A Finer End

Yeovil, stranded, without his bike and without a lift.
    When he’d arrived at the bookshop that morning, Inspector Greely and a policewoman had been waiting for him in an unmarked car. ‘Let’s go for a little ride while we chat,’ Greely had said. ‘Unless you’d rather we talked in the shop?’
    Nick had got into the car. But then they’d driven him from Glastonbury to the Yeovil station, and when Nick had protested, Greely replied slyly that they were just protecting his interests by doing things properly, tape recorder and all.
    They marched him inside and into an interrogation room, Nick burning all the while with fury. After four hours of repeating the same questions in the bare, ugly room, they had let him go. With the smile Nick had begun to hate, Greely had assured him they would soon find something that would link him to Garnet Todd’s murder. ‘Oh, and don’t leave town,’ Greely added cheerfully, as if it were an afterthought.
    Still running on anger and adrenalin, Nick stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking. By the time he reached the A37 going north, he’d begun to feel weak. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day.
    A lorry driver took him all the way to Glastonbury, dropping him at the Street roundabout. He started up Magdalene Street out of habit, but as he neared the shop it occurred to him that he had no idea what he would say to his boss.
    Oh, just a bit of police grilling, a small matter of a murder. Nothing to worry about. Right.
    Hurriedly, he crossed the street and, rounding the corner into the High, took refuge in the Café Galatea.
    Now that he could get something to eat, he found he’d lost his appetite. Instead, he spooned sugar into a coffee and sipped it gratefully, warming his hands on the cup. It was a normal Saturday afternoon in the café; half a dozen customers relaxing over tea in the mid-afternoon lull; a middle-aged hippie in tie-dye and sandals hunched over the computer in the back; Melissa, the waitress who fancied him, glancing at him from beneath her lashes.
    But in the space of four days his life had become a nightmare, and he had no guarantee that, for him, things would ever be normal again.
    How the hell had he got himself into this mess? And what did he do now? Would he have been better off if he hadn’t taken Superintendent Kincaid’s advice — if he’d continued to deny that he’d been to the house? But Greely had told him they’d found his prints, and they would be doing a forensic match between his bike tyres and the tracks in Garnet’s yard. When the test results came back, he’d look guilty as hell.
    He could tell Greely some of the things he’d begun to suspect about Garnet, but it would only make his motive look stronger.
    But there must have been others who had felt as he did about Garnet — there must have been someone who had wanted her dead. And if he could find out who, he might have a hope of saving himself.
     
    Kincaid and Gemma pulled into Jack’s drive just as he was getting out of his Volvo. They found Faith waiting for them in the kitchen, hands on her hips, furious spots of colour on her cheeks.
    ‘Something smells good.’ Jack wrinkled his nose in appreciation. ‘We haven’t had a proper meal in—’
    Turning on Kincaid, Faith spat, ‘How could you? You told Nick he should talk to the police, that it would be all right! So he did, and now they think he’s a murderer!
    ‘Faith, I told him it was the best course, and I still think that’s true. They’ve got Nick’s prints in the house and his bike tracks in the yard. He’d only make things worse for himself by lying.’
    ‘But you’re a policeman. Can’t you tell Greely it’s not true, that Nick wouldn’t—’
    ‘I don’t have any jurisdiction here. I can offer the Inspector my opinion, but I can’t tell him how to run his case.’ Kincaid held up his hand before she could interrupt again. ‘I will tell you that I don’t think he’s got any solid evidence, so right now all he can do is try to get a response from Nick.’
    ‘He thinks I helped. Did you know that?’
    ‘Faith-’
    ‘He said I needed legal advice.’
    ‘Greely came here?’
    Faith nodded.
    ‘He interviewed you with no one else present?’
    ‘There was a policewoman with him.’
    Kincaid hesitated. It was a sticky situation, as Faith was legally an adult, but Greely could have found a better way to handle it. ‘If he comes again, tell him that you will only talk to him if