“Zamora. Minette Zamora,” said Ashley. “But she died a couple of years ago of lung cancer.”
“Did Joanna ever talk to you about a tower block in Exeter, Marco Polo House? She was investigating a group of businessmen who had bought it and were covering up the presence of asbestos during the renovation,” said Tristan. Ashley looked genuinely puzzled.
“Erm, no. Marco Polo House, that’s an office block, yes?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll need to wrap this up soon,” said Juliet, checking her watch. “My sister is coming with my niece and her friends to go swimming.”
“I’ve just got one more question,” said Kate. “What do you think happened to Joanna Duncan?”
Ashley seemed surprised at the question.
“Isn’t the thinking that someone snatched her? Some opportune nutter? We’d all warned her against parking in that terrible old car park at Deansgate.”
“I’ve never come across a case where there’s so little evidence of someone’s vanishing,” said Kate.
“Perhaps, sometimes, people just vanish,” said Juliet.
29
“Why were they so unprepared for our questions?” asked Kate when they were driving back to Ashdean. “And why lie that they didn’t know Noah Huntley?”
“Ashley Maplethorpe’s alibi says a lot to me,” said Tristan. “Tim Jeckels, his friend from the theatre?” He glanced across at Kate and raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” said Kate. “There could have been a Brokeback Mountain situation going on there, albeit without the whole camping in tents, if Tim lived in London . . . And Juliet’s reaction to him explaining his alibi makes me think that it was genuine. She had strong feelings about Tim Jeckels, whoever he was in Ashley’s life, but the way they wanted to evade their connection to Noah Huntley is interesting and maddening.”
“Yes. The same names keep coming up,” said Tristan. “Noah Huntley, Max Jesper . . . Max’s husband, Nick Lacey, has come up for the second time. And now Ashley Maplethorpe is linked to them.”
“Isn’t that a very British thing? You find your clique, your tribe, your friends, and once you’re in, you’re in for life. Even if you hate them all. It’s better to be in a tribe than out?” said Kate.
“And now Gabe Kemp is linked with Noah Huntley. Gabe met with Joanna and was prepared to go on record, and then chickened out.”
“The question is, how are David Lamb and Gabe Kemp linked? Joanna wrote down both of their names. If we can link Gabe Kemp to the commune, that gives us the link with David Lamb and Max Jesper . . . If Nick Lacey and Max have been together for years, he may have known David too; presumably he would have visited the commune, being Max’s boyfriend, and now we have Ashley as an investor in the hotel. If he’s a closeted gay, then what’s to say that he didn’t visit the commune?”
“Did you see Juliet’s face when we brought up him visiting the commune?”
“Yes, and he was denying he even knew about it, but Gabe Kemp was a key source in Joanna’s story about Noah Huntley, and Ashley must have had detailed discussions with her about Gabe. It would have been a huge thing to print details of a serving MP paying for rent boys.” Tristan shook his head. “It’s too fishy.”
They were quiet for a moment as they drove over a high bridge and looked out over the cornflower-blue water in an estuary, lined with green reeds swaying in the breeze. The windows were open, and the warm summer breeze smelled sweet with the scent of mowed grass.
“Joanna’s friend, Marnie, said the same thing as Ashley,” said Kate.
“What?” asked Tristan.
“That Joanna might have been the victim of a random serial killer. There was no planning or motive. Some psycho was in the right place at the right time and saw an opportunity.”
“Do you think that?”
“Sometimes. When I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering if we’re ever going to find out what happened to her. Ashley Maplethorpe has generated a huge number of questions and suspicions, but he was in London when Joanna went missing.”
Kate rummaged in her bag and found a pack of painkillers. The heat and the awkward meeting had given her a headache. She pushed two tablets out of the foil and put them in her mouth, swallowing them dry.
“Yikes! Don’t swallow pills dry. I’ve got some water in the back,” he said, rummaging behind his chair and handing her a bottle.