Page 53 of The Chapel of Bones

‘He played very loud music,’ Gerry chipped in. ‘Didn’t make himself popular with his neighbours.’

Suzy pressed her lips together in disapproval. ‘I’m glad to say I’ve never met him, and I’m far enough away for his music not to cause me a problem. This house is pleasingly quiet. Apart from a few weeks ago, when I had to keep my windows closed because of work going on nearby. Some people are so thoughtless. I need peace and quiet when I’m working.’

‘I can appreciate that,’ said Wesley.

‘What about police protection?’ she said as she handed him the address. ‘If the killer finds out they got the wrong woman . . .’

‘I’ll see what I can do, love,’ said Gerry. ‘In the meantime, be careful about your security and make sure all your doors are kept locked.’

As she showed them out, she didn’t look at all happy.

‘Do you think she’s right, Wes?’ Gerry asked as they walked to the car. ‘Do you think the killer got the wrong woman?’

Wesley didn’t answer.

32

When they entered the CID office, Wesley noticed that his colleagues were beginning to look overwhelmed. And now investigating the threats made to Suzy Porter would add to their workload. As soon as they’d arrived back, they’d handed her laptop to Tom from Scientific Support, emphasising the urgency.

‘Do you know, Wes,’ Gerry said as he sat down, his hand travelling once more to the small of his back, ‘I think the theory that Sue Potter’s murder was a case of mistaken identity holds water. Suzy Porter admitted she knows what a lanzani is. What if the link to Aleric Donnal is a red herring?’

Wesley sat down, thinking Gerry might have a point. ‘If you’re right, we should treat locating whoever sent those emails as a priority.’

‘Tom said it shouldn’t take long.’ Gerry regarded Tom with the awe once reserved for alchemists in days of old – a guardian of arcane mysteries.

Rachel appeared at Gerry’s office door with an eager look on her face. ‘I’ve got more information about Suzy Porter,’ she said. ‘The Lawrence the Lion series she writes under the name Daisy Cootes is about a lion who’s terrified of mice and various other harmless creatures. In one he has a nasty run-in with a lamb. Freddie loves them. Pretends to be scared of the lambs on the farm. He thinks it’s hilarious.’ She gave a fond maternal smile. Rachel didn’t often talk about Freddie at work, as though shethought she needed to keep up her professional persona if she wanted her career to progress.

‘I know,’ said Wesley. ‘We used to read those books to Michael and Amelia when they were small – which seems a long time ago now.’

‘I’ve spoken to her illustrator and her agent. She’s a tough cookie by all accounts. Doesn’t suffer fools gladly, according to her agent. Reading between the lines, she isn’t a particularly nice woman.’

Wesley raised his eyebrows. ‘I got that impression when I met her.’

‘I’m disappointed,’ said Gerry. ‘I thought children’s authors would be all sweetness and light.’

‘There’s a rumour that she hates kids,’ said Rachel. ‘But she is very fond of her dogs. We’re still trying to get in touch with her ex-husbands.’

‘How many are there?’

‘She’s had four, but she’s between marriages at the moment. I contacted Claire Mountjoy as you asked.’ Rachel paused. ‘She didn’t seem very surprised about the death threats, which I thought was a bit odd. I know I’d be shocked if the police called to say my sister-in-law had been receiving something like that. But she denies sending them.’

‘Believe her?’

‘Not sure. I told her we’d like to have a word with her. Just routine, I said.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Mr Ulswater from the optician’s called with an address for Ethelred Bingley’s daughter. Her name’s Penny Worksop and she works for the Heritage Trust. She’s a curator at Lofton Hall, not far from South Molton, and she lives on the premises. I called her and said someone would go up and speak to her tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ said Wesley. He checked the time. ‘We might as well speak to Claire Mountjoy and find out what she can tell us about Suzy Porter. Coming with me?’

As they were walking out of the station’s front door, Wesley’s phone rang. When he saw Neil’s name on the screen, he almost killed the call. But instead he yielded to temptation.

‘It’s Neil. I’d better take this,’ he said.

Rachel pressed her lips together. ‘Don’t let me get in the way of your social life.’

Wesley felt a sudden urge to justify himself. ‘He’s working at Sycamore House. He might have information about Aleric Donnal’s death.’