Kissed a Sad Goodbye

his sister-in-law’s death.
    “You knew Miss Hammond well?” Kincaid asked.
    “I’m not sure anyone knew Annabelle well, Superintendent. She was a very self-contained person. But we’d been friends for the past year or more. We met at a neighborhood meeting.” The recollection made Finch smile.
    “And you were... involved during the whole of that time?”
    Finch studied Kincaid, and for the first time Gemma detected wariness in his manner. “If by that you mean did we have a sexual relationship, the answer is yes—when we both found it convenient. You have to understand that Annabelle was extremely independent.”
    “Tell us about her,” said Gemma. “What was she like?”
    When Lewis Finch looked at her, Gemma saw that his eyes were the same clear gray as his son’s. “Annabelle had a talent for getting what she wanted—sometimes ruthlessly so—and she had the rare gift of knowing exactly what that was, at least in the professional sense. She was also intelligent, courageous... impossibly self-absorbed, and in some ways surprisingly loyal.”
    “A contradiction?” prompted Gemma.
    Finch nodded. “Compellingly so.”
    “Were you aware that she was engaged to be married?” asked Kincaid. “I don’t know that her relationship with you constitutes a display of loyalty.”
    Finch frowned. “An odd sort of loyalty, perhaps. But in my experience, most people who stray outside a committed relationship justify their behavior by complaining about the injured partner. Annabelle never did that.”
    “Mr. Finch,” said Gemma carefully, “were you aware that Annabelle also had a relationship with your son?” Finch stared at her. “With Gordon? No, I was not.”
    “Annabelle Flammond seems to have been fascinated by your family. Have you any idea why?”
    “No. She never said anything to give me that impression.”
    “And she didn’t tell you that she was aware of your connection with her father?”
    “What are you talking about, Superintendent?” Finch’s voice was level, but Gemma felt the tension in the room rise.
    “Annabelle knew that you and William Hammond had been evacuated together during the war.”
    Finch blinked. “Yes, that’s true. But we’ve had very little contact since.”
    “We believe that William Hammond may have warned Annabelle against you, and that she thought it was because of some sort of feud between you. Was there any basis to this?”
    “Of course not. And I’m sure that if Annabelle had thought anything of the sort, she’d have spoken to me about it.” He thought for a moment. “I did get the impression from Annabelle that William might have been getting a bit... odd, since his wife’s death. Perhaps he’s started to imagine things?”
    “He seemed quite competent when we spoke to him. He said you had used those wartime connections to better yourself, and hadn’t given credit where it was due.”
    “Did he?”
    “Is that not true?”
    For a moment, Gemma thought Lewis wouldn’t answer; then he said very quietly, “Edwina Burne-Jones was a kind and generous woman who took a poor boy from the East End and treated him as if he were capable of accomplishing whatever he wished—but any gratitude I feel towards her is no one else’s business. Not William Hammond’s, and not yours, Superintendent. Now, is that all?”
    “One more question, Mr. Finch. When did you last see Annabelle Hammond?”
    “We had dinner together several weeks ago. I can’t give you an exact date,” he answered, watching Kincaid, and Gemma felt sure he knew what was coming. He was far too intelligent not to guess they’d heard Annabelle’s answering machine tape.
    Kincaid appeared to deliberate for a moment before he said, “What you’ve told us seems to imply that your relationship with Annabelle was rather casual. And yet in the messages you left on her answering machine Friday night, you were quite clearly angry. Can you tell me why?”
    “You’ve made an assumption, Superintendent. I never said our relationship was casual, only that it was irregular. Annabelle was sometimes difficult, but she was... unique. I’ve only known one other woman who approached life with such zest, and I—” He shook his head, and Gemma thought she saw a glint of moisture in his gray eyes. “I wasn’t angry on Friday night—I was concerned. Annabelle had left a message at my flat that sounded quite unlike her—something about breaking off her engagement. I wanted to know what had