Chapter 29 #2
‘You’ve got to remember, our minds weren’t on interior decor in those days. And as far as I recall, that room was cluttered with all kinds of stuff. Tim used it for storage; somewhere to put the last occupant’s furniture and things we didn’t need. It wasn’t a room we ever went into.’
‘So let me get this clear, you lived there from the time Tim bought the place until his death, and you saw no work carried out in that room?’ Wesley wanted to get his facts straight.
‘That’s right.’
‘And you all moved in around the same time?’
‘Me and Fiorenza moved in about a week after Tim got the keys to the place.’
‘So he was already there before you arrived?’
‘Yeah. Suppose he was for a short while. Why?’
‘Do you know what date he got the keys?’
She frowned in an effort to recall the details. ‘It was probably the last week in May. I remember because I moved in on my birthday. That’s the first of June.’
Wesley sat for a few moments deep in thought. When he looked up, he saw that Rachel was watching him with a puzzled frown on her face, as though she was trying to guess what he was thinking.
‘Have you any idea who was living in the house before Tim bought it?’
The answer came quickly. ‘It had been rented out. I don’t know who lived there, but they left quite a bit of stuff behind.’
‘What sort of things?’ Rachel caught on fast.
‘Furniture. Old books.’ June closed her eyes, trying to take her mind back to those carefree days. ‘I remember Tim saying that he’d had to get rid of a couple of sitting tenants, who weren’t the type of people he wanted. But they’d left by the time I moved in.’
‘He got rid of people?’ Wesley was surprised. That seemed to contradict the ethos Tim Fontescue-Burns had claimed to espouse. ‘Do you know who these people were?’
There was a long silence while she considered the question. ‘I think Aphrodite and Apollo were already living there, but he let them stay on because he thought they’d fit in. But I’ve no idea about the others.’
‘Can you remember which estate agency dealt with the house purchase?’
‘No, but I remember Tim saying that he’d bought it off a man who owned a bookshop. The house used to belong to the man’s parents, and he rented it out after they died.’
‘Do you know where the bookshop was?’
‘Tradmouth, I think.’
‘Can you recall the man’s name?’
‘Oh, it was something unusual. Tim made a joke – said he hoped he was ready.’ She raised a hand, looking pleased with herself. ‘Ethelred, that’s it. Ethelred the Unready.’
‘Ethelred Bingley?’ Wesley experienced a sudden feeling of triumph.
Ethelred Bingley, second-hand bookshop proprietor, had written to Aleric Donnal, who was later found dead in a house he’d once owned.
He could hardly wait to tell the team about the connection.
But he knew he shouldn’t allow himself to get carried away. There was still a lot of work to do.
‘That name rings a bell. I never met him, but Tim might have done.’ June paused. ‘Do you think this Ethelred had something to do with—’
Before she could finish, the door to the office burst open.
‘June, I’ve just got back and one of the goats is eating that parasol you put out in the courtyard.’
Wesley looked round. ‘Hello, Della.’
His mother-in-law folded her arms. ‘Why are you harassing June?’
He stood up and thanked June politely. ‘We’re just off. Nice to see you too, Della.’
‘I’d check what the goats are up to if I were you,’ Rachel said on her way out. She had never had a high opinion of goats.
The window was open, so Jim Baker could hear the lions roaring as he abandoned his latest painting.
He needed to visit Dale again. He wanted to get something off his chest and he knew that if he confided in Dale it would go no further.
Dale had no liking for the police either – especially since the puma almost escaped last month, something he’d kept very quiet about.
If the authorities got wind of what had happened, his collection would be at risk.
And in his own way, Dale loved his animals.
Jim pulled on his denim jacket, his eyes fixed on the picture on the easel. A grotesque demon hovering in a red sky as a monstrous sea serpent dived beneath rough waves with a flailing human figure in its mouth. He stared at the image for a while before covering it up with a sheet and walking out.
The girl on the reception desk was scrolling through her phone and didn’t look up as he walked past and made straight for Dale’s office, covering his nostrils against the stench of animal excrement. There he found the man he was looking for with a half-full glass in his hand.
‘Jim. What can I do for you?’
‘Thanks for telling the police I was with you on Friday night.’
‘No problem. Drink?’
Without waiting for an answer, Dale poured a second glass. Jim sat down and took a swig.
‘You know I told you I’d been involved in something really bad?’
‘Yeah. You said you’d seen something terrible when you’d taken acid, but you thought you were probably imagining things that weren’t there. A bad trip, you said.’
‘You didn’t mention that to the cops, did you?’
Dale was about to take a drink, but his hand froze in mid-air. ‘Does it matter?’
‘If they ask, don’t mention it, will you.’
Dale had a vague recollection of his encounter with the two detectives, and he was pretty sure he’d said something, probably gabbling because of nerves, filling in a conversational vacuum.
‘Sure,’ he said, not wanting to admit that he might have unwittingly betrayed his friend’s confidence.
‘What was this bad thing anyway? You never said.’
‘No. I didn’t. If I tell you, you’ll have to swear to keep it to yourself. I told nobody about the cat that almost escaped, so I expect you to do the same for me. Swear.’
‘I swear,’ said Dale, raising his glass in a toast to nothing.
‘OK. It’s been eating away at me ever since that body was found, so I feel I’ve got to tell someone.’
‘What body?’
Jim took a deep breath. ‘The one on the news. The one in that house.’ He paused. ‘I think I saw him being murdered.’
‘You think?’
‘I didn’t think it was real at the time. I thought I must have been hallucinating, but now they’ve found a body . . .’
Dale sat forward. ‘Who was murdered?’
‘I don’t know who he was. Just some old guy.’
‘Who killed him?’
‘Lanzani. It was Lanzani.’
‘Who’s Lanzani?’
Jim shook his head as though he didn’t want to – or didn’t dare – answer the question.
‘Since I heard about that body, it’s been going round in my brain, eating it away like worms. They found it behind a wall, so what I saw must have been real.
Mustn’t it? I must have really seen him do it.
’ He paused. ‘And that woman from Belsham. You said she’d been here, asking questions. And now she’s dead too.’
Dale topped up Jim’s drink. ‘You’d better tell me everything.’