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‘Mrs Appleby told me it had turned.’
‘Turned? Coffee?’ Fleur exclaimed before giving a tight, mirthless gasp.
Irma straightened to her full height. ‘Henry kept complaining about it, so I indulged him – why wouldn’t I? I loved him. I thought we’d toss out the old coffee and buy fresh beans,’ she said, somehow managing to sound affronted.
‘Right,’ Green said, bringing the conversation to an end before Fleur could erupt. ‘Mrs Appleby, I would advise you not to leave home, as I’m sure we will wish to speak with you again – perhaps interview you formally at the station.’
‘So I’m not under arrest for these ridiculous claims?’ Irma cut a smug glance at Fleur.
‘No, Mrs Appleby.’ At her sigh of relief, he gave a look of caution. ‘But heed my suggestion, please, to remain at home. Now, Miss Appleby, perhaps you’ll accompany us to the car?’
‘About my father. I can handle—’
‘I’m afraid you won’t be permitted to move your father’s body, which is now officially in police custody.’
‘I don’t plan on tampering with it, Inspector Green.’
‘Nevertheless. This is police protocol.’ He gestured for her to lead the way. ‘Good day, Mrs Appleby. Again, we’re sorry for your bereavement.’
‘Thank you, Inspector Green, Detective Bowers.’
They nodded and followed Fleur, who silently picked up their hats in the hallway and handed them to the men.
At the kerb, she rounded on Green. ‘No arrest? She’ll run.’
‘It will only damn her if she does. You said you were utterly sure of the results that the post-mortem will show.’
‘I am.’
He shrugged. ‘While there is only circumstantial evidence at this stage, I thought you should know that I will be formally asking for the coroner’s involvement. There’s too much doubt, so we might as well follow through rigorously.’
Fleur felt relief flood her. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m taking no sides, Miss Appleby, but Henry was a good man and I take your point that we must respect him. If he has met his end through a criminal deed, then I will not sleep straight at night if I have that on my conscience. Good day, Miss Appleby. I’ll keep you informed.’
24
Fleur had gone for a long walk to calm down after the police left, and when she returned to the Appleby house, all the curtains had been drawn and a stern-faced Irma faced her.
‘I want you out of this house and I want your key.’
Fleur removed her door key from the keyring in her pocket. ‘I have no desire to share this house with you.’
‘Good. You’re no longer welcome in any part of it, or to anything in it, save the clothes you call yours.’
‘I’ll pack now,’ Fleur said, making for the stairs.
‘And go where?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘To your country boy, no doubt,’ Irma scoffed. ‘Hope you enjoy living above a pub.’
‘To my fiancé.’ Fleur held up her hand and the ring obliged by glinting rather splendidly in the hallway’s lighting.
Irma didn’t look impressed. She simply laughed in her best cruel manner. ‘Hope you enjoy being poor.’
Fleur did not overreact as perhaps Irma had hoped. It wasn’t that the fight had gone out of her, but she’d come to the conclusion while she walked that she had contributed to her father’s drinking problem, through all the tension with Irma. The revelation had reached her soul, she was sure. And now that soul wanted to be rid of the hate, rid of the pain, rid of everything connecting her to Irma. It wouldn’t be easy, because the potential inquest was still looming, and there was the business, of course. No matter which way she tried to sell it to herself, Fleur knew she was still inextricably linked to her enemy.
