She handed him a handful of tissues, put on the kettle and put out the cups. ‘Tom Berkley?’ She shook her head. ‘No. Not really. He came into the library to open some book exhibition of a local author’s books. In January, I think it was. All good for publicity for the town. I was doing my turn out on the van. So I missed the occasion.’
She refrained from saying that she’d been on tenterhooks at work all day, wondering if any fresh clues had turned up. But it didn’t look like it. She made the tea and poured it out. ‘Help yourself to the milk and sugar, Jon. So what about Mr. Berkley? Has been able to assist you in any way with your enquiries?’
‘Depends on what you mean by assistance,’ he said relaxing at last with a wry grin. ‘He had little choice in the position he was placed in the morning. Cliff Jones wanted to make it his business too.’
‘Really! Oh, do tell.’ She joined him at the table and waited with her arms folded across it.
He stirred his tea. ‘This is strictly between you and me, okay?’ She nodded. ‘Our Mr. Berkley got himself mixed up with Yvette Marceau, the last murder victim.’
‘Mixed up? How do you mean? Oh, he took a fancy to her?’
‘Yep. He had an affair with the girl.’
She picked up her cup. ‘Well that doesn’t surprise me. You haven’t met his wife yet, have you?’ She smiled. ‘She’s presently heavily involved with amateur theatre. And her daughter’s wedding.’ She took a sip of her tea and chuckled. ‘I would say that she’s not especially good company for him at the moment.’
‘So what’s the rest of his family like?’
‘They’ve got a couple of nice children. Simon knows Michael Berkley personally. They play cricket for the local school team. He’s a pleasant lad near Simon’s age. Rather shy but Simon’s bringing him out a bit. The daughter Debbie is sweet. No airs and graces like her mother. She’s got herself a handsome fiancé, Hugh. So her dad has been damn stupid. By the way, how did you discover all this? I can’t see him admitting to it.’
He put down his cup and rested his elbows on the table. ‘We talked to Yvette’s fellow students at the Language College today. And they enlightened us about Berkley. They knew what was going on all right. Though they didn’t want to give much away, not at first. And shortly afterwards I came across the boyfriend Jones putting on the pressure on Berkley in his office.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Jones smashed his fist into Berkley’s nose.’ Viviane gasped and giggled. ‘And accused him of killing Yvette. But in reality it was to get money out of your Worship the Mayor.’
‘Blackmail?’
‘Uh-huh. So he was putting the squeeze on Berkley while I chanced to be in the outer office. And most conveniently for me, Berkley’s young temp, Penny, left the intercom switch on.’ He chuckled. ‘I heard every word that passed between them. And I gathered that Cliff had taken some naughty pictures of the two lovers in the Chapel meeting room of all places.’
‘Good heavens! That was risky, wasn’t it? I suppose Berkley thought that it was the last trysting place he would be caught out in. He wasn’t banking on Cliff Jones to capture him there on film with his pants down. If you can forgive the pun.’
‘And he did.’
‘Cliff couldn’t have thought that much of Yvette to put her through all that. And to go to those lengths. What a rotten thing to do.’
‘I’m going to question him on that later. Doubt if we can do much about it except to make him give up the films or burn them. If he tries anything like that again, he’ll be charged and put away.’
‘You must have enough on him to do that now, surely’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose we can get Berkley to press charges. It’ll cause such an almighty stink in the council chambers, his reputation and family happiness will be put in jeopardy. Jones realises this. And he was playing on this for all his worth. Counting on getting the loll so that he could set himself up with a restaurant, I believe.’
She sighed taking a sip of tea. And studied his face. It was hard to read. ‘Well I feel sorry for the girl. She was just a kid. Whatever she did, she doesn’t deserve the fate she got, did she, Jon Kent? And by the way I meant to tell you, Yvette went to consult Esmeralda on Friday morning.’
‘Esmeralda!’ He shook the puzzled look from his eyes. ‘Oh - that funny friend of yours you’ve often spoken about. Consult her? What about?’
‘The Tarot cards, silly. She has the Tarot booth on the pier. More tea?’