I must try and sleep again.
91.
Quaint?” repeats Gordon Playfair, laughing. “This place? You and I know it’s an old house, falling apart, for an old man falling apart.”
“We’re all falling apart, Gordon,” says Elizabeth.
The walk to the Playfair farm had taken longer than expected, because a police cordon has been placed around the Garden of Eternal Rest. By all accounts, two police cars and a white van, popularly believed to be a forensics unit, had carefully parked at around ten a.m., and a number of officers in white bodysuits had walked up the hill with spades. Martin Sedge has a top-floor flat in Larkin and is training binoculars on the site, but no news yet. “Just some digging,” was his most recent report.
“This house and me have grown old together. Roof coming off,” says Gordon, and rubs the few strands of hair left on his head. “Things creak that didn’t use to creak. Dodgy plumbing. We’re two of a kind.”
“We don’t disturb you too much? The village?” asks Elizabeth.
“Never hear a peep,” says Gordon. “Might as well still be the nuns down there.”
“You should come and visit us sometime,” says Joyce. “There’s a restaurant, there’s a pool. There’s Zumba.”
“I used to go down a lot in the old days. Just for bits and bobs, have a chat. They were a lively bunch when they weren’t praying. Also, if you ever put a nail through your thumb or your ankle down a rabbit hole, they’d fix you up,” says Gordon.
Elizabeth nods, fair enough. “You met Ian Ventham on the morning he was murdered?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Not my choice.”
“Whose choice?”
“Karen, my youngest. She just wanted me to hear him out. She wants me to sell. Why wouldn’t she?”
“And what was discussed?” asks Elizabeth.
“Same old nonsense. Same offer, same manners. I’ll put it politely by saying I never took to Ian Ventham. I can be less polite if you’d like?”
“You weren’t for turning?”
“They both tried to talk me round. Karen could see it wasn’t washing, but Ventham kept on for a bit longer. Trying to make me feel guilty about the kids.”
“But you didn’t budge?”
“I rarely do.”
“Well, I’m much the same,” says Elizabeth. “And how did you leave it?”
“He told me he was going to get my land, one way or another.”
“And what did you say to that?” asks Joyce.
“I said, ‘Over my dead body.’”
“Well, quite,” says Elizabeth.
“Anyway,” says Gordon, “I’ve been made another offer. And I’m taking it, now Ventham’s out of the picture.”
“Good for you.”
“Now, might I ask, is this just a social call?” says Gordon. “Or is there something I can help you with?”
“Funny you should ask,” Elizabeth says, nodding. “We were wondering if you had any memories of this place? From the seventies, say?”
“I certainly have plenty of memories,” says Gordon. “Might even have a few photo albums, if they’d help.”
