Page 117 of Marble Hall Murders

‘I left around one o’clock. I’ve been out all day.’

‘Where?’

‘HMP Belmarsh.’

That stopped him in his tracks. He examined me briefly, as if I was deliberately lying to him, realised I was serious and came to a decision. ‘This is what we’re going to do,’ he said. ‘First of all, I’m going to look around and check that the place is secure and that whoever did this hasn’t left any other unpleasant surprises. You don’t have CCTV installed?’

‘No.’

‘No alarms?’

‘No. I only moved in a few months ago.’

‘Yes. You told me. Does anyone else have a key?’

‘No. Just me. I think they got in through the garden. The door into the street doesn’t close properly.’

‘I’ll take a look. You wait for me here.’

He left the room. Despite everything, I was impressed. He was very different to the man who had threatened to arrest me just a short while ago. He was milder, more softly spoken and, like the vet, immediately professional. I waited a couple of minutes before he came back. ‘There’s no-one here,’ he said. ‘And you’re right. They came through the garden and forced the French windows. It wouldn’t have been difficult. The lock is flimsy.’ He paused. ‘I saw the message left for you in the bedroom.’

‘Killer.’

‘Yes. And the blood on the carpet.’

‘That was the cat.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He took a breath. ‘Do you have anywhere you can go? A friend or a relation who can put you up?’

‘I have a sister in Suffolk, but I don’t really fancy traipsing up there.’

‘All right. I’ve made a few calls. This is a crime scene now and I’ve got a team coming in. They’ll take photographs, look for fingerprints … any other evidence. I also know a company who can clear up some of this mess. But you’ll need to book into a hotel or somewhere for a few days. I wouldn’t advise you to stay here.’

‘I have friends in Muswell Hill. They may be able to put me up.’

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘No.’

‘Then you’d better come out and have some dinner. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want right now, but you’ve had a terrible shock and something warm and a glass of wine will do you good. There must be somewhere in Crouch End. I’ll come with you.’ I was about to protest but he stopped me. ‘We need to talk about this, Susan. We can’t do it here and I don’t think you’ll find it very pleasant in a police station. Especially after a day in Belmarsh.’

‘Who will look after all this?’ I asked.

‘Emma Wardlaw is on her way.’

‘I’d prefer not to see her, if you don’t mind.’

‘Then why don’t you go and get changed. Try not to move anything, but you can use the sink in the bathroom to wash your hands.’ I looked puzzled. ‘You’ve got bloodstains all over you.’ There was the faintest twinkle in his eye as he added: ‘When I arrived, my first thought was that you’d murdered someone else. You go and get yourself ready. I’ll wait here.’

*

We went to an Italian restaurant near the Clock Tower and I ordered soup and spaghetti: comfort food. We shared a carafe of red wine. Blakeney didn’t say anything about drinking on duty and we hadn’t discussed who was going to pay. We had a banquette in a quiet corner and the restaurant was only half-full, which made it easier to talk. While I waited for the food to arrive, I tried to get used to the idea that I was having dinner with the senior detective who was investigating me; atthe same time, I examined him in this new, more sympathetic light.

Fifty years old and unmarried, I thought. No sensible woman would have allowed him to set that brown Marks & Spencer jersey against blue slacks. Divorced or single? He was surely too good-looking to have always been on his own, and at close quarters I thought there was also a slight melancholy about him that suggested the former. Definitely not gay. He just looked and acted like a nice man – once you’d got him away from the murders, the forensic evidence, his detective constable and all the other trappings of his job.

‘Can we be straight with each other?’ he asked me as the first courses arrived.

‘Why don’t you go first?’ I suggested. ‘What exactly are we doing here? Do you always go out to dinner with your murder suspects?’