had to earn them. She had a picture in her room, a picture of Milly, but she wouldn’t give it to me. That was wrong. Milly’s my child. You see why I had to do it, don’t you? And it was all right. Everything was all right until you came. You showed us those diamonds. Veronica was excited about them. I don’t know why. She never cared for pretty things, but she was excited about those diamonds. When she went out I thought she was going to meet someone to tell them about the diamonds.’
‘You’re right,’ said Anthony. ‘She went to meet Chapman.’
Josette shuddered. ‘He was a horrid little man. Veronica met him in Ticker’s Wood. I followed her—’
‘You took Tara’s jacket from the stables,’ said Anthony, illumination dawning.
‘What does it matter?’ said Josette impatiently. ‘I had to follow Veronica quickly, otherwise I’d lose her. I saw Veronica talking to a man and I wanted to hear what he said. I thought he was telling her about Milly. Veronica had to get her news from somewhere and it wasn’t right. He should have told me, not Veronica. Milly’s my daughter.’
She swallowed convulsively. ‘I crept as close as I could.’ She glanced at the photograph in her hand and looked at Anthony indignantly. ‘They talked about the diamonds but he did have a photograph of Milly. He showed Veronica the envelope and she said – her voice was horrible – “We’ll keep that for later”. I wanted it then. I must have made a noise because Veronica saw me.’
She blinked rapidly. ‘She dragged me out of the bushes and I fought back. She was vicious. She gave me a real bruise. I had to cover it up with make-up for days. I was so angry I didn’t know she’d hurt me. How dare they talk about my daughter? That little man, Chapman, tried to stop us. He had a gun. Veronica grabbed it from him and Chapman tried to get it back. He dropped it and I picked it up and it went off. I didn’t mean it to. Veronica’s face went all stiff and twisted and she crumpled up. She was dead. I asked Chapman what I should do and he told me to say nothing and it’d be all right. If I said nothing Milly would be all right. He dragged the body into the bushes and told me to go home.’
Josette looked at him appealingly. ‘Please understand. He told me it’d be all right if I did what he said. So . . . so I went home and it was all right. He wouldn’t take the gun. He didn’t want to touch it. I didn’t want to keep it, so I threw it into the lake. Veronica was dead and I was glad.’
‘I imagine you were,’ said Anthony wearily. ‘What happened then?’ he asked. He looked towards von Hagen. ‘Where does our friend here fit in?’
‘Mr Smith?’ asked Josette, brightening. ‘Mr Smith met me in London and said he’d look after me. All I had to do was write the “Letter”.’
‘I think he was interested in me as well, wasn’t he?’ asked Anthony.
Josette looked uncomfortable. ‘What if he was? I told him you’d be at the inquest. Mr Smith wanted to see you. He didn’t mean you any harm. Then, after he’d seen you, he wanted to ask you a few questions, but it was difficult. I knew Patrick was puzzled about Veronica. He thought you were clever enough to work out what had happened. I couldn’t see how you’d guess the truth, but I suggested Patrick ask you to stay and then Mr Smith could talk to you, and it would all be all right. And then . . . it wasn’t all right at all. Patrick was arrested. I thought Mr Smith would know what to do, so I telephoned him and he sent the car for me and then we came here and waited for you. That’s all.’
Anthony sank back in his chair, his head in his hands. Terence Cavanaugh had been wrong. Sir Charles had been wrong. He had been wrong.
They thought they were on the trail of a ruthless mastermind of a spy and all the time what they had to deal with was a woman; a beautiful woman, admittedly, but not a femme fatale, not a mysterious temptress, not even a woman who was particularly clever, but simply a mother protecting her child.
Josette looked at von Hagen. ‘It’s all going to