Kissed a Sad Goodbye

should you be interested in that?”
    “You were sent to your godmother’s, in Surrey?”
    “Just northeast of Guildford. A place called Friday Green. My godmother had a large estate there. But what—”
    “I know the village,” Kincaid said, smiling. “There’s a nice pub—probably goes back that far. It’s a lovely area. Paradise for a boy, I should think. Did you spend the whole of the war?”
    “I... yes, I did, as a matter of fact. My mother was convinced we would be bombed here. As it turned out, we were very fortunate, and Hammond’s suffered only minor damage.”
    “And it was during your evacuation that you came to know Lewis Finch?”
    “Lewis Finch?” Hammond stared at Gemma blankly.
    “I understand he’s quite a prominent developer in the East End these days, known for his commitment to restoration.”
    “I—it’s been a great many years but, yes, he was a fellow evacuee.” He shook his head. “But what has this to do with my daughter’s death?”
    “Bear with me a moment, Mr. Hammond. According to Jo, you warned her and Annabelle not to have anything to do with Lewis Finch or his family.”
    “That’s nonsense,” he replied impatiently. “We simply don’t move in the same social circles.”
    “Jo seemed to feel there was some sort of feud between you, and that it had to do with the war,” pressed Gemma.
    “A feud?” Hammond sounded surprised. “I can’t imagine where Jo could have got such a melodramatic idea.” With a slight frown, he added, “I might have said that I felt Lewis took advantage of his stay in my godmother’s house to better himself, without giving credit where it was due, but I would certainly not consider that a feud.”
    “And you don’t know Lewis Finch’s son, Gordon?”
    “His son? Why should I?” He seemed even more perplexed, and Gemma could see that he was tiring.
    Wondering how much she should reveal, she glanced at Kincaid, but he merely gave her a minute shrug. Turning back to Hammond, she said carefully, “Sir, Annabelle seems to have been well-acquainted with both Lewis and Gordon Finch. In fact, she had been having an affair with Gordon for some months—and he may have been the last person to see her alive.”
    William Hammond stared at her, then drew himself up in his chair until his spine was ramrod straight. “There must be some mistake,” he said crisply. “Annabelle would never have associated with Lewis Finch or his son. Nor would she have betrayed Reginald’s trust.” He turned to Kincaid. “I find it distressing, Superintendent, that you are wasting valuable time pursuing such lines of inquiry while my daughter’s killer goes free.”
     
    AS THE AUTUMN WORE ON, THE threat of bombings receded, and very little disturbed the golden, waning days in the countryside.
    The war seemed very far away in Europe, and Lewis soon grew comfortably familiar with the household, for although he kept his room above the stable, Edwina gave him free run of the house. He and William both bathed in the large second-floor bathroom, and when Edwina did not have guests from London, the boys ate with her in the dining room.
    Lewis still suffered the occasional pang of homesickness, but a Green coach was organized to bring the evacuees’ parents down to visit every few weeks. In the meantime, there were apples to be picked, jams and pies to be made, woods and quarries and the old Roman forts on the Downs to be explored, and most exciting of all, preparations for Guy Fawkes, for their village had the biggest bonfire in the county.
    Lewis did not see William Hammond at school, however, because while the children from the Island had been integrated as well as possible into the village school, William’s parents had arranged a tutor to live at the Hall. This privilege Lewis did not envy in the least.
    On a bright Saturday morning in late October, William appeared in the barn as Lewis was finishing up with the horses. He wore a heavy, cable-knit cardigan and shorts with multiple pockets and carried a rucksack, plus a large, carved staff.
    Peering round Zeus’s head, Lewis (who had long since lost his shyness with William) snickered. “What is that getup?”
    “It’s proper walking gear,” answered William. “My mum and dad sent it for my birthday. I’m going to climb Leith Hill. They say from the Tower you can see thirteen counties.”
    “You look like you mean to climb bloody Everest,” said Lewis, but he was intrigued