no longer the policeman in some routine investigation, but like some sailor whoâd come from the sea with the remarkable tale that in a foreign port, heâd come upon her long-lost relative. âIt was a chance meeting. I didnât know her all that well.â
âAye, she was that nice, she was.â She fixed Jury with worried eyes. âWhy are you asking questions, though?â It had apparently only now occurred to her that a Scotland Yard Superintendent wouldnât be showing up on the doorstep because a woman had died a natural death.
Juryâs answer was indirect. âI wanted to know about her relations with her family â her uncle, her cousin. Or anyone who might possibly have had a grudge against her.â This time when Wiggins discreetly produced his notebook, Jury didnât sign him to put it back.
â âGrudgeâ?â Maureen looked from one to the other, saw they were serious, gave a strained sort of laugh. âIt almost sounds like you think she was ââ She couldnât get the word out.
Jury did it for her. âMurdered? Thereâs always that possibility, yes.â
âThatâs daft.â Her little laugh was far less certain than her words. âThere was no one thatâd wish Helen any harm.â Friendship outweighed formality in her forgetting the âMiss.â âShe didnât have enemies; sheâd hardly any friends, even. I mean, she didnât go out much, nor have people in.â
âShe had her cousin.â
âMr. Frederick? Thatâs different.â
âDo you know where he is? We havenât been able to turn him up. The Northumbria police would like to talk to him.â
She shook her head. âHeâs often away. He goes to Franceand places like that.â Maureen did not appear to approve of such places.
âWhen Helen was living here â after her parents died, she got along with Edward Parmenger, did she?â
Maureen didnât answer; she was watching Wiggins scratch away with his pen and quite clearly resented it. Her gaze made Wiggins look up and he laid his notebook aside. Then he said, âDid you make the cake, miss? Itâs the best I ever ate. Iâm careful what I eat, especially sweets.â
Hiding a smile, Jury looked away. As a loyal, plodding, and energetic note-taker, Wiggins was invaluable. Lately, heâd been polishing up his charm.
This time it seemed to work, for Maureen was quite happy to replenish his plate, and with his mouth full, Wiggins took up where Jury had left off: âThis Mr. Edward Parmenger â I sort of got the idea he wasnât too fond of the girl. What do you think about that?â
Sergeants didnât bother her as much as superintendents, apparently â at least not those who were having their third helping of her cake â and she answered: âLike I said, he seemed a bit cold towards her. But then he was a hard man, to tell the truth.â
âLike that with everybody, you mean?â asked Wiggins, pressing the tongs of his fork down on cake crumbs.
âNo. No, not exactly.â
âWell, then, like what, miss?â
âHe didnât like her. Mrs. Petit was always saying how he didnât.â
âThatâs the cook, is it? Or was?â
âYes. Mrs. Petit â sheâs dead now â felt sorry for Miss Helen.â
Jury smoked and stared at the fire and waited for Wiggins to ask the question, Then why did Parmenger take her in?
âCould I have another cup of tea, do you think?â The sergeantâsdesire to charm answers out of witnesses had its limits.
As Maureen poured the last of the pot, Jury asked, âHow old was she? Where was this school?â
âIn Devon. It was very expensive.â If Edward Parmenger had been a bit tight-fisted with his love, he wasnât with his money, her tone suggested. âAbout fifteen, I guess. She was there
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