Free By a Narrow Majority by Faith Martin Page A

McNamara said with a wry smile. ‘Besides, she’s a teacher, and had a lot of marking to do herself.’
    ‘And when was it, would you say, that you retired to your study?’
    ‘I don’t know – 7.30. Somewhere around then.’
    ‘And did you take any phone calls in that time? Did you receive any callers?’
    ‘No, and no,’ the solicitor said, matching her matter-of-fact tone in unconscious mimicry.
    So, Hillary thought, no real alibi. He could easily have slipped out, driven to Lower Heyford, clobbered his rival and come back. But would his wife not have heard the car? She’d have to send either Janine or Tommy over to have a word with Mrs McNamara before hubby could get home and give her some coaching.
    ‘I see,’ she said flatly.
    ‘I rather doubt it,’ George McNamara said wryly, having read with ease the way her mind was working. ‘Let me enlighten you, Inspector. I’ve been a member of the Tory party all my life. I’ve now reached a point in my professional career where I have a solid client basis, and can afford a little time to devote to running for Parliament. But I’m not likely to be broken-hearted if I don’t get nominated, nor am I likely to kill Malcolm Dale, for heaven’s sake, in order to narrow down the competition. It’s just not feasible, Inspector. I’m a law-abiding man. And not a violent one.’
    Hillary nodded. She didn’t think he was a particularly likely candidate either. In her experience, the power-hungry usually made their bid for the cherry long before they’d reached this man’s – what – forty odd years of age? Besides, she’d already summed up George McNamara to her satisfaction . A middle-of-the-road, unspectacularly successful man, having a mild mid-life crisis, he’d looked out for something to spice up his life. Not the type to have an affair, he’d seen the opportunity to try and run as his constituency’s Tory MP as just the ticket. A respectable enough ambition not to frighten off his clients, or win the disapproval of the other partners in the office, but exciting enough to stir the blood.
    It wouldn’t surprise her, either, if McNamara wasn’t really after a seat on the local county council, and saw being an honourable loser in a much higher-stake game as a clever way in.
    ‘You know, I can’t really believe anyone would actually murder Malcolm,’ McNamara said now, distracting Hillary from her thoughts. It was as if the solicitor was only now taking on board the true enormity of what had happened. This reaction didn’t particularly surprise her. Most people assessed news and dealt with it on a strictly personal level first – how does this affect me, what will it do for or to me before taking on board its wider, more general effect.
    ‘You surely don’t suspect Valerie?’ he added, his voice rising a touch in genuine indignation. ‘I mean, I know that’s the first thing people think of, but Valerie … I mean, I didn’t know her all that well, but … well, she’s just not the type.’
    Hillary let that go without comment. How often had she heard that before?
    ‘Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against Mr Dale?’ she asked instead. ‘Your other running mate, perhaps?’
    ‘Daniel Page? Good grief, no.’ McNamara dismissed this suggestion with a wave of his hand. But then his whole face altered. ‘Of course! Old man Matthews might have! I shouldhave thought of him right away. He threatened to kill Malcolm often enough, heaven knows.’
    Beside her, she sensed Janine nearly fall out of her seat. Hillary took another careful sip of her coffee. The man in front of her was now fairly bouncing around on his seat with excitement. ‘Percy Matthews. Have you spoken to him yet?’
    ‘This is the first time that name has come up in our enquiry, sir,’ Hillary said flatly, trying to calm him down a little. ‘You say this man actually threatened to kill Mr Dale? You actually heard this for yourself?’
    ‘Oh yes. On more than one