The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

initial question. ‘I rather think I must have chucked the thing into the basket by the fire in the drawing room as soon as I got it. I put all my waste paper in there. They use it to lay the grate every evening.’
    ‘So it’s probably burned?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It probably is. And if that’s the case, there’s no proof I received it at all.’ The last words were thrown towards Ashworth like a challenge: I dare you to call me a liar!
    Ashworth looked at her for a moment and then changed the subject. ‘Had you met anyone at the Writers’ House before?’
    Sitting at the end of the table, Vera thought this was another good question.
    This time Joanna paused before answering. ‘It’s possible.’
    ‘You don’t seem very sure,’ Ashworth said.
    ‘That’s because I’m not.’ Joanna frowned. ‘Look, it’s probably not relevant to Ferdinand’s death. I don’t see how it can be.’
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘But I thought I recognized one of the tutors. An old guy. Giles Rickard. The name was familiar when I got the list of participants.’
    ‘He’s a writer,’ Ashworth said. ‘They tell me he’s famous. Maybe you’ve read one of his books.’ The tone was sceptical: Don’t play games with me, lady.
    ‘I’m trying to be honest here, Sergeant.’ Joanna was holding her temper, but only just. ‘I’m telling you how it is. Maybe I only recognized the name because I’d seen it on a bookshelf somewhere, but I don’t think so. And then when I saw him on the first night of the course, I was convinced I’d met him before. Even before I was told who he was. It was a long time ago and he’d changed, got bigger, softer. Old. But the features were the same. I’ve got a good visual memory.’
    ‘Where do you know him from?’ Vera asked the question. Ashworth frowned at the interruption, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d become involved in the conversation. She looked at Joe, a sort of apology, before turning back to Joanna to wait for the answer.
    ‘He was a friend of my ex-husband’s,’ Joanna said. ‘If it’s the man I believe him to be, that’s how I know him.’
    ‘Didn’t you ask him?’ Ashworth demanded. ‘I mean, he’s a famous writer and you’re trying to get published, so surely you’d use any contact you had in that world.’
    Again Joanna took time before replying. ‘It wasn’t a happy time for me,’ she said at last. ‘The marriage was a disaster almost from the beginning. I was young. The separation was brutal. My husband was so convinced of his brilliance that he believed I must be mad to want to leave him. Literally mad. And by the end of the experience I probably was. Giles knew me from that time.’
    ‘So it would have been embarrassing to introduce yourself to him?’ Ashworth said. ‘Because the last time you met, you were . . .’ he paused to find an acceptable term. Vera saw that mad would be too stark for him. Too unkind. ‘. . . mentally ill.’
    ‘No!’ This time Joanna’s response was immediate. ‘I’ve never been embarrassed in my life. People can take me or leave me.’
    ‘Then I don’t understand.’ And Vera saw that Ashworth really didn’t understand. His experience of domestic life was limited and suburban. People married. If they separated, usually it was because one party had an affair. And Joe disapproved of affairs.
    ‘Paul, my husband, was an unpleasant man. Controlling and violent. Also rich, which was a complicating factor. Giles was his closest friend, despite the difference in their ages. Like a surrogate father. I thought that if Giles recognized me, he might tell Paul where I was.’ She looked up and stared first at Ashworth and then at Vera. ‘I was scared,’ she said. ‘It all happened nearly twenty years ago, but still I was scared.’

Chapter Thirteen
    Vera watched Joe drive down the lane. She waited until his lights had disappeared and then she went back to Myers Farm. Through the kitchen window she saw Jack standing behind Joanna, his arms around her shoulders. Was Joanna telling him about Rickard? Sharing her anxiety. This time when Vera knocked she waited for them to call her in.
    ‘What is it now?’ Jack was reproachful. ‘Don’t you think Joanna needs to be left alone? It’s late. We were thinking of going to bed.’
    ‘I’m here as a friend,’ Vera said. ‘Not as a cop. I should have nothing to do with this investigation. Conflict of interests. When we come to courts the defence