Dead Lucky. Matt Brolly
other words, she’s been murdered,’ said McKenzie.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Matilda. ‘Please let me get you a drink.’
The woman nodded towards a door. Matilda found a glass beaker in a kitchen twice the size of her flat. She let the tap run, trying to calm her own trembling hands. She returned to the woman. ‘Here you go, drink this. May I call you Prue?’
The woman, drinking in large gulping noises, nodded.
‘Thanks, Prue. I need to ask you some questions. I’ll try not to take too long. I understand you were very close to Mrs Sackville.’
The woman smiled. ‘We were like sisters,’ she said. ‘Didn’t have any other family, you see. It was just her and Eustace. They called each other orphans. Both sets of parents had died before they met each other at university. They found each other and have been together ever since. She couldn’t have children so it’s just been them, and me.’
‘You met Mrs Sackville at university?’
‘Yes, we were both studying English together. She’s a librarian.’ She went to correct the tense and Matilda placed her hand on her shoulder again.
‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’ asked Matilda.
‘It’s okay, I’ll call Jeffrey in a minute. What else do you need to know?’ Matilda was impressed by the woman’s change of tone, how she attempted to delay her own grief so she could help.
‘I just need to know some more details about Mrs Sackville… Moira. We don’t know much about her at the moment. Her husband is still in hospital.’
‘My God, is it serious?’
‘No, he will be okay.’
‘I need to visit him, is that possible?’
Matilda wrote down the address and ward number where Eustace was staying. ‘You may want to leave it until this evening as he’s still a bit drowsy.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What can you tell me about Moira? What sort of person was she?’
‘She was such a lovely woman. She’d do anything for you. I do a lot of charity work and Moira was always there to help, baking cakes, attending functions, always giving me as much support as possible. She was one of those people, you know, you could tell anything to.’
‘I imagine it sounds a crazy question, but did she have any enemies? Anyone who’d want to hurt her?’
Prue laughed – a short, sharp snort, a mirthless sound. ‘She was a librarian, enemies didn’t normally come with the territory. Though even in small places like that there’s politics, hierarchies, that sort of thing. She used to tell me about the pedantic people who worked there. Not all of them, mind you, just one or two. Some of the council staff who paid visits, the mad bureaucracy. She hated all those aspects. All she cared about were the books. I think that’s why she got on so well with Eustace. They both loved words.’
‘So she never told you of any trouble? Where she felt under physical threat?’
‘God no. Just petty things. No one would want to harm her, why would they?’
‘What about Eustace? Did you get on well with him?’
‘He’s a nice enough guy. I haven’t really been able to socialise much with him despite him being married to my best friend. He was, he is, how should I put it … awkward in the sort of social situations we move in.’
The comment was meant to be harmless, throwaway, but Matilda saw a glimpse of the real Prue McKenzie in her words.
‘In what way, awkward?’ she asked.
‘My husband is a QC, you know, a barrister.’
Matilda nodded.
‘So a lot of our friends are, how shall we say, from the higher echelons of society. Moira could deal with that side of things, her family were well-to-do and she was left a lot of money. Eustace doesn’t come from that sort of world and he didn’t really try to blend in.’
‘In what way? Was he just quiet during functions, that sort of thing?’
‘Yes that and, it’s sounds ludicrous, but he never put any effort into his appearance. Moira was fed up with it but she was sort of resigned.’
‘Would you say they had a happy marriage?’
‘I suppose so, but dynamics change over the years. You’ll find that when you reach our age.’
Matilda didn’t need to reach any age to understand that. ‘Do you think Eustace could have had any enemies?’
‘It’s possible, given the sort of world he moved in – investigating criminals and whatnot. I didn’t really know much about his work and Moira didn’t like to share. Why do you ask?’
‘It’s only our first day of our investigation, we’re just looking at all avenues at the moment.’
The woman seemed to have regained full composure, as if the death of her closest friend was a mere shock to the system which she’d already overcome. Matilda could tell she had something further to say, but rather than ask, she waited. The painful silence was alleviated by the ticking of the antique grandfather clock and the distant sounds of builders working on the nearest loft conversion.
‘There was one thing,’ said McKenzie, with false reluctance, like a classic gossip. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this but it will come out at some point. Moira was seeing somebody. You didn’t get this information from me but it was one of the barristers at my husband’s chambers, Charles Robinson. He’s quite dashing and they met at one of my get-togethers.’
‘How long was this going on?’
‘Five years.’
Matilda sat back in the sofa, trying to control the wave of adrenaline that had come over her.
‘Charles wouldn’t hurt anybody, though’
Matilda sensed there was more. ‘Tell me about them.’
Prue made a strange face as if sucking on a sour sweet. Matilda knew the woman couldn’t help herself. ‘Moira told me some things about him, you know, sexual things.’
Matilda’s heart raced, desperate for the information, thinking she may have made a breakthrough so early in the case. ‘What sort of things?’ she asked, keeping her tone neutral.
‘Let’s just say he did things Eustace wouldn’t do. I don’t know what the term is… S and M? I asked her to stop telling me after a time, I couldn’t look Charles in the face.’
Matilda tried not to snigger at the sourness spreading across the woman’s face. ‘It would be helpful if you can give me some more details,’ she said, gently. ‘It could really help us.’
‘I used to drown her out when she’d tell me things but he used to tie her up. I don’t think it was anything too serious but she was always on about ropes and ties and what have you. Once she even mentioned he’d bought a pair of handcuffs.’
Lambert alighted from the DLR at Canary Wharf station. Towering glass structures surrounded him on every side as he walked by the river. Kennedy had called him whilst he’d been on the train but he’d yet to check his voicemail. He was still suspicious of her earlier meeting with Tillman. There was something in the way she’d left Tillman’s office which had annoyed him. If the meeting had to do with anything about the case then Lambert should have been informed. It wasn’t proper protocol and Lambert had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t yet fully trusted by his old colleague and superior, Tillman.
There had been a number of discrepancies Tillman had helped him