The Stratford Murder by Mike Hollow (best thriller novels of all time .TXT) 📗

‘But I’m sure it had nothing to do with her being killed.’

Jago looked her in the eye and spoke firmly. ‘I’d be grateful if you would assist me by telling me who Joan was having an affair with, if that was the case. Was it?’

Carol looked down into her lap and nodded her head. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said quietly. ‘If you must know, it was Derek. But please don’t tell him I told you.’

‘Her brother-in-law?’

‘Yes, Elsie’s husband. I told you what’d happened in her marriage. I think it was simple, really. She needed to be loved, she wasn’t getting love from Richard any more, and then he wasn’t even here. Derek was different. She told me he made her feel like she was loved. She felt there was someone who valued her. He’s not flash, he’s not brave, he’d make a terrible soldier, but he needed her. I think it was as simple as that – he needed her, and she needed to be needed. I know he was a married man, but him and Elsie …’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You know, I think she hates him. But I’ve said more than I should. I’d like to go now, please.’

Jago sat back in his chair, taking in what she had said.

‘Thank you, Miss Hurst,’ he said. ‘That’s very interesting, and you’ve been most helpful. I won’t take any more of your time – we’ll say goodbye for now, and thank you again for your help.’

He got out of his chair and stood by the table as Carol Hurst picked up her handbag. She clutched it defensively to her chest as she made for the door.

‘Right, Peter,’ he said, once she had left the tea shop. ‘We need to find Derek Marwell and hear what he’s got to say about this. If it’s true and his wife’s found out, there’ll be hell to pay – and for all we know, maybe it’s already been paid.’

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

As soon as they were out of the ABC tea room’s door Jago strode briskly to the car, Cradock half a step behind him. He slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

‘Quarter past six,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘Let’s see if Marwell’s still at home.’

He glanced over his shoulder to check the traffic, but it was almost blackout time, and anyone who could be at home would be there by now. At least there’d been no sirens yet, he thought, so if they were lucky they’d get this done before the Luftwaffe paid their nightly call. He set off for Carnarvon Road. When they reached the house he knocked on the door, and after a short wait it was opened by Audrey Lewis. Before he could ask for Marwell she welcomed them in.

‘What a pleasant surprise,’ she said. ‘You’re just in time to join us. Do come through to the dining room. We’re about to start.’

Curious to know what was about to start and who ‘we’ were, Jago turned to Cradock with a shrug and followed her down the hallway. Audrey led them into a room and shut the door behind them. Inside, the blackout curtains were drawn, but the electric light was off: the near-total darkness was relieved only by a paraffin lantern with a red glass set on a table. In this dim light Jago was struck by how sparsely the room was furnished – just the table, a few wooden chairs and a small cabinet. It reminded him of the room in which Joan’s body had been found.

‘Take a seat, gentlemen,’ said Audrey softly. ‘I think Madame Zara’s about to make contact with the other side.’

Jago noticed Cradock’s uncertain look and motioned him to sit down at the table. He recognised the other people sitting round it: Audrey to his left, then her daughter, Elsie, then Madame Zara, and finally Derek Marwell and Greville Ballantyne. All had their eyes closed, none of them acknowledging the two policemen’s arrival. Jago kept his open.

Madame Zara gave a low moan, then expressed greetings to someone unseen.

Audrey leant towards Jago and whispered: ‘That’s Black Hawk, her spirit guide.’

Jago said nothing. He thought he glimpsed Madame Zara’s eyes opening slightly, then quickly closing as she uttered a long sigh.

‘He says he has a message about Richard,’ she said.

Audrey let out an almost inaudible gasp. ‘Tell me – please tell me – where is Richard?’

‘He’s safe and well, in France.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Audrey, louder, her voice now breaking. ‘What else can he tell me?’

‘Nothing. That is all. But he says he has a message for the policeman. Something you need to know about Joan – he says he knows who killed her.’

There was a gasp from Jago’s left as he scraped his chair noisily back from the table and stood up.

‘All right,’ he said sternly. ‘That’s enough. If he knows so much, ask him to tell us about the baby.’

‘Baby?’ said Audrey, her voice rising to match his as her eyes opened wide. ‘What baby? What are you talking about?’

Jago noticed that all eyes were now open, including those of Madame Zara.

‘I’m sorry, everyone,’ said the medium. ‘We have to stop now. I think we’ve upset the spirit guide – he’s fading away.’

‘What’s all this about a baby?’ demanded Audrey, ignoring her friend.

Jago strode to the door and switched on the electric light.

‘I’m talking about the baby Joan was expecting,’ he said. ‘If your spirit guide can’t tell me, perhaps one of you can. Who knew about it?’

No one spoke.

‘I’m waiting.’

Another silence followed. Jago could see that everyone was avoiding his gaze. Only Cradock was looking at him eagerly, waiting for something to happen.

‘All right, if none of you’s willing to tell me, I’ll tell you.’ He turned to the medium. ‘Mrs Ballantyne, you knew, didn’t you?’

His use of her real name seemed to deflate her other-worldly air. She looked around the table, as if seeking help.

‘No, of course I didn’t. How could I?’

‘Because you’re a medium.’

‘But no one in