Chapter 5- Saturday 2.1.2010

DS Rosie Barnes kept the engine idling while her boss, DCI Marsden, strode up the garden path to open his front door,
“Maddy! Are you up yet?”
Maddy Farlow – David’s wife – strolled into the hall from the kitchen dressed in a kaftan of burgundy velvet, with her second coffee of the day cupped in her hands,
“What’s all the shouting about? I’ve been up for ages, waiting for you to come home.” She smiled slowly at him, full of meaning, “Are you finished for the rest of the day or are you just paying me a flying visit?”
David stood still for a full five seconds, drinking in the picture of his beautiful wife. Twitchy feelings stirred in his loins and he cursed Arthur Kingsward for disrupting his Saturday morning nuptials. Every moment with Maddy was precious to him. He still had trouble believing she had agreed to marry him. A crusty old copper who was married to the job hadn’t appealed to any of the women he had dated – except her.
“Flying visit I’m afraid; very bad this one. Need to see the widow before the Press get hold of it.”
“Is he famous then?”
“No - just rich. Some people can be bastards. Slipping this bit of news to an old hack could earn them big bucks.”
“My God, you are so jaundiced in your views – that’s why I love you. Got time for a coffee?”
“No, I’ve left Barnes in the car. I thought I’d pop in and let you know that lunch is off and I’ll probably be late home tonight.”
Maddy put her coffee on the side table and closed the gap between them with ease and grace. Folding her arms around his waist, she leaned away from, her silky dark brown hair swinging away from her face as she pressed her hips into his groin,
“No chance of a quickie then?”
“I think even Barnes would guess if I didn’t get back straight away,” he replied nuzzling her neck and wallowing in the lemony scent of her shower gel.
Maddy sighed,
“That’s all right darling. You go catch the baddies and give me a call when you’re on your way home. Shall l order Chinese or Indian?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m done and if you squeeze me any tighter I shall find it very hard to leave.”
He bent down, kissing her gently on the mouth,
“Hold that thought,” he said, before disappearing out the front door.

Rosie Barnes listened to her boss fending enquires and dispensing orders on his mobile as she drove down the winding country lanes. The ‘Tom-Tom’ eventually informed her that she had reached her destination when they came to a stately pair of black and gold wrought iron gates. She leaned out the driver’s window to press the intercom panel that would give her access to Arthur Kingsward's Surrey home.
“We must be in the wrong game Barnes. There’s no way we’ll ever be able to afford something this private.”
Rosie was about to reply when the buzzer was answered,
“Yes, hello, Detective Chief Inspector Marsden and Detective Sergeant Barnes here. We would like a word with Lady Kingsward please.”
The intercom went dead and moments later Rosie heard a faint humming sound as the magnificent gates slid open. As the car crunched along the approach to the house, they passed an elderly man raking dead leaves and broken twigs from the lawn.
“It’s a bit too remote for me though, I prefer to have a bit of life nearby. You like this sort of thing don’t you Barnes?”
“I’ll only think about it when I win the lottery. For now I’m just happy to look.”
“Well one thing’s for sure. Money doesn’t always buy happiness does it? It’s certainly not going to happen for this little lady anyway. Brace yourself Barnes, time to impart the bad news.”
Another elderly man opened a pair of large oak doors with metal studs. He wore a dark suit that had seen better days, and had probably fitted him when he was younger. His bony shoulders were drooping as if the worries of the world were weighing him down. His thin reedy voice suited his appearance,
“If you would kindly wait in the library Sir, I’ll inform Lady Kingsward that you are here.”
The two police officers stood in the middle of the room wondering whether they should sit or stand to attention. After the butler left the room, Rosie said,
“Now this is what I call a library. I’ve always wanted to climb one of those ladders on wheels and drag myself around a room such as this.”
She stood at the bottom of the steeply sloping contraption that begged her to carry out her wish. Her boss looked at her and smiled,
“If you’re that keen, you’d best get on with it, I can hear footsteps approaching in a very commanding way.”
Rosie smiled as she joined him facing the door. With the joke barely enjoyed, Marsden has just enough time to relax and appear less comical, before the door opened and a woman strode into the room as if she owned it – which she probably did by now. She looked enquiringly first at Rosie and then at David Marsden. Lady Kingsward was quite tall for a woman, and her long face and nose gave a condescending look, as she sneered down at her visitors. She was wearing a heavy tweed suit and flat brogue shoes. Rosie wouldn’t have been surprised if she had entered the room with a twelve-bore shotgun tucked under her arm.
“Right! Now, who is Barnes and who is Marsden?”
David Marsden walked towards her,
“I am Detective Chief Inspector Marsden and this is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Barnes.”
Lady Kingsward made a harrumphing sound and gestured for them to sit down. She stood against a large ornate fire surround with one hand thrust in her jacket pocket and the other resting on the mantelshelf. Marsden was at a loss how to handle this particular situation, but he didn’t want to hand the reins over to his Sergeant and give the impression that he was shirking his responsibilities,
“I’m afraid we have bad news for you Lady Kingsward.”
“Well, you’d better get on with it man. Good or bad, news is always better if repeated without any fancy wrappings.”
Marsden wondered if her manner would alter once the bad tidings were given,
“We were called to an apartment in London this morning, where we found the body of a man who we believe to be your husband, Sir Arthur Kingsward. There will have to be a formal identification, but all the evidence does lead us to believe that it was indeed your husband.”
Rosie watched Penelope Kingsward’s face for any possible sign of shock. There was none. The lady stood absolutely still,
“How did it happen?”
“He was murdered.”
“I see. I gather you would like a list of all his … friends?”
David Marsden and Rosie looked at Lady Kingsward, realising that she must be aware of her husband’s extra-curricular activities.
“There’s no need to be tactful Inspector, I’ve known for some time exactly what my husband gets up to … got up to in London.”
She walked over to the large window overlooking a sweeping manicured lawn that led down to a beautiful lake, a view that must have calmed her on many occasions,
“I visited his apartment once – just to confirm my suspicions. I fully expected to find some … floozy installed. Instead I found out he was using it for a variety of floozies. I still can’t fathom out which scenario could be worse - one mistress or several casual acquaintances. I don’t suppose it matters now does it. At least I didn’t have to concern myself about contracting any nasty diseases – we cancelled that arrangement years ago after our … anyway, that’s of no importance to you. If you’ll excuse me I’ll fetch the address book I found there, it will probably contain his murderer’s details. Don’t you think?”
As she walked calmly from the room, Rosie glanced at David Marsden, whose look of astonishment matched her own.
Quietly, he mumbled,
“Well at least that saves us the job of consoling her. Look into their background when we get back. You know as well as I do, there are many reasons to commit murder. She may have one tucked away for all we know.”