couldn't resist testing for a reaction. Rachel shot him a warning look.
Dorinda blushed under her thick
foundation. 'Yeah ... I guess so.
'Old comrades. Sergeant.' said Todd
Weringer earnestly.
"There's always a bond there.' He stood up to go. Dorinda looked at him
appealingly. fluttering her eyelashes in a way that Rachel considered quite
inappropriate for a woman in her mid- sixties.
'Just one more thing. Mrs Openheim."
she said. 'Do you know anyone called Marion?'
Dorinda turned to face Rachel, her
eyes wide with fear. She quickly composed herself. 'Who?'
'Marion. A local woman who was
friendly with your late husband during the war. He went to see her on the
afternoon of the day he was killed.'
' It's news to me. He told me he was
going to look at Tradmouth Castle."
'Didn't you offer to go with him?'
'He knows I hate that son of thing.'
Norman had chosen his lie carefully.
'Did you know about Marion?'
'You might as well tell them, Dorry,
or they'll think we've gotten something to hide.'
'Mr Weringer's right, Mrs Openheim.'
Rachel said gently.
'I found this letter in his case. I
screwed it up and threw it away. It was from a Marion.'
'When did you find it?'
'After he was killed.'
'Why didn't you tell us about
it?"
'Pride, I guess. If he'd been
carrying on .. .'
'It was fifty years ago, Mrs
Openheim. Didn't you read the letter properly?'
'No. Why should I? I could see it was
from some broad ... I could guess what was in it'
'If you'd read it properly you'd
have discovered that they hadn't met since the war. Hardly a reason for
concern.'
Dorinda glared at Rachel, who suddenly
saw it all. Norman had provided the money and done as he was told while Dorinda
was free to spend and enjoy herself as she wished. It was the danger of the
worm turning, the faithful dog biting its mistress, which had worried Dorinda
Openheim. Marion, a shadowy love from the past, could have been a considerable
threat. If Norman had abandoned his wife
for a more comfortable woman, where would Dorinda have stood financially? Would
Todd Weringer have offered her any security for her old age? They only had her
word that she'd found the letter after his death. Was the discovery of Marion's
existence worth murdering him for?
Wesley decided to leave the car at
the hotel and walk back up to the incident room. It was a beautiful day ... too
good to waste.
Rachel, who was still having pangs of conscience about what her bathroom scales
had told her so bluntly that morning, agreed.
Exercise would do both of them good.
Gerry Heffernan was wrestling with
an ever-increasing pile of paper. "Forensic reports have come back.
Nothing much found at the murder scene. Rubbish mostly .. . nothing to do with
Norman Openheim except a half-smoked fag. Probably smoking it when
he died. They say smoking kills you, don't they?'
'Did they find the packet it came
from?'
'No.' Heffernan looked interested.
'Funnily enough, they didn't.'
'Anything else?' Wesley asked.
'Empty lager cans, crisp packets,
used condoms ... lab asked us if we wanted a DNA analysis of their contents. I
said no thanks. Whatever Norman was up to in that chapel it wasn't
fornication.'
'Not this time anyway.'
Heffernan looked at his sergeant
expectantly.
'It's where he used to meet Marion
for a bit of how's your father. But that was fifty years ago.'
See, Wes, sex wasn't invented in the
1960s.'
Wesley thought it best to change the
subject. 'Any word on Mrs Johnson?'
'Car's not been sighted yet.' Heffernan
buried his head in his hands. 'Of all the places in all the world, why did
those Yanks have to come here ... specially in the middle of a crime wave. There
was another break-in last night ... weekend cottage near Tradmouth. Same MO,
usual things taken ... tellies, videos, small high-value items. There was an
ornamental dagger nicked this time ... can't think
Dorinda blushed under her thick
foundation. 'Yeah ... I guess so.
'Old comrades. Sergeant.' said Todd
Weringer earnestly.
"There's always a bond there.' He stood up to go. Dorinda looked at him
appealingly. fluttering her eyelashes in a way that Rachel considered quite
inappropriate for a woman in her mid- sixties.
'Just one more thing. Mrs Openheim."
she said. 'Do you know anyone called Marion?'
Dorinda turned to face Rachel, her
eyes wide with fear. She quickly composed herself. 'Who?'
'Marion. A local woman who was
friendly with your late husband during the war. He went to see her on the
afternoon of the day he was killed.'
' It's news to me. He told me he was
going to look at Tradmouth Castle."
'Didn't you offer to go with him?'
'He knows I hate that son of thing.'
Norman had chosen his lie carefully.
'Did you know about Marion?'
'You might as well tell them, Dorry,
or they'll think we've gotten something to hide.'
'Mr Weringer's right, Mrs Openheim.'
Rachel said gently.
'I found this letter in his case. I
screwed it up and threw it away. It was from a Marion.'
'When did you find it?'
'After he was killed.'
'Why didn't you tell us about
it?"
'Pride, I guess. If he'd been
carrying on .. .'
'It was fifty years ago, Mrs
Openheim. Didn't you read the letter properly?'
'No. Why should I? I could see it was
from some broad ... I could guess what was in it'
'If you'd read it properly you'd
have discovered that they hadn't met since the war. Hardly a reason for
concern.'
Dorinda glared at Rachel, who suddenly
saw it all. Norman had provided the money and done as he was told while Dorinda
was free to spend and enjoy herself as she wished. It was the danger of the
worm turning, the faithful dog biting its mistress, which had worried Dorinda
Openheim. Marion, a shadowy love from the past, could have been a considerable
threat. If Norman had abandoned his wife
for a more comfortable woman, where would Dorinda have stood financially? Would
Todd Weringer have offered her any security for her old age? They only had her
word that she'd found the letter after his death. Was the discovery of Marion's
existence worth murdering him for?
Wesley decided to leave the car at
the hotel and walk back up to the incident room. It was a beautiful day ... too
good to waste.
Rachel, who was still having pangs of conscience about what her bathroom scales
had told her so bluntly that morning, agreed.
Exercise would do both of them good.
Gerry Heffernan was wrestling with
an ever-increasing pile of paper. "Forensic reports have come back.
Nothing much found at the murder scene. Rubbish mostly .. . nothing to do with
Norman Openheim except a half-smoked fag. Probably smoking it when
he died. They say smoking kills you, don't they?'
'Did they find the packet it came
from?'
'No.' Heffernan looked interested.
'Funnily enough, they didn't.'
'Anything else?' Wesley asked.
'Empty lager cans, crisp packets,
used condoms ... lab asked us if we wanted a DNA analysis of their contents. I
said no thanks. Whatever Norman was up to in that chapel it wasn't
fornication.'
'Not this time anyway.'
Heffernan looked at his sergeant
expectantly.
'It's where he used to meet Marion
for a bit of how's your father. But that was fifty years ago.'
See, Wes, sex wasn't invented in the
1960s.'
Wesley thought it best to change the
subject. 'Any word on Mrs Johnson?'
'Car's not been sighted yet.' Heffernan
buried his head in his hands. 'Of all the places in all the world, why did
those Yanks have to come here ... specially in the middle of a crime wave. There
was another break-in last night ... weekend cottage near Tradmouth. Same MO,
usual things taken ... tellies, videos, small high-value items. There was an
ornamental dagger nicked this time ... can't think
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