‘You did say police?’
‘Sorry to bother you this time of night,’ Bliss said, ‘but I do need to ask you some questions.’
‘No problem.’ She came lightly up the steps. ‘I’ve been out at a meeting. You’re on your own?’
‘My colleague’s in the car.’ Maybe the BMW helped. ‘Nothing too contentious. Won’t take long.’
‘All right.’ She glanced at Annie’s ID and then moved past him into the house. ‘This is Michelle, my nanny. Come through.’
Quite a big woman, though not fat. He followed her into an entrance hall less baroque than he’d feared, although the central staircase was impressive. Four pairs of wellies, adults and coloured ones for kids, were lined up behind the door.
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Bliss. Francis Bliss.’
‘Ah.’ She turned, gave him a small and quite pleasant smile. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Not just now, thanks.’
‘It’s all right, Michelle.’
The nanny nodded, moved away. The Dobermann stayed, still watching Bliss until she patted her thigh, said ‘Prospero… come, Pros,’ and the dog loped off behind her and didn’t look back.
The room Claudia Cornwell led him into was plain and used-looking. Off-white walls, a cream rug on bare boards, a brass standard lamp, a drinks cabinet and a big, patched teddy bear on a lumpy, chintzy sofa.
‘Do take a seat. A proper drink?’
‘No thanks.’
‘I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Alcohol does me head in this time of night.’
‘Ah… of course.’
Like she understood. People like her always had to have understood, Bliss thought. He sat down next to the teddy bear.
‘Plus, I’m in a bit of a hurry,’ he said. ‘The thing is… I believe you might’ve had dealings, tonight or this afternoon, with one of my colleagues.’
‘I doubt it.’ She looked amused. ‘Always drive terribly carefully, Inspector, especially at night.’
‘This is a young policewoman. Out of uniform.’
‘So how would I know she was in the police?’
‘Ms Cornwell…’
‘I’m sorry. Where was this?’
‘Cusop. Probably.’
‘Cusop?’
‘Near Hay-on-Wye. Close to the home of the late David Hambling. Or Peter Rector, as he was formerly known.’
Claudia Cornwell sat down, unbuttoned her tweed jacket, looked steadily at Bliss from under eyebrows heavier and darker than her hair.
‘Tell me, are you fully recovered now, Mr Bliss?’
Bliss said nothing, kept himself still. At least the lamp wasn’t bright.
‘And – if you don’t mind my asking – what are you doing here? Are you allowed to operate in Dyfed-Powys territory?’
‘You’re not my Euro MP or something, are you?’ Bliss said.
Claudia Cornwell laughed. It was annoyingly musical. Bliss waited. Maybe it was as well Annie had stayed in the car. Annie hated being wrong-footed, even more than he did.
‘Sorry for that,’ Ms Cornwell said. ‘I’m a criminal barrister. We’ve never met – South Wales circuit, mainly – but I know quite a lot about you. Some of which I would have used with considerable relish were we to have faced one another at Worcester Crown court. As we surely would, had Victoria Buck-land not changed her plea to guilty.’
‘Jesus,’ Bliss said. ‘Vicky’s brief?’
‘Was to have been. I was quite looking forward to it. I so enjoy a challenge. Yes, the eleventh-hour change-of-plea was a very wise decision, but I’m sure we’d all have had a lovely time.’
‘Would’ve been great,’ Bliss said. ‘Long as you didn’t get her off on a techie.’
She looked into his left eye.
‘Victoria’s friends made quite a mess of you, didn’t they?’
‘I’m better than I look. And I’m guessing that’s given you enough thinking time, Ms Cornwell.’
Claudia Cornwell rose and went to the drinks cabinet, took down a half-empty bottle of Laphroaig.
‘Don’t mind if I have one, do you? Calm my nerves at being grilled by an expert. Sorry – not trying to patronize you. What’s the issue with your young policewoman?’
‘PC Winterson. Tamsin.’ Bliss watched her eyes. ‘Lives not far from Cusop.’
‘I doubt I’ve ever met her.’
‘She’s been assisting me, as a local girl, with an inquiry relating to Mr Rector’s death.’
Claudia Cornwell unscrewed the bottle, releasing peat musk. Poured an inch of the whisky into a crystal glass and sat down.