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… then I thought it’s a way to remember her. And the children do like it here so much.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘Yes, a mother knows what’s best for her children. You don’t have any?’

‘No, I just feel like I do,’ replied Amanda, looking at Tempest.

‘Oh, I know! Pets can be just as full-on.’ Amanda’s familiar looked up in disdain at the word ‘pets’ that had been applied to his august person. Verity leaned forward earnestly. ‘Tell me, have the police got anywhere? I seem to remember Samantha mentioned you in connection with the tragedy at the Centre, the Marion Gibbs Asthma Centre. Damian named it after Samantha’s grandmother, you know. It was a friend of yours who died, wasn’t it? And you were somehow assisting the police?’

‘Let’s just say I know what it’s like to lose a friend. Though not a niece, of course.’ This elicited a sympathetic but enquiring expression from Verity. ‘I don’t have anything I can tell you, I’m afraid, about the progress of the investigation.’ That was, strictly speaking, true. ‘Have you spoken to the police yourself?’ Amanda enquired carefully and gently.

That received a nervous shake of the head, and,

‘No, no, I don’t want to get involved. It would be so bad for the children, and I don’t know anything. I wasn’t there and don’t know anything about that library.’

‘You have no idea why Sam might have been there?’

‘No, none.’

‘She wasn’t mixed up in anything that … might have led to trouble?’

Verity sighed. ‘No, not more than her usual … well, you know … extracurricular activities! But it was all just youthful high spirits or boredom but … nothing that surely would have led to … to …’

‘Please forgive me,’ said Amanda kindly, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing when we were all in here … Sam mentioned money troubles and a … an idea? A scheme of some kind that could have helped?’

‘Well, her parents were laying down some boundaries, and she’d had to cut up her credit cards. But they weren’t cruel! They paid her uni fees and accommodation and expenses, and she had a small allowance for shopping from her mother … It just wasn’t what she was used to. And I’m afraid our Sam was rather a … a material girl.’

‘So this scheme, Sam didn’t say what it was to do with?’

‘Oh … I’m not sure … I think I was distracted at that moment … the children … Let me think … It was something to do with “the mid-life crisis band” or “brigade” or some expression like that.’

‘Who were they?’

‘I don’t know. Friends of her father’s perhaps. Plenty of people said, when Damian divorced Sam’s mother — not that I blame him — and got the new car and started wearing a leather jacket and shades, that he was having one — a midlife crisis — and some of his were friends too.’

There was a pause. Amanda waited hopefully for more. Verity finally continued,

‘I’m sorry. It’s not much to go on, but that’s all I can remember. Probably nothing to do with anything.’

‘Probably not,’ Amanda agreed reassuringly.

‘Look, I don’t want to be involved,’ Verity insisted.

‘I understand. Here’s my card. If you remember any more, please would you call me.’

Verity took the pasteboard and looked at it. ‘Furniture Restorer?’

‘That’s right,’ smiled Amanda.

‘You’re not with the police, then?’

‘I’m not a member of the service, no. But the librarians, Mrs Pagely and Jonathan, are particular friends of mine, and I couldn’t bear it if either of them was wrongfully implicated. I think we both want to find the person really responsible for Sam’s death.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Verity said hastily. ‘Please don’t think me a coward. It’s just … I have the children to think of.’

‘Naturally. Well, thank you for the chat. I must get back to work.’

‘Yes, it was nice to talk about it. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again. Under happier circumstances.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Amanda.

Chapter 21

The Queen Bee Flies In

A less seasoned detective would have blithely assumed that the most fruitful sources of information about Samantha Gibbs would be her parents. Inspector Trelawney, however, was sufficiently experienced to know that when it came to knowledge of their offspring’s dubious activities, the parents were usually the last to know.

A case in point was Mr and Mrs Geen, respectable proprietors of The Tall Tail Inn. They were in total ignorance of the fact that Caitlin, their meek 14-year-old, had set up a distillery in a boarded-up, disused part of the cellar. Their darling daughter, who always did her homework and washed the dishes without being told, was doing a brisk trade, during school lunchtimes, selling homemade vodka to her fellow students, in a shed behind the chip shop.

Consequently, when the news reached Trelawney that Samantha’s mother had returned from Bali, he did not hold out undue hope of receiving a stream of helpful information. Nevertheless, he did expect the interview to cast some light on the formation of the deceased girl’s character.

Veronica Candace Loftleigh-Gibbs dwelt, when in the UK, in the select Essex town of Ironstone. Her residence was a four–bedroomed house of ample proportions in exclusive Chillbrush Lane. Trelawney’s efficient and devoted Constable Nancarrow had set up an appointment for him through Mrs Loftleigh-Gibbs’s PA.

Having been granted access through the unnecessarily imposing gate, and escorted from the door, by a nervous young man, to an opulent reception room, Trelawney was greeted by the lady of the house.

She wore a funereally black silk jumpsuit cinched at her narrow waist, the V of the neck descending deeply to reveal a toast-rack décolletage. The one word that came to his mind to describe her was ... bone. Aggressively cut short dark hair accentuated the high cheeks. Brown eyes one usually associated with warmth belied the rule. Overall, it was easy to see where Samantha had got her height, figure and colouring. Yet, for all the girl’s attitude, she had been a softer version of the woman before him. And, ultimately, more vulnerable.

Suddenly, for Trelawney, this case

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