‘I’m not sure about that,’ Kate said. ‘I think you need to get in touch with Roly and tell him exactly what’s been going on, and how Guy wasn’t really clued up as to what precisely the money was for. And, most importantly, stress how desolate he is now.’

  ‘Do you really think I should, Kate?’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ Kate replied with feeling.

  Sonia, at least, seemed extremely happy. ‘I’m so looking forward to working in New York,’ she said, the second they joined her in the sitting room, ‘and I’ve just got to get this bloody film in the can as soon as possible, because I want to be over there by the middle of November.’

  ‘What’s happening in New York?’ Kate asked.

  ‘It’s a documentary about Brits living in the States,’ Sonia replied, ‘and I really want to do it. They’ve got to have solved these bloody murders by then surely?’

  ‘Too damn right!’ agreed Lucy. ‘I’m desperate to get back to London.’ She turned to Kate. ‘Your husband’s a detective, isn’t he? Does he have some idea who killed these two?’

  ‘He’s an ex-detective,’ Kate pointed out, ‘and no, he has no idea.’

  ‘Well I’m only delighted somebody managed to kill Wyngarde,’ Sonia said, ‘because otherwise I wouldn’t be going to New York.’ She swigged some more wine.

  ‘Really? Why’s that?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Because Wyngarde was originally the producer of the American programme, and he was doing his best to block me from directing it, even though the studio wanted me,’ Sonia said. ‘We had a mutual hate-filled relationship, you see. But Karl Endberg’s taken over as producer now, and he got in touch immediately.’

  This didn’t add up, Kate thought as she refilled the wine glasses.

  ‘But, Sonia,’ she said, ‘how come you were working with Wyngarde here, on Pengorran’s Revenge?’ Would Sonia confirm what Jilly had told her?

  Sonia leaned forward across the table, almost toppling her wine glass as she did so. ‘Oops!’ She retrieved the glass in a practised way, just in time, and took an enormous slurp. ‘Because the money was so good! He wrote Pengorran’s Revenge. Did you know that?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘It was his bloody vanity project! Lousy script, and no one else wanted to direct the damned thing. No one!’

  ‘Really?’ Kate said.

  ‘Yes, really. Believe me, he tried just about every damn director on the planet! Nobody wanted to know.’

  ‘But you agreed?’

  Sonia gave a little hiccup and drained her glass. ‘Yes, I agreed to do it. And do you know why?’

  Kate certainly did want to know why and hoped Sonia was about to tell her. ‘I’d had a couple of years off, because my daughter had problems. My marriage wasn’t great and I wanted to get away for a while. So, a couple of months on the Cornish coast – what wasn’t to like? And he was paying over the top because he was determined to get a director, although I daresay the lazy bastard could have directed it himself.’ She smiled. ‘And there were a few details I wanted to attend to.’

  ‘Were there?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘That man was a sexual predator, Kate. A bad lot. The first one I knew about was a young actress. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, and he abused her.’ Sonia sighed deeply. ‘She was probably flattered that he fancied her, poor kid. Rumour has it, he got her pregnant then dumped her, and shortly afterwards she took her own life. That’s the kind of man we’re talking about.’ Sonia shook her head slowly. ‘Let’s not talk about the bastard any more, because it’s been such a lovely evening, and that meal was delicious, Kate, by far the best since I came down here.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Lucy agreed. She looked like she might fall asleep any minute, but, nevertheless, she groped around for her glass and glugged some more.

  Kate had been careful not to drink too much herself, and she was determined to try to extract some more information from Sonia before they left.

  ‘Well it certainly couldn’t have been easy working with Wyngarde then?’ she tried again.

  ‘You’re right, it wasn’t. I did my best to try to improve his bloody awful script, but he wasn’t having it. I can’t pretend to be sorry he’s dead.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Lucy.

  Sonia glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve had a lovely evening, Kate, but it’s time we left. I’m going to call the cab.’

  She produced a phone from the pocket of the kaftan. As she waited for a reply, she said, ‘We must reciprocate. You and Woody must join us for a meal one evening at the Atlantic.’

  She then ordered the cab, and both women got unsteadily to their feet. Kate watched them leave, still no nearer to discovering the truth behind Wyngarde’s demise…

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Kate cleared up, sat down and seriously considered abandoning The List. She’d all but eliminated both Lucy and Guy on account of what she’d learned from Lucy, who’d been so honest, and freely admitted she’d planned to kill Wyngarde, if only she’d got there first.

  She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, believe that Angie was in any way involved, and so that left one obvious suspect, particularly after this evening’s conversation: Sonia herself.

  Like all the suspects, historically Sonia had good reason to hate Wyngarde, but, unlike everyone else, she had an up-to-date motive as well – Sonia badly wanted to work on this documentary in New York, and the only person standing in her way had been Wyngarde. She freely admitted she was glad he was dead. It just had to be her.

  Kate sighed, switched off the lights and went to bed.

  Woody arrived home just after ten o’clock the following morning. He’d had a great time, having encountered some of his old buddies, including a couple of guys from the Met who’d retired to the West Country. They’d had a four-course dinner and drank a great deal of wine and beer.

  ‘We decided we should do another event with wives,’ Woody continued, ‘sometime before Christmas.’

  ‘Oh good,’ Kate said vaguely.

  ‘I’m real sorry I left you on your own last night, but you ladies would not have appreciated some of the conversation that went on! My God, some of the stories…! Anyway, did you have a nice, early night?’

  Kate took a deep breath. ‘Not exactly, no. I did some entertaining.’

  ‘And who exactly did you entertain?’

  ‘Well after you left, I popped in to the Atlantic—’

  ‘Now, why would you do that?’ Woody looked suspicious.

  ‘Having recommended Sonia to stay there, I thought it only polite to make sure that she was satisfied.’

  Woody narrowed his eyes. ‘And is she? Satisfied?’

  ‘Oh yes, and so is Lucy Moore. But the food’s quite expensive, so I thought I’d invite them both down for some supper. We had fish pie, followed by apple crumble and, if I say so myself, it went down very well.’

  ‘Very nice too,’ said Woody.

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘So no doubt you’ve solved this case then, Miss Marple?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Kate said, smiling, ‘but I think I may be a little closer to solving it, if my hunch is right. Just for a start, I think we can eliminate Guy and Lucy.’

  Woody looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Really?’

  Kate went on to tell him about Lucy approaching Bacon with a fistful of money – some of it borrowed from Guy – to bribe Bacon to load the gun and kill Wyngarde. She had not, Kate said, been the first to approach him and was told that he’d received a better offer from someone else. ‘She did say that she was relieved to have avoided life imprisonment,’ Kate added.

  ‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ Woody said drily.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Sometimes, my love, you are extremely gullible, that’s why.’ Woody sat down with a mug of coffee.

  ‘But surely…’ Kate began.

  ‘Kate, you only have her word for the fact that he’d had a better offer. I’m not saying she was lying, but she could be, to put you off the scent.’

  Kate groaned. ‘I suppose you’re right, but I still think she was telling the truth. And I’m pretty certain that the killer is Sonia Somerfield. Did I tell you she had an offer to work in New York?’ Kate proceeded to inform him about how Wyngarde had tried to block Sonia from getting the job. ‘She’s the only person, Woody, who has an up-to-date reason, as well as a historical one, for getting rid of Wyngarde. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Does Charlotte know about this up-to-date reason of Sonia Summerfield’s?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t suppose Sonia would think to tell her.’

  ‘Well, as you think it’s such a factor, don’t you think you should inform her?’

  ‘I suppose I should… Do you think this makes Sonia a more likely suspect?’

  ‘I agree she’s a suspect, but so is everyone else. I’m damn sure Charlotte would have charged someone before now if she had any kind of likely proof.’

  ‘When you say “everyone else”, are you including Angie and Fergal?’ Kate asked anxiously.

  ‘Kate,’ Woody said, in a tone that indicated his patience might be becoming sorely stretched, ‘you are a suspect. I am a suspect. Angie and Fergal are suspects. Possibly half of the film crew are suspects for all I know, as well as Sonia Somerfield, Lucy Moore and Guy of course. I’ve no doubt Charlotte is working hard to get this thing solved, but she must lack the necessary proof to make any arrest.’

  ‘So we’re really no further on in trying to solve this thing?’ Kate said.

  ‘We are no further on in trying to solve this thing,’ Woody confirmed.

  Maybe not, Kate thought, but I’m not about to give up yet!

  THIRTY-NINE

  Since Kate had stopped being an extra, the Tinworthy public, for the moment at least, had stopped coming into the surgery with imaginary complaints in order to badger her for information about the murders. Thus, after an uneventful day at work on Monday, Kate made her customary visit to The Old Locker on her way home. She found both Angie and Fergal looking remarkably cheerful.

  As Angie placed a coffee in front of her, Kate remarked, ‘You’re both looking very chirpy today!’

  ‘Well,’ said Angie, ‘that’s because we’ve reached a decision. First of all, we’ve decided to get married on the third of November, at the registry office, followed by a blessing at St Swithin’s afterwards, because Fergal is Catholic so we thought that would be nice, and then a reception at The Atlantic. Surely to God, even Charlotte Martin will have solved this damned crime by then.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. Great news,’ Kate concurred.

  Angie glanced across at Fergal, who was on the phone. ‘He’s been talking to the brewery for ages,’ she said. She leaned closer to Kate. ‘He found the money!’

  ‘He did?’ Kate asked.

  ‘What happened was that the plastic bag split and the liner got all messy, so Fergal lifted out the liner to clean it, and there it was!’

  ‘I suppose there was always a danger of that happening,’ Kate said.

  ‘Yes, but it’s usually me who empties it,’ said Angie, ‘so it really was a case of Sod’s Law. Furthermore, Fergal almost chucked the money out because I’d put the notes in a plastic bag and he thought it was more rubbish! Can you believe it?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Kate, ‘I can. But at least you seem very cheerful about it.’

  ‘Well, you see, I told Fergal it was for my ring, but, in the meantime, I’d been doing a bit of thinking.’ Angie nodded sagely as if discussing the international monetary fund.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I thought to myself, do I really need a ring? We’ve no idea when we’re going to be able to get to Plymouth and, anyway, I have several nice rings, including George’s, and when do I ever wear them? So we’ve paid the cash back into the bank, and we’re going to put that thousand aside for our honeymoon in New York!’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s a good idea,’ Kate said, her mind in a whirl with visions of herself and Woody spending a week toiling in this place, despite what he’d said.

  ‘But you’re not to worry,’ Angie added, ‘because I know what you’re thinking! You think you’re going to be here running the place, but Emma has a new boyfriend called Carlos, currently working in the Atlantic Hotel, and they want to get some experience of running a little business like ours before they open their own one, in the spring, in Tavistock.’

  ‘That’s certainly a relief,’ Kate admitted.

  ‘So keep the third of November free,’ said Angie, ‘and you can be my maid of honour.’

  ‘How could I refuse? You’ve certainly made all your arrangements!’

  ‘Yes, we have. We’re going to have a wonderful week in New York, where we can stay with Fergal’s brother, see the sights and the lights, and even do some early Christmas shopping. Another coffee?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Kate replied, sliding off the bar stool. ‘I’d best be getting home.’

  Woody, who’d become quite a chef, was preparing dinner, so Kate was able to sit down with a glass of wine and listen to his experiences with the new tenants of his cottage across the valley.

  ‘Said they didn’t realise it would be halfway up a hill and, apparently, the husband’s got a dodgy leg.’ Woody shook his head. ‘The photograph clearly shows it’s halfway up a bloody hill, and it’s mentioned in the blurb! And they’ve got a car anyway, so what the hell are they going on about?’

  Kate nodded in sympathy. ‘Some people are born awkward! I have some interesting news though.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yes, Angie and Fergal are tying the knot on the third of November, followed by a week in New York, and they’ve found someone to run The Locker!’ She proceeded to tell him about Emma and the boyfriend.

  ‘Well that’s something,’ Woody agreed. ‘So they’ve managed to find enough money for a trip to New York?’

  ‘Yes, the money Angie had hidden in the bottom of the kitchen bin to pay for her ring. She’s decided she doesn’t need a ring after all, so she’s paid the money back into the bank.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Woody, busying himself with removing a pot from the oven.

  Kate had expected more of a reaction. ‘You don’t sound wildly thrilled.’

  Woody shut the oven door. ‘If I was in charge of this case, Kate, I’d be asking myself why Angie withdrew a thousand pounds before the death of Paul Bacon and then paid it back in afterwards.’

  Kate was flabbergasted. ‘You’re insinuating that Angie withdrew that money to pay Paul Bacon?’

  ‘I’m not insinuating anything, Kate. I’m stating a fact.’

  ‘No one in their right mind would accept a mere thousand pounds to kill someone surely?’

  ‘No, they wouldn’t. But it could have been an instalment, a final instalment even, and now it’s no longer needed.’

  ‘An instalment? You honestly think Angie had been dishing out thousands?’

  Woody shrugged. ‘From a police point of view, she could have been.’

  Kate gasped. ‘But Angie doesn’t have that kind of money, Woody!’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because she’s always had to be careful with money, and you were there yourself when she said they could probably only afford a weekend in Paris or Rome.’

  ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have the money. It could mean that they wanted the money for other purposes.’

  Kate stared in horror at her husband. ‘Are you telling me that you think she was emptying her bank account to pay Bacon to kill Wyngarde?’

  Woody put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Calm down, Kate! I didn’t say that at all. I said “for other purposes”, and I meant just that. But I’m looking at it from Charlotte’s point of view because she’ll be naturally suspicious. She may even be able to access Angie’s bank account, which, frankly, you can’t.’

  Kate refused to believe that Angie was paying the armourer in instalments; the whole idea was utterly bonkers! Why would Angie want to kill anyone with whom she was having an ongoing relationship and who’d given her a part in his film? She just wouldn’t! In fact, Angie couldn’t kill the proverbial fly! And how ridiculous it was to even contemplate Angie having the kind of money required to hire an assassin! But if Kate thought it impossible, why had she not crossed her sister’s name off The List?

  Of course, Kate realised, she really had no idea how much was in Angie’s bank account, because they’d never shared such details. Her sister had inherited not only from her late husband but had also benefitted from his mother in France, who’d died quite recently. Angie had spent a fair bit of money renovating The Old Locker, but…

  Kate hated herself for even thinking along these lines. She wasn’t feeling particularly well disposed towards Woody either for putting the idea into her mind in the first place. But Woody was, of course, first and foremost a detective, trained to think logically and suspect everyone until he had good reason not to.

  Which was precisely what Charlotte Martin would also be thinking.

  FORTY

  Something was nagging at the back of Kate’s mind, and it concerned her last visit to Jilly in the wardrobe trailer. Jilly had begun to say something about Sonia, and then stopped, claiming it wasn’t important. Kate should have questioned that, made her say what she’d been going to say, because every thought, every idea and every recollection was crucial at this time.

  There was only one problem: Kate wasn’t allowed to leave Tinworthy. And she could hardly ask to accompany Sonia and Lucy under police escort! Even if she could, it would mean spending the day there until such time as filming finished and the two women were returned to the hotel. However, Kate did need to be there at some point during filming hours because she wouldn’t have a clue where to find Jilly other than in the wardrobe trailer. There was no two ways about it – she’d have to break the rules and, somehow or other, get herself to Port Petroc.

 

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