“I think Nita’s house was not . . .” Asia Ford winced. “I don’t mean— It’s just that I think Reagan was homesick. I know she missed her mum. There was always just the two of them and they were close. Her mother must be devastated. Have you spoken to her?”
“I met her yesterday,” said Gemma, without explaining the circumstances. “But I believe she’s gone back to Cardiff.”
“I’ll write to her. I’m sure Nita has her address.” Asia shook her head. “I just can’t believe Reagan is gone. Such a beautiful, healthy girl, dying like that. What could have happened?” She looked directly at Kerry. “You must have some idea.”
“We’re looking into it,” Kerry told her. “That’s our procedure with unexplained deaths.”
“Reagan would never have harmed herself,” Asia Ford said, as if something in Kerry’s tone had suggested it. “She was a positive person. Interested and engaged, with a plan for her life.”
“Did she confide in you about things?” Gemma asked. “Do you know if anything was troubling her? Please,” she added, seeing Asia’s hesitation. “You never know what might be of help.”
Asia refilled their glasses, then spent a moment wiping down the pitcher with a cloth. “I think she’d had a falling-out with her boyfriend,” she said at last. “A blond boy. Very good looking. Although I don’t think that was the reason Reagan liked him. Or at least not the only reason,” she added with a smile.
“Was that Hugo?” asked Gemma.
“Yes, that’s right. Reagan brought him to visit a few times. He was very charming.” There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in the comment.
“You didn’t like him?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. He’s a well-brought-up young man with good manners. He was always perfectly polite. But—” Asia made a face. “I don’t think he thought much of me. I’m not exactly what you would call up and coming. At any rate, I could always sense . . . something . . . I don’t know . . . condescension, perhaps, beneath the nice manners.”
“Is that why Reagan fell out with him?” Kerry asked.
“I doubt Reagan noticed, and I certainly never said anything. It was just me being overly sensitive, I imagine. And then there were the bricks.”
They must have looked puzzled because Asia nodded towards a small pile of bricks by the door to the greenhouse. “I’m trying to finish paving the greenhouse floor to match the patio. Reagan suggested he could help. He didn’t come with her to visit after that.” She grinned at the memory, grief momentarily forgotten.
Gemma could imagine such a pretty boy being horrified by the thought of a little manual labor. “Was it that Brit caused the problem between them, do you think?”
“Oh, I think that would be overestimating my importance in Reagan’s life.” Asia swirled the liquid in her glass as she considered. “Reagan could be very definite about things. A bit of a straight arrow.” She looked up at them and Gemma saw that her eyes were an unusual color, a gold that was almost amber. “I think,” Asia said slowly, “that he’d done something she didn’t approve of. And that she was considering breaking things off.”
Asia Ford wasn’t able to tell them much more about Hugo. He’d only been introduced to her by his first name. She’d gathered that he was a student at one of the London universities—a business degree, she thought. And his familiarity with the Notting Hill area had made her think that perhaps he lived nearby.
They’d meant to try Mrs. Armitage again, but as they were leaving Asia had told them that it was Jean Armitage’s bridge day. Jean, said Asia, usually made a day of it by doing her weekly shopping afterwards.
“Are you friends?” Gemma asked, curious since she’d got the impression Mrs. Armitage was rather starchy.
“United in loving this place. It’s funny. Jean and her husband bought their house when I was a teenager. I was quite terrified of her. Now I see that she wasn’t all that much older than me and no doubt I threatened her authority. Who’d have thought we’d both still be here?”
Gemma would have asked more, but Kerry had had a call from the crime scene techs so they said goodbye and hurried back towards the top of the garden.
One of the SOCOs, a round-faced man with red-blond stubble, met them at the perimeter. “Detectives,” he said, nodding at them. “We’ve found some indentations in the grass that might have been made during a struggle. We’ll do our best to match them up with the position of the body. But here’s an interesting thing.” He held up a plastic evidence bag. In it was a white blob, about two inches in diameter. “There was a puddle of candle wax in the grass. No container, no wick. Just wax.”
“Relation to the body?” Kerry snapped.
The SOCO glared at her. “As we weren’t called to the scene with the body in situ, I can only extrapolate from the photos taken by the attending officers.” Having made his point, he turned back towards the scene. “However, I would guess the wax was two or three feet from the victim. We’re going to extend the perimeter,” he added, “but I don’t think it will be worth getting in the lights and generators.”
Glancing at the lengthening angle of the sun, Gemma gasped, checked her watch, then took Kerry aside. “I’ve got to go. Duncan’s in Cheshire and I haven’t made other arrangements for collecting my daughter from school.”
“And I have to ring the grieving mother,” Kerry said. “We’ll start again in the morning.”
By the time Gemma had arrived home with Charlotte, Kit and Toby were there as well. She still hadn’t heard from Kincaid, and when she’d tried ringing him, his phone had once more gone to voice mail. But even without news, she’d have to tell the children something.
Corralling them in the kitchen with the promise of a snack to hold them until dinner, she took some cheese from the fridge and cut it into cubes, then began slicing apples. When she had the plate ready, she sat the little ones at the kitchen table and called Kit in from the living room. If asked, Kit would have said he was too old for after-school snacks, but he scooped up half the cheese and apples and started out of the kitchen again.
“Kit—”
“I’ve got homework—”
“I know you do, lovey, but just wait a minute, please. I need to talk to you all. Your dad’s not going to be home tonight—”
“That’s really a news flash,” Kit broke in, apple halfway to his mouth.
“Don’t be cheeky,” Gemma snapped back, irritated. “I mean that he’s gone away. To Cheshire. To see your grandparents.”
“What? Why?” Kit frowned. “Why didn’t he tell us?”
“Because he just found out this morning.” Toby and Charlotte were squabbling over the cheese, so Gemma spoke directly to Kit. “Hugh had some chest pains yesterday. They’re doing a procedure this afternoon. A stent. It’s a—”
“I know what a stent is,” Kit interrupted. “Are they just doing one? How bad is it? Are they going to have to do a bypass?” His cheeks had gone blotchily pink and his voice rose as he added, “They’ll have to crack his chest if they do.”