Free The Sound of Broken Glass by Deborah Crombie Page A

go?”
    â€œDoes he always go the same time, on Fridays?”
    â€œWhen Emmerdale comes on.”
    â€œThat’s your favorite program, is it?” Gemma was trying to visualize the telly schedule, difficult when they rarely watched at home except for the news or something special for the kids. Her mum liked Emmerdale , though, and she thought it came on at seven.
    Now that she had a rough idea of a time and place to begin following Vincent Arnott’s movements, she breathed a sigh of relief when Melody appeared in the hall doorway and motioned to her.
    â€œYou have some more tea, Mrs. Arnott. I’ll be back in a tick,” she said, patting the woman’s arm as she slid from her chair and went to join Melody in the hall.
    â€œMarie Daeley’s on her way,” Melody said quietly, “and I’ve got Incident pulling up whatever they can find on Mr. Arnott. I spoke to the next-door neighbor—a Mrs. Bates. According to her, Mrs. A is suffering from early-stage Alzheimer’s, and the husband took care of organizing everything around the house. Mrs. Bates has the contact number for the sister. She’s ringing her now, then she’ll be over to help out.”
    â€œThat’s a relief.” Gemma glanced in the kitchen, where Mrs. Arnott still sat, her back to them. “Poor woman. Anything else from the neighbor?”
    â€œYou were right. He was a barrister, but she didn’t remember the name of his chambers. She had contact numbers for him, though. One looked like his mobile, the other is probably the chambers. I’ve put Incident on that, too.”
    Gemma nodded. “Any personal comments?”
    â€œOnly that they didn’t socialize much, because of her condition. Mrs. Arnott—her name’s Kathy, by the way—was still okay on her own during the day as long as nothing disturbed her routine, but Mrs. Bates said she knew he was worried about how much longer they could go on as they were. He’d asked several of the neighbors if they could recommend someone who could come in at least for a few hours on weekdays.”
    â€œIt certainly doesn’t sound likely he planned to be out more than a few hours last night. That would explain why the hotel expected his room to be empty this morning, if he made a practice of taking women there on his evening out.”
    â€œBastard,” said Melody. “He certainly didn’t have to worry about his wife finding out.”
    â€œNo,” Gemma answered, but thoughtfully. “You remember she said they slept separately?” She looked back into the kitchen and gave a little internal shiver. “He can’t have—with his wife . . .  it would have been like violating a child.”
    â€œBut the bondage?” Melody shook her head.
    â€œGod knows a psychologist would have a field day with that,” Gemma agreed. “But I think that in the meantime we should start with the pub.”
    â€œLet’s walk,” said Gemma as she and Melody left the Arnotts’ house. “I don’t remember there being much in the way of parking spots at the top of the hill.”
    They’d left Mrs. Arnott with her neighbor, Mrs. Bates, who seemed both kind and sensible. “Are you sure it’s Vincent?” she’d whispered, taking them aside. “I just can’t believe it.”
    â€œAs sure as we can be without a formal identification,” Gemma told her.
    Mrs. Bates blanched. “Oh, you can’t expect—Kathy can’t possibly—”
    â€œNo,” Gemma had agreed. “But perhaps someone from his work. Or another family member. Is there anyone, do you know?”
    â€œI don’t think so. I remember his mother passed away a few years back, and I never heard him speak of any siblings.” She frowned at them. “You’re detectives. I thought at first a traffic accident or a heart attack, but—”
    â€œI’m