‘Well, couldn’t it be true about the boundary dispute?’
‘It could, except the client concerned – a local farmer – hasn’t seen Mr Fane and wasn’t expecting him. We’ve also spent quite a long time at Deborah Fane’s house, and the evidence so far bears out your statement,’ she said to Michael. ‘We found the window you smashed; it’s clearly been broken from the inside.’
‘It was broken from the inside,’ said Michael politely.
‘We found a couple of things in Edmund Fane’s house, that are – well, curious.’ Fletcher delved into her pocket and brought out a mobile phone. ‘This is yours, isn’t it, Mr Sallis?’
‘Yes. Then Fane did have it,’ said Michael. ‘I wonder if he took it deliberately – to prevent me calling for help – or whether it was just absent-mindedness. Can I have it back, or d’you need it for evidence or anything?’
‘You can probably have it later,’ said the inspector. ‘We’ve looked at the calls made from it in the last twenty-four hours, and they’re all perfectly innocent – oh, except that there’s no record of any call to the White Hart.’
‘There should be,’ said Michael. ‘He did phone them. As far as I can remember it was around half past four, and he said they hadn’t a room.’
‘And yet when you got here last night there were several,’ said Fletcher.
‘Are you saying Edmund faked a phone call?’ For some reason Lucy found this almost more bizarre than the attempted murder accusation.
‘That’s what it looks like.’
‘You said there were a couple of things that were odd,’ put in Francesca.
‘The other thing is a letter that seems to have arrived by yesterday’s post. It was on the dining-table, and it’s dated the day before yesterday, so it’s a fairly safe bet that it was delivered yesterday – the postal authorities are confirming that later. But we think Mr Fane got home last evening around half past six, found the letter, and made the call to his office at quarter to eight that night.’
‘And then went batting off somewhere at crack of dawn next morning?’
‘It’s a reasonable assumption, Miss Trent. The milk was still on the step – it’s delivered about quarter past seven apparently, so it looks as if Mr Fane left the house before it arrived. I don’t think he’d have left the milk on the step, do you?’
‘No,’ said Lucy rather shortly.
‘What was the letter?’ asked Michael.
‘It’s from HM Land Registry. It’s addressed to Edmund Fane’s home, and it’s a reply to a request he made about some land. We’ve contacted them, and they confirm that they do provide a search service for the title to property or land. There’s a small fee, but it’s a standard service to anyone who writes in.’
‘And being a solicitor, Fane would know all that,’ said Michael thoughtfully. ‘He’d know it would be an unremarkable request to make as well. Well? What did Edmund Fane want to know?’
‘The name of Ashwood Studios’ owner,’ said Jennie Fletcher.
‘Ah. And did they give him the name?’
‘They did.’
There was a shuttered look to Michael’s eyes, but when he spoke he sounded quite calm. ‘How about an address?’
‘Yes.’ She was watching Michael very intently. ‘Yes, they gave an address for the owner.’
This time Michael turned so white that for a moment Lucy thought he was going to faint, and she was aware of Francesca making an involuntary movement and then sinking back into her chair.
‘Mr Sallis?’ said Jennie Fletcher sharply.