Page 54 of The Chapel of Bones

‘If you say so.’

‘Neil. How can I help you?’

There was no mistaking the excitement in Neil’s voice. ‘We’ve found some coins. Gold nobles. Could be an actual hoard, Wes. I’ve never found one before.’

‘Congratulations,’ said Wesley, when he could get a word in edgeways.

‘They were by the holy well. I think they were offerings. I’ve arranged for them to be taken to the museum in Exeter tomorrow for safe keeping. It’s an important find.’

There was a sudden pause, as though Neil was gathering his thoughts. ‘I’m wondering whether the coins could be connected to the skeleton we found . . . or even to your man in the wall. If it was murder . . . Well, those coins are valuable and people have killed for less, haven’t they?’

Wesley couldn’t argue with Neil’s logic, but somehow he suspected there was more to Aleric Donnal’s death than a lust for gold. However, he knew he shouldn’t dismiss any possibility out of hand.

‘Want to take a look at them before they go to the museum?’ Neil asked.

‘I’d love to, but I’m busy at the moment.’

Wesley could sense that Rachel was becoming impatient, so he asked Neil to keep him updated and ended the call. Interesting though Neil’s finds were, he knew he should be concentrating on the case.

Claire Mountjoy’s house turned out to be large, detached and Edwardian, with a vine-clad loggia overlooking the river. It was an idyllic house from a more gracious age, and he knew it would be worth a bomb if it was ever put on the market. Way beyond the pocket of a police inspector and a teacher

Claire opened the door almost as soon as they’d knocked. Her hair was as blonde and immaculate as Suzy Porter’s – perhaps, Wesley thought, they used the same hairdresser. She sported a colourful kaftan that reminded him of something worn by a snobbish female character in a 1970s TV sitcom occasionally repeated during his childhood, and heavy gold jewellery – rings and necklaces.

‘You’re from the police?’ She looked Wesley up and down with barely disguised curiosity. ‘Someone rang and said to expect you. Come in, come in,’ she said impatiently, ushering them inside. ‘Don’t stand there on the doorstep for the neighbours to see.’

Wesley looked round, expecting to find crowds of nosy neighbours peering over the hedge. But the house wasn’t overlooked and there was no sign of anyone else around.

‘I expect you’d like a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘I won’t offer you anything stronger, because I know that’s not allowed.’

Wesley saw Rachel smile. This woman had clearly been watching too many detective shows and was caught up in the drama of the situation, which might not bode well for an honest and unbiased statement. He suspected she’d tell them what she thought they wanted to hear.

But it turned out he was wrong. As they sat down on the chintz sofa in a drawing room flooded with light, she began to speak.

‘Now, I want you to know that I’m no gossip.’

‘Of course not, Mrs Mountjoy. But we need you to be honest with us.’

During the long silence that followed Wesley’s statement, Claire Mountjoy fidgeted with her rings. Eventually she spoke softly, as though she hardly liked to utter the words. ‘Suzy was once married to my brother, and we see each other from time to time for lunch in Tradmouth.’ She paused as though she was about to make a dramatic announcement. ‘But I can’t honestly say I like her.’

Rachel and Wesley looked at each other. ‘Any particular reason?’ said Rachel, leaning forward, hoping for confidences.

‘To tell you the truth, Detective Sergeant, she has a . . . ruthless streak. Doesn’t care who she tramples on to get what she wants.’

‘Your brother?’

‘He was a weak man. A pussycat. He died of a heart attack shortly after the divorce.’

‘What about her other husbands?’

‘One’s remarried and up in Scotland. The other two are abroad, I believe. One in the States and one in Dubai.’

‘Did you know she’s been receiving threatening emails?’

‘So I heard.’ She folded her arms and it was hard to read her expression.

‘She suggested you might be responsible.’

The look of outrage on her face was unmistakable. ‘That’s ridiculous. And I told her so.’