‘I can answer that,’ Belinda said. ‘She came because of a boyfriend. He was another thespian and they met at some drama festival or other.’
‘George Clancy,’ I said.
Belinda’s eyebrows lifted a shade.
‘You know George?’
‘No, but your colleague, Katie, described him as the Players’ leading man, and ‘a heart-throb’. He sounds exactly the sort of chap a girl might up sticks for.’
‘I think Katie has a soft spot for him.’ Belinda smiled wryly. ‘But yes, you’re right, he’s a sort of male equivalent of Dawn.’
‘They weren’t living together, though. Obviously.’
‘Oh no, it hadn’t got that far, and never did, of course. Dawn had got a job at Compton Properties, and Lewis Crighton fixed her up with accommodation. He was the letting agent for what was the electrical shop and the flat above, and he knew Lisa was looking for someone to share – her previous flatmate had just got married, and Lisa was finding it difficult to meet the rent.’
‘Well, well! Lewis Crighton was the letting agent?’ Here was yet another link with the man who was my prime suspect for an illicit involvement with Dawn.
‘He was – still is, for all I know.’
‘So Lisa and her husband don’t own the property, then?’
‘I don’t think so. They just took over the whole of the building after whoever owns it had it refurbished.’
‘Lucky for them, then. The café seems to be doing really well.’
‘It would seem so. I don’t think it’s done a lot for their relationship, though. Word on the block is that they’re at one another’s throats half the time.’
‘Interesting.’ That could explain why Lisa was so sullen and resentful, I thought. ‘So.’ I changed tack. ‘Was Dawn still seeing George at the time of the fire?’
‘I don’t think so. They broke up not so long after she came here. I suppose what had seemed like the perfect romance at a distance lost its sparkle when they were able to see each other every day.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Much the same as Lisa and Paul, I suppose.’
‘Was it an amicable break-up?’ I asked.
Belinda shook her head, her lips pursed.
‘I really couldn’t say. All I know is that it was over, and Dawn, at least, was playing the field. And who could blame her? When you’re young and have the world at your feet, why shouldn’t you have your fun?’
I smiled. ‘Why not indeed? And George?’
‘Again, I couldn’t say. I have better things to do than track the love lives of the young folk of Compton,’ Belinda said crisply.
‘Point taken.’ I didn’t want to alienate her by pressing the point. ‘You said there were things that you never put in your reports. What did you mean by that?’
Belinda reached for a pen from the desk tidy, twirling it between her fingers, though I didn’t suppose she had any intention of writing anything.
‘This is where it gets tricky,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to be talking facts here, just impressions.’
‘Fair enough.’ From my own personal experience I knew just how important gut feelings could be.
‘Number one. Neither Dawn nor Lisa wanted to talk about the fire. Now, in some ways I suppose you could say that was understandable. But I usually find people are only too eager to talk. It’s cathartic for them, somehow, to let it all out to someone willing to listen. But not those two. Neither of them would open up. It was almost as if they were hiding something. Or were scared out of their wits that they might say the wrong thing. Don’t ask me what – I haven’t a clue. I can only tell you it’s what I thought at the time.’
I mulled this over.
‘You’re talking about the immediate aftermath of the fire, I presume.’ She nodded. ‘What about when Brian Jennings was arrested and tried? Did you interview them again then?’
Belinda’s lips twisted into a crooked grin.
‘I tried, of course. But neither of them was ever available for an interview, not even after it was no longer sub-judice. I had the devil’s own job to drag so much as a sound bite out of them. And to me, that’s . . . strange. Or certainly unusual.’
‘It is,’ I said thoughtfully. In my experience too, generally speaking, people, and victims especially, wanted to have their say. To demand justice, to express relief or dissatisfaction with a verdict. Not to want to say anything at all was certainly unusual, but something I was beginning to grow used to in this investigation. Nobody, but nobody, wanted to say anything.
‘You never wondered about that, pursued it?’ I asked.