Mourn not your Dead

probably clear the matter up. Of course, I told him that as much as I wished to assist the police in any way, I was also under an obligation not to divulge details of a customer’s account.” Cokes gave a sniff of disapproval.
    “So you’re telling us that this policeman did not see Claire Gilbert’s file?” Will asked.
    Cokes cleared his throat and slid the paperweight on his desk over a fraction of an inch. “Well, I can’t be absolutely certain...” he said, refusing to meet their eyes. “I was called out of my office for a few moments, a little problem that needed my immediate attention...”
    “Don’t tell me,” said Gemma. “You just happened to leave Claire Gilbert’s file on your desk. How tactful of you.”
    “Well, I…” Cokes’s upper lip glistened with perspiration. “It seemed the best solution at the time.”
    “I’m sure.” Gemma smiled at Cokes, thinking that she doubted Claire Gilbert would have seen his solution in quite the same light. “This policeman, Mr. Cokes. What was his name?”
    Cokes cleared his throat again. “I don’t remember. I only saw the ID for a moment, and I was so startled that it quite flew out of my head.”
    “What force did he say he was with?”
    Cokes shook his head. “I couldn’t say. I’m sorry.” Persisting, Gemma said, “Then tell us what he looked like, Mr. Cokes. Surely you can remember that.”
    “Thin and dark.” Moistening his pink lips, Cokes added, “There was something a bit predatory about him.”
     
    KINCAID FILLED DEVENEY IN AS THEY DROVE TOWARDS Holmbury St. Mary. The morning overcast had lifted to a high haze that muted the landscape and burned his tired eyes as he squinted at the road. “Claire Gilbert’s had two broken bones in the last year or so, and perhaps other injuries as well. The wrist and the collarbone just happen to be the ones I heard about in casual conversation. It’s enough to raise the possibility of spousal abuse.”
    “Are you telling me that you think Commander Gilbert beat his wife?”
    Kincaid glanced at Deveney. “Don’t look so shocked, Nick. It happens all the time.”
    Deveney shook his head. “I know. But I wouldn’t have thought—”
    “You think Gilbert’s uniform and position gave him some sort of automatic immunity?”
    “I think if you mean to get anything out of Doc Wilson, you’ll get short shrift,” Deveney countered. “But if you’re right, it gives Brian Genovase a damned good reason to want to bash Gilbert’s head in. Unfortunately, we still haven’t found a shred of physical evidence to connect him to the scene.
    “The records of the on-line service confirm what Geoff told us, by the way, and our interviews with the other customers in the pub that night agree with Brian’s account of his movements. So that leaves us with a less than ten-minute window when either Brian or Geoff could have popped across the lane and done the dirty.”
    Kincaid downshifted as they entered the village. “That leaves the Ogilvie end. I’ll be damned if I know how he fits into it, but I’m sure he does.” He grinned at Deveney. “Maybe I should take lessons from Madeleine Wade.”
     
    “YOU SEEM DESTINED TO CATCH ME IN THE MIDDLE OF MY lunch,” Doc Wilson said when she opened the door. “Oh well, can’t be helped, I suppose,” she added resignedly as she stepped back and Kincaid and Deveney crowded into the hall with its welter of gum boots, dog leads, and walking sticks.
    On reaching the kitchen Kincaid and Deveney once again went through the ritual of clearing a place to sit while the doctor wasted no time getting back to her lunch.
    “Leftover beef from Sunday’s joint.” She waved her fork at her plate when they were settled opposite her. “With horseradish. Clears the sinuses. Paul’s gone to London for the day, by the way, if it was he you were wanting. Took Bess with him for the run.”
    Kincaid wasn’t fooled by her inconsequential chatter— the glance she’d given him had been sharp as a tack. “No, it was you we wanted a word with, Doctor. It’s about Claire Gilbert. I understand that she’s had several broken bones recently. Weren’t you concerned about this sudden tendency towards accidents?”
    The doctor very deliberately finished her roast beef and pushed her plate aside before answering. “Really, Superintendent, you’ll have to ask Claire about her medical history, not me.”
    “We could get a warrant,” Kincaid said, “and force disclosure,