Walking with Ghosts

thought it was all over.’
    ‘We’re working for the insurance company,’ Geordie told her. ‘You were Edward Blake’s secretary for how long?’
    ‘Fourteen months. He head-hunted me. I was his solicitor’s secretary before that. One day he asked me how much I was earning, and when I told him he offered me another thousand a year and a car.’
    ‘What were your duties?’
    ‘General Girl Friday. Everything was filtered through me. I arranged his appointments, got him off the hook when he couldn’t make them. Fixed his travel arrangements, hotel accommodation, made sure he was met at airports, railway stations.’ She sighed lightly. ‘I organized his life. His professional life.’
    ’Did you travel with him?’
    ’Sometimes. Not often. When he was away, I looked after e office. Maybe once every couple of months I would go with him. Once to Paris, and to Antwerp, several times to London. There was never anything improper about it. If re was any spare time we went our different ways.’
     ‘What about his wife?’
    ‘India? Poor girl, it was a terrible shock.’
    ‘You knew her?’
    ‘Yes, I met her from time to time. When she came into the office. She was always friendly. Younger than him, of course, and very beautiful.’
    ‘Did she accompany him on his trips?’
    ‘Once, when he went to Washington. That’s the only time I remember. I was hoping he’d take me along on that one But it wasn’t to be.’
    ‘What were they like together?’ Geordie asked. ‘Would you say they had a good relationship?’
    Polly Marsh hesitated. ‘They didn’t argue. He’d kiss her on the cheek when she arrived, and again when they parted. They were - conventional - I think is how it’s described. They didn’t have arguments, or appear to disagree in public.’
    Geordie leaned forward and picked up a clump of chocolate orange. He teased one section free, and replaced the remainder on the plate. ‘I’d prefer it if you’d be open with us, Miss Marsh. Whatever you have to say will go no further.’
    She touched her nose. ‘They were rich, and they were different ages. Mr Blake is a businessman, he’s involved in everyday hassles, and that’s what he likes. He rolls his sleeves up and sweats about money. But India was something else. She was into culture. She’d never had to worry about money. Her life was music and theatre. Books. I never saw her without a book.’
    ‘You’re still expecting me to read between the lines.’
    ‘It wasn’t a love match. Their marriage was a social convention. A front.’ Geordie watched her clench her fists. She looked into his eyes. ‘But half a love is better than none.’
    Geordie thumbed through his thoughts. ‘Did he kill her, d’you think?’
    Polly Marsh drew in her breath. ‘No, I don’t think he’s capable of that.’
    ‘Then who do you think was responsible?’
    ‘Oh Edward Blake,’ she said. ‘He didn’t do it himself. He probably paid someone else to do it.’
    Geordie glanced over at J.D., then turned to face Polly Marsh again. He licked his lips. ‘But why, Miss Marsh? What possible motive could he have had?’
    Polly Marsh had her legs crossed. Now she uncrossed them and looked into Geordie’s eyes. ‘India Blake was a good woman,’ she said. ‘She was young and healthy and full of life- And I think she would have continued to stand by her husband for as long as he wanted her. But Edward Blake is a cold fish emotionally. All her needs couldn’t possibly have been met by a man like him.’
    ‘You think she may have had an affair?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said the wholesome Miss Marsh. ‘No doubt about it at all. She was seeing someone else.’
    ‘Do you have a name?’
    She shook her head. ‘Not even a description, I’m afraid. I didn’t actually see her with anyone else. But I overheard a telephone conversation. A couple of weeks before she disappeared, she made an appointment to see a man. Mr Blake was away, and she came into the office one lunchtime. That wasn’t odd in itself. She’d often slip in if she was in town. But she asked me to give her an outside line, and—’
    ‘You overheard her conversation?’ said Geordie.
    Geordie noted Miss Marsh’s composure vanish as quickly as hot pee in a cold ocean. ‘It wasn’t deliberate. I was doing something else, and the conversation got taped.’
    ‘That’s OK. Relax, Miss Marsh, I’m not going to judge you. Do you have the tape?’
    ‘No, of course not. When I heard it later