Perfect Strangers

‘No,’ said Ruth, staggering to her feet. ‘I came here to speak to you, ask you a few more questions.’

‘No speak,’ Cherry said angrily. ‘You go! Now!’

Behind Cherry, Ruth could see another figure enter the room. A man, about forty; he had his shirt open and was holding a wine glass. The housekeeper followed her gaze and tried to close the door, but it was too late.

‘I see,’ smiled Ruth. ‘Using your employer’s house as a love nest when she’s out of the country? She won’t like that.’

Cherry looked trapped.

‘Is my boyfriend,’ she said.

‘It doesn’t make it right,’ quipped Ruth. ‘I think Mrs Goddard-Price will probably agree with me.’

‘You not tell her, please!’ said Cherry, knowing she was beaten.

‘Not if you answer a few more questions,’ said Ruth, pushing past her into the house.

The housekeeper looked pained.

‘Mrs G, she tell me not to speak to no one.’

I bet she did, thought Ruth, opening her bag.

‘All I want to do is show you a couple of pictures,’ she said, pulling out a file. ‘That’s all, then I’ll go.’

Dammit, why didn’t I prepare for this? thought Ruth, fumbling with the pile of photographs. She’d just grabbed her research folder on the way out, and hadn’t sorted out the picture she needed. She put them on the tabletop and flicked through them until she found the right one. It was the head-and-shoulders shot of Nick Beddingfield the police had released when the Riverton murder was first announced.

‘Remember when I was here before and you said another man used to visit Mrs Goddard-Price? Is this the man?’

The maid took the photo and examined it, then handed it back. ‘No,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’ pressed Ruth. ‘He isn’t the one who used to come when Mr Goddard-Price was away on business?’

‘No.’

Ruth felt her heart sinking. She had felt sure this was the connection she had been looking for.

‘It was him,’ said Cherry, pointing down at the table. Ruth’s eyes opened wide. The housekeeper’s finger was on a picture of Peter Ellis, from the Ellis family snapshot that Julia had given her that day she had visited her at Wade House.

‘This man? You’re certain?’

Ruth felt goose pimples run up her arms. Could it be true? Lana was having an affair with Peter Ellis?

‘Yes, certain. Once, twice, he come here.’ She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and pushed her other forefinger through the hole, in and out to signify sex.

Ruth stifled a frown. It was another connection. But still she was no closer to putting Lana with Nick.

‘Sophie’s room. Could I just have one quick look?’

‘Top floor. Two minutes,’ frowned Cherry, knowing that Ruth had leverage.

Ruth ran up the sweeping staircase, two stairs at a time. Instead of going all the way to the top, she darted into the master suite.

This had to be Lana’s, she thought, admiring the sumptuous bedroom with white drapes and walnut furniture. She opened both bedside cabinets and the dressing table drawer, looking for a diary, a notebook, anything that might connect Lana to Nick, but there was nothing; only boxes of thank-you cards, and glossy magazines and piles of cosmetics.

She turned as she heard a noise behind her. Cherry was standing in the doorway looking furious. Ruth cursed silently.

‘You go now,’ hissed Cherry.