Free Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson

at another table, no more public squabbles with the reporter from the local paper.
     
    “He meant it. Whatever his faults, Ray kept his word whether it was a promise or a threat. He didn't use words lightly. It was one reason why he was so successful at business. People he dealt with knew they could trust him.
     
    “He stood by his word even if it cost him. And he looked after those who were loyal to him. So I knew precisely what terms I would be coming back on.”
    Amos was temporarily distracted by the re-emergence of Jim Berry, the man who featured so persistently in Jones’s business files. It was Swift who picked up on what Mrs Jones was saying.
     
    “Terms?” she asked. “A working arrangement, I suppose?”
    There was a hint of scorn in Swift’s voice but the matter-of-fact woman opposite either failed to detect it or chose to ignore it.
    “Yes, a working arrangement,” she replied. “Ray didn't push me. He suggested I thought about it and we would meet again in a week's time.”
     
    "Except that the next week he didn't turn up," Amos said. "Didn't you wonder why? Didn't you try to contact him? There was no message from you on his answering machine."
     
    "No. I waited in but I just assumed that some business had kept him. Reverting to type, you might say. By 4 o'clock I just cleared away the cups and saucers. I ate my cream cake and put his back in the fridge."
     
    "And what was your answer going to be ... if he had turned up?"
     
    "I was sad in a way when he didn't show up. I certainly felt slighted. But I was also a bit relieved, to be honest, because it made my mind up for me. Our relationship went back into the fridge along with his cake."
     
    "Did you not feel tempted to ring Mr Jones to find out why he failed to turn up?" Amos persisted. "Surely you were surprised. After all, he had gone to the trouble of contacting you and had travelled all the way to Nottingham to ask you back. You must have wondered what had happened to him."
     
    "Of course I did," Mrs Jones replied almost petulantly, "but I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of having me chase after him. Like I said, I wasn't sure I wanted to come back anyway and when he left me sitting twiddling my thumbs I certainly wasn't going to the bother of ringing him.
     
    "It was up to him to get in touch and make his apologies. Not that Ray ever did apologise. I assumed he had put some business deal before me. In that case I knew my place - and it was not back with him. I told myself he'd done me a favour."
     
    Amos shifted in his chair. He had a bad habit of leaning back and sliding imperceptibly down and under the table as he listened, especially when the person being interviewed was willing to talk at length.
     
    The inspector pulled himself up and leaned over the desk.
     
    "When did you find out what had happened to your husband? Who told you?"
     
    Mrs Jones smiled. "I still have a great affection for this town. It was painfully quiet, yes, but at least you could walk around at night and feel safe."
     
    She shuddered slightly, realising what she had said. They were discussing a man who had not been able to sleep safely in his own bed, never mind walk the streets.
     
    "Well, that's how I think of the place, anyway. And I know a lot of people in this town. Most I met through Ray's business deals but I had plenty of personal friends as well. I didn't sit at home being a cabbage. I joined the local bridge club and the history society. I had time on my hands when Ray was out wheeling and dealing. I told you at the start, by the time Ray and I split up we were leading pretty well separate lives."
     
    "So a friend got in touch?" Amos ventured. "I'm surprised no-one contacted you right away. Or perhaps they did."
     
    "Not a friend, exactly. I lost direct contact with a lot of people here when I left. Remember, the intention was to make a fresh start in a new place.
     
    "No, the friend, if you like, was the local weekly paper. I pay an annual