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Everyone knew what the neighbours had meant.
“How did the house look?”
“Not sure I follow you.”
“Were the curtains open? Did you peek through the letterbox to see if any mail had built up? Did it have that abandoned look?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Now you come to mention it, I didn’t look through the letterbox, but the place looked clean and tidy. Curtains were open. I looked through the windows. Rooms were clean. Grass was trimmed.”
Gardener leaned back against a table. “I don’t like it either, Sean.” He addressed the team. “We found out today from Jane Carter’s solicitor that she changed her will about six months ago.”
“Don’t tell me,” said Cragg. “She left everything to Robbie.”
“Just the opposite,” said Reilly. “He was in the first will, but not the new one.”
“Who was?” asked Rawson.
“The stables, mostly. She left some for Atkinson to invest in training, some for an on-site vet, the rest to friends.”
“Figures,” said Benson. “She seemed pretty passionate about the horses.”
“How does Carrie Fletcher fit in with all this?” asked Sarah Gates.
“She was a witness to the will.”
“Which suggests she’s a close friend,” said Rawson.
“Her best, I should imagine,” offered Cragg.
“What are you thinking, sir?” asked Patrick Edwards.
“You think she might know who the killer is?” asked Cragg.
“Maybe, which could suggest that the killer knows she knows. We’re probably getting ahead of ourselves, and maybe there’s a perfectly good explanation, but we have to consider every possibility. When was the last time the neighbours saw her?” Gardener asked Rawson.
“They’re both pretty nosey from what I could tell. Both had seen her sometime on Sunday morning. She was pottering about in the garden. On Sunday afternoon, the car had gone from the drive.”
“What car does she have?”
“Land Rover.”
“No doubt supplied by Peter Strange,” offered Reilly.
“Which reminds me,” said Gardener, “anyone spoken to Strange about Jane Carter?”
Paul Benson signalled. “I have, sir. He hasn’t seen her for about five or six months. They remained friends after the divorce and he’s seen her about the town now and again. He said the last time they spoke she was fine.”
Gardener didn’t think the Land Rover dealer would be able to offer much. He addressed Dave Rawson again. “Did you manage to get the registration of Carrie Fletcher’s vehicle?”
“Yes, it’s a private reg: C1 FTR.”
“Maurice, can you take the details from Dave and run it through the system? See if we can get a movement on it?”
Cragg nodded, strolled over to Dave Rawson, took the details and immediately added them to the charts, with a big question mark against Carrie Fletcher’s name.
“Was she married?” Gardener asked Rawson.
“No. Carrie divorced her husband about fifteen years ago. Been single ever since. Had a couple of boyfriends but neither one has managed to tie her down. Neighbours reckoned she lives for her horses, just like Jane Carter.”
