Blood on the Marsh (DI Susan Holden 3)

‘You mean it was, like, murder?’

‘I can’t say any more than that at the moment.’

‘But I saw him only on Sunday. Not to talk to, mind you. Him and his girlfriend.’

‘They were here for the weekend?’

‘Yeah, like most weekends.’

‘Did you notice any other visitors this weekend?’

‘Can’t say I did. Not that I watch out all the time. I’m not a spy. It’s just that he mostly only stays at the weekend, so it’s only during the week that I tend to keep an eye open for intruders.’

‘And have you seen any recently.’

‘Not since the builder finished. It’s been as quiet as the grave these last few weeks.’ Then he laughed, realizing what he said. ‘Sorry. That didn’t come out right! I just meant—’

‘That’s fine,’ said Lawson. She reckoned they’d got all they needed from this particular witness. And she was conscious too that she could have been kinder. ‘And thank you for your help.’

‘Oh, it’s you.’ The words were anything but welcoming. Maureen Wright shouldn’t have been surprised to see Holden and Fox on her doorstep again, as they’d phoned her two hours earlier, but she stood in the doorway, one hand on the door, and her body fully in the way, as if they’d caught her on the hop. Her whole body language was telling them to bugger off.

‘Is your husband in?’

‘He’s just about to have his tea.’ She made no attempt to move aside.

‘I’m sorry, but we need to talk to him. I’m sure his tea can wait.’

‘Christ,’ she snapped. ‘You coppers! Don’t you have a home to go back to?’

Inside, Jim Wright was watching the TV. There was no sign of his tea. He got up stiffly, killing the TV with the remote control as he did so. ‘You’ve got some news about my mother?’

Holden shrugged. ‘Actually we wanted to ask you about Paul Greenleaf.’

‘Yeah, I heard about him. A mugging was it?’

Holden ignored the question. ‘How long have you known him?’

‘Maybe a year or so.’

‘And how did you meet him?’

Jim scratched his hairless head. ‘When I was looking round Sunnymede for my mother.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘Nothing really. Not then. A few months later he asked me to do some work on this house out at Charlton-on-Otmoor.’

‘Yes, we found some invoices. And you did some work at Sunnymede too?’

‘Yeah, just recently.’

‘So you did well out of him?’

Jim’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘I guess so.’

‘It’s just that we’ve been making inquiries, and the word is that you lost a lot of money in Spain.’

‘Where the fuck is this all going to?’ The feigned indifference had disappeared. ‘I’ve had a few financial problems, and Greenleaf gave me some work. So what?’ The four of them were all still on their feet. Jim Wright moved a step closer to Holden, thrusting his red face aggressively forward. ‘Well?’ he demanded when Holden said nothing. ‘Well?’