Reckless Endangerment(77)

That last statement seemed to be an irrelevancy, and Kate didn’t question it. Julian Reed was so naive at times – childlike almost – in his approach to life that I was beginning to wonder if he was suffering from some form of arrested development. An article I’d read some years ago about the effects of interbreeding among the aristocracy flitted briefly through my mind.

‘And did you tell your wife that you were going to divorce her?’ I asked.

Reed chuckled. ‘Yes, and I made no secret of the fact that I’d spent the afternoon in bed with Sharon at the Dickin Hotel and that I intended to marry her. Muriel didn’t like it much.’ Reed described his wife’s reaction with breathtaking simplicity. ‘You see, one of the things that she coveted, apart from my money of course, was the prospect of becoming a countess when eventually I succeeded to the earldom. She’d’ve loved that.’

‘You say she didn’t like the idea of being divorced by you, Mr Reed. That, surely, is putting it mildly.’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ This time Reed laughed outright. ‘Actually she went ballistic. I don’t suppose it helped much when I told Muriel that Sharon was pregnant and that I was the father. And I reminded Muriel that she wasn’t able to conceive, although I did at times wonder if she’d made sure that she wouldn’t become pregnant. I don’t think the idea of childbirth appealed to her very much; she was always worrying about her figure. And she often said that being a domesticated housewife wasn’t her scene. However, that no longer matters.’ He brushed aside his wife’s objections with a brief wave of the hand.

‘What was your wife’s actual response to your statement?’ asked Kate. ‘Apart from going ballistic, as you put it.’

‘She said she’d fight a divorce all the way, and I said I hoped she could afford to, because I wasn’t going to pay for a barrister for her. By then I was becoming a bit annoyed by her reaction.’

‘What happened next?’

I had decided to let Kate continue with the interview. She seemed to be getting more out of Reed than I had been able to. But I put that down to Kate being an attractive woman, and there was little doubt that Reed was a pushover when confronted by a pretty girl. Even if she was a detective inspector.

‘I had a shower.’

‘You had a shower?’ Kate was unable to hide her astonishment at Reed’s cavalier reaction to the acrimonious discussion with his wife that he’d just described.

‘Yes. It was a very hot day,’ he said, as though that were sufficient reason. ‘And when I came downstairs Muriel had gone. I didn’t know where, but I assumed she’d gone out somewhere in a fit of pique, probably to seek solace in the bed of some male friend. She had quite a few.’

‘And did she take the Mercedes?’ Kate asked, not that there was much doubt about that now.

‘I imagine so. It certainly wasn’t outside the house when I’d finished showering,’ said Reed. ‘We’ve got a resident’s parking permit, you see,’ he added unnecessarily.

‘How did she know where Sharon was?’

‘I told her I’d been at the Dickin Hotel, and when I’d taken Sharon’s call I’d jotted down the room number on the pad beside the telephone. We always keep a pad by the phone, it’s handy for jotting things down.’ Reed seemed to think it necessary to describe in detail his actions that day. ‘Bit careless of me really.’ It seemed that Reed was not one disposed to take any precautions. About anything.

I was surprised that Sharon had still been at the hotel when Muriel arrived, but then I recalled that she’d booked the room for the night. Given that she must’ve realized by then that we suspected her of murdering her husband Clifford, I wondered what she’d intended to do next. That, however, was no longer of any importance.

‘Did you, by chance, leave your mobile phone in Sharon’s room at the Dickin Hotel, Mr Reed?’ asked Kate.

Reed looked mystified, but only for a moment. ‘I must’ve done,’ he said. ‘I wondered what I’d done with it. I’m always losing the wretched things. I must’ve bought half a dozen of them over the past year.’

‘When did your wife get back?’

‘I don’t know really. I suppose it must’ve been about nine o’clock. I’d spent the evening reading in my study and I first saw her at about half past nine, I think. I remember that she appeared in the study door wearing a swimsuit.’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘Only that she was going for a quick swim and then she’d go to bed. But apart from that, hardly anything. It was a very short conversation. She certainly didn’t mention anything about the divorce or my plans to marry Sharon. Anyway, I didn’t see her again until the following morning. We don’t sleep together any more, you see – there’d be no point – and we have separate bedrooms.’