Common Murder

“I think Deborah’s right,” she said in her soft voice. “I think we were unfair the way we spoke before. Just because someone broke the conventions of the camp was no reason for us to be hostile, and if we can’t be flexible enough to let an outsider come in and work with us, then heaven help us when we get to the real fight about the missiles. Let’s not forget why we’re really here. I don’t mind telling Lindsay everything I know about this murder. I was in my bender with Siobhan and Marieke from about ten o’clock onwards. We were all writing letters till about twelve, then we went to sleep.”

That opened the floodgates. Most of the women accepted the logic of Nuala’s words, and those who didn’t were shamed into a reluctant co-operation. For the next couple of hours, Lindsay was engaged in scribbling down the movements of the forty-seven women who had stayed at the camp the night before. Glancing through it superficially, it seemed that all but a handful were accounted for at the crucial time. One of that handful was Deborah, who had gone on alone to the van while Lindsay talked to Jane. No-one had seen her after she left the sing-song in Willow ’s bender.

Trying not to think too much about the implications of that, Lindsay made her way back to the van. She looked at her watch for the first time in hours and was shocked to see it was almost eight o’clock. She dumped the alibi information, then went down to the phone box yet again. She checked in with the office only to find there were no problems. She phoned Cordelia to find she had gone out for dinner leaving only the answering machine to talk to Lindsay. She left a message, then she checked in with Rigano.

“How is our deal progressing?” he asked at once.

“Very well. I’ll have the alibi information collated by morning, and I should have a fairly interesting tape transcribed for you by then. Tomorrow, I’m going to see William Mallard. Do I need your help to get in there?”

“I shouldn’t think so. He’s been giving interviews all day. The standard hypocrisy-greatly admired, much missed, stalwart of the association.” She could picture the expression of distaste on his mouth and thought a small risk might be worth the taking.

“Any mention of the financial shenanigans?” she enquired.

“What financial shenanigans would they be, Miss Gordon?”

“Come, come, Superintendent. You live here, I’m just a visitor, after all. There must have been talk, surely.”

“I heard they had a disagreement, but that it had all been cleared up. The person you want to talk to in the first instance is not Mallard but a local farmer called Carlton Stanhope. He was thoroughly disenchanted with the pair of them.”

“Do you think he’ll play for an interview? That’s just the sort of person I need to crack this,” Lindsay said.

“I don’t know. He’s not as much of a stick-in-the-mud as a lot of them around here. He’s been helpful to me already. He might be persuaded to talk to you off the record. Being outside his circle, he might tell you a bit more than he was prepared to tell a policeman. And, of course, you could pass that on to me, unofficially, couldn’t you?”

“Any chance of you helping me persuade him?” In for a penny, thought Lindsay.

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Lindsay crossed her fingers and prayed. Finally, Rigano spoke. “I’ll ring him tonight and fix something up. I’m sure if I ask him, he’ll give you all the help he can. Besides, he might even enjoy meeting a real journalist. How about half past ten tomorrow morning in the residents’ lounge of the George Hotel in Fordham?”

“Superintendent Rigano, you could easily become a friend for life. That will do splendidly. I’ll see you then.”

“Oh, there won’t be any need for me to be there. But I’ll see you at ten o’clock in my office with the information you’ve gathered for me so far. Goodnight, Miss Gordon.”

By the time she got back to the camp, Lindsay was exhausted and starving. She made her way to Jane’s bender, where she found her deep in conversation with Nuala. Jane looked up, grinned at her and said, “Cara’s with Josy’s kids. Deborah’s in the van cooking you some food. You look as if you could do with it, too. Go on, go and eat. And get a good night’s sleep, for God’s sake. Doctor’s orders!”

Lindsay walked back to the van, realising that she was beginning to find it hard to remember life outside the peace camp with real houses and all their pleasures. But the thought was driven from her head as soon as she opened the van door. The smell that greeted her transported her back into the past. “Bacon ribs and beans,” she breathed.

Deborah looked up with a smile. “I got Judith to whizz me round Sainsbury’s this morning. Cooking your favorite tea’s about all I can do to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Wonderful,” said Lindsay, “I’m starving. Is it ready now?”

Deborah stirred the pot and tried a bean for tenderness. “Not quite. About fifteen minutes.”