sometimes stayed overnight in the cottage. A lovely girl. Always smiling.’
‘Was she here today?’
‘She was this morning so she must have stayed over on Friday night.’
‘How do you know? Did you talk to her?’
‘No, but I saw her briefly when I dropped in on Vince this morning. She was coming down the stairs and she was still in her dressing-gown. She said hello but I was in a hurry so I didn’t go in.’
‘Was that the last time you saw Mr Mayo alive?’
‘I’m afraid it was.’
‘So why’d you go over to his place?’
‘I’d been to the shop in town and bought Vince’s lottery tickets for him.’
‘Is that something you often did?’
He nodded. ‘Every Saturday morning. It became a routine after I offered to do it once. He always had ten lucky dips so it didn’t take me long to get an extra ticket for him in addition to my own. He always paid me of course.’
Temple ploughed on with more questions. Did Mayo have many visitors? Had the cottage ever been broken into? Had he spotted any strangers hanging around recently? Did Mayo have any enemies that he knew of? Who were his friends?
Nadelson said he didn’t know if Mayo had any enemies, but his closest friend was another journalist named Danny Cain, who was also his business partner in the news agency.
‘How often does Cain come here?’ Temple asked.
‘Very occasionally. I’ve met him a couple of times. He has a charming wife and a delightful daughter. I last saw them at Vince’s barbecue in the summer.’
‘Any problems between Mr Mayo and Mr Cain?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Inspector. I never talked to Vince about his business life.’
Finally, Temple said, ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to take up some more of your time, Mr Nadelson. We need to take a formal statement.’
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘We also need your fingerprints and I’ll have a forensic officer check your clothes and shoes.’
Nadelson’s face registered alarm. His hands jerked and some of the tea spilled over the rim of the mug on to the table.
‘It’s just routine,’ Temple assured him. ‘For elimination purposes.’
Nadelson put his mug down. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tight together.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Mr Nadelson?’ Temple asked, puzzled by the man’s reaction. ‘Something that might be relevant ?’
Nadelson made an effort to compose himself. He straightened his back and sucked nervously on the inside of his bottom lip.
After a beat, he said, ‘No, I’m finding it all a bit overwhelming, that’s all. This is a ghastly experience.’
Temple regarded him for a few seconds and put his reaction down to shock.
‘Are you sure that you don’t want me to arrange for a doctor to drop by?’ he said.
‘I’m sure, Inspector. I’ll be OK. Really.’
Temple finished his tea, thanked Nadelson and walked back along the lane to Mayo’s place. There were no other houses in sight. They were in the heart of the New Forest and therefore it was unlikely that anyone else had seen anything tonight.
He stared up at the cottage, wondering at its history. What dramas had been played out within its thick uneven walls over the years? Was this the first murder? The cottage was the type you see in the tourist brochures aimed at attracting people to the forest. Squat, quaint, picturesque. A cosy retreat from the real world, buried as it was in a corner of this ancient woodland. Not a place where blood should be spilled, Temple thought.
So what had happened here tonight? Who had shattered the tranquillity and destroyed the sense of peace?
He sucked the cold air into his throat and gave a shudder. It was at times like this that he wished he hadn’t given up smoking. But six months ago he’d finally heeded the advice of his doctor, who was concerned about the raspy voice he’d developed over the years and the bouts of coughing that were becoming more frequent and troublesome .
Angel emerged from the cottage
Learning to Kill: Stories