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

one of these new builds next to the Heath? I’ve heard terrible things from the other mums at school. Work so shoddy it should be illegal.’ Margaret launched into a tirade about how standards had plummeted since EU enlargement, a view very much in keeping with her stance on the public sector. Lucia nodded sympathetically, not taking any of it in. She needed to let Carliss know.

For the following half hour, Margaret did most of the talking. Lucia showed her various mood boards, hoping that information overload would prevent her new client from reaching a decision on the spot. She realized she didn’t want to start the job any time soon. It would distract her from the murder. As it happened, Margaret was not the decisive type. Half, if not more of the fun lay in equivocating about endless possibilities. The visit ended as it had begun – Lucia was none the wiser as to the substance of her brief, which suited her just fine. Back in the van, she messaged DCI Carliss: “John Walker lied about the fence. It’s not new.”

By the time she got home, she was looking forward to the evening ahead. What was she going to wear to the party? She had never been one for hoarding clothes. The end of her old job was a chance to prune down her wardrobe to a few choice pieces, with the rest relegated to the charity shop bin. She pulled out a black velvet kimono with a silk waist tie. It was short and would have looked vulgar with heels – not that she owned any – so she paired it with suede ballet flats in the same colour. She would have a long, indulgent bath before getting ready, which was a luxury she seldom afforded herself. She simply didn’t have the patience.

When she emerged, it was five fifty-nine – plenty of time left before she had to be on the move. She dressed herself carefully, stood back and admired her handiwork. The light freckles on her nose attenuated the effect of the stridently red lipstick. The get-up had the desired effect – alluring but not ostentatious. Just as she was applying the finishing touches to her face, the doorbell squealed insistently.

‘It’s me. I need to talk to you.’

She heard Carliss’s hurried steps coming up the stairs as soon as she had pressed the buzzer. She opened the door and beckoned him in.

‘Going anywhere?’

Lucia didn’t mind his openly admirative stare. If anything, she enjoyed it. ‘A party. Do you want a drink?’

‘I’ll be OK, thanks. Don’t want to keep you.’

‘What have you got?’ She knew it must have been something momentous to warrant a visit – her heart was pounding.

‘I spoke to Walker. You’re right, he’d been telling porkies all along,’ the policeman said excitedly as he sat down at her kitchen table.

‘Really?’ She was surprised that John Walker had yielded so easily.

DCI Carliss had clearly read her mind. ‘He didn’t give in from the start. I told him about the fence and asked him what the row with the Professor was really about. He beat around the bush for a while – said he couldn’t remember, it wasn’t important, the usual rubbish. When I pointed out I knew about Mrs Justice Alexander and suggested a trip to the station for lying to the police, he relented. I don’t think he wants to attract attention to himself, given what he came out with next.’ He paused for effect.

‘Come on, stop trying to be clever,’ Lucia joked impatiently.

‘Sorry. The Professor knew about the affair and was blackmailing him. Had been for months. That’s why they were arguing.’

Even Lucia hadn’t seen this one coming. ‘Oh, that is good. So, he had plenty of motive to get rid of her.’

‘Oh, yes, plenty, given how much there was at stake. His career, his marriage. He had already made a substantial down payment for her silence, but she wanted more. He was worried the wife would get suspicious, so he confronted the Professor. She laughed and said she had him exactly where she wanted him.’

‘I imagine someone like John Walker wouldn’t take that very well. How did the Professor find out?’

‘He didn’t know. Assumed she must have spotted them together somewhere in town. He said they were discreet, but we saw them, so she could have done as well.’

‘Don’t forget we did follow them – not that I’m giving him any credit,’ Lucia remarked.

They both smiled.

‘You look great, by the way,’ the policeman said.

They walked downstairs together, and Lucia got into her taxi to Lygon Place.

Chapter 26

At the other end of town, the glass-fronted door to a magnificent Queen Anne style town house dutifully opened before her. The enormous sisal doormat proudly read “Chanler” in heavy black capitals, lest the guests should forget whose party they had been invited to. It was only ten minutes past seven, but the place was already buzzing. It smelled of fig cologne, and there was silk and soft leather as far as the eye could see. Nina wove her way towards her friend through the crowd – a modern Athena, unapologetic in a burnt-orange sequinned gown that glistened like chainmail.

‘Lucia, darling.’ Nina drawled her name with an exaggerated Italian accent. ‘Bellissima, come sempre.’

‘Nina. It’s been too long.’

The women embraced warmly. Lucia had missed her closest friend. They came from such different backgrounds and lived such different lives, and yet every time they met, they could effortlessly pick up where they left off.

‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ It was brash and derivative, and it was Nina all over. The floor to ceiling mirrors cladding a whole drawing room wall reflected the glossy walnut furniture. A young woman, resplendent in red satin under the dimmed chandeliers, leaned against the midnight blue and gold chevron wallpaper. ‘You couldn’t make