won't make a blind bit of difference. Not while they keep aeroplanes in the sky. Did you know that after 9/11 when the USA grounded all flights for three days the temperature in America actually fell? If that isn't proof of the harm they do I don't know what is. And this pathetic, stupid government tell us to stop buying carrier bags and use energy-efficient light bulbs. I mean what the hell difference is that going make?'
Horton smiled. 'Not much, I guess. But isn't there another group called REMAF?' he recollected from Owen's office.
She eyed him curiously.
'I read about it in the local newspaper,' he quickly explained.
She seemed to accept this. 'Renewable Energy Means A Future. Owen had to conduct a report for them on the viability of the wind farms. I tried to get Owen to tell us the results at a meeting in October, but he wasn't having any of it. That's how he met Arina. It was love at first sight. Then to be killed by some idiot bastard with no brains between his ears who didn't even bother to stop. And just when she'd found happiness. If it hadn't been for me they'd have never met. I arranged for Owen to give a talk on the environment, and I cajoled Arina into coming with me.'
'I understand you were her housekeeper,' Horton asked casually, sipping his tea and trying not to pull a face. Not a great lover of the brew, this tasted like cats' piss.
'Sir Christopher's really. Arina was an interior designer but she shot home from London to help nurse her father when he became too ill to manage alone. Sir Christopher died on the thirteenth of December. Twenty-one days later Arina is killed by a lunatic driver. She didn't want to stay on at Scanaford House after her father's death. She never really liked the place.'
'Not because it's supposed to be haunted!'
She gave a laugh that reminded Horton of the laughing sailor in the glass booth on Clarence Pier in Southsea. 'Jonathan Anmore tells everyone that old tale.'
'It's not true?'
'Who knows? There was a murder there yonks ago, but if you give Jonathan half an ear he'll embellish it with so many ghosts you'd think they were holding a convention there.'
'Who inherits now Arina's dead?'
'No idea,' she answered sharply. She probably thought he'd come with the intention of making a claim on her estate. 'You'll have to ask Gerald Newland, the solicitor. He's in Newport.'
And Horton, or someone in the major crime team, would. He reckoned that neither Bella Westbury nor the gardener, Jonathan Anmore, had been named in the wills otherwise one of them would probably have said. Or perhaps Bella Westbury did know and wasn't about to confide in a stranger.
'How long have you worked there?' He could see by the slight narrowing of her eyes it was one question too far. She was getting suspicious about his purpose, but she answered him, albeit curtly.
'About a year.'
Horton was surprised. The way she'd been talking he'd assumed she was the old faithful family retainer. Who had Bella replaced? Was it relevant? He didn't really think so, and the way she was eyeing him he guessed he would be pushing his luck asking. It was time he broke the bad news.
He tried a bit of disarming honesty. 'I'm sorry if I'm being too nosy, but I'm trying to understand not only why Arina was killed, but why her boyfriend Owen Carlsson is also dead. But I guess you might have explained that already, with him and Arina being––'
'What do you mean dead?' she interrupted sharply. Her green eyes, as hard as emeralds now, peered at him with such intensity that he felt like a suspect in one of the interview rooms at the station.
'You've not seen the news or heard it on the radio?' he asked, surprised.
'I don't listen to that rubbish.'
He found that slightly puzzling for a woman who was keen on political fighting, and one who had obviously been in the news as well as making it
Horton smiled. 'Not much, I guess. But isn't there another group called REMAF?' he recollected from Owen's office.
She eyed him curiously.
'I read about it in the local newspaper,' he quickly explained.
She seemed to accept this. 'Renewable Energy Means A Future. Owen had to conduct a report for them on the viability of the wind farms. I tried to get Owen to tell us the results at a meeting in October, but he wasn't having any of it. That's how he met Arina. It was love at first sight. Then to be killed by some idiot bastard with no brains between his ears who didn't even bother to stop. And just when she'd found happiness. If it hadn't been for me they'd have never met. I arranged for Owen to give a talk on the environment, and I cajoled Arina into coming with me.'
'I understand you were her housekeeper,' Horton asked casually, sipping his tea and trying not to pull a face. Not a great lover of the brew, this tasted like cats' piss.
'Sir Christopher's really. Arina was an interior designer but she shot home from London to help nurse her father when he became too ill to manage alone. Sir Christopher died on the thirteenth of December. Twenty-one days later Arina is killed by a lunatic driver. She didn't want to stay on at Scanaford House after her father's death. She never really liked the place.'
'Not because it's supposed to be haunted!'
She gave a laugh that reminded Horton of the laughing sailor in the glass booth on Clarence Pier in Southsea. 'Jonathan Anmore tells everyone that old tale.'
'It's not true?'
'Who knows? There was a murder there yonks ago, but if you give Jonathan half an ear he'll embellish it with so many ghosts you'd think they were holding a convention there.'
'Who inherits now Arina's dead?'
'No idea,' she answered sharply. She probably thought he'd come with the intention of making a claim on her estate. 'You'll have to ask Gerald Newland, the solicitor. He's in Newport.'
And Horton, or someone in the major crime team, would. He reckoned that neither Bella Westbury nor the gardener, Jonathan Anmore, had been named in the wills otherwise one of them would probably have said. Or perhaps Bella Westbury did know and wasn't about to confide in a stranger.
'How long have you worked there?' He could see by the slight narrowing of her eyes it was one question too far. She was getting suspicious about his purpose, but she answered him, albeit curtly.
'About a year.'
Horton was surprised. The way she'd been talking he'd assumed she was the old faithful family retainer. Who had Bella replaced? Was it relevant? He didn't really think so, and the way she was eyeing him he guessed he would be pushing his luck asking. It was time he broke the bad news.
He tried a bit of disarming honesty. 'I'm sorry if I'm being too nosy, but I'm trying to understand not only why Arina was killed, but why her boyfriend Owen Carlsson is also dead. But I guess you might have explained that already, with him and Arina being––'
'What do you mean dead?' she interrupted sharply. Her green eyes, as hard as emeralds now, peered at him with such intensity that he felt like a suspect in one of the interview rooms at the station.
'You've not seen the news or heard it on the radio?' he asked, surprised.
'I don't listen to that rubbish.'
He found that slightly puzzling for a woman who was keen on political fighting, and one who had obviously been in the news as well as making it
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