The Order of Things by Graham Hurley Read Free Book Online Page A

bungalow.
    ‘A couple of years …’ he frowned ‘… I think.’
    ‘First time in Lympstone?’
    ‘Yes. Definitely. We were in Plymouth before, working. Teachers. All that bloody pressure. One step from the grave. Occupational hazard, quoi ?’
    Just the use of this single French word put a smile on his face. Suttle had noticed the camper van on the hardstanding that served as a drive.
    ‘You’re retired now?’
    ‘We are. We are.’
    ‘And do you travel much? Abroad maybe?’
    ‘Of course. The ferry goes from Plymouth. All good, all good. La belle France. Can’t beat it. My wife does the driving now. Brittany? You know Brittany?’
    ‘I’m afraid not.’
    ‘You should. Very nice people. Give you the time of day. Helps to speak the language, of course, but when it comes to … you know …’ he touched his face lightly and lowered his voice ‘… this.’
    ‘This?’ Suttle was lost.
    ‘God’s imperfections. Mine I can’t help. Yours neither, I expect. But the French don’t seem to care about that kind of thing. After the Great War, of course, men lived without a face at all. Terrible business.’ The smile again, uncertain. ‘Do you use creams at all? My wife rubs some in every morning.’
    It dawned on Suttle that this man was talking about the scars on his face. He couldn’t remember when they’d last been any kind of issue.
    Golding came to the rescue. He wanted to know how well Weatherall and his wife had known Harriet Reilly.
    ‘Well, very well. Fantastic woman, if I may say so.’
    ‘You knew her socially?’
    ‘Er …’ He frowned, a sudden panic in his eyes. The spaniel stiffened and jumped off his lap. Then Molly was back with a tray of tea. Her husband gazed up at her. Adoring. At peace again.
    ‘Socially doesn’t quite do it justice, Mr Golding.’ She must have been listening from the kitchen. ‘We were neighbours. We’d bump into each other most days. We’d help each other out when we could. She’d look after Fleur sometimes when we were away.’
    ‘Fleur?’
    ‘The dog. She’d had a Lab once but I gather it died. She was good with dogs. Fleur adored her. Milk? Sugar?’
    Golding helped with the tea. Suttle wanted to know who else might have been in Harriet Reilly’s life.
    ‘Her love life, you mean?’
    ‘Not necessarily, but if that’s where you want to start, then yes.’
    ‘She had a man. Would he have been her partner? I’m not sure. But she certainly saw a lot of him. He was a scientist. Worked at the Met Office. She was very proud of him, if that makes sense.’
    ‘Was this the man?’ Suttle produced the photo the media department were using.
    Molly glanced at it, bobbed her head. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you ever talk to him?’
    ‘No. I tried a couple of times when I ran into them both in the lane or down in the village, but he wasn’t very …’ she frowned ‘… giving.’
    ‘Bloody rude, if you’re asking me.’ This from her husband. The spaniel was back in his lap.
    ‘Rude how?’ Golding asked.
    ‘Wouldn’t give you the time of day. Especially men. Hated men. You could see it.’
    ‘But they were definitely a couple?’ Suttle was back with Molly.
    ‘Yes and no. She was very fond of him. I know she was. Harriet was no slouch intellectually. She was a wonderful doctor – she’s been more than kind to us, and she had hinterland, she really did. She knew lots about lots, and I’m not talking medicine. She was curious about things. She never took things on trust. She always had to find out for herself. I always got the sense that most people bored her. Not this one. Not her Mr Bentner.’
    ‘She called him that?’
    ‘She called him Ali most of the time. Mr Bentner when he amused her, or when she was angry.’
    ‘She was angry a lot? He made her angry?’
    ‘Only once that I can remember. Harriet had very low blood pressure. It took a lot to rattle her.’
    ‘So what happened?’
    Suttle saw a flicker of alarm in her eyes. Golding was making