The Witness at the Wedding. Simon Brett
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Название: The Witness at the Wedding
Автор: Simon Brett
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Fethering Village Mysteries
isbn: 9781786897909
isbn:
‘No, that’s it, really.’
‘But you don’t know the name of the girl who was murdered?’ He shook his head. ‘Or, come to that, who murdered her?’ Another shake. ‘Or, indeed, whether anyone was ever caught for the crime?’
‘I do know that. Gaby said they got the man who did it.’
‘But that’s all she said?’
‘Afraid so. Sometimes I think I’m very insensitive, Mum.’ He would never know how much that carelessly dropped ‘Mum’ meant to her. ‘I think I know Gaby, and I think I know how she’ll react to things, and then I do something crass like that – mentioning this murder that she’d only told me about in confidence.’
‘Don’t worry. Nobody knows anything about their partner when they get married. Finding out about each other is both one of the great pleasures – and one of the great pains – of marriage.’
Stephen looked at her. She knew he wanted to ask whether she’d found that when she’d been married to his father, but fortunately Stephen’s recent awareness of his own occasional insensitivity stopped the words from coming out.
‘Hm.’ Carole reached across to pick up his plate. ‘I’ve made a treacle tart for pudding.’
‘Ooh, my favourite.’ Stephen sounded about five.
His mother paused for a moment in her clearing. ‘It must be horrible for Gaby – feeling that someone’s targeting her, that someone has an unhealthy interest in her.’
‘Yes. She was trying to sound bouncy this morning on the phone, but it’s clearly got to her.’
‘And you’ve absolutely no idea what the reason could be? Who the intruder could be?’
‘No.’ Stephen was silent, again weighing up how much he should tell. Again, he came down on the side of further revelation. ‘Look, I may as well tell you this, because you’re going to find out sooner or later. I don’t know whether it’s got anything to do with the burglary, but whenever anything odd happens in Gaby’s family—’
‘By “odd” you mean “criminal”?’
‘Possibly. The fact is that her brother – Phil – well, he’s been in trouble with the police a few times.’
‘What kind of stuff?’
‘Nothing major. Petty theft. Stealing cars. I think he has a bit of a drug habit.’ Stephen blushed again. ‘I feel guilty saying this, but Gaby did say I should. She said better you know a bit about Phil before you actually meet him.’
‘I see. Have you met him?’
‘Yes, and he’s a perfectly nice lad. A bit brash, maybe, and he looks a bit of a thug, but he’s amiable enough. The story is that since he’s got the warehouse job in Hoddesdon, he’s a changed character, back on the straight and narrow, but . . . well, he does have this history.’
Suddenly Stephen looked very vulnerable, a sight Carole had not seen since he was a small boy. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘What are you apologizing for?’
‘Involving you in this. It’s Gaby I’m marrying, not her family.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Stephen. It’s not a problem. Gaby’s adorable. She’s absolutely right for you. And all families have their secrets and black sheep and what have you. I mean, Howard and Marie probably think I’m rather odd.’
‘Hm . . . No, I’m sure they don’t.’ Carole wouldn’t have minded if he’d come in a bit quicker with that reassurance.
‘So . . . Gaby has a brother who’s occasionally been on the wrong side of the law. That’s not her fault. I’m sure,’ Carole went on, her confidence more for Stephen’s benefit than because she felt it, ‘that I’ll get on fine with Phil. On the other hand, though – why on earth would he have wanted to break into his sister’s flat?’
‘I’ve no idea. I should think it’s extremely unlikely that he’s got anything to do with the break-in. It’s just, as I say, in the Martin family, whenever something happens that’s odd . . .’
‘Or criminal?’
‘Mm. Phil is the first suspect.’
‘Which might explain why Gaby is unwilling for the police to come and inspect her flat?’
‘Yes, Mum. I think it might.’
Carole had only momentary qualms about sharing with Jude what Stephen had told her. As soon as his BMW disappeared down the road, she was round at Woodside Cottage. Only after she had rung the doorbell did she remember that Jude had a guest.
But, to Carole’s relief, there was no sign of Gita when Jude ushered her into the cluttered sitting room. ‘Fancy a glass of wine? I’ve got some open in the fridge.’
‘Well, I did actually have some with Stephen at lunchtime.’
‘All the more reason. Come on, it’s Sunday,’ said Jude as she disappeared into the kitchen.
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