ago.’
‘No children?’
‘No. I don’t know why not.’
‘She was your mother’s sister?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your mother’s alive?’
‘Very much so. She lives in Dorset. My father’s a farmer. Tina was always more one for the merry life and so on, but coming back here was a bit like going back to country life. In a way.’
Only in a way, thought Patrick, if she meant to involve herself with the theatre, but no one knew if that was her plan.
‘What did her husband do?’
‘He makes motor cars in Coventry. He’s got another wife – traded Tina in for a newer model, you could say.’
‘Is that what she thought?’
‘I’d guess so. That’s why she tried so hard to grab someone else. Scared them off, if you ask me.’
That didn’t sound as if she would be Sam’s sort of person.
‘Maybe she wasn’t a good picker?’ he suggested. He had sometimes thought it about himself.
‘Or didn’t meet the right person at the right time. There’s always that. Still, it’s all a gamble, isn’t it?’ said Tessa.
‘What did your aunt do with her time?’ Patrick asked. The dead woman was not at all real to him. She had owned some good bits of furniture and some charming ornaments. Various pictures were stacked against the wall of the living-room; he had not looked at them, but from what he had seen of her possessions her taste was good, and she was no pauper. ‘She had no career, had she?’
‘Not now. She did work in an antique shop once, but she gave it up. She took her poodle for walks – went shopping – had her hair done. That sort of thing. Sounds awful, doesn’t it?’ said Tessa cheerfully.
It did.
‘No satisfying occupation? No hobby?’
‘I think she liked the antique shop. I don’t know why she gave it up.’
Patrick nodded at the pictures, whose backs faced them.
‘Was she keen on art? Are those any good?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Have a look at them.’
They were oil paintings of dark, moorland landscapes. At any minute Heathcliff or Cathy would come marching into view, Patrick thought, inspecting the sixth one. He tapped the back of it; it sounded very solid.
‘Hm,’ he said.
‘Pity, isn’t it? I might have sold them for thousands of pounds,’ said Tessa. ‘As it is, I’ll be lucky if I can give them away.’
‘They’re certainly not up to much,’ Patrick said. ‘But I expect someone will buy them. Well, thank you for putting up with me. We’ll meet’Yes.’ Tessa walked with him to the gate. ‘There were a lot of people at Tina’s funeral,’ she said. ‘She was cremated. They were mostly neighbours. They were truly shocked, I think. But I wonder if any of them were really fond of her. If they were, you’d think they’d have realised she was desperate.’
‘It doesn’t always show,’ Patrick said.
‘Perhaps not.’
Tessa turned to go back to the cottage, then hesitated.
‘There was something else rather odd,’ she said. ‘It came up at the inquest. My aunt was nervous at night – she always put the chain up on the door. That night she didn’t, and the door wasn’t bolted. It was just shut on the Yale.’
‘What did the coroner think about that?’ Patrick asked. He remembered Lettie Barry’s comment on the same thing.
Tessa shrugged.
‘If she was upset enough to commit suicide, she wouldn’t bother about locking up,’ she said.
She might have wanted to be found before it was too late,
Patrick thought, as he drove away; or someone might have been with her – someone who often visited her at night and who had let the dog out inadvertently, perhaps while slipping out himself and pulling the door shut after Tina had unsuspectingly swallowed the fatal dose of pills.
Part XI
‘I couldn’t very well steal it,’ Patrick said.
‘It would be easy if you were a policeman,’ mourned Manolakis. ‘You would have the right – and to test all the other things, also.’
While they ate ham rolls in the garden of a pub by the
‘No children?’
‘No. I don’t know why not.’
‘She was your mother’s sister?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your mother’s alive?’
‘Very much so. She lives in Dorset. My father’s a farmer. Tina was always more one for the merry life and so on, but coming back here was a bit like going back to country life. In a way.’
Only in a way, thought Patrick, if she meant to involve herself with the theatre, but no one knew if that was her plan.
‘What did her husband do?’
‘He makes motor cars in Coventry. He’s got another wife – traded Tina in for a newer model, you could say.’
‘Is that what she thought?’
‘I’d guess so. That’s why she tried so hard to grab someone else. Scared them off, if you ask me.’
That didn’t sound as if she would be Sam’s sort of person.
‘Maybe she wasn’t a good picker?’ he suggested. He had sometimes thought it about himself.
‘Or didn’t meet the right person at the right time. There’s always that. Still, it’s all a gamble, isn’t it?’ said Tessa.
‘What did your aunt do with her time?’ Patrick asked. The dead woman was not at all real to him. She had owned some good bits of furniture and some charming ornaments. Various pictures were stacked against the wall of the living-room; he had not looked at them, but from what he had seen of her possessions her taste was good, and she was no pauper. ‘She had no career, had she?’
‘Not now. She did work in an antique shop once, but she gave it up. She took her poodle for walks – went shopping – had her hair done. That sort of thing. Sounds awful, doesn’t it?’ said Tessa cheerfully.
It did.
‘No satisfying occupation? No hobby?’
‘I think she liked the antique shop. I don’t know why she gave it up.’
Patrick nodded at the pictures, whose backs faced them.
‘Was she keen on art? Are those any good?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Have a look at them.’
They were oil paintings of dark, moorland landscapes. At any minute Heathcliff or Cathy would come marching into view, Patrick thought, inspecting the sixth one. He tapped the back of it; it sounded very solid.
‘Hm,’ he said.
‘Pity, isn’t it? I might have sold them for thousands of pounds,’ said Tessa. ‘As it is, I’ll be lucky if I can give them away.’
‘They’re certainly not up to much,’ Patrick said. ‘But I expect someone will buy them. Well, thank you for putting up with me. We’ll meet’Yes.’ Tessa walked with him to the gate. ‘There were a lot of people at Tina’s funeral,’ she said. ‘She was cremated. They were mostly neighbours. They were truly shocked, I think. But I wonder if any of them were really fond of her. If they were, you’d think they’d have realised she was desperate.’
‘It doesn’t always show,’ Patrick said.
‘Perhaps not.’
Tessa turned to go back to the cottage, then hesitated.
‘There was something else rather odd,’ she said. ‘It came up at the inquest. My aunt was nervous at night – she always put the chain up on the door. That night she didn’t, and the door wasn’t bolted. It was just shut on the Yale.’
‘What did the coroner think about that?’ Patrick asked. He remembered Lettie Barry’s comment on the same thing.
Tessa shrugged.
‘If she was upset enough to commit suicide, she wouldn’t bother about locking up,’ she said.
She might have wanted to be found before it was too late,
Patrick thought, as he drove away; or someone might have been with her – someone who often visited her at night and who had let the dog out inadvertently, perhaps while slipping out himself and pulling the door shut after Tina had unsuspectingly swallowed the fatal dose of pills.
Part XI
‘I couldn’t very well steal it,’ Patrick said.
‘It would be easy if you were a policeman,’ mourned Manolakis. ‘You would have the right – and to test all the other things, also.’
While they ate ham rolls in the garden of a pub by the
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