The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

caught the public mood to sell so well – Tony’s recommendation alone wouldn’t have made her a big-hitter. But she dated very quickly. As a person, I found her seriously weird. I felt sorry for the son. He’s a good cook and he could make his own life in a flash restaurant anywhere. I tried to persuade him, but he said his mother needed him around. Perhaps that was just an excuse and he didn’t have the confidence to set out on his own.’
    Vera stood up. She was disappointed. She’d hoped for more from this meeting. It seemed she’d come away with nothing new at all. Chrissie walked with her out of the house, past the umbrella stand in the hall, the boots and the Barbour jackets.
    ‘I was wondering . . .’ For the first time the young woman seemed diffident.
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘I don’t think the Writers’ House should fold. As a concept, I mean. As an idea. I thought I’d start a foundation to keep it going. Buy Alex out, if he doesn’t want to be a part of it.’
    ‘Don’t ask me, pet. Like I said, it’s not my world.’
    ‘Nina showed me the writing that came out of “Short Cuts”. Some of it is very good. I wondered about putting together a pamphlet, a sort of sampler to show what the Writers’ House has achieved. Actually it was Nina’s idea. She was here earlier; you must just have missed her in the lane. North Farm Press would sell it as a fund-raiser. All profits to the project. What do you think? I wouldn’t want to prejudice the investigation in any way.’
    They were already in the yard. Vera stopped in her tracks and squinted into the sun. ‘When were you planning to launch it?’
    Chrissie seemed embarrassed. ‘As soon as possible.’
    Vera nodded her understanding. ‘To make the most of the publicity surrounding the murders?’
    ‘Do you think that’s really crass?’
    ‘Probably,’ Vera said. ‘But I’ve come to realize writing’s not a noble calling. Like you said, it’s all about marketing, isn’t it? I’ll not stop in your way.’ As she climbed into Hector’s Land Rover she was smiling. She wound down the window. She’d had one last thought. ‘Why don’t you throw a party, to set it on its way?’

Chapter Twenty-Eight
    When she got home Vera phoned Joe Ashworth.
    ‘What was he like then?’ Joe asked. ‘The monster MEP.’
    ‘Ah, Joe, you know I don’t believe in monsters.’ Though if anyone might make me change my mind, it’d be him. ‘And I kept my cool. You’d have been proud of me.’ She ran her finger along the window ledge. It made a track in the dust. The house was muckier than it had been in Hector’s day, and that was saying something. She knew Joe wanted the full story, but she wasn’t sure what she herself made of Rutherford yet. She needed to think it out. ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘I’m still in the office,’ he said. ‘I drove Lenny Thomas back to Red Row after taking the statements in the Coquet Hotel.’
    ‘And?’ Vera thought Joe was a soft-hearted sod, but she liked him the better for it.
    ‘Nothing. He seems like a nice guy. Genuine. The interviews didn’t take us much further forward, though Winterton was interesting on Miranda Barton. Wondered if she’d lost a child. Maybe a daughter. No evidence, but something she let slip.’
    ‘That’s something we can check.’ Vera had no patience for speculation. Unless she was the one doing the speculating.
    ‘And that’s why I’m still here, when the wife’s desperate to get us home. No record that she ever gave birth to a daughter. Her only child is Alexander. Winterton must have got it wrong.’
    ‘I need to talk to Joanna,’ Vera said. She’d had enough of Joe’s flights of fancy. ‘And I can’t do that on my own.’
    ‘I don’t suppose it would wait till morning . . .’
    ‘Aye, why not?’ She could tell that her immediate agreement had surprised him and she found herself grinning. She wasn’t going to let on that she was rather dreading the interview with Joanna, that she wasn’t yet sure what she was going to say. Let him believe that she had his family’s welfare at heart. ‘Work/life balance. Wasn’t there a memo from the Chief about that a few months ago? More to do with saving the overtime budget than marriages, I thought, but you know me, pet. I always take these missives from on high to heart.’
    She grinned again, enjoying the shocked silence at the other end of the line, and replaced the receiver.
    She was still eating breakfast when she