Kissed a Sad Goodbye

Lewis’s father, had seemed kind enough when Lewis encountered him.
    “He’s all right. Only it gets a bit boring being on my own all day, and the maths are hard. That’s old Cuddy’s field, and I’m not very good at it.”
    “Maybe I could help you sometime,” Lewis offered tentatively. “I like maths. That’s always my best marks at school. Composition’s harder.”
    “I’m better at that. Maybe I’ll write one for Mr. Cuddy about the deer,” William said, grinning, and that set them to laughing again.
    This conversation bore unexpected fruit a few weeks later, when Edwina called Lewis into her sitting room and informed him that she had arranged, with the permission of William’s parents, for him to be tutored along with William. “I’ve written to your parents, and they agree that this is a wonderful opportunity for you. You’re obviously a bright boy, Lewis, and you deserve a better education than the village school can provide.”
    “But I like school... and what about my mates?” Lewis said hesitantly, not wanting to seem rude.
    Edwina lit a cigarette with the silver lighter on the mantelpiece and the air filled with the sharp smell of tobacco smoke. “Warren Cuddy is Oxford-educated and a fine teacher. He can open new worlds for you. Friends come and go, Lewis, but the things you learn will always be yours, to use as you will. You may not realize it now,” she added with a smile, “but from this day on your life will change in ways you cannot begin to imagine.”
     
    “I’MBEGINNING TO SUSPECT THAT WILLIAM Hammond may have had a convenient blind spot where his daughter was concerned,” Kincaid said as they walked down the hill towards Greenwich center in the intensifying heat of early afternoon.
    “Surely that’s not unusual,” countered Gemma. “Most parents want to think the best of their children—especially if it has to do with sex. On the other hand, Jo Lowell certainly didn’t seem surprised at the suggestion that her sister had cheated on her fiancé.”
    “I wonder where Mortimer fell in that spectrum. Did he think Annabelle beyond reproach? If that was the case and he found out about her affair with Gordon Finch, the shock might have driven him to kill her.”
    “Or if he was suspicious already and suddenly had his fears proved. But that doesn’t explain the row at the dinner party—and we only have Jo’s word about that—or the fact that he left her in the tunnel with Gordon Finch,” argued Gemma. “And the answering machine messages seem to support his story.”
    They had reached Royal Hill and Gemma paused, looking in the window of a cheese shop. In the glass, Kincaid could see the reflection of the police station across the street. “He could easily have killed her, then left messages to give himself an alibi,” he said.
    Gemma walked on, swinging her handbag against the skirt of her cotton dress, leaving behind the temptations of white Stilton with ginger and Shropshire blue. “But you could hear the noise of the pub in the background, so it must have been before closing, and the pathologist says Annabelle died after midnight.”
    “We’re not going to get anywhere with this until we see Mortimer again,” said Kincaid. “And in the meantime, I’d like to know why Jo Lowell was so reluctant for us to interview her husband.”
    “Your curiosity is about to be satisfied.”
    They found the bank as easily as Jo had promised, and the clerk at the window directed them back to Martin Lowell’s office.
    “Mr. Lowell?” Kincaid tapped on the open door of the small cubicle. “We’re from Scotland Yard—Superintendent Kincaid, Sergeant James.” He showed his identification. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
    The man at the desk glanced up, a look of irritation marring his handsome face. Dark and clean-cut, he wore the banker’s uniform of white shirt and dark tie, but he’d rolled up his sleeves against the heat. “Scotland Yard? How can I help you? I’m afraid I have a meeting in”—he glanced at his watch—“ten minutes, so I hope this won’t take long.”
    “It’s about your former sister-in-law, Annabelle Hammond,” Kincaid said, adjusting one of the visitors’ chairs for Gemma and taking the other himself. Lowell had neither risen nor offered his hand, and now he made no response to Kincaid’s remark. “Has the Hammonds’ solicitor been in touch with you?”
    “Yes, this morning. But I don’t see why this should be