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  ‘Was she? Now who told you that?’

  ‘Well, I assumed … we all assumed …’ She stopped, knowing each time she opened her mouth she made herself appear more of a fool in DI Pearce’s eyes.

  ‘Assumptions are dangerous things, Rose.’ Absent-mindedly he heaped four spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and stirred it. ‘However, I have it on good authority you would not be capable of murder.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Your friend, Laura.’ He smiled. ‘I bumped into her the other day.’ Rose Trevelyan, he thought, is extremely uncomfortable in my presence, but her feelings do not arise out of guilt.

  Rose, as if realising the impression she was making, sat down, glad she was wearing a Viyella checked shirt and a newish pair of cords. She was not at quite such a disadvantage as the other times he had seen her. She had forgotten about first impressions, and that Jack Pearce’s initial sight of her had been when she was dressed for the party. ‘I see. You make a habit of discussing suspects or witnesses with their best friends, do you?’ She was furious to think Laura had chatted with him in such a manner.

  ‘We make a habit of speaking to anyone who knows anyone at such times. But if it makes you feel better, it was a chance meeting and your name came into the conversation.’

  Rose stood up and began unpacking the groceries, hoping he would take it as a hint to leave. She had not done anything illegal, he must know that.

  ‘You like a drink?’ He nodded at the wine rack and at the two bottles she had bought at the Co-op to go with the meal she would cook for the Miltons.

  ‘Is that any of your business as long as I don’t go out in the car?’ She could not be civil to him. He seemed to fill the kitchen and, always, he seemed to be enjoying a private joke at her expense.

  ‘No offence meant. I like wine myself.’

  ‘It’s for a dinner. I have asked the Miltons over. It’s easier for me to tell you now, it’ll save you another journey.’

  Jack surprised her by ignoring the comment. He stood up to leave. ‘The filter coffee’s better,’ he said, ‘but thanks anyway. And Rose?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t get involved. I don’t think you realise quite what you’re dealing with.’

  So that was the reason for this appearance; to warn her off. Did he already know something? He had not said she was not to socialise with the Miltons, therefore there was no reason not to go ahead.

  When she lay in bed that night she went over all she had learned, but it was what she had not found out that puzzled her. It might be that tomorrow evening would provide the solution.

  Before she fell asleep she thought about sex. She missed it, missed David’s warm body next to hers, although she had not done so during the months of his illness. Too many other things had taken priority then. Since his death she had been out with only one man – apart from Barry, with whom her relationship was platonic – and Rose knew she had been rushing things. Lonely and miserable, she had tried to find a replacement. Within a fortnight she knew that a husband could not be replaced, that one day, in the distant future, she might meet someone whom she wanted to live with or even marry, but he would not be a substitute, he would be someone she loved.

  Living alone had made her selfish, made her think it would be ideal to have a man for company when she required it and who would fulfil her baser needs when necessary without making any demands on her. She smiled to herself. But I wouldn’t like a man who allowed me to treat him that way, she thought.

  She had no idea how sex had come into her head. And she didn’t even like Jack Pearce.

  Rose hummed as she worked with the radio on, enjoying the distraction of preparing three courses. Hopefully Dennis and Paul would have regained their appetites. Would they notice if she wore the same outfit she had bought for the party? Anna might, but not the men, surely, and it did not matter, as long as it did not act as a reminder.

  ‘Come in.’ Rose held open the front door, suddenly experiencing nervousness at entertaining three people she hardly knew.

  ‘I brought some wine,’ Dennis said. ‘And it really is very kind of you to have us. I didn’t know as many people as Gabrielle, but I get the feeling we’re being avoided,’ he added as she showed them into the sitting-room.

  ‘People don’t always know what to say. They feel embarrassed.’

  ‘I expect you’re right.’

  ‘Anna, I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before. I’m glad you could come.’ Rose’s social graces seemed to be in order. She poured drinks and explained they would be eating in the kitchen. Then she excused herself to attend to the food. Anna, she thought, was polite enough but not a great conversationalist. With her figure and colouring she was stunning but seemed a little ill at ease, although that was understandable. Satisfied that the table looked elegant and that there was nothing lying around which shouldn’t have been, she told them that the meal was ready.

  Dennis initiated the conversation once they were seated, commenting again on how comfortable and welcoming Rose’s home was. He was more relaxed, less grey-faced than before; Paul, too, had lost some of his tenseness and was, on this third meeting, almost animated.

  ‘Anna’s had the last fitting for her dress,’ he informed Rose. ‘It’s had to be taken in again. Pre-wedding nerves, on top of everything else, I expect.’ He smiled fondly at his fiancée. ‘At least she’s enjoying your cooking tonight.’

  ‘I’m not a very good cook,’ Anna admitted, ‘but I’m learning. If we find someone like Mrs Clarke she won’t be there all the time. Still, I expect as Paul makes more and more business contacts we’ll also eat out quite a lot.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause which Anna misinterpreted. Father and son exchanged a quick glance but neither spoke of Paul’s financial difficulties.

  They had eaten a sea-food salad. Rose cleared away the plates and poured more wine before dishing up roast lamb spiked with slivers of garlic and several bowls of vegetables. She had not prepared a roast for years; as Doreen Clarke had produced a plain and simple meal she had not risked anything too rich in case it was not to the Miltons’ taste. Hopefully she had not overdone the garlic.

  Saturday night and I’m jollying along a bereaved man, his virtually bankrupt son and his beautiful but edgy girlfriend, Rose thought as she carved the meat, not very neatly.

  Handing around the plates she smiled at the irony. It was herself she had believed needed cheering up. Perhaps she should take up good works as a full-time occupation, it must be good for the soul.

  ‘What is it you do, Paul?’ Only when she had asked the question did Rose realise Gareth may have mentioned her visit. She had given a different name but DI Pearce knew about it: presumably Gareth had provided a description.

  ‘I’m in the property business. In London.’ It sounded impressive put like that.

  ‘And you, Anna?’ Rose handed her the mint sauce.

  ‘I’m with a firm of fashion buyers. We’re working on the summer collections now.’

  ‘It must be difficult, always being several seasons ahead.’

  ‘You get used to it.’

  Rose wondered how the pastel outfit stood up to inspection. Anna was wearing a coat-dress. ‘So, has anything been decided about the house yet?’ No mention had been made of the photographs she had taken. Rose would have to cut her losses.

  ‘I’ll have to sell,’ replied Dennis. ‘I’ve been on to my office. Well, to be frank, I took the bull by the horns and asked if the rumours were true. I explained I needed to know my position. It’ll be put in writing, but I shall, as they phrased it, be taking voluntary redundancy. With that, and what I make from the sale of both properties, I’ll get a small place down here and take my chances. I wouldn’t be happy in London now.’

  ‘But Gabrielle said –’

  Dennis interrupted whatever Anna had been about to say. ‘Whatever Gabrielle said doesn’t count. She has left everything to me.’

  ‘No!’ Anna thumped the table. �
��No. That’s impossible.’

  Rose stared from one to another, her hand reaching out to steady her wineglass.

  ‘Anna.’ Dennis and Paul spoke together. Her face was scarlet.

  ‘It’s true,’ Dennis said quietly. ‘The police needed to know what was in the will.’ There was no need to elucidate; they all knew the reasons for that. ‘Maybe she intended changing it and was killed before she could do so, but I think not.’

  The pallor had returned to Paul’s face. ‘Hasn’t she left me anything at all?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. You see, your mother and I felt we had bailed you out enough times, that you’d never be a success if we continued to do so. I think she did it for your own good.’

  ‘It’s all right, Paul.’ Anna laid a hand on his arm. ‘Your father won’t let you down.’

  ‘Let him down? What do you mean?’ Dennis was puzzled.

  Rose watched the interplay silently. It was hard to believe that she was in her own kitchen, harder still to accept that her guests were so freely discussing Gabrielle’s will in front of her. Curiosity was one thing but she felt embarrassed although she did not interrupt.

  ‘Paul needs an injection of cash if he is to succeed. Gabrielle always promised she would do the best for Paul. I’m sure you won’t go back on her word, Dennis. She told me we had nothing to worry about. It won’t be easy getting married if we haven’t any money.’

  ‘Other people manage.’ Rose was surprised to hear her own indignant voice. ‘David and I started from nothing.’

  ‘But I expect you were used to not having very much.’

  It was true but Rose still felt it was no justification for Anna to try to manipulate her future father-in-law. At least by the way the couple were looking at each other they seemed to be in love.

  Paul stepped in. He could not bear to see Anna distressed and he felt he owed an explanation for what seemed to be a mercenary streak. ‘Anna’s not had an easy life, I wanted to repair that damage. She found out accidentally that she was adopted but her sister wasn’t. Her parents claimed they wanted to wait until she was older to tell her. You can imagine the shock.’

  Rose could, but others survived unscarred, and money would not heal that particular trauma.

  ‘After that she lived with an aunt and then, just when she thought she’d finally found security, the person she was going to marry let her down. You can see why money has become important.’

  I can understand, Rose thought, but she’s also using the past to gain sympathy. She wondered if Anna realised the pain she must have caused her adoptive parents who had cared for her and loved her. But she would not judge too harshly even though Anna seemed to show little grief or sorrow for the dead woman’s family. It was obvious that she loved Paul.

  Their plates were not quite empty but the food had gone cold so Rose removed them from the table; she regretted issuing the invitation. Turning back from the draining board she saw the faces of all three before they had a chance to compose themselves. Dennis was staring at the young couple with a mixture of bewilderment and despair; Anna was tight-lipped, upright in her chair, while Paul reached out and took her hand. There were two spots of colour across his high cheekbones yet he did not seem angry.

  ‘Would anyone like coffee?’ Rose wanted them to leave and decided not to offer them the fruit salad she had made.

  ‘No, I think we ought to go.’ Dennis stood. ‘It was a lovely meal, Rose. Thank you. I’m sorry if we appeared rude.’

  At the front door Paul shook her hand and thanked her too but was obviously anxious to get Anna on her own. Anna smiled weakly and waited for the men to walk on to the car. Then she turned to face Rose. ‘I enjoyed the meal and I appreciate your concern for the family but I don’t think you’re being very fair to Dennis.’

  ‘Oh?’ Rose blinked in surprise.

  ‘It’s too soon after Gabrielle’s death to expect him to be interested in other women.’ Before Rose could answer Anna had hurried down the path.

  Rose stood motionless in the doorway. Was that how Anna saw her? As a single woman who was only interested in Dennis for his money, perhaps hoping to marry him for that reason? She shook her head in disbelief. It had been a disastrous evening and one she did not intend to repeat. Besides, Anna seemed unaware of Dennis’s own financial position. Unless he managed to find another job locally he would have to invest whatever he inherited wisely. Then another thought occurred to her: just how much did Gabrielle have to leave? There might be a considerable sum as well as the house.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said aloud as she scraped the food from the plates into the bin. ‘Don’t think about it.’

  She could not face the washing up. Once the remains of the joint were in the fridge and the fruit salad dish covered with film she went to the sitting-room and sat in the dark looking out over the soothing aspect of the harbour and the bay until some sort of peace returned.

  8

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ Anna said as soon as they reached the house.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Not now, Paul. In the morning.’

  Paul went to join his father in the lounge but there was nothing to be gained there either. Dennis sat staring moodily towards the drawn curtains unable to cope with the conflicting emotions he was experiencing. For the first time the real magnitude of what had happened hit him and he realised he would never see Gabrielle again. Maggie no longer counted, she would not be part of his future. She must have guessed that by now but when Paul had gone to bed he would telephone her to make it clear. It was only fair. Strange, he thought, now it was too late, he wanted to do the right thing by everyone.

  ‘The police don’t seem to be doing very much, do they?’ Paul wanted to get his father talking. He had tried, on the night his mother was killed, to ask him for a loan or for payment in advance of whatever money he was due to inherit later. But he did not want to dive straight in with a request for cash.

  ‘They wouldn’t tell us if they were. We’re all suspects. Why do you think they keep coming back? Look, Paul, I’m not in the mood for conversation, on this or any other topic. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.’

  Paul shrugged and left the room. Tomorrow would have to do, although he had hoped to be able to tell Anna everything was sorted out.

  Dennis poured a brandy, knowing he did not need or want it. What he did need was a night’s sleep but the bedroom he was using felt wrong. At first he had been forbidden use of his own room but now the police tape had been removed he could not face the double bed he had shared with Gabrielle. Sometimes he stood in the doorway and, although he was sure it was not possible, he thought her perfume lingered in the air. What he did know was that all pretence of being a happy family had gone.

  Rose woke to a clear blue sky and a boisterous wind. She opened several windows, thinking that a through-draught would rid the house of the contamination of last night’s visitors.

  Studying her face in the bathroom mirror she thought she looked tired, but otherwise the same Rose. She had never been beautiful, but she had grown into her looks and men considered her to be attractive. She had always been comfortable with her body and face and had not really given them much thought. She groaned as she remembered the dishes waiting to be washed. And there was a baby to be photographed. Sunday was the only time that was convenient for the family, which Rose found odd. However, work was work.

  Dishes done, she threw on an old jacket and drove into Penzance. That was the only problem with the photography side: the equipment was too heavy to lug about on foot.

  The baby was plump and dimpled. ‘She’s born to it,’ Rose told the mother as the child gazed straight at her, gurgling and beaming. It was to be a record of her first birthday.

  The wind was dying down and there were quite a few people enjoying a walk along the front. Further out were several white-sailed yachts. She promised herself a long walk after lunch, a lunch which would consist of cold lamb and salad.

 
; She had been tempted to have a quiet word with Dennis, to let him know Gabrielle had sent the invitation to Maggie Anderson, but that would be playing into Maggie’s hands. And it might not be true. Rose had guessed Maggie wanted her to put in a good word for her. And Gabrielle was no longer around to defend herself.

  Rose braked suddenly. She had almost crossed the roundabout without giving way to an oncoming car. What if Dennis knew that his wife knew about Maggie? What if Dennis also knew that his wife was about to change her will in Paul’s favour for that very reason? How much more of a motive did that give him, especially as he was concerned about losing his job?

  Stop being melodramatic, she told herself. The police had to be aware of these facts. Yet they had not arrested Dennis. She reminded herself that there were about forty people present that evening, apart from anyone who might have arrived unseen.

  She seemed to recall that the inquest was to be held soon. How long would it be before Gabrielle was allowed a funeral? Rose was not sure if she would attend: they were not close, but it might be rude not to. It would be the first since David’s.

  She should have known that she would pass Laura, who was on her way up to see her. Trevor had been home for several days but was now back at sea.

  ‘You’ve been out early for a Sunday,’ Laura said as she climbed into the passenger seat.

  ‘I had a job.’

  ‘How did it go? With the Milton clan?’

  ‘Don’t even talk about it.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘That bad. How’s things with you?’

  ‘Improving. I tarted myself up and persuaded Trevor to take me out for a meal. We’ve had a long talk and we’ve both agreed to make some compromises. It’s not exactly bliss, but it’s one hell of a lot better than it has been.’

  ‘Good.’

  Laura looked at her slyly. ‘Jack Pearce was asking about you.’

  ‘I heard.’ They had reached the house. Rose pulled on the handbrake and killed the ignition. She turned to meet Laura’s eyes. ‘And what exactly did you tell him?’