The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

Inspector?’
    Vera nodded slowly. No comment needed.
    ‘I think Roy realized, but he never said anything. I never made a move on him. I wouldn’t have known where to start. It wasn’t uncommon at school: crushes on other boys, on the younger teachers. But as an adult I was lost, out of my depth. It was considered beyond the pale then, of course, but that wasn’t what prevented me . . .’ He hesitated and put the following words in conceptual quotation marks ‘. . . exploring my sexuality. I was a coward and I didn’t want to stand out. And sexual experimentation was never really what it was about, despite my fantasies. Though I had fantasies that would have made your hair curl, and which certainly shocked me. It was about Roy. I wanted to be with him. To serve him. There was never anyone else. Physical contact has never been so important to me. I was happy to make do with the occasional touch: an arm around the shoulder, a handshake.’ He looked at her. She noticed that his glass was empty. ‘I’m sure you think I’m foolish. He married after all. He had a son.’
    ‘I think you’re fortunate to have found someone you were able to love.’
    He looked at her sharply. ‘Did that never happen to you?’
    There was a moment’s silence. ‘We’re not talking about me,’ she said at last. ‘I think you should value what you had.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose that I should. But now Roy’s dead, and all I have left of him is Paul. I see his father sometimes in Paul’s expression, the way he stands. Like an indulgent parent, I can deny Paul nothing. As I’ve said, I’m a foolish old man.’
    ‘Does he know how you felt about his father?’ Vera asked.
    ‘No! I don’t think so.’ Rickard was shocked. ‘Do you think he guessed?’
    ‘Younger people are more sexually aware than old ones. And he seems to have been prepared to exploit your affection for his father.’ She swirled the remainder of her whisky in her glass. It was unlike her to have made it last so long. She thought this had been a peculiar encounter. She’d even been tempted to make a confession of her own. ‘Just be careful what he’s dragging you into, eh?’
    ‘Joanna had told Paul that she’d won the bursary for the Writers’ House. Paul asked me to go there and report back on her state of mind, Inspector.’ The acerbic and witty tone returned. ‘He didn’t ask me to commit two murders.’
    ‘Did you know that Rutherford published Miranda Barton?’ Holly had texted Vera with that information; the message had been on her phone when she got out of the Land Rover at Craster.
    ‘Everyone’s entitled to make mistakes.’ Rickard pulled himself to his feet and took the bottle of whisky out of the sideboard. He offered it to Vera, but she shook her head. He poured a splash into his own glass. ‘Even Roy.’
    ‘Was it a mistake?’ Vera asked. ‘To publish Miranda?’
    ‘She was never a great writer. Not dreadful, and the market was less demanding in those days. But Roy had founded his business to champion traditional storytelling and she was never particularly good at that.’
    ‘Was Roy susceptible to her female charms, do you think? Is that why he decided to publish her?’ Vera tried to imagine how that had worked. Had Ferdinand become involved even at that stage? Had he approached Roy Rutherford on Miranda’s behalf? There are too many connections in this case , she thought now. The Writers’ House had sucked them all in together and created too many suspects with a shared history.
    ‘When it came to publishing, he wasn’t susceptible to charms of any gender.’ Rickard gave a little smile. ‘He was extremely hard-headed. He must have believed that her books would sell. And he was right for a while. For a year, after Tony Ferdinand’s article in The Observer , she became almost a celebrity.’
    ‘As you are now,’ Vera said.
    ‘Ah, she was much more famous than me. And she enjoyed it.’
    Vera got to her feet so that they were both standing, facing each other. Outside the wind was even stronger and blew around the chimney. There was a loose slate on the roof.
    ‘Do you know what happened at the Writers’ House last week?’
    He looked at her sharply. ‘If I knew, Inspector, don’t you think I would tell you?’
    She didn’t answer that, but pulled her jacket around her and headed out into the storm.

Chapter Thirty-Two
    In the Land Rover Vera saw that she had missed calls from Joe. She called him back.
    ‘Where