A Fatal Attachment by Robert Barnard

Author:Robert Barnard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner

CHAPTER 12

MORE people were talking or thinking about Lydia Perceval in Bly that evening than ever talked or thought about her in life. It seemed there was only one possible subject of conversation, and conjecture ranged from the fantastical to the plain ignorant. The people of Bly were on the whole sensible people, however, and they laughed at the woman who, showing an imperfect grasp of the practicalities, suggested that Lydia had committed suicide. And they were sceptical too of the suggestion that she had been the victim of a fatwah: the reasons adduced, that she was a writer, and had written a book on Lawrence of Arabia, they found unimpressive. None of the people who knew her best doubted it was murder or that it had had one of the usual motives for murder. They talked the matter over in tones that were hushed, uncertain, but not, except in one case, grief-stricken.

Over a late-night whisky, their first of the day, Andy and Thea Hoddle mulled over things yet again, alcohol seeming to illumine more sharply the nature of their dilemma.

“I don’t know why we didn’t mention their being here,” said Andy, his forehead creased in self-criticism. “It’s not as though we talked it over and came to a rational decision.”

“We can say they never asked us,” said Thea.

“We can say that. I don’t think they’ll buy it. After all the subject of the boys—our boys—came up, and we just said that Maurice worked for Midlands Television. It would have been natural. . . .”

“Yes . . .” Thea looked down into her glass. It was so seldom that they discussed Maurice. “I suppose it was just the thought that Lydia had been murdered, and Maurice had gone out last night.”

“Yes. He said he was going to see if there were any of his old school-friends in the pub. He didn’t tell you if he’d met any?”

Thea shook her head.

“No. I suppose he did go to The Wheatsheaf?”

“Please God he did. We can hardly go and ask.”

“It may come up in conversation—there’d have been plenty of men from the village in there. . . . Eventually the police are going to be asking.”

“They’re going to be asking about Kelly too.”

“I don’t see that Kelly had anything to do with Lydia. The fact that they disliked each other when they met is hardly relevant, since they only met once. As far as we know she was in bed getting her beauty sleep, as she called it.”

“They’re going to be asking about us too.”

Thea shook her head.

“And that’s going to be just as unsatisfactory. As far as you know I was upstairs reading in bed, at least if she was killed late evening, as the village is saying. And as far as I know you were down here watching the ten o’clock news. We know each other so well we know there’s no possibility of the other lying. But they don’t.”

“The question is,” said Andy, swallowing the last of his Scotch and

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