The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,97
race.’
‘Oh, I don’t think it’s so far,’ Matthew said, ‘as the crow flies. If you have a map, I could show you.’
Dennis just smiled, as if he knew it wasn’t a genuine offer.
Grace stood up and put the tea things on the tray. ‘I’ll leave you gentlemen to talk. If there’s nothing else I can help you with, Matthew?’ Now that her husband had returned she seemed more relaxed, almost girlish.
Matthew wondered if he’d got the relationship wrong, if Braddick had exaggerated the incident when she’d arrived at his house to speak to Maggie or misinterpreted it in some way. But at the door Grace stopped, because she couldn’t turn the handle while she was carrying the tray, and he got up to open it for her. He saw that the hands clutching the tray were white and trembling. Perhaps she’d learned the art of disguise too.
Dennis Salter started talking as soon as Matthew returned to the table. ‘Can I help you with anything, Matthew? Of course, we want the matter cleared up as soon as possible. The press sniffing round the Woodyard will affect the running of the place and our funding.’
‘Simon Walden had a savings account with the Devonshire Building Society.’ Matthew knew he was feeling his way now. He wasn’t sure where these questions might lead.
‘Did he? That’s not unusual, you know. Not round here. It’s a local institution and our customers are very loyal.’
‘Walden wasn’t local. Besides, he didn’t seem to think his cash was safe there. He sent a cheque to his solicitor before he died.’
‘Oh, it’s as safe as houses, the Devonshire. No worries on that score. I keep my own savings there.’
‘The Woodyard uses it too, I believe.’ There was no answer and Matthew looked up. ‘How long is it since you retired?’
‘A couple of years. It’s the best decision I made, leaving a bit early. Grace and I can spend some time together now.’
‘And you’re on the Woodyard board.’ Matthew felt as if he was groping through a thick fog, without any destination in mind. ‘You said you knew Christopher Preece.’
‘Yes, though I’d come across him before of course. It’s a small business community here in North Devon.’ He looked up, gave one of his smiles. ‘Jonathan Church knew all about Christopher’s decision to invite me to join the board and he introduced me to the other members. He’s the power behind the throne in that place. But of course, you’ll know that. You know him well.’
The words had an edge that sounded almost like a threat. Perhaps it was just a snide dig about a relationship he considered abhorrent, but to Matthew it sounded more aggressive than that. An accusation.
‘Where were you yesterday morning?’ Matthew knew this was a ridiculous question, Salter couldn’t have been the man driving Christine out to Lovacott pond – the woman would have recognized her own uncle – but it occurred to him that Dennis could have been the person who’d searched Walden’s flat in Braunton.
For the first time, Salter seemed a little bothered. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘We’re following a number of enquiries. Just routine. I’m sure you understand. We have to ask everyone involved with Mr Walden the same questions.’
‘But I wasn’t involved with Mr Walden. As far as I know, I’d never even met him.’ Salter had lost the easy, jovial tone and seemed almost rattled. ‘And besides, wasn’t he killed on Monday? You know I was at your father’s funeral that day.’
‘You are, however, linked to Christine Shapland and we believe the two crimes are connected.’
A silence followed, again broken by the sounds of the party across the square, the same relentless beat.
‘I was here,’ Salter said. ‘Grace can confirm that. Shall I fetch her so you can ask her?’
‘No need for that.’ Because of course Grace would confirm it. She’d confirm anything that her husband said.
* * *
When Matthew arrived back at the coast, Jonathan’s guests were still there. They were in the living room, one woman lounging on the sofa, the other on the floor, her elbow on a cushion. Jonathan was stretched in an armchair. They’d already eaten and the plates were still on the big table in the kitchen, the pans left to soak. The unwashed dishes irritated Matthew more than they should have done. The three had started on the whisky.
‘I’ve asked Meryl and Jo to stay the night,’ Jonathan said from the chair. ‘It’s such a trek home for them and it’s the weekend.’