Muriel Reed laughed. ‘And you want to know if Julian was having an affair with her, I suppose?’
The woman’s candour stunned me for a moment, as did her husband’s lack of protest at his wife’s comment. ‘I was certainly wondering if you’d met her, Mr Reed,’ I said eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. I was not yet prepared to mention that his phone number had been found on Sharon’s airport mobile, at least not while his wife was there.
‘Was she a tart, in her twenties and willing to open her legs at the drop of a hat?’ Muriel’s coarse language seemed strangely at odds with her rounded upper-class tones.
‘Well, I—’
‘Oh, come on, Chief Inspector, don’t beat about the bush,’ said Muriel, throwing back her head and laughing. ‘Julian might’ve had a fling with this woman, but he wouldn’t’ve murdered her. To be quite frank, he hasn’t got the guts for that sort of thing. Have you, darling?’ she added, shooting a mischievous glance in her husband’s direction.
‘Are you in the habit of having casual affairs, Mr Reed?’ Dave was much less inhibited with his questions than I was, and got straight to the crux of the matter.
‘All the time, Sergeant Poole.’ It was Muriel Reed who replied, at the same time raising her eyebrows in surprise at Dave’s educated and well-modulated English accent. Perhaps she was expecting a stereotypical Jamaican sing-song delivery. ‘I think the term is screwing around, and my husband’s very good at it.’
This woman was quite obviously quick to grasp people’s names and to remember them. And she didn’t mind telling us that her husband was a philanderer, even in his presence. She was so composed and overbearing that it seemed to me that Julian Reed was completely dominated by her.
As if to confirm it, he didn’t react to his wife’s statement and gazed into the middle distance with a blank expression on his face.
‘Do you ever go to Miami, Mr Reed,’ I asked, hoping to get a response from this largely unresponsive man.
‘I go fairly regularly, as a matter of fact, Chief Inspector.’
‘On holiday, or do you have business interests there?’
‘I’m an international property developer,’ said Reed. ‘So, yes, on business …’
Julian Reed seemed to be about to say something more, but before he could continue, Muriel Reed intervened yet again. ‘My late father took Julian into partnership when Julian and I were married eight years ago, Chief Inspector, and when my father died, he left Julian the business. And my father left me this house and a large sum of money.’ She raised her chin slightly. ‘Is there anything else you want to know about our private life, Chief Inspector?’ It was an enquiry laden with sarcasm. ‘I don’t really know what you want of my husband. He obviously doesn’t know this woman who was murdered.’
‘Were you here the day before yesterday, Mr Reed?’ I ignored the woman’s petty attempt to defend her husband and decided to take her advice to get straight to the point.
‘Yes, I was.’
‘All day?’
‘No, I was out during the afternoon.’
‘And the evening?’
‘I was here all evening.’
‘That’s quite right, but God knows where he was that afternoon. Most likely stuffing five-pound notes into a stripper’s garter at some sleazy Soho club; that’s the usual way he fills his otherwise empty days,’ said Muriel, continuing to speak as though her husband was not there. ‘Isn’t that so, darling? Didn’t you say something about having been to the Dizzy Club?’
‘Er, yes. As a matter of fact, I spent all afternoon there,’ said Reed hesitantly, before shooting a guilty glance in his wife’s direction. ‘But why d’you want to know, Chief Inspector?’ I got the impression that he had lied when confirming his whereabouts.
Not only did Muriel Reed ignore her husband’s sheepish admission, but she continued to talk as though he hadn’t spoken or wasn’t even in the room. ‘We tend to live separate lives, you see, Mr Brock, and before you ask, no, we’re not getting divorced.’ She laughed again. ‘Despite his waywardness, Julian’s fun to be with and I rather like having him around. Apart from which, he couldn’t afford to leave me.’ Reed’s wife stood up. ‘I’ll show you out.’
With that final enigmatic statement, it was obvious that Muriel Reed had decided the interview was over. But I hadn’t finished yet.
‘Did you ever meet a stewardess on the Heathrow to Miami flight by the name of Sharon Gregory, Mr Reed?’