Page 118 of Marble Hall Murders

‘I wouldn’t characterise this as “going out for dinner” – not in the social sense, anyway. Normally, I wouldn’t be here. But you were understandably upset about what happened to your cat and all the damage to your property and I felt you might appreciate the company. But if it’s making you uncomfortable having me here, I’ll happily leave you to your own devices.’

‘No. That’s not what I meant. I’m grateful to you, Detective Inspector. But if you really want me to feel comfortable, would you mind if I used your first name, just until we leave the restaurant? It’ll make it easier to talk to you.’

‘Of course. It’s Ian.’

‘I know. I saw it on your warrant card. And can I ask you to answer one question? Do you really think I killed Eliot Crace?’

I saw him think about how to answer that. He had poured himself about an inch of red wine, but I noticed he hadn’t drunk any of it yet. He had ordered a prawn cocktail, which somehow suited him: retro and blokeish. ‘The jury’s out on that one,’ he said, at length. ‘Let me ask you a few questions first, starting with what you were doing at Belmarsh today.’

‘I went to see Charles Clover.’

‘He was your former partner at Cloverleaf Books.’

He’d done his homework. He probably knew everything about me. It made me wonder how much information he could summon up with the click of a mouse, sitting at his police computer. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He also knew Eliot when he was twelve years old. He visited Marble Hall several times.’

‘So you thought he might be able to tell you something about the death of Miriam Crace?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And did he?’

‘He’ll deny it, but, yes, he did. He wasn’t at all pleased to see me and if you repeat what I’m going to tell you now, he’ll say I’m making it up. But he told me that the three children at Marble Hall – Roland, Julia and Eliot – often talked about killing their grandmother. It was all a fantasy to start with, but then they turned it into reality …’ I repeated everything Charles had told me. ‘Roland had the poison and Eliot saw him heading for his grandmother’s room.’

‘He might not have used it.’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’

‘Because you’re talking about something that happened twenty years ago and there’s no evidence to support this version of events.’

‘Except Miriam died very suddenly early that morning. Wouldn’t you say that’s quite a coincidence? And I think the family doctor, a man called John Lambert, covered up the true cause of death.’

‘You need to be careful, bandying about accusations like that.’

‘Dr Lambert collects classic cars. He told me that Miriam Crace left him money in her will, but that was a lie. Can’t you get the body exhumed? That will tell you how she died.’

‘I’m sorry, Susan. I’m not sure I could get that authorised. Apart from you, nobody is suggesting that there was anything suspicious about Mrs Crace’s death. It also won’t help that she is a much-revered public figure. Digging her up would upset a lot of fans.’

‘Did you readThe Little People?’ I asked him.

‘No. I read the books to my children, but they never really liked them. All the characters were too good to be true.’

Children.

At least he had given me one clue about his own background.

We finished the first courses and I drank some of my wine. He still didn’t touch his. I liked the silence between us. It allowed me to pretend that this was an ordinary evening out.

‘Did you tell anyone you were going to Belmarsh?’ he asked, suddenly.

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘Somebody must have spent at least twenty minutes in your flat, to do all that damage. They would have had to know you were going out.’

‘I didn’t tell anyone.’

‘That suggests they were waiting for you to leave. You didn’t notice anyone lingering in the street?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m afraid not.’