Page 140 of Gold Diggers

‘Listen, something has been bothering me,’ said Erin, leaning forward, ‘and I’ve only just realized what it is.’

‘What?’ asked Chris.

‘Karin is a neat freak. A total perfectionist who doesn’t like a hair out of place.’

‘So?’

‘So, when I first went into the house that night, I remember seeing a bottle of wine on the kitchen side.’

Chris had a doubtful expression. ‘Erin, plenty of people have booze lying around the kitchen.’

‘Not Karin,’ said Erin. ‘She’s very particular like that – everything in its place. She drummed that into me when I was working for her. She’d certainly have put her wine away in the cellar. And there was nothing else on the kitchen surfaces that night, nothing at all. I remember thinking it was like a show home.’

‘Couldn’t she just have bought it that afternoon, or fetched it from the cellar? Who doesn’t like a glass of wine when they come home from work?’

Erin frowned. ‘The bottle in her kitchen was a bottle of red. Karin hates red wine. I heard her say once it gives her such a headache she thinks she’s allergic to it.’

Chris was looking at her with confusion. ‘So what does all this mean?’

‘I think Karin had a social call the night she died. Someone was at the house with her.’

Chris was starting to warm to the theory. ‘Well, it can’t have been a casual caller. Your mum or your best friend wouldn’t bring a bottle, would they?’

‘And think about it – who would bring a bottle of red wine round?’ said Erin. ‘Not a friend like Diana or Christina – they’d know she’d prefer a cup of green tea.’

They looked at each other, both feeling they were on to something.

‘A lover?’

‘Possible,’ said Erin, thinking out loud. ‘Anyway. Won’t the bottle have been checked for fingerprints?’

‘They could easily have been rubbed off by the murderer on his or her way out, if he or she had brought the wine round.’

Erin nodded thoughtfully.

‘Anyway. What was the wine?’ asked Chris.

Erin laughed. ‘I’ve only just remembered it was there, let alone what vineyard it came from. Anyway, what does it matter?’

‘Ooh, a great deal,’ replied Chris, walking back over to Erin’s wine rack. ‘You’re saying that whoever brought the bottle round is Karin’s killer. Well, the choice of wine a person brings round to somebody’s house says a great deal about them. For instance, if you go to a girlfriend’s for a gossip –’ Chris pulled out a bottle and held it up – ‘I bet you take a five-quid bottle of Pinot like this: cheap, cheerful. You don’t care about the wine. It’s just a prop.’

‘So you’re saying I’m cheap, Mr Scanlan!’ laughed Erin, throwing the cork at him.

He ducked and grinned, but continued with his line of thinking. ‘But say I was coming round to your house to seduce you …’

‘Promises, promises,’ laughed Erin before she could help herself.

‘Well, say I was rich and knew a lot about wine and wanted to impress you – which of course I would,’ he added with a grin, ‘I’d choose a very, very expensive bottle of vintage claret. A night-time wine. A romantic wine, a wine that said something about my status and taste, like a Petrus or a Château Margaux. A wine that deserved to be shared with somebody special.’ Chris was nodding thoughtfully. ‘You need to find out about the wine, Erin.’

‘Won’t the house be all cordoned off?’

‘Probably. But it was Karin’s home. I bet Adam could get in and I bet you could too. You just need an excuse.’

67

The interview room was cold and windowless and smelt of cigarette smoke. To Molly it felt like a trap. She shivered, wondering if it was some sort of sick retribution for not attending her father’s funeral. For having sex with Adam Gold. For exposing Donna Delemere as a call girl. She stopped herself. This was no time for superstition. She had her reasons for everything she did in life. She didn’t deserve punishing.

‘What am I supposed to think, Molly?’ said Michael Wright evenly. ‘You don’t have any alibi for that evening. Evan Harris was at Karin’s window and heard her on the phone to a Molly. He heard her say “See you later.” Given those facts, anyone would suppose that it was you arranging to pop over.’