Kissed a Sad Goodbye

Gemma’s disappointment surprised her. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d hoped that someone would provide him an unshakable alibi for the time of Annabelle’s murder. “I wonder,” she said slowly. “If we assume it was Gordon she meant when she told Reg she was in love with someone else... why did Annabelle call Lewis Finch?”
    “When Gordon turned her down, she took the next available number?” Janice offered.
    “I don’t believe that. Not when she’d just told Reg she wouldn’t settle for anything less than the real thing. Maybe she wanted a shoulder to cry on—”
    “Lewis Finch? Not bloody likely! Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Lewis,” warned Janice. “And don’t be lulled by his well-barbered looks and Savile Row suits into thinking money’s made him soft. The man’s a shark, and he’s bloody relentless when he’s after something.” Janice scowled. “Which reminds me—Fve been doing a bit of inquiring. With the idea of a connection between the Finches and the Hammonds, I remembered I’d heard a rumor or two that made me curious, so I stood the head of the Neighborhood Association a few pints.
    “It seems that for the past several years, Finch, Ltd. has shown an extremely active interest in buying the Hammond’s warehouse. The company has developed several similar riverfront properties, and Hammond’s occupies a prime location, one of the last holdouts in what’s now almost entirely a residential or mixed residential/commercial area.”
    “But nothing came of it?”
    “No. Apparently, William Hammond refused to sell, and he still maintains a controlling interest in the firm, even though Annabelle had taken over as managing director. What’s odd is that Finch has apparently passed up a couple of similar properties in the last year.” Janice swirled the remains of the coffee in her cup, grimaced at it, then set it down and lit a cigarette. “This is just the sort of project that Gordon would actively protest.”
    “Why?” Gemma brushed the last crumbs from her blouse and settled into a more comfortable position in the hard plastic chair.
    “You have to understand what happened here. The last of the Docks closed in the late seventies, and by the early eighties the Island was a rotting wasteland. I know because I watched it happen as I grew up, and by the time I finished school the prospects were bugger all.” Janice shook her head. “But there are those who criticize any development on the Island—they hate the yuppie in-comers and the disintegration of the old neighborhoods, they’re angry because there’s less and less housing available to the working-class people who made the Island what it is—”
    “And that’s how Gordon Finch feels?” Gemma asked. “The paradox is that without the development, the Island would have become a massive slum in the last ten or fifteen years, and I think he’s reasonable enough to see that. But there are problems and conflicts of interest that could be handled more sensitively.” Janice sighed and tapped ash into the tin ashtray on the desk. “The irony is that both Gordon and Lewis Finch want to preserve the Island, and their aims aren’t necessarily incompatible. I see both sides every day, and there are concerns that need addressing. You can’t have the sort of massive redevelopment we’ve undergone on the Island without mistakes and excesses—but I’m no dinosaur: I’d not see things go back to the way they were.”
    Gemma doodled on the page of her open notebook as her mind sorted details. “If Lewis Finch has been aggressively pursuing Hammond’s property, why didn’t he mention it when we saw him? He admitted to the affair with Annabelle readily enough.”
    “My mate knew about that, too.”
    “Did he?” said Gemma, thinking that she was finding it more and more difficult to believe that Gordon hadn’t. “Did he know about Gordon and Annabelle, then?”
    “No, that one was a proper shocker.”
    Slowly, Gemma said, “What if Annabelle’s interest in Gordon and his family had to do with the possible sale of the Hammond’s property, rather than rebellion against her father’s strictures? Remember, Gordon said she sought him out.”
    “Surely Gordon Finch couldn’t have slept with the woman for months without finding out what she was up to—and that’s assuming he wasn’t already aware of his father’s interest in the property. My mate in the Neighborhood Association