flowers. It was twilight now, and their colors were luminous in the blue light.
Eventually, there was a call from the rear of the house, and Benham let them into the yellow-lit hall. He slid his jacket off and hung it on an overly full hook.
“I’m only just back from walking the dogs,” he said. “I usually give them some ham. They’ll be furious. But I suppose Polly can do it.”
He removed his feet from the wellies and inserted them into a pair of heelless sheepskin slippers, then led the way into a heavily furnished sitting room.
“Mary’s at her mother’s, so you can forget about talking to her.” He sat in a leather easy chair and gestured impatiently for the two of them to sit on a sofa. It was so deep in cushions that it was hard to find space to perch on the edge.
“That’s quite all right, Mr. Benham,” Jonah said, smiling. “We don’t need to speak with her at present, and we won’t take up much of your time.”
“How good of you.” The look Benham gave them was all sarcasm. It cheered Jonah a little, seeing that innate dislike of authority still in him. Though the boy he half remembered from school was not the important thing, unless that boy had killed a fourteen-year-old girl and hidden her body amid mud and foil. “So what is it?”
“Aurora Jackson,” Jonah said. “Her remains have been found, not far from the campsite.”
Jonah had wondered if he might face disbelief and had anticipated a long silence. What he had not expected was for the silence to be broken by a heaving sob, and for the MP for Meon Valley to suddenly have tears running clear onto his face.
“Oh God. The poor kid. Jesus, the poor kid.” He was rubbing at his face with the back of his hand, but the tears were finding ways down the lines in his skin.
Hanson produced a clean, folded handkerchief from somewhere in her pinstripe jacket, and he took it without a word. He used it to dab at his face.
There were slightly heavy footsteps beyond the rear door to the room, and a brunette twentysomething with her hair in a braid and a pale-blue polo shirt ducked into the room. Polly, Jonah assumed.
“All right if I take the car, Daddy?”
“Yes.” Benham’s embarrassment increased visibly. He turned away from his daughter and lifted a hand in an effort to wave her away. “Yes, no problem. You going to see Pippa?”
“Film with Greg.”
“Fine. Fine.”
Polly paused in the act of exiting the room once again. “You all right, Daddy?”
“I’m absolutely fine, Polly. Have a nice evening.”
Polly stood for a moment. She looked worriedly at Jonah and DC Hanson.
Jonah tried to smile at her. Which seemed to be enough for now.
“OK,” Polly said. “See you later.”
She left, and Jonah heard her stomping around in the hall for a few moments before the front door closed with a slam.
“I’m sorry to cause you distress, Mr. Benham,” Jonah said, sitting forward and letting his wrists dangle. It was difficult to assume a professional pose while feeling like he was about to slip off. “But we need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not…Yes. Fire away. I suppose the investigation’s open again, then, is it?” He nodded, and folded his arms in front of him, but continued to look toward his feet. “That’ll please Tom, at least.”
“Mr. Jackson?” Jonah asked. “You’ve kept in contact with him?”
“A little. Not much latterly, to be honest. I lost my father two years ago, and now we have Mary’s mother to look after. But before that, when I had more time and energy, I kept up with them. Tom was always angry about how it all went.” He gave a sigh. “I suppose it’s difficult not to be angry when you’ve lost your daughter. But he felt the police had let them down.”
Jonah remembered only too well. He’d been at Totton Station on more than one occasion when Tom had stormed in, rage and sadness turning his face pink between the wild hair and the equally wild beard.
“We’re looking at new lines of inquiry now,” Jonah said with a glance at Hanson. “The position of the remains has raised questions. She was buried beside the river along with a stash of Dexedrine. We have reason to believe that the cache of drugs belonged to you.”
Jonah had been watching Benham, and there was a void where there should have been a reaction. He was