Free The Young Widow by Cassandra Chan Page B

sofa and the four luxurious armchairs were each upholstered in a different pattern. Still, it was a very comfortable room and its owner was very fond of it.
    Bethancourt, who had showered and changed, now lounged on the sofa, looking clean and refreshed and sipping his own drink. Cerberus was stretched out underneath his legs, and man and dog looked as if they thought all was right in the world. Gibbons shifted slightly in his chair and set his glass down on a coffee table.
    â€œWe made a good start today,” said Gibbons, trying to sound optimistic and partly succeeding.
    Bethancourt nodded. “We’re beginning to get a picture of life at Hurtwood Hall,” he agreed.
    â€œA rather contradictory one,” said Gibbons. “Everyone loathes Mrs. Berowne and resented Geoffrey for marrying her, and yet the Reverend Oakley claimed Berowne was a happy man.”

    â€œHe probably was.” Bethancourt swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass. “It’s like a simmering kettle from which the lid has been removed. Geoffrey Berowne was the lid on his family. He wasn’t a sensitive man and probably didn’t realize what was boiling away underneath.”
    â€œI don’t see how you make that out,” said Gibbons, reaching for his glass.
    â€œDon’t you? Berowne married Annette four years ago and I’ve no doubt that there was quite a ruckus about it at the time. I also don’t doubt that Berowne put his foot down pretty sharply and thereafter everyone walked softly around him and did their best not to give Annette any ammunition to carry to him. Even Maddie Wellman with her sharp tongue would have sense enough to see that if she continued to protest too much it would be she and not Annette that Berowne would see as the cause of the strife, and she’d be out on her ear. Berowne probably believed everything had settled down beautifully.”
    â€œCarmichael thinks Maddie was lying about there not being any differences other than business ones between Geoffrey and Paul,” said Gibbons.
    â€œThat’s interesting,” said Bethancourt. “Paul’s behavior is highly suspicious, after all. His car dies on him and instead of hopping into one of the four other working vehicles on the estate, he decides to forget about work and spend the morning wandering about the grounds communing with nature.”
    â€œWe’re going to see him tomorrow at his offices here,” said Gibbons. “And after that I’ve got an appointment to go down and speak with Dr. Bryan Warren in Kent tomorrow afternoon.”
    â€œWho is Dr. Warren?”
    â€œIt’s that rumor about Mrs. Berowne having killed her previous husband,” explained Gibbons. “Dr. Warren was William Burton’s personal physician and signed the death certificate. Carmichael talked to the Kent CID when we got back and there was never any
kind of investigation into the death of William Burton. He was seventy-two, had been ill for several years, and died of a heart attack.”
    Bethancourt nodded and reached for his cigarette case. “I’d be more interested to know,” he said, “where the rumor started in the first place.” He flicked his lighter open, inclining his head to light the cigarette, and then leaned back again, settling his shoulders comfortably against the sofa back. “I mean,” he continued, “we have garnered ample evidence today that Annette Berowne possesses the knack of rubbing other women up the wrong way in abundance. Was this just a case of all the old gossips in the village spontaneously saying, ‘Mr. Burton’s dead. That horrid wife of his must have killed him. She only married him for his money, you know.’ Or did someone actually tell someone else something?”
    â€œI see your point,” said Gibbons. “But those things are the very devil to winkle out.”
    â€œWell, I can’t see what you think