Lethal White (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

“D’you know what it was about?”

“Same thing she was phoning that bloke about, night before.”

“The necklace? Mrs. Chiswell wanting to sell it?”

“Yeah.”

“Where were you when they were having the row?”

“Still mucking out. He got out of his car and went marching up to her in the outdoor school—”

Robin, seeing Strike’s perplexity, muttered, “Like a paddock where you train horses.”

“Ah,” he said.

“—yeah,” said Tegan, “that’s where she was schooling Brandy. First they were talking and I couldn’t hear what they were saying and then it turned into a proper shouting match and she dismounted and yelled at me to come and untack Brandy—take off the saddle and bridle,” she added kindly, in case Strike hadn’t understood, “and they marched off into the house and I could hear them still having a go at each other as they disappeared.

“She never liked him,” said Tegan. “Raphael. Thought he was spoiled. Always slagging him off. I thought he was all right, personally,” she said, with a would-be dispassionate air at odds with her heightened color.

“Can you remember what they were saying to each other?”

“A bit,” said Tegan. “He was telling her she couldn’t sell it, that it belonged to his dad or something, and she told him to mind his own business.”

“Then what happened?”

“They went inside, I kept mucking out, and after a bit,” said Tegan, faltering slightly, “I saw a police car coming up the drive and… yeah, it was awful. Policewoman come and asked me to go inside and help. I went in the kitchen and Mrs. Chiswell was white as a sheet and all over the place. They wanted me to show them where the teabags were. I made her a hot drink and he—Raphael—made her sit down. He was really nice to her,” said Tegan, “considering she’d just been calling him every name under the sun.”

Strike checked his watch.

“I know you haven’t got long. Just a couple more things.”

“All right,” she said.

“There was an incident over a year ago,” said Strike, “where Mrs. Chiswell attacked Mr. Chiswell with a hammer.”

“Oh, God, yeah,” said Tegan. “Yeah… she really lost it. That was right after Lady was put down, start of the summer. She was Mrs. Chiswell’s favorite mare and Mrs. Chiswell come home and the vet had already done it. She’d wanted to be there when it happened and she went crazy when she come back and seen the knacker’s van.”

“How long had she known that the mare would have to be put down?” asked Robin.

“Those last two, three days, I think we all knew, really,” said Tegan sadly. “But she was such a lovely horse, we kept hoping she’d pull through. The vet had waited for hours for Mrs. Chiswell to come home, but Lady was suffering and he couldn’t wait around all day, so…”

Tegan made a gesture of hopelessness.

“Any idea what made her go up to London that day, if she knew Lady was dying?” asked Strike.

Tegan shook her head.

“Can you talk us through exactly what happened, when she attacked her husband? Did she say anything first?”

“No,” said Tegan. “She come into the yard, seen what had happened, ran towards Mr. Chiswell, grabbed the hammer and just swung for him. Blood everywhere. It was horrible,” said Tegan, with patent sincerity. “Awful.”

“What did she do after she’d hit him?” asked Robin.

“Just stood there. The expression on her face… it was like a demon or something,” said Tegan unexpectedly. “I thought he was dead, thought she’d killed him.

“They put her away for a couple of weeks, you know. She went off to some hospital. I had to do the horses alone…

“We were all gutted about Lady. I loved that mare and I thought she was going to make it, but she’d given up, she lay down and wouldn’t eat. I couldn’t blame Mrs. Chiswell for being upset, but… she could’ve killed him. Blood everywhere,” she repeated. “I wanted to leave. Told my mum. Mrs. Chiswell scared me, that night.”

“So what made you stay?” asked Strike.

“I dunno, really… Mr. Chiswell wanted me to, and I was fond of the horses. Then she came out of hospital and she was really depressed and I suppose I felt sorry for her. I kept finding her crying in Lady’s empty stall.”

“Was Lady the mare that Mrs. Chiswell wanted to—er—what’s the right term?” Strike asked Robin.

“Put in foal?” Robin suggested.

“Yeah… put in foal to the famous stallion?”

“Totilas?” said Tegan, with the ghost of an eye roll. “No, it was Brandy she wanted to breed from, but Mr. Chiswell was having none of it. Totilas! He costs a fortune.”

“So I heard. She didn’t by any chance mention using a different stallion? There’s one called ‘Blanc de Blancs,’ I don’t know whether—”

“Never heard of him,” said Tegan. “No, it had to be Totilas, he was the best, she was fixated on using him. That’s what she’s like, Mrs. Chiswell. When she gets an idea in her head you can’t shift it. She was going to breed this beautiful Grand Prix horse and… you know she lost a baby, don’t you?”

Strike and Robin nodded.