The Boat House by Pamela Oldfield Read Free Book Online Page A

off the face of the earth without a good reason. Just one small clue, that’s all I need . . .’
    ‘You should have been born a bloodhound!’
    ‘So you keep telling me!’ He flicked through the pages which, hastily copied, had smeared in places but they were readable and he studied each sheet with concentration.
    Judith set a cup of tea in front of him – strong and sweet the way he liked it. She teased him that that was the way he liked his women but, to her disappointment, he rarely seemed to last long with anyone, whatever they were like.
    ‘Mrs Montini was in here yesterday, asking about her husband,’ she told him.
    ‘We have to tell her,’ he said. ‘Her husband’s been dead these last eight weeks. She went to his funeral. How can we go on looking for him? She’s mad as a hatter, that woman.’
    ‘I know, but she likes to believe it’s just a matter of time and maybe . . .’ She shrugged. ‘And the money’s useful.’
    ‘I don’t deny that, Judith, but it’s false pretences. Write to her today and ask her to settle the account – just a nominal sum because I haven’t been looking for him. Run off a copy of the death certificate and send it with the letter.’
    ‘I did that two weeks ago.’
    ‘Send another one. Make it sound final. I’m going to be tied up with the Matlowe business again and I can’t be sidetracked by Mrs Montini and her whims.’ When he saw her expression he said, ‘Do the letter!’
    ‘Yes, Mr Watson!’ She only called him this when she was piqued.
    He sipped his tea, reading eagerly but without discovering anything worthwhile until two pages from the end of the police report.
    ‘Judith, listen to this. Eight months after the disappearance, a body was found near here – close to the water’s edge in an area near Phyllis Court and . . .’
    ‘Phyllis Court? Should I know her?’ Judith tossed her head so that her auburn hair fluttered in its newly cut bob. Her husband liked it but her cousin had so far failed to notice it.
    ‘Don’t be flippant!’ He grinned across the desk at her. ‘Near the area where the Phyllis House stand is erected .’
    ‘Erected each year just for the regatta? Is that what we’re talking about?’
    ‘Exactly. The body of a young woman resembling Leonora Matlowe! Young, nice features and with blonde hair. The husband, Neil, had gone missing by then so they asked Georgina Matlowe if she would identify the body and she agreed.’
    Judith stared at him, shocked. ‘How is it we knew nothing about this?’
    ‘I’m coming to that!’ He read aloud from the notes. ‘Mrs Matlowe immediately identified the body as that of her daughter-in-law and broke down in tears with the words: “Thank God this is over!”’
    ‘So how did she die? And when?’
    ‘Don’t hurry me, Judith.’
    ‘Sorry!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Fools rush in! I know!’
    He read on. ‘ The body was originally adjudged to be that of Leonora Matlowe until the post-mortem was undertaken by Mr Eric Spencer. His examination produced the following evidence. The woman had been strangled and then thrown into the Thames. She had been in the water for up to two days . . .’ He glanced up. ‘So why did Georgina Matlowe identify her? The body wouldn’t have changed much in a couple of days.’ He read on in silence, then added, ‘She was almost the same age, give or take a year, and had blonde hair . . . and was pretty.’
    ‘Height, etc.?’
    ‘Two inches shorter – but hard to tell that when a body is horizontal on a mortuary slab – and the same slim build.’ He tapped his pencil on the desk while he considered the facts. ‘I suppose Mrs Matlowe made a genuine mistake. It’s possible she wanted it to be Leonora so the uncertainty would be at an end.’
    ‘Ah! But if the police suspected her son, earlier on, of course, then the discovery of the body would bring the police nearer to finding the truth.’ Judith narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. ‘She wouldn’t have