‘And this is why we all love you! Just something savoury when you can.’
‘Banana bread?’
‘One of my five a day. Perfect.’ She did not want to be a nuisance. She tucked herself away and went back to the WhatsApp exchange with Edward. She copied the mobile number from it. She was just too curious not to call.
Wendy Wrigley said her name as she picked up, as you might in the days of landlines. There was something classy about that. Stately home manners.
‘Hello, Mrs Wrigley? You don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Edward Temmis the radio presenter. I think you approached him.’
‘Yes?’ The voice at the other end was cautious. ‘Yes, I met him. I didn’t know he’d told people about—’
‘Don’t worry. We are … partners in crime, as it were.’ The wrong word. ‘We investigate together.’ She was all in now, deep in a farmer’s-sized consignment of the warm brown stuff. ‘He’s a bit embarrassed. He can’t call you because his voice has gone.’
Wendy Wrigley’s response was a little warmer now that she could be confident this must genuinely be Edward’s associate. ‘The poor man! His voice was fading at this wretched radio event I went to.’
‘He wants to chat, but right now he can’t. He asked me to put a couple of questions to you. Well, three questions.’
‘Only three! Where are you?’
‘Oh, I’m not really around. I’m out running.’
‘Can I come to you?’
There goes my run, thought Kim. But there were worse things. Meeting a new person in Sidmouth was always worth the trouble. And she sensed this lady would be interesting. ‘I’m at the Clock Tower Café.’
‘I know it.’
‘Then you’re a local,’ said Kim.
Wendy Wrigley arrived within fifteen minutes. She and Kim were the only two customers. The new arrival moved quickly, catching Kim’s eye, discreetly nodding, then ordering mint tea at the counter, voice hesitant, as if she was worried about being recognized. Wendy came back from the counter with a milkless tea, bag still in.
‘You must live close, Wendy.’
‘Yes.’ She brought out a small mirror. ‘Oh dear. I’m afraid I find myself crying a bit in the morning.’
The honesty almost took Kim’s breath away.
‘It’s so nice to be with someone who wants to be with me,’ Wendy went on. ‘I have had somewhat of a … a fall from grace. I feel I must be repellent in some way. Sidmouth was where my husband grew up and we had many happy years here,’ Wendy went on, ‘so I thought I could start again here. I can feel it going wrong already. People suspicious of me. In Sidmouth I feel closer to Jonathan, if you know what I—’
‘Oh, I do,’ said Kim, amazed at her openness.
‘You said three questions, but you can ask as many as you want. The police must have asked me a thousand. And I was grieving, but also trying to contain my grief, and I think perhaps it made me look, I don’t know—’
‘Unsympathetic?’
‘To them, yes.’
‘They thought you did it.’
‘They still do. It’s the bane of my life,’ she said bitterly. ‘To lose the man you love and then be accused of …’
She had narrow features, with piercing eyes, and tears welled in them again. The skin on her face was taut and free of make-up. It was chilly outside, and the widow wore an army green gilet which, as she unzipped it, showed a slender physique with firm contours. If she were not cut to ribbons by her grief, Kim thought, she would look sharp of dress and mind.
Kim suddenly said, ‘I think we’ve met before.’
Wendy replied, ‘No, no.’
‘How can you be sure?’
