Page 55 of The Chapel of Bones

‘We can trace whoever sent the emails,’ said Rachel, watching the woman’s expression carefully.

‘I hope you do. Because it certainly wasn’t me. I’m disgusted that she would even think I’d be so petty and spiteful. But she’s always resented me. I think it’s jealousy.’

Suzy Porter had said the same thing about Claire Mountjoy, but Wesley let it pass. ‘You’ve no idea who might have sent them?’

‘None at all. But I imagine she’s ruffled a few feathers in her time.’

‘What about her career?’ he asked, thinking of his children’s enjoyment of the Lawrence the Lion books when they were younger.

Claire gave a little laugh. ‘I saw her at a local bookshop once. She was so sweet to the kids and their parents who came to have books signed. Then I saw the way she treated the staff in the back of the shop, out of sight of her fans. She snapped at one poor girl who was trying to explain how a microphone worked. Quite nasty, she was. The niceness was an act. In private she reverted to type.’

‘When did you last see Suzy?’ Rachel asked.

‘We met for coffee three days ago. I didn’t really want to and I told her I was in a rush because I had a hair appointment, but she said she needed to speak to me urgently. I thought that was a bit odd, because usually she made a thing of being so busy.’

‘Did she say why she was so anxious to meet?’

‘She seemed quite nervous; not her usual bombastic self at all. When I asked her what was wrong, she said there’d been a murder in her village. The police had been round interviewing everyone and asking whether they knew the victim or had seen anything suspicious.’

‘It’s routine in a case like that,’ said Rachel. ‘Why did it bother her so much? Did she know something?’

‘She didn’t mix with anyone else in the village, so as far as she knew she’d never met the victim, but . . . Well, the dead woman had a very similar name.’

‘Susan Potter.’

‘That’s it. She wondered whether the killer had got the wrong person. I told her to contact the police if she was worried.’

‘She did. That’s why we’re here. She showed us one of the emails she received.’

‘She mentioned them.’ Claire pressed her lips together. ‘Had the nerve to ask me outright whether they had anything to do with me. I said certainly not. I told her they were probably from a crazed fan, but she said children’s authors didn’t usually attract those. She thought it was personal and started asking whether I knew who’d sent them.’ She gave an affronted huff. ‘The answer was another no, but I don’t think she believed me. I told her I was hurt that she could imagine I’d do such a thing. Anyway, if that poor woman was mistaken for Suzy, the killer could hardly have known her well. Surely only a stranger would make a mistake like that.’

Wesley glanced at Rachel. The woman had a point. ‘Has Suzy ever mentioned an academic called Aleric Donnal?’

‘The name doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘Or an artist called Jim Baker?’

Claire shook her head.

‘What about Gadson’s Zoo in East Burrington?’

‘Zoos aren’t really her thing. She always said Lawrence the Lion came from her imagination rather than reality.’

Wesley had another question to ask. ‘Do you have contact details for her surviving ex-husbands?’

‘I don’t think so. You’ve got to remember that once people had ceased to be useful to Suzy, she dropped them. They became non-people.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘I really don’t know why she still bothers with me. If I hadn’t married into money and if mylate husband didn’t have useful contacts, I suspect she would have dropped me too. Or maybe I’m the one person who knows her secrets. Perhaps she wants to keep me on side, hence the invitations to lunch and her tedious book launches.’ She rolled her eyes.

Wesley realised the woman was more astute than he’d thought at first acquaintance. It seemed she had the measure of Suzy Porter; she knew the real woman behind the mask she presented to the world.

‘One final question before we leave you in peace,’ he said. ‘Can you think of anyone who’d want to kill Suzy? Anyone she’d had a disagreement with, for instance?’

She thought for a while, a frown of concentration on her thickly made-up face. ‘All I can think of is an incident last spring. I was with her at a book launch in Morbay. There was wine and nibbles; the usual thing. I remember a woman came up to her and whispered something, and Suzy was visibly shaken, which wasn’t like her at all. She had a word with the bookshop people and they escorted the woman away. When I asked her about it later, she said it was nothing. She didn’t want to talk about it. But I could tell she was really bothered.’

‘You don’t know who the woman was?’

‘Sorry. I’ve no idea.’

Wesley stood up. ‘You’ve been a lot of help, Mrs Mountjoy. Thank you.’ He handed her his card. ‘And if you think of anything else . . .’