‘And shortly before or afterwards, depending on what time she gave the interview, she was shouting the odds with Adam,’ Georgia pointed out.

  ‘Yet forgiveness seems to be the theme. Could you fetch the red file on my desk?’

  Georgia flew in to the house to fetch the file and bore it back.

  ‘A photo of Fanny with her parents,’ Peter said, opening it at the page. Even in black and white, the eye immediately went to Fanny, she thought. A smiling Fanny had one arm round someone she could just recognize as Doreen Gibb, and the other round – according to the caption – her father. The father she hated, probably the father of her own child. Forgiveness indeed.

  *

  Should she spoil a happy evening by mentioning Dana and her arrangement to lodge with her? No. After a session with Suspects Anonymous, they had all dined at the White Horse in the village and Luke requested permission to stay over. It was granted with great pleasure.

  ‘There’s a concert in Otford on Thursday that you might like. Care to come over?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Oh. Friday Street beckons?’

  ‘It demands.’ Should she explain about Dana? No, she couldn’t bear it. Reason joined hands with emotion. Why couldn’t she bear it if there was nothing to worry about? ‘I need to prise Oliver Ludd’s address out of Josh,’ she continued. ‘Peter will never go with the Powell theory while Oliver remains a loose string.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  She continued, trying to sound casual, ‘I’m going to stay a night or two with Dana.’ She succeeded only in sounding aggressive.

  ‘Good of her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  And on this unsatisfactory note, they went to bed.

  *

  Being a resident in Friday Street, albeit a temporary one, gave a different slant to Georgia’s thinking. It would put the case in perspective, giving the village an air of normality that it lacked when she visited only for a day. Then her mind was concentrated on the case, but now it would have to be diverted to consider the necessities of life, such as eating, walking, exchanging small talk.

  For all her misgivings, Georgia was glad she was lodging with Dana. Not only was she interested in Fanny Star, she was also a pleasant, undemanding companion. Furthermore, she had met Jonathan Powell.

  Georgia entered the Montash Arms on Thursday morning with some confidence. She and Josh shared common ground now over Jonathan Powell, and he would surely see the need for her to contact Oliver Ludd.

  As so often with him, she was proved wrong. He listened to Georgia’s new theory about Powell without undue excitement, and nodded. ‘It could fit, but where does that leave Alice?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ she admitted. ‘But I need Oliver Ludd’s address.’

  His face darkened. ‘Why?’

  ‘He knew Fanny in London. He might me able to tell me more about Powell and Fanny’s relationship. And after all, if those allegations about Fanny having other lovers were true, it might even—’ She’d said the wrong thing too quickly.

  ‘No,’ Josh said sharply. ‘Wrong track, Georgia. Don’t go that way.’

  Her hackles went up immediately. ‘Oliver was in the gang,’ she said defensively. ‘He was part of Tom. If he met Fanny in London, their relationship could well have developed, for good or bad.’

  ‘There’s nothing to it,’ he said angrily. ‘Will you never give over with your wild ideas?’

  ‘You can’t possibly know what life Fanny had in London,’ Georgia said gently. ‘Tread softly,’ as Yeats wrote, she thought, ‘for you tread on my dreams.’ Frances Gibb was Josh’s dream. ‘It might explain why she came here that day. Why Henry sent the invitation in the first place. And might even—’

  ‘Give a reason for murder? Careful, Georgia.’ Josh’s eyes were glittering. ‘Oliver’s alive and well and married in the US,’ he continued. ‘If he loved Frances, he wouldn’t want to murder the girl, but Adam Jones might. Thought of that?’

  ‘Yes. I also thought of what you told me, Josh. That the murderer didn’t live in Friday Street.’

  ‘Brian meant Powell. You said so yourself just now.’

  ‘Do you know that, or are you just assuming it?’

  Josh said nothing, his face blank. Then at last he threw at her, ‘You want to know about Oliver? I’ll give you his address. You can ring him up or go all the way to North Carolina for all I care, and he’ll tell you just what I’ve told you.’

  *

  ‘Hi.’ Dana came into the kitchen and dumped her bags on the floor. ‘I saw Jane on the way home. She says she’s dug out some stuff for you.’

  ‘Great.’ That was good news. Only one problem: it would have to wait. She was seeing Jonathan Powell tomorrow in London.

  ‘You look done in,’ Dana said curiously. ‘Good job it’s my turn to cook. Did Josh attack you with a tomahawk?’

  ‘Yes.’ Georgia made a face. ‘But I wrested Oliver Ludd’s address out of him.’

  ‘So he’s Public Enemy Number One.’

  ‘No. I’m still . . .’ Georgia hesitated, remembering that Dana knew Powell.

  ‘Still what?’

  ‘Going to talk to Jonathan Powell again first,’ she amended lamely.

  ‘Josh’s favourite candidate,’ Dana interpreted correctly. ‘He told me. Don’t worry. Powell is no particular chum of mine.’

  ‘There would be a possible motive,’ Georgia said cautiously. ‘There’s no link with Alice Winters, though. When you met him in Dorset—’

  ‘Here, actually.’

  ‘In Friday Street?’ Georgia stared at her in astonishment.

  ‘Sorry if I didn’t make that clear. I was lodging in Faversham at the time, just arrived. I wanted to meet him and he told me he had business there so we arranged to meet in the town. He offered to drive me out to Friday Street next day – I’d no idea it was so near. He knew I was interested in SFA and he fancied seeing Pucken Manor and Downey Hall again. We had lunch in the pub and the barmaid told him about this cottage. It was then I managed to rent it.’ She looked troubled. ‘I didn’t think it was that important.’

  ‘It probably isn’t,’ Georgia reassured her. ‘When was it?’

  ‘It was the day Alice Winters died.’

  *

  ‘Take care,’ Peter said. It was the nearest he would ever get to vetoing a trip on safety grounds. They had talked for thirty minutes on the phone early that morning about the implications of Dana’s revelation. Had she been telling the truth? Peter had asked. Why hadn’t the police heard about this? Georgia was sure there was no reason to doubt Dana. The police had only just begun to look beyond Jake Baines for Alice’s murderer and before that Dana wouldn’t have known they were seeking any kind of link between the cases. After all, it could still be coincidence.

  ‘So could Wallace’s alleged phone call on the night his wife was murdered,’ Peter said scathingly.

  ‘Now that,’ Georgia said, roused, ‘is an entirely different matter.’ They had never agreed about this strange murder case from the 1930s.

  ‘Go if you must, but take care,’ her father warned her again.

  ‘Even if Powell’s a double murderer,’ she observed, ‘I doubt if he’d try anything on in the Royal Overseas Club.’

  ‘Why did he agree to meet you?’

  ‘I rang to ask if Adam was bisexual.’

  Peter blinked. ‘Nothing like the direct approach. I’m surprised you kept your enquiry solely to Adam.’

  She ignored this. ‘If he’d proposed we met in a Soho back street at two a.m. I might have had second thoughts.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

  Friday Street seemed a million miles away as she walked into the club that afternoon. Jonathan was already waiting for her, and escorted her into the restaurant.

  An early photograph of him in the files Peter had been sent revealed a long-haired, earnest young man with flamboyant fashion sense, which seemed to relate very little to his senior version, when she had met him in Dorset. Seeing Jonathan in his former milieu, London, it seemed much more likely. There was what she could only describe as a ‘city awareness’ about him.

  ‘I gather from your telephone call that your proposed book is still going ahead,’ he said, with the pleasantries over and the coffee before them.

  She could see a sticky area ahead, but there was no harm in advancing straight for it. ‘Yes, we now have a link between Fanny Star’s murder and that of Alice Winters.’

  His eyes flickered. ‘Really? She was the poor girl murdered earlier this year by her boyfriend.’

  ‘Yes and no. He’s been released, which throws the case wide open again.’ No need to mention that the police might not take it up again, or that Jake was released for lack of evidence rather than proof of innocence. In theory there was no difference, but in the mind of Alice’s mother, there would be an impassable gap.

  ‘Ah.’ Jonathan offered her the sugar as courteously as though this were a first date. ‘I presume you feel I can tell you more than I did earlier.’

  ‘I do. I realize one doesn’t always pour one’s heart out to a stranger, especially one who writes for a living.’ Especially, she thought, if one has something to hide.

  ‘Precisely. I saw no point in giving you private details since they were irrelevant to the murder. You asked me on the telephone whether Adam was gay. Pointed, Georgia. What you really meant was am I gay, did I love Adam and did he return that love?’

  Somewhat stunned, she nodded.

  ‘This conversation would be easier if I were thirty years younger,’ he continued. ‘I still find it hard to speak so personally, particularly where Adam is concerned.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it is relevant.’ And it must be a no-brainer for him as to why it was. Remember you are probably sitting opposite a murderer, she told herself, but it was hard to believe in these everyday surroundings.

  ‘Adam was of both persuasions. He adored Fanny – and you can imagine how difficult it still is for me to admit this, since Adam was, as the cliché has it, the great love of my life. Had it not been for my introducing him to Fanny, he and I might still have been together. When he was released from prison, I still hoped, but he eluded me. With Fanny present, any feeling he had for me took a back seat. Not easy for me, since at the same time I was responsible for their careers and they for mine.’

  ‘Did he “elude” you because he believed you killed Fanny?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ His cheeks flushed red.

  ‘According to one source, Adam might have believed you guilty of the crime, and that’s why he did not appeal against the verdict. He felt he should carry the blame.’

  His face was rigid, either in pure shock, or in preparation for attack. ‘Nonsense,’ he spat out.

  ‘Perhaps it is, and perhaps not. Unless we have proof, there’s no way we would publish this story, of course.’

  ‘I’m most grateful. Though no doubt you have the libel laws in mind rather more than my feelings.’

  ‘We also like to have the truth in mind. What we’ve been told might be wrong, but if so you will know it yourself. You must have visited him in prison . . .’

  ‘Frequently. He said nothing.’

  He’s lying, she thought. His hands were betraying him. Previously his left hand had been at ease on the table. Now his forefinger was working its way up and down his left thumb.

  ‘Then I must accept that.’ She gave him a friendly smile. ‘Is there any way Adam might have got that impression? Did you see him that evening after he returned from the Gibbs’ house?’

  ‘No.’

  That forefinger was still at work. She’d ease up and switch to more objective ground. ‘I know this might be painful for you, but did Fanny sleep with Adam?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was obviously anxious to get this over with, as soon as he could. ‘I guessed they were lovers, and Adam confirmed it.’

  ‘You believed him? He could have been lying to—’

  ‘Avoid hurting me by rejecting my advances? It’s the sort of thing Adam might have done, but he didn’t. I’m sure about that.’

  ‘Did Fanny know you loved Adam?’

  ‘Of course. And, before you ask if that provided me with a motive for murdering her,’ he said briskly, regaining his poise now, ‘the answer is no, it did not. There was no longer anything illegal about my situation, and Fanny would have been the last person to want to upset me by flaunting Adam’s love for her.’

  ‘Really? So the quarrel you walked in on after the afternoon concert wasn’t about her wish to sack you as manager because she felt you were coming between herself and Adam.’ If she sounded confident enough, she might get the truth.

  Jonathan kept himself under control with visible effort. ‘Do you have evidence of that?’

  ‘Enough to pursue it.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe. It isn’t correct, and after all this time no outsiders’ memories could be relied upon. I can only assume you have concocted this fantasy in order to give me a motive for killing dear Fanny, because you have failed to find the true solution. Adam was innocent, but that, Miss Marsh, does not mean I am guilty.’

  Jonathan was giving every indication that the meeting was over, but Georgia was determined. She hadn’t finished yet. ‘Then who do you think did kill Fanny? You must have some idea. She was your golden goose, after all, apart from your love for Adam.’

  He sat down again, but gingerly, as though ready to leave at any moment. ‘You know Fanny had an abortion before I met her. Do you also know that it was as a result of rape?’

  Georgia was shaken. ‘You mean by her father?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I heard rumours of an incestuous relationship.’

  ‘I certainly never had that impression.’ It was Jonathan’s turn to look surprised. ‘She referred to it as rape, and implied one violent act rather than an ongoing situation. She could have meant Ron Gibb, I suppose. But I think not. She would have had no hesitation using the word incest as well as rape.’

  Whichever it was, no wonder Fanny had left Friday Street, Georgia thought, yet something had brought her back again. Something strong enough to overcome the repulsion she must feel. Or was Powell producing this to keep her quiet?

  ‘Then who could it have been?’ she asked. ‘How did you find out? Did Fanny tell you?’ Questions poured out.

  ‘Fanny said nothing to me. Nor Adam. It was Oliver Ludd who told me after Adam’s arrest. He and Fanny were close friends in London – very close, I imagine. He was a student doing his Master’s at King’s College in the mid-1960s. She told him, but not Adam, and he said she would not say who had attacked her.’

  ‘Did you believe him?’ It was beginning to sound genuine.

  ‘No. I could not force him to tell me.’

  ‘Are you in touch with Oliver now?’

  ‘No.’ He was showing signs of impatience.

  ‘But you visited other members of the gang recently.’

  His eyes fixed on her. ‘Did I?’

  ‘On the day Alice Winters died.’

  He must have been expecting this. His eyes held hers. ‘A sad coincidence.’

  *

  Georgia chewed the next step over with Peter during the weekend. He’d been relieved to see her back safely.

  ‘I told you Friday Street holds the secrets,’ he said. ‘That’s the answer. You’re blinding yourself to the truth.’

  ‘So it was mere coincidence that Powell was in Friday Street that day when Alice died?’

  He frowned. ‘It happens.’

  ‘You’ll at least make Powell a Burglar Bill in the Alice Winters file?’ So far Powell hadn’t been an entry for this in Suspects Anonymous.

  He’d agreed, and she supposed she should feel satisfied with this small victory.

  When she next checked in at the Gibb cottage on the Tuesday evening, Dana seemed delighted to see her. ‘I’d offer you a sundowner in the garden, but it would freeze in this weather. I’ve put the central heating on.’ So much for early June.

  ‘How was our friend Powell?’ Dana continued.

  Georgia grimaced. ‘He claimed he knew nothing about Alice. I need more on it. Where he went, and why he was here.’

  Dana looked concerned. ‘I can’t help. After we’d had lunch he said he’d pick me up later in the afternoon, and he did.’

  ‘Jonathan also told me Fanny wasn’t just pregnant, she’d been raped. Do you think . . .’ She broke off, seeing Dana’s shocked face.

  ‘Raped?’ she repeated.

  ‘It might not be true,’ Georgia continued uncertainly. ‘I’m undecided whether to press Josh on it, since he was in love with her.’

  ‘Raped by whom?’

  ‘Jonathan doesn’t know.’ She decided not to enlarge on this. She hadn’t told Dana about Ronald Gibb, but it was quite possible that Josh had. ‘That makes it even worse,’ she continued. ‘I’ll have to follow it up.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dana said briskly, recovered now. ‘I see that. I’ll prepare the ground with Josh for you.’

  No ‘would you like me to’, Georgia noticed. She could hardly complain. A disinterested outsider such as Dana could help, where this was concerned. ‘Thanks. I’ve brought stuff for dinner,’ she added.

  ‘Good,’ Dana said warmly. ‘I was hoping you might.’

  Back to normal, Georgia thought with relief.

  It wasn’t until Wednesday evening that she went to the Montash Arms, and then with some trepidation. With good reason, because Josh came marching over to her the moment he saw her. ‘So you met Fanny’s murderer, I heard.’ He made it an accusation.

  ‘I met Powell.’

  ‘Been fobbing you off with a load of stuff about Friday Street?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘How would he know?’ No smile now. Josh was in prosecution mode.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you,’ she suggested. ‘I can’t talk with you looming over me, and we can’t fight standing up.’

  Somewhat disconcerted, he did so. He’s worried, Georgia thought, as well as upset.

  ‘He told you Frances was raped, did he?’ he shot at her. ‘Well, it’s true. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t bloody well affect her murder.’

 

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