The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

heard Joe’s car outside. Another clear, frosty day. A bit of mist over the lough in the valley, but that would soon burn away. She got up to let him in and saw that Jack’s van wasn’t in the yard. It was market day in Alnwick, so he’d have left early. She hoped Joanna hadn’t gone with him.
    She pushed the teapot in Joe’s direction and got up to fetch him a mug.
    ‘You’ll have had breakfast.’ Not a question. His wife looked after him, however early the start.
    ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit of toast, if there’s one going.’
    ‘Tough, there’s no bread.’ Not quite true, but she couldn’t be arsed to make it. Now Joe was here, she wanted to get on.
    ‘Rutherford claimed Joanna was blackmailing him,’ she said.
    He set his mug down slowly. ‘Did you believe him?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s a bugger, but I did.’
    ‘Does that change anything?’ Joe’s attention was caught by the view from the window and he seemed preoccupied. He lived in a modern semi on a quiet executive estate. Vera knew he regarded the open countryside with awe and something like suspicion. ‘I can’t see what it’s got to do with our investigation,’ he said. ‘All the witnesses will have stuff going on in their private lives.’
    ‘Of course they will,’ Vera said. ‘But they won’t all be turning the stuff into stories and putting it out for the public to read.’ Then she wondered if that was true. By all accounts, the piece Lenny Thomas had read on the evening of Miranda’s death had been personal too. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, getting to her feet, feeling again the strain in her knees, ‘why don’t we go and ask her?’
    They found Joanna hanging out washing.
    ‘That’ll be frozen stiff in half an hour,’ Vera said by way of a greeting.
    Joanna only laughed and said she was fed up with having it all over the kitchen. ‘I like to get the air into it.’
    ‘Do you fancy a bit of a walk?’
    Joanna looked at Joe. ‘What’s this, Vee? Do you need a bodyguard these days? Are you frightened I’ll slash your throat too?’
    ‘Eh, pet, you know how it is. I can’t talk to you on my own.’
    They walked down the track a way, then along the edge of a newly ploughed field. The soil was hard, but Vera could see that Joe was worried about the state of his shoes. She was glad to be outside: this case had made her feel claustrophobic from the start. It was being shut in the Writers’ House for days on end. Like being remanded in custody. A hawthorn hedge marked the field edge and there were redwings and fieldfares feeding on the berries. She followed Joanna and Ashworth in single file until they came to a gate and a wide track through woodland. Then Vera joined Joanna and started her questions.
    ‘You didn’t tell me you’d been in touch with your ex-husband recently.’ The tone was conversational, but she saw that Joanna had picked up the steel beneath it. ‘In fact you told me you were frightened Rickard might tell him where you were.’
    ‘You’ve spoken to Paul,’ she said. ‘Of course I should have realized you might.’ She slowed her pace and turned to Vera. ‘We all get taken in by you.’
    ‘I didn’t make the contact,’ Vera said. ‘That was your ex-husband. I think he came all the way to Newcastle especially to tell me what you’d been up to.’ The ground under the trees was dry and there was a smell of pine. ‘Cocky bastard, isn’t he?’
    ‘Is he? It’s so long since I’ve seen him that I really can’t remember any more. Perhaps he’s just a creature of my imagination.’ Joanna scuffed her feet through the pine needles. The sun formed a series of spotlights, catching her face as she walked through the trees.
    ‘Oh no, trust me, he’s real enough,’ Vera said. She was aware of Joe, walking a few paces behind them, making himself unobtrusive as only he could. ‘But those stories you told me. About him hitting you. Locking you up. Were they real? I’m not quite sure any more.’
    ‘You know what, Vee?’ The words were angry and Vera saw that the woman was close to tears. ‘Neither am I. Perhaps I’m a liar and a fantasist. Perhaps you can’t believe a word I say. All those pills they make me take, it’s hardly any wonder I don’t know what happened all those years ago.’
    They came to an area of clear fell, a pile of tree trunks waiting to be hauled away. Vera sat on one and patted the log beside her for Joanna to join her.
    ‘Why did you need the money?’