Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

covers and clicked the TV remote.
    He picked up nothing of concern on the evening news, no mention of missing DCIs, or upgrades in Fife’s murder enquiries. He clicked the TV on to mute, picked up the room phone and dialled her number.
    ‘This is becoming a bit of a habit,’ Rita said.
    ‘It’s that accent of yours that I find irresistible.’
    Even her chuckle sounded Welsh. ‘Any luck with your investigation?’
    ‘Still sniffing around,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I ask you some more questions?’
    ‘Sniff away.’
    It had been his comment to Stan that made him revisit his deductive reasoning. Jacket and no knickers. Had Kelly been sexually assaulted? But just as troubling was his inability to recall exact dates. When exactly had Jack’s emotions changed? After Kelly disappeared mid-February? Or had it been closer to New Year? Had Kelly taken on a new lover? If so, that raised the possibility, no matter how slender, that Jack had been unable to handle the breakup and killed her in a fit of jealous rage. Was that possible? Could his brother really have been a murderer? And again the thought that Jack had deliberately stepped in front of Fairclough’s MGB slipped into his mind. All of a sudden he was not quite sure how to broach the subject.
    ‘Did Kelly ever confide in you?’ he blurted.
    ‘We were quite close, if that’s what you mean.’
    He thought her evasive response gave him his answer, but he needed to be sure. ‘Did she ever talk to you about seeing anyone else?’
    The pause on the line told him that Rita was having trouble breaking a long-held confidence. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Do you know if she slept around?’
    ‘While she was with Jack?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I’m not sure, Andy.’
    ‘But you have your suspicions.’
    She paused long enough to worry him, then said, ‘Andy, I really don’t like this.’
    At last. He had hit on something, or rather, someone. He tried a different tack. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to pry into your personal relationships, but it sounds to me like it might have been someone common to you both.’ He pressed the phone to his ear.
    Silence.
    ‘If I gave you a name, could you just say if I’m wrong or right?’
    She sniffed. Was she crying? ‘Depends.’
    ‘Geoffrey Pennycuick,’ he said.
    ‘Never heard of him.’
    Gilchrist frowned. Not quite the answer he had expected. He decided to go straight for the heart. ‘We can do this unofficially,’ he went on, ‘or I can have you brought to the office for a formal interview.’ He let his words sink in. ‘I really don’t want to go down that road.’ He hated lying to her, but she would never know he was suspended. ‘But I’m in charge of a murder investigation. Any information you provide could prove critical.’ Another pause. ‘If it’s personal, it won’t go any further.’
    ‘I can’t tell you, Andy.’
    ‘I
will
have you pulled in,’ he pressed.
    ‘It won’t do any good,’ she said. ‘I don’t know their names.’
    Gilchrist felt himself slump.
Their
names. ‘Rita?’
    ‘She had men back all the time, Andy. I’m sorry.’
    Men back all the time
. Well, there he had it. He wanted to ask where Jack had been while Kelly took others at her leisure. But he knew Jack had played rugby, practised with the team during the week, spent most weekends on the field, at home or away. He took a deep breath. In terms of finding Kelly’s murderer, this was about the worst thing that could have happened. Instead of narrowing the suspects, Rita had opened up the field, thrown in an entire rugby team. Maybe two teams, for all he knew. They could have made a right good game of it. But more troubling were his thoughts on how Jack would have reacted if he had ever found out.
    ‘Are you still there, Andy?’
    ‘I am.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Don’t be,’ he said, wondering if
all the time
meant not as often as he first thought. He decided that was what he would choose to believe. Kelly had not been a sex-craving slut, but a young woman living away from home, attractive, vivacious, looking for comfort where she had found none in her relationship with her boyfriend.
    ‘Rita,’ he said, ‘I have to ask you this. It might help. Can you remember any of their names?’
    ‘She didn’t exactly introduce them to me.’
    ‘So how do you know Geoffrey Pennycuick was not one of them?’
    ‘I didn’t say that. I said I’d never heard of him.’
    There he was again, missing the