Doctor Who_ The Banquo Legacy - Andy Lane [67]
The expression on Baker’s face was as if I had begun to tap-dance on the table. Yet another rabbit pulled from the Metropolitan Police hat. I was lucky. They were both so far off balance after my revelation that it did not occur to either of them to ask me about the identity of the killer. Although I had a fair idea, I needed more time to consolidate my position on that.
‘I’m not sure,’ sighed Miss Seymour. ‘Sir George Wallace, certainly. That’s why George allowed Richard to stay here. As part of the payment.’
‘And was Gordon Seavers, back in London, being blackmailed?’
She nodded. ‘I think that’s why he stayed away this weekend – he didn’t want to face Richard.’
I winced, remembering my reason for arriving at Banquo Manor. The letter… the suicide of Gordon Seavers…
‘Miss Seymour, has no one in this house remarked upon the fact that I happened to be in the area when your fiancé was murdered?’
She looked up, startled. ‘Why no… I think we all assumed – at least, I assumed – that it was just a coincidence.’
I looked down at the blotter, then up at her uncomprehending eyes. ‘I arrived here following the suicide last week of Gordon Seavers, at his London residence.’
Susan Seymour went white. Her hands convulsed on the arms of her chair and she opened and closed her mouth as if the words she was trying to form did not even exist. Then a sudden rush of tears filled her eyes. ‘Poor Mary,’ she sobbed. ‘Poor, poor Mary…’
I think that was when I realised that I had actually fallen in love with Susan Seymour. The characteristic compassion for the feelings of others that she possessed immediately made her think of Seavers’s widow. She was so beautiful and my heart began to ache in a way I hadn’t felt for many long years.
Then she realised. ‘But surely, John…’
‘Mr Hopkinson was staying with Gordon Seavers when the suicide took place,’ I said levelly, and the flash of terrible anger in her eyes gave me the strength to add, ‘And we have reason to believe that he removed a vital piece of evidence from Mr Seavers’s body…’ I am not sure if she was even listening.
‘Why didn’t he tell us?’ she said. ‘Why didn’t he tell us?’
‘That is a question which the sergeant and I would also like to ask him,’ I said rising from my chair. ‘Perhaps we should have a word with Mr Hopkinson.’
Baker opened the door for us and we exited to the hall. The drawing-room door was open and I could see John Hopkinson moving back and forth inside the room. All the strands were coming together now and I was looking forward to the long deferred pleasure of confronting him. I turned to the sergeant.
‘Baker, find Sir George and his wife – and Catherine Harries. Ask them to meet us in the study.’ As Baker turned to leave, a sudden thought struck me. ‘You had better ask Simpson to join us as well.’
Baker moved off towards the stairs, and just as I was about to face John Hopkinson I felt a delicate hand on my arm. I turned to meet Susan Seymour’s eyes, disconcertingly close to my own. Close enough so that I could just lean forward and kiss her, had I wanted to.
‘I never stopped loving him you know,’ she said. ‘Even though he did some terrible things, I never stopped loving him. He wasn’t evil, Inspector. Just different.’ She looked up at me appealingly. ‘I wanted you to know.’ I looked down into her meltingly soft eyes and felt old wounds opening inside me.
‘Miss Seymour, I was married once,’ I said softly to her. ‘After everything my wife did, I still love her. I understand you, Miss Seymour. Believe me, I understand you.’
‘Inspector I… I didn’t realise.’
‘My name is Ian,’ I said, and smiled.
She smiled back. ‘And I am… Susan,’ she replied. Then, more positively, ‘Yes, I am Susan.’ I smiled, grateful for the familiarity with which she was treating me.
Together we walked in to face John Hopkinson.
He was talking in a desultory manner to Fitz Kreiner when we entered the