A Finer End

been to the farmhouse in the last day, something he very carefully neglected to mention.’
    ’I’m sure he was looking for Faith last night,’ Jack protested. ‘He said he’d searched everywhere for her. The farmhouse would have been the obvious place to start.’
    ‘Then why not say so?’
    There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as the implications sank in, then Jack said, ‘Look. I’m sure it’s simply a matter of miscommunication. Nick’s a good kid, and he’d do anything for Faith—’ Too late, he seemed to realize where that avenue was leading. ‘We’ll have to tell Inspector Greely. You do see that.’
    ‘Duncan, I can see the difficult position I’ve put you in by asking you to get involved in this. But I have obligations as well, and Nick is my friend. Talk to him first, before you turn it over to Greely. Surely that can’t hurt.’
    Kincaid weighed this, then glanced at Gemma, who nodded. ‘Fair enough. Where can we find him?’
    ‘When he left here he said he was going home. I know he lives in a caravan in Compton Dundon, but I’ve never been there. You could ask at the bookshop where he works. On Magdalene Street, just across from the Abbey gates. But first you’ll want to get settled in at the B and B.’
    ‘It would be nice to unpack and freshen up. With all that’s happened, it seems as if we’ve been here for days rather than a few hours.’ Gemma gathered up her bag and carried her cup to the sink. ‘Oh, by the way, there was a man snooping round Garnet’s house when I got there. He said he wanted some tile work done, but it didn’t quite ring true.’
    ‘What did he look like?’ asked Jack.
    ‘Till, slender, glasses, dark hair. Mid-thirties. Nice-looking in a bookish sort of way. He was driving a silver Volkswagen saloon.’
    Jack had paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. ‘How very odd. That sounds like Andrew Catesby, but I can’t imagine what he’d be doing at Garnet Todd’s.’
     
    ‘Poor Jack,’ said Gemma as she slid behind the wheel of her car. ‘I don’t think he was prepared for the idea that someone he knew and liked might be involved in Winnie’s accident — or Garnet Todd’s murder.’
    Kincaid buckled up and opened a guide to Glastonbury that Jack had provided. ‘Go west, then bear left at the first roundabout,’ he instructed, then added, ‘And I don’t think he’s realized that Faith has no alibi after she left work yesterday afternoon. What did she tell you?’
    ‘She said she couldn’t stop herself looking at the van’s bumper, then she felt so ashamed of her suspicions that she couldn’t face Garnet. She tried to climb the Tor, but when she started to have pains, she curled up in a hedge and went to sleep.’
    Kincaid’s raised eyebrow shouted his scepticism. Irritated, Gemma said, ‘So what are you proposing? That this nine-months-pregnant girl went home, had an argument with Garnet, killed her somehow or other, then dragged her body to the van?’
    ‘Asphyxiated, it looks like,’ Kincaid said placidly. Although the doctor was a bit cagey about the method.’
    ‘Even if Faith were physically capable of strangling or suffocating Garnet, why would she do such a thing? Maybe someone killed Garnet to keep her from hurting Faith!
    ‘Nick, for instance?’ Checking the map again, Kincaid directed, ‘Right at the next roundabout. The B and B should be just along Magdalene Street.1
    Gemma made the turn and slowed, searching for the B & B’s sign. ‘I’d like to know what Winnie Catesby’s brother was doing poking about Garnet Todd’s place.’
    ‘I suppose we could have a chat with Mr Catesby as well. There!’
    Gemma swung the car sharply into the gravel drive of a square, well-kept Georgian house, red brick with white paint. Kincaid got out and rang the bell, and soon returned with a pleasant young man who opened the security gate for them and directed Gemma where to park.
    The young man informed them that their room was in the coach house, and while the men removed the bags from the boot, Gemma looked round with pleasure. The coach house stood at the end of the drive, separated from the main house by a formally landscaped garden, and protected from the noise and traffic of the busy street.
    Inside proved as delightful as the exterior, and as Gemma followed the men up a graceful staircase, she was thankful not to be spending the night in Jack’s dark house beneath the Tor. ‘The Acacia Room,’ the young man