The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

room she found Billy Wainwright; she pulled on the paper suit and boots that he threw to her, and joined him.
    ‘No signs of violence or disturbance in here,’ he said. ‘I was just off home.’
    ‘Hang on for a few minutes, will you, Billy, while I just have a quick look at the man’s things.’
    He shrugged to show that he wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t about to make a fuss. The place smelled of cigarette smoke, despite the sign on the door saying smoking wasn’t allowed. That, and some sort of fancy aftershave. The clothes in the wardrobe felt expensive to her – the shirts were heavy cotton and the jerseys cashmere. She looked at the labels and recognized some of the designer names. She hadn’t thought university lecturers were so well paid.
    On the desk under the window there was a black ring binder and a diary. Again she turned to Wainwright. ‘Have you finished with these? Can I take them with me?’
    He nodded, and it seemed to Vera suddenly that the man was exhausted, too tired even to speak. Perhaps the effort of lying to his wife, of keeping up with his bonny young lovers, was finally catching up with him.
    She got Wainwright to drive her up the lane to her Land Rover. The internal light had never worked, but there was a torch in the glove compartment for emergencies, and she punched numbers into her phone. There was no reply from Charlie, which was only to be expected. He could be an idle bastard, Charlie, though for some jobs – the meticulous searching through a suspect’s background, for example – there was nobody to match him. Most likely now he’d be in his bed. Or a lock-in at his local pub, his phone switched off.
    Holly did answer, and Vera could have predicted that too. Holly was young and fiercely ambitious. A good detective, but not as good as she thought she was. Sometimes Vera took it upon herself to remind her DC of that fact.
    ‘How did the chat with Joanna go?’ No need to introduce herself. Holly would know who it was at this time of night.
    ‘Okay. Joanna Tobin stuck to the story she gave you. All very calm and collected. You’d have thought she’d been through a police interview a dozen times. She’d had a message from Tony Ferdinand asking to meet her, and she went to the glass room at the top of the house. She didn’t go out onto the balcony, and just assumed that he’d changed his mind about the meeting. She saw the knife on the floor and decided to take it back to the kitchen.’
    ‘If she’s the killer,’ Vera said, ‘what did she do with the murder weapon?’
    ‘Could she have chucked it over the balcony?’
    ‘She could have done.’ Vera allowed herself to sound a bit impressed. ‘But Billy Wainwright has already been down with his torch to check. Nothing. Anything else from the interview?’
    ‘Not much. Joanna says she didn’t like Ferdinand, but she had no reason to kill him.’
    ‘Nobody liked him much,’ Vera said slowly. ‘At least, that’s the impression they give.’ She paused. ‘Do you think Joanna was set up?’
    ‘You mean the murderer sent the message, not Ferdinand?’ Holly was openly sceptical. Vera thought she hadn’t yet learned the importance of suitable manners when she spoke to her superiors. The lass could do with a bit more respect. ‘In that case, why leave a knife that wasn’t the murder weapon lying around? He must have realized we wouldn’t be misled for long into thinking Joanna was the killer.’
    ‘Unless he’s an ignorant bugger.’ Vera was playing devil’s advocate. Really, she didn’t know what she thought about all this. Except that someone was playing games.
    ‘Come off it!’ Holly said. Only adding ‘Ma’am’ at the last minute. That lack of respect again. ‘They were all on a crime-writing workshop. They’d understand the basics of forensics, if they write that sort of stuff.’
    This time Vera had to concede defeat. ‘Aye. Maybe.’ In the house in the valley below it seemed that the writers were going to bed. The lights on the ground floor were being switched off. ‘Did you get Joanna home all right?’
    ‘Yes, I dropped her off myself. It wasn’t too far out of my way.’
    ‘Was Jack at home?’ Vera imagined his relief as he opened the door and saw Joanna standing there. She hoped he’d contained himself and not made too much fuss. Joanna wouldn’t like tears and hugs.
    ‘Someone opened the door. I assumed it was him. I didn’t hang around.’
    ‘I’ll see you in the morning