When Peter did not answer her, she asked again, ‘What
is
wrong?'

A shrug. ‘Nothing much.'

His tone of voice said enquire no further, so Georgia busied herself at the computer, then slipped away to the kitchen to consult her usual oracle. Margaret was preparing Peter's lunch. ‘What's up?' she asked her.

‘Not for me to say, Georgia.'

‘Which means you want to.'

‘Elena's been on the phone.'

Margaret had been Peter's carer ever since Elena had left, and as she lived in Haden Shaw herself she had known them both for a very long time before that.

‘About her moving back to Kent?'

‘That I don't know. But I can tell you she's up to her old tricks again now. Stirring.'

This sounded worse than she had thought, and Georgia returned to the office with foreboding.

‘I suppose she told you,' Peter grunted, without even looking up.

‘Only that Elena called. Has she found a house?'

‘No. She's found that survivor.'

Georgia's heart dropped. She'd been counting on that issue quietly vanishing. ‘Who is it?'

‘A Frenchman called Lucien Marques. He lives in Turkey.'

That sounded a safe distance away, Georgia thought with relief. Then Peter added, ‘He comes to London frequently for business reasons,' and the problem moved a whole lot closer. ‘We can't have that hanging over us, Georgia,' he continued. ‘What do you want to do?'

‘If he's in London, I suppose we can't not see him.' She wished she had the strength to say they could, but it seemed unavoidable. There would always be a question mark if they did nothing. ‘Is he going to add anything to what we already know?'

‘Probably not, but if we don't see him, we never
will
know.'

‘Has Elena met him?' Georgia asked.

‘No. She says we should all go together.'

‘Then to paraphrase Macbeth, if it has to be done, let's do it quickly. We'll tell Elena – I'll ring her if you like – that as soon as he announces his arrival we'll make a date.'

‘I'll ring her myself,' her father said.

‘Visitor,' Georgia called to Luke. She could see an unfamiliar blue Toyota drawing up, and being a Monday and thus a working day whoever its driver was must probably want to see him and not her. True it was late afternoon, which was why Luke was in the house and not in his office, but even so the likelihood was that Luke was in the firing line.

Luke obediently went to greet the new arrival but was quickly back. ‘For you,' he said, popping his head round the door and then holding it open.

It was Jennifer Fettis, and Georgia rose in alarm at how distraught she looked. Luke must have deemed this something that Georgia would cope with better alone.

‘I thought I'd come on the off-chance . . . hope you don't mind.' Jennifer's words stumbled out. ‘I just want to talk, and my friends would think I was mad.'

‘Talk away,' Georgia said. ‘Shall I get you some tea? Cake? That can help a bit when one's upset.'

Jennifer nodded gratefully, and when Georgia returned she looked more composed.

‘Basically, it's about Tim,' she began. ‘Dad thinks he's the best thing since buttered toast.'

This sounded serious to Georgia. ‘And you no longer do?' Tread carefully, she thought. Don't leap right in with ‘drop him immediately'.

‘I don't know, Georgia.'

‘It's the second of August. It's only six weeks to the wedding. Don't you think doubts are to be expected the nearer it gets?' She watched Jennifer pace round the room, and then stop to look out at their garden.

‘Did
you
have doubts?' Jennifer asked.

‘Not at this stage,' Georgia answered, ‘but only because I got over mine earlier. I was lucky.'

‘I wish I was you,' Jennifer said abruptly. ‘You don't know how much I long for everything to be settled and to be content with no decisions to be made.'

Georgia took the bull by the horns. ‘Marriage often looks easy from the other side of the fence,' she pointed out, ‘and some people find out too late that it isn't.'

‘That's what I'm afraid of.' Jennifer threw herself down on the sofa.

‘Only you can decide whether they're radical doubts or pre-wedding nerves. You've had a terrible time, dealing with your mother's death, so it's hardly surprising either way.'

‘How can I decide
now
?'

How far should she go in her reply? Georgia wondered. If she passed on her own opinion of Tim, would that be fair or unfair? Undoubtedly the latter. ‘For a start, did your mother like Tim?' she began.

‘I think so. No help there.'

‘You're sure about that? Parents can be quite good at hiding their personal views in such circumstances. Are you sure your father thinks he's right for you?'

Jennifer grimaced. ‘Oh, he does. Dad's so blinded by the image of Stourdens being great and glorious again and of himself as its gracious host that he'd like Machiavelli if he was in charge of making it happen.'

An interesting choice for a comparison, Georgia thought, where Tim was concerned. ‘All right, let's get basic: do you love Tim?'

‘Yes. That's the trouble,' Jennifer said forlornly.

‘Understand him?'

‘No.'

Problem, Georgia thought. No one in the throes of love could fully understand the beloved, but for Jennifer to admit she didn't was significant. She would have to tread carefully.

‘Is sex a problem?'

‘No way.' Jennifer managed a grin. ‘And if you're thinking that's the only reason I love Tim, it's not true. You can't define what makes love, but it's more than that.'

‘Charm?' Georgia prompted.

‘No,' Jennifer said dismissively. ‘It's more a sense that without me he'd be a bit lost. I know that sounds daft, because he seems the one who's in charge. It's true, but he needs direction.'

Time to step in further, Georgia decided. ‘Peter and I met his mother and stepfather last week. Have you ever met his real father?'

Jennifer sat bolt upright. ‘Max Tanner? No, but I knew about him. Tim told me when Mum died. He said he'd been nervous about doing so earlier, but goodness knows why. I don't believe in the sins of the fathers and all that. I can't believe we're programmed to be exactly what our parents were without an X-factor included.'

Georgia's heart sank. Wouldn't the natural thing be for Tim to have told her when he first knew she lived at Stourdens? Perhaps not. She wrestled with her impulse to tell Jennifer what had happened in the tunnel: the menace, the implied threat, and Tim's obvious need for complete control. But she restrained herself.

‘You sound still very committed to him,' she said. ‘So what do you want from me?'

‘Advice.'

Georgia blenched. ‘I can't give it, Jennifer. I'd love to, but it's not fair to ask me. All I can suggest is that you postpone the wedding until you're more confident than you are now.'

‘But I might never be. I've already decided to postpone, in fact. I'll probably call it off altogether in due course.'

Georgia stared in amazement at her. ‘Then what on earth do you need advice on?'

‘Tim's part in Stourdens.'

Georgia whistled. ‘That's quite a tall order. Does Tim know the wedding's off for September?'

‘I told him yesterday. I thought he was going to explode at first, and then he – and Dad, when he found out – told me that I wasn't in my right mind because of Mum. All I needed was time so it was agreed the wedding be postponed until the spring.'

‘Are you happy with that?'

‘For the time being, though I don't think it will change anything. Tim will still be the same man, and the same circumstances will still apply.'

‘Which are?'

‘Complicated. You probably know Mum owned Stourdens. In her will my mother set up a trust to look after its future and put most of what money she had into it. The beneficiaries are Dad and myself, and a trustee to see fair play and make decisions.'

‘Your solicitor?'

‘No, and not Tim either. It's an old friend of Dad's and Mum's, Douglas Watts.'

‘And the trust includes the Jane Austen collection?'

Jennifer managed a smile. ‘You've hit the nail on the head. For some reason she left that to me personally. Mum was in quite a state before the Gala and told me she was going to see her solicitors about her will, but I don't know what she intended to do about it. I didn't even know what was in it until after she died, and Dad was in too much of a daze to take it in.'

‘So the complication is?'

‘Tim.'

‘What's his formal position at Stourdens? Is he working as a future family member or does he have a contract?'

‘No contract as far as I know. He's still running his own PR business in Canterbury.'

That was one relief then, Georgia thought. ‘Jennifer, what would you do if there were no Tim to direct the Stourdens' development? Would you follow what we've been told were your mother's wishes not to commercialize Stourdens or would you carry on?'