Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

She could tell he was looking forward to shelving the whole unfortunate affair – petty crime, or whatever it was that he busied himself with when he wasn’t chasing a murderer, must have never seemed so appealing in comparison.

‘Tea?’

‘Sure, if you’re making it.’ He sank into one of the armchairs at the living room end of the open-plan kitchen. ‘It’s nice, this place. Light.’

Lucia returned a knowing smile. On the rare occasions that she had visitors to her flat, they always had to rack their brains for a more substantial compliment. The best anyone could come up with was ‘minimalist’. The place was empty and soulless. It didn’t match the artistic output at Beatrice Hall. As she handed Carliss the drink, his eyes drifted to the wall of books.

‘Nice bookcase.’ He grasped his tea and stood up to take a closer look. ‘Wallace Stegner. One of my favourite writers. Have you read Angle of Repose?’

Her tired eyes lit up a touch. ‘Too navel-gazing for my taste.’

‘I wouldn’t have had you pegged as a fan of Crossing to Safety,’ he said.

‘“We made plenty of mistakes, but we never tripped anybody to gain an advantage, or took illegal shortcuts when no judge was around. We have all jogged and panted it out the whole way.” Isn’t that something to live by?’ She was running out of steam, and for once felt like she was the one on edge.

‘Sure.’ He smiled, surprised at the revelation. ‘I didn’t realize you’re an idealist.’

‘We all have our flaws.’

Carliss circled the room and settled at the kitchen table. ‘Where are we? Adam’s a penniless cokehead. He gets the housekeeper to spy on the Professor in return for a share of the house sale money. It turns out the old girl’s planning to cut him out of the inheritance. He hasn’t got much time, so he kills her before she can sign the new will. With or without the housekeeper’s help – I can’t quite figure that one out. I’m minded to bring him in for a proper interview.’

‘Aren’t you jumping the gun? You’ve got no proof he poisoned the glass.’

‘You’d be surprised what a little judiciously applied pressure can yield.’

Lucia had no appetite for imagining what judiciously applied pressure could yield. ‘I just don’t think it’s as straightforward as it looks. What about everyone else? Are you discounting them without any further thought?’

‘No, but we can’t ignore the obvious. Adam Corcoran stood to gain substantially from the victim’s death, so we’ve got motive. Dr Glover overheard him threatening the Professor. He may have had an accomplice in Mrs Byrne. The murder wasn’t spontaneous – he planned it to stop the new will being executed. The means pinned suspicion on any of the people at the party but made it impossible to focus on a particular individual. If you’re right about how the poison was administered, once it was in the coupe all Adam had to do was let it run its course.’ He looked very pleased with himself. ‘It all adds up, don’t you think?’

Lucia wasn’t thinking straight anymore, but she certainly wasn’t buying it. ‘As things stand, we’ve still got a lot of blanks on Glover, Emilia, and the Walkers.’

‘But they may be blanks because there’s nothing to fill in,’ the inspector argued. ‘Anyway, I’m not drawing a line under it just yet. You’ve got to bear in mind that sometimes the truth just stares you in the face. I’ll see you around then.’

Lucia was seething. She picked up the now empty wine glass and decided against opening a fresh bottle. They desperately needed some sort of miracle, a breakthrough.

Chapter 25

It was barely light outside when Lucia woke up on the day of Nina’s party. She needed some time away from Beatrice Hall, so she had called in sick. Adam’s response had been one of indifference – he clearly had other more pressing concerns. Margaret Walker had left numerous messages begging her to meet, which so far she had ignored. Perhaps it was time to take up the job, if only for a bit of variety. She was due at their house that morning.

In Belsize Park, Margaret Walker opened the door dressed in another ludicrous outfit – a baggy dress, achingly on trend. Lucia was not in a good mood.

‘Lucia, hello. Come in.’

‘Hi, Margaret. I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls. This business with the Professor has been eating up all of my time. Endless questions from the police – and they haven’t made an ounce of progress, as far as I can tell.’ She reasoned that venting her anger might make her feel better. It wasn’t working.

‘Oh, I know. Absolutely useless. You’d think that with all the resources our taxes pay for, they could do a better job. Don’t even get Johnny started on the public sector.’

They went through to the kitchen, where Margaret busied herself with the daunting coffee machine. Lucia stood by the French windows – beyond their garden lay Beatrice Hall.

And, just like that, something clicked.

‘Margaret, is that fence new?’

Margaret had won the battle and was proudly holding two full cups. ‘What fence?’

‘The one between your garden and the Professor’s.’

‘That old thing? No, it’s been there ever since we moved in.’

‘Did you ever have any trouble with it? Was it leaning over at any point?’

‘No, it’s always been fairly solid. It’s funny, I was just saying to Johnny the other day how lucky we are. My friend from barre class has had no end of trouble with her neighbours. Boundary issues cost a lot of money to fix around here.’ Margaret was bemused. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, just because my fence looks similar, and it’s nowhere near as sturdy. The developer must have put in the cheapest kind,’ Lucia lied. She didn’t even have a garden.

‘Awful. Are you in