Belle - Lesley Pearse [144]
‘You did the right thing,’ the officer said. ‘Now, you said he’s just a friend. So where does he live?’
‘In Houston, Texas,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know the address. He works for the railway, you see. He comes to New Orleans most weeks with his work.’
The officer’s eyes narrowed as if considering something. ‘Are you English?’ he asked.
Belle nodded. She was terrified because she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was asked far more probing, difficult to answer questions. Faldo had an important position with the railroad company. He might have been vile to her tonight, but she still cared enough for him to try to prevent a scandal which would hurt his wife and children. There was also Martha to worry about. If she got wind that Faldo died, and where, she might put two and two together.
‘You say he was your friend?’
Belle’s stomach lurched at the police officer’s question because she guessed he had already surmised that Faldo was more than a friend. He was young, no older than twenty-five, at least six foot, nice-looking, with light brown hair cut very short, and the bright blue eyes she’d noticed earlier. But however nice he looked, police were by the very nature of their job worldly types and hard to fool.
‘Yes, just a friend,’ she said. ‘He was very kind when I first arrived here and helped me get this place to live. He usually pops in to see me whenever he’s here on business.’
The officer was jotting down what she’d said in a notebook and asked again for her name. She had to say she was Anne Talbot as Faldo had opened the accounts at the two shops with that name and it was possible the landlord had that name too. But before he could ask her anything further, the other officer arrived with the doctor and the three men went into the bedroom.
Belle stayed in the kitchen and put the kettle on to make some coffee. Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure the three men would be able to hear it.
The doctor, a short, stout man with a bald head and glasses, came out of the bedroom after only a few minutes. ‘Well, my dear, the signs are that your friend died of a heart attack. I am very sorry, but I will make a call to the mortuary and get them to come and collect him.’
The officer who had been asking the questions and who had told her his name was Lieutenant Rendall, stayed behind when his colleague and the doctor left.
‘This must be very hard for you,’ he said as Belle poured him a cup of coffee. ‘Have you got any family you could go to?’
Belle told him she hadn’t and began to cry again. He patted her on the hand and asked if Faldo was her lover.
‘No, he wasn’t,’ she sobbed. ‘He was a married man with children. That is why this is so terrible. I hope you can avoid telling his wife anything about me, as she’ll probably jump to the same conclusion.’
‘She surely would! And if you don’t mind me saying, Miss Talbot, few wives would appreciate their husband coming to see someone quite as pretty as you,’ the officer said, and the way his eyes twinkled suggested he didn’t believe what she’d told him. ‘But as long as the inquest doesn’t show anything odd or unexpected, I can see no reason to tell his wife anything more than that he died in a boarding house.’
Belle thanked him.
‘But I am curious as to why an English girl should come alone to New Orleans,’ Rendall went on, fixing her with his bright eyes. ‘New York or Philadelphia I could understand, even Chicago, but not down here. New Orleans is a dangerous city.’
‘I came with someone else, then he left me,’ she said impulsively. ‘And as soon as I can raise enough money to go home, I shall be gone.’
‘Would you like to tell me about him?’
Belle almost laughed, for this man had