Chapter 20
Work started early on Monday morning, and Wesley yawned as he walked down the steep hill to work.
He’d got to bed later than usual the previous night because Neil had called round at nine o’clock to give him an update on his new dig.
He’d booked into a B a good-natured woman who dealt with the costumes efficiently and played the part of the ale wife to perfection.
Everyone agreed that the idea of her having enemies – in the society, at any rate – was ludicrous.
Her neighbours told a similar story, and her phone and financial records didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.
Her death was a mystery to everyone who knew her.
But Wesley couldn’t get the unusual note she’d received out of his mind.
They already knew that Aleric Donnal’s particular academic interest had been medieval bestiaries, and he wondered whether Sue had had dealings with Donnal in the past. Academics often moved around, so perhaps he’d worked in Manchester at some point in his career and had somehow come to know her there.
But investigating that possibility would have to wait until the university admin staff responded to the messages that had been left over the weekend.
And hopefully, the victim’s sister, Judith Peachy, would be able to tell them more once she arrived in Tradmouth.
Gerry emerged from his office, yawning. He looked as tired as Wesley felt.
‘Hi, Wes. Judith Peachy’s arriving at Neston train station at ten-thirty.
I’m sending a patrol car to pick her up.
And we’ve heard from the University of Rennes.
They got the message we left and somebody’s ringing in half an hour.
I only wish the people at our local universities were so efficient.
’ He rolled his eyes. ‘They all buggered off home on Friday afternoon and we haven’t heard a peep from any of them since. ’
‘I don’t suppose they share our sense of urgency,’ said Wesley with a smile.
Gerry looked thoughtful. ‘That weird note we found at Sue Potter’s place – the lanzani. Does it feature in the book we found in the briefcase from Sycamore House?’
The book was still there, packed safely in a plastic evidence bag on top of Gerry’s filing cabinet. Wesley donned crime-scene gloves and flicked through the pages. When he found what he was looking for, he smiled.
‘Yes, here it is. Vicious-looking thing, identical to the one in Sue Potter’s note.’
Before Gerry could say anything, the phone on his desk rang and he picked it up. For a few moments he looked confused, then he handed the receiver to Wesley. ‘Someone from the University of Rennes. You deal with it.’
‘Bonjour,’ Wesley said. His schoolboy French was, as he’d explained to Rachel, extremely rusty. ‘Parlez-vous Anglais?’ He asked this more in hope than expectation, but to his relief, the question was answered in the affirmative and he pressed the speaker key so Gerry could listen in.
‘One of your officers left a message.’ The woman’s English was gratifyingly fluent. ‘You wanted to know about a Dr Aleric Donnal.’
‘That’s right.’
‘May I ask why?’
Wesley cleared his throat, not sure how the news would be received. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that Dr Donnal was found dead last week and we’re investigating his death.’
‘It was an accident?’
He hesitated before replying. ‘I’m afraid we’re treating his death as murder. We believe it may have taken place in May 2011, but we can’t be precise at the moment.’
‘That is a long time ago. You’ve only just found him?’
‘That’s right.’ Wesley didn’t fancy going into a long explanation. ‘Did you have any dealings with him?’
‘It was long before my time, Inspector. I’ve only worked here a couple of years, but I’ve looked up his records for you. Dr Donnal was here at the university between June 2007 and June 2010. He was a researcher in medieval history.’
‘Why did he leave?’
‘His contract came to an end and he decided to return to the UK to pursue his research. According to our records, he published a paper on the exile of your King Henry VII in Brittany. Rennes is the ideal place to access contemporary documents on that subject, of course. He left to continue his research at Morbay University.’
Wesley caught Gerry’s eye. At least they’d now pinned down the local university Donnal had worked at. Contacting them was a priority. But he had more questions to ask first.
‘Does the name Fontescue ring a bell?’
‘Ring a bell?’ The woman sounded confused.
‘Sorry. I mean, is it familiar?’
He could hear the rustle of papers, as though she was searching through a file. ‘Yes, the name Fontescue does appear in the index to his research. Is that important?’
Wesley wasn’t sure how to answer. ‘Is there anyone still at your university who remembers him?’
‘It was a long time ago, Inspector, and academics often move around. And they retire.’ There was a pause, as though she was thinking. ‘There is somebody – a Professor Dupont, who is now retired. I can email you his contact details.’
‘Ask her if he speaks English,’ said Gerry in a stage whisper.
The woman had obviously overheard, because she said, ‘The professor speaks excellent English, I believe.’
Wesley thanked her for her help and ended the call. ‘Looks like we might be making progress at last,’ he said.
Gerry grunted. ‘Medieval history. That’s more your department than mine. I’ll leave you to deal with all these university types.’
‘Fine by me.’
‘And we need to get on to Morbay Uni. Put a bomb up their backsides.’
Gerry’s phone rang again. This time it was Trish Walton to say she was at the station in Neston waiting for Judith Peachy’s train and she would be bringing her back with her as soon as it arrived.
An hour later, the message came that Ms Peachy was waiting in the interview room, the pleasant one reserved for victims and innocent witnesses.
Judith Peachy was Sue Potter’s younger half-sister, but Wesley found it hard to imagine that the two women were related.
Judith’s hair was shoulder-length and blonde, unlike Sue’s, which had been short and grey.
She was slim, and her short skirt showed off a pair of shapely legs.
She stood up as they walked in, perfectly composed as she shook hands.
‘We’re very sorry for your loss,’ Wesley began.
‘Thank you. Trish has already brought me up to date with what happened. I can’t believe it. I mean, who on earth would want to kill Sue? Are you sure it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong? She might have disturbed some druggie who broke in looking for money.’
‘Sorry, love, but we believe your sister was targeted,’ said Gerry. ‘As yet we’ve no idea why. Sit down. Let’s have a cup of tea and talk about it.’
Judith gave him a grateful smile. His straightforward approach had obviously gone down well with a fellow northerner.
There was a kettle and tea things in the corner of the room, and Wesley, well trained by Pam, did his bit.
Once they had the steaming mugs in front of them, they got down to business.
‘What can you tell me about Sue?’ said Wesley gently.
‘She’s . . . she was my half-sister. Her mother died and her father remarried, and I was the result.
She was ten years older than me and we led very different lives.
She was happily married to Phil for many years.
They were both teachers. They never had any children.
’ Her red lips formed a sad smile. ‘I’ve got two, but they’re grown up now.
I’m an actor,’ she added proudly. ‘As well as two children, I also acquired three husbands along the way.’
‘Widowed or divorced?’ Wesley asked, unable to restrain his curiosity.
‘Divorced.’ She smiled and twisted the large diamond ring on her wedding finger. It sparkled in the weak sunlight seeping through the window. ‘Sue and her husband moved to Devon as soon as she retired from teaching five years ago. A cousin of hers used to live down here at one time.’
‘Your cousin too?’
‘No, she was on Sue’s mother’s side of the family, so I’m no relation. In fact I never even met her. Anyway, Sue and Phil spent their holidays here every year, and the permanent move had always been a dream of theirs when they retired . . .’
She fell silent, and Wesley waited for her to continue.
‘I said we had very different lives, but in spite of that, we got on well. I was her bridesmaid,’ she added with a distant smile.
‘Sue was my big sister, and although we didn’t see very much of each other in recent years, I loved her.
’ Her eyes were glassy with tears. ‘I hope you catch whoever killed her and throw away the key.’
‘We’ll do our best. When did you last see your sister?’
‘Six months ago. I came down here for Phil’s funeral and stayed on with her for a couple of weeks.
She needed the company, and I’d finished a run in panto playing the Wicked Queen and was resting, as they say, which meant I was free.
’ She gave a sad smile. ‘Sue was really into all this medieval dressing-up, so maybe she had a touch of the thespian about her too.’ A tear trickled down her cheek.
‘This cousin of hers, is she still around?’
Judith shook her head. ‘No. She left Devon years ago. Split up with her husband and went off to live abroad.’
‘When was this?’
Judith thought for a while. ‘Must have been at least twelve years ago; maybe fifteen. Long before Sue moved down here anyway. Sue said she hadn’t heard from her for years, which is a shame.
I think she was a bit hurt that she didn’t make any effort to keep in touch.
’ She gave a little sigh. ‘It would have been nice for her to have someone close by after Phil died.’
‘Did anything out of the ordinary happen while you were staying with your sister? Did she receive any strange notes, for instance?’
She looked Wesley in the eye and shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. No.’ Then she seemed to remember something. ‘Have you spoken to the man who lived opposite?’
‘Who are we talking about?’ Gerry asked, suddenly alert to the possibility of a new lead. All Sue’s neighbours had been interviewed and had had nothing but good things to say about the dead woman.
‘He was an artist. He was only renting the property for a few months and Sue said she wished he’d hurry up and leave.
It wasn’t like her to say things like that, so he must really have annoyed her.
He used to get drunk and play loud music.
Nothing I’m not used to in Manchester, but in a peaceful little place like Belsham, I can understand why Sue was angry about it.
So were the other neighbours, I believe.
But it was Sue who bore the brunt of it because she lived directly opposite.
He came round twice while I was there, drunk and shouting the odds; calling her a dried-up old bag and saying he hoped she’d die.
She’d only just lost Phil and it really upset her.
I told him to sling his hook, and he backed off when he saw she wasn’t there alone.
Typical bully. In the end, the neighbours banded together and persuaded the landlord to throw him out.
But it wasn’t easy. Fortunately someone else is renting the place now. Sue said they were a nice couple.’
Wesley thought it strange that nobody, including Mark and Maritia, had mentioned the undesirable neighbour, but then if the man had only been there a short time and was long gone, they probably didn’t think it was relevant – and it was most likely something they preferred to forget.
‘Can you remember this man’s name?’ he asked. If the unruly neighbour was in the habit of making a nuisance of himself, he might have come to the attention of the police at some point.
‘Sue only referred to him as Jim. She said he sold his paintings in one of the galleries in Tradmouth. Weird things – dragons and suchlike.’
‘Mythical creatures?’
‘That sort of thing. She said they were downright strange.’
Eager to follow this new lead, Wesley and Gerry left Judith in Trish’s care.
She’d be remaining in the area for a few days to deal with the formalities, and Rachel had arranged for her to stay in one of the holiday apartments her parents had created in the outbuildings on their farm just outside Tradmouth.
Given the circumstances, Wesley knew that Rachel’s mother would make sure she was comfortable
As soon as they returned to the CID office, Gerry called for attention.
As well as getting on to Morbay University to find out about Aleric Donnal’s time there, they needed to find an artist called Jim who sold his pictures through a Tradmouth gallery.
The job shouldn’t take long, he assured the team optimistically.
Wesley hoped he was right.