Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Rita placed a pot of tea and three mugs on the table, the familiar comforts doing their best to soften the unfamiliar sight of two police officers seated at her worn kitchen table.
One was a man in his forties, neat and watchful. The other was a woman, younger, blonde hair swept into a bun, with kind eyes and a voice Rita recognised instantly. She was the same officer who had stood in this very doorway and gently told her that Archie was dead.
Rita pushed a blue tin of shortbread towards them.
‘Please, help yourselves.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Jory,’ the woman officer said softly. ‘That’s very kind, and I’m sorry to hear you’ve had this happen to you, after what happened before, you know.’
‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that,’ Rita sighed, trying to push the memory of that dreadful conversation down with a swig of her decaf tea.
‘We’ve spoken to Mark Evans,’ the male officer, who introduced himself as DS Grainger, said, setting his cup down. ‘And we’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.’
Rita nodded. ‘Of course.’
The woman officer reached into her folder and turned a tablet towards Rita. ‘We’ve been reviewing the camera footage that you sent us.’
She paused the grainy image of the hooded figure mid-frame. ‘Do you recognise this person?’
Rita leaned closer, squinting, trying to pick up anything, something she might be able to hook onto this time around, but nothing came. ‘It does look like a woman, now I look closer,’ she said. ‘My son thought that too.’
The officers exchanged a glance.
‘Can you tell us what you know about the Brimble family, Mrs Jory?’ DS Grainger asked, wiping biscuit crumbs from his mouth.
‘Yes.’ Rita sat back, folding her hands in her lap. ‘I had dealings with Chloe Brimble.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘She worked for the solicitor handling my husband’s will,’ Rita clarified. ‘Chloe gave out information she shouldn’t have. Jago was just trying to sort things out, but she agreed anyway. She ended up losing her job.’
The man nodded. ‘So, she would have a reason not to like you.’
Rita gave a small, humourless smile. ‘Possibly.’ She took a breath.
‘I also know she works for her family’s business at Rosecliff Barns, and she let my daughter down at the last minute.
My daughter is now arranging a wedding here in two days’ time.
’ Rita hesitated, then added, ‘There was also an article. Written by Imogen Hamilton-Clark.’
‘The journalist who stayed here?’ the woman police officer offered.
‘You have been doing your homework,’ Rita said, smiling faintly.
‘My plan for now is to host one wedding to help my daughter out. Just one. But I can see how we might be viewed as competition. We have, well, an incredible view, to match, if not better than theirs.’ Rita gestured vaguely towards the windows, the sweep of sea and sky beyond them.
‘But to set fire to a place…’ she added quietly, ‘that’s pretty serious stuff, isn’t it? ’
‘I can confirm that it was the candle from the discarded lantern that ignited the fire.’
Rita was open-mouthed. ‘Oh my God, that is awful. Who would want to do such a thing to us?’
‘Regarding the piece of paper that was found by Mark Evans’ – the man now looked serious – ‘you say it was your daughter who was going to run a wedding there in the first instance?’
‘Yes.’ Rita nodded. ‘Weddings by Sennen is her company.’
At that moment Sennen came quietly through the front door. ‘Sorry to interrupt. Ignore me, I’m going straight to my room,’ she muttered, keeping her head down as she walked in.
‘Actually, Sen, stop a minute,’ Rita said.
Sennen paused beside the Aga.
‘This is Sennen Jory, my daughter,’ Rita introduced.
‘I assume you would have had some kind of paperwork for your dealings with Rosecliff Barn?’ DS Grainger enquired.
‘Yes, I did have.’ An illusory guilty flicker crossed her face.
‘Can I see it, please?’
‘Oops. I threw it in the bin. As we weren’t using the venue any longer, I didn’t feel the need to keep it. Sorry, is it important? I can tell you most of what was on it, if you like.’
‘Did any of your bins blow over in the storm we had recently?’ the female officer asked. ‘Could paper have flown out?’
Rita screwed up her face. ‘I suppose so.’
The male officer then produced the evidence bag Mark Evans had handed in.
‘There is half a signature on this piece of scorched paper. Could it be yours?’
Suddenly realising the need for the earlier question, Sennen leaned closer, then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s the r and y of Jory right there. From the contract I threw out.’
DS Grainger, who had shoved his second biscuit in, quickly chewed to finish it. ‘Think deeply when I ask you this question. To both of you. Is there anyone at all you think could be responsible for this terrible crime? Any grudges, money owed, relationships scorned?’
Rita thought that there could have been ticks against a few of those recently, but Poppy, definitely not.
Elodie had motive and was certainly unscrupulous enough.
Could Archie have further debts outstanding?
And how about any of the retreat guests?
Yes, the Brimbles could have a motive, but what if it wasn’t them?
Dark thoughts began to whirl around her head.
‘Elodie would be happy if you weren’t on the scene,’ Sennen blurted.
‘Elodie?’ The man raised one eyebrow.
‘It’s complicated.’ Rita’s face reddened.
‘In what way?’ His other eyebrow shot up.
‘As in the woman scorned category maybe,’ Sennen added, causing Rita to glare at her daughter to shut up, without effect. ‘Yes, Elodie Blunt, you might find her at her dad’s in Penrose.’
‘And her father’s name?’ the woman asked.
Sennen looked to Rita, who was wishing that the ground would just swallow her up.
‘Jeff. I think it is. Yes, Jeff Blunt, but…’ Rita grimaced.
If she found out that woman had tried to harm her or her family on top of trying to steal her man, she wasn’t quite sure how she would cope with that information.
‘Excellent, thank you. We’ll be speaking to the Brimble family later this evening,’ the man said, scribbling a few more notes, then shutting his book noisely.
Both officers stood.
‘We will find the underlying cause of this nasty business. Thank you, Mrs Jory, Sennen. No need to see us out.’