Conway’s voice strove for composure. ‘We had a week by the sea in February.’ He mentioned a sheltered resort on the south coast. He looked across at the photograph. ‘It was taken in one of those instant photo booths. That was the best one of her, I had it enlarged.’ He handed round the coffee.
As Kelsey gave him the results of the autopsy Conway sat in silence, his head lowered. He looked up when the Chief had finished; distress showed clearly in his face.
‘What time do you believe Anna took the pills?’ His tone was urgent and unsteady. ‘Do you think it was soon after I left the house?’ A terrible thing to have to live with, Sergeant Lambert thought: someone so close to you on the very brink of self-destruction, but you noticed nothing out of the ordinary, you kissed her goodbye and went blithely off for the day, leaving her in that dreadful state of despair, utterly alone.
The Chief did his best to let Conway down gently. ‘There’s no reason to suppose it was soon after you left.’ He explained in greater detail why it was impossible to be exact about timing. ‘It could have been as late as nine-thirty when she took the tablets. She may have gone back to bed after you left. She could have dozed off, had a bad dream, perhaps, or woken in a fit of panic. She could have made her decision on a sudden impulse that you couldn’t possibly have foreseen.’
The Chief shook his head. ‘No way you can get inside someone else’s head, fathom out their thought processes, however close you are to them. It does no good at all to start blaming yourself. There was no reason why you should have been able to guess what was in the wind.’
Conway’s expression lightened fractionally.
‘We’ll let you know when the inquest’s to be held,’ Kelsey went on, adding that in all probability the body would at that time be released for burial.
He asked about Anna’s parents and relatives. Did they live locally? Had they been informed of her death? Was there any way the police could help over that?
‘I’m afraid I don’t know about any relatives. None at all.’ Conway’s voice shook. ‘I don’t even know where Anna came from, where she lived as a child. She wasn’t in touch with any of her family while I knew her. She would never talk about them. I don’t even know if her parents are alive.’
He drew a trembling breath. ‘As far as I could make out, she must have left home a few years back. I’ve no idea what the trouble was, she never spoke of it.’
He looked earnestly across at the Chief. ‘I’m pretty sure the family situation, whatever it was, was at the bottom of her depression. I tried to get her to talk about it, I tried several times. I was sure it would help her, even if she found it painful. But she would never open up about it. She wanted to forget it completely. She was adamant about that.’
‘We may need to get in touch with you again over the next day or two,’ Kelsey said. ‘There are always some points that need clearing up. When are you likely to be at home? What’s the situation about your job?’
Conway told them he had spoken to Zodiac on the phone. They had been very understanding. He looked at Kelsey, his eyes full of pain. ‘I didn’t explain what had happened. All I told them was that my wife had died suddenly. I couldn’t face going into details. They were very kind, they didn’t ask any questions. I asked them not to say anything about it for the present to any of the workforce.’ He drew another shuddering breath. ‘The thought of being asked about it, people being sympathetic—’ He shook his head. ‘It would be more than I could stand right now.’
He had told Zodiac he wouldn’t be working today and that he would probably have to take more time off in the immediate future. But he was anxious to get back to work as soon as possible.
‘I’ve been trying to do a bit of gardening,’ he told Kelsey, ‘but it doesn’t occupy my mind. And being here, on the premises, doesn’t help. Being out at work would be a lot better.’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Some kind of normal routine, being out and about all day, that would help me to stop thinking, force me to concentrate on what I was doing.’ And he had a list of appointments, customers expecting him, he never liked letting folk down.
If it was all right with the Chief Inspector he’d like to go back to work in the morning. He would be at home every evening after six, and every weekend, they could always contact him then. If it was thought necessary on any particular day he could always alter his schedule to call in at the Cannonbridge police station.
‘That all sounds very reasonable,’ Kelsey agreed. ‘I’m sure you’re right, work’s by far the best thing for you just now.’ His tone took on a deprecating note. ‘I’m afraid there are one or two questions I must ask you now. Routine questions, they’ve got to be asked in a case like this. I hope you won’t allow them to upset you too much.’
Conway gave a brief acknowledging nod.
‘Had your wife made any similar attempt previously? Or ever talked of making such an attempt?’
Conway shook his head with vigour. ‘She never made any kind of attempt to kill herself. She never threatened it, never even hinted at such a thing. Never once. I never dreamed for one single moment she’d ever contemplate—’ He dropped his head into his hands. Kelsey waited in compassionate silence till he had recovered himself.
‘I’m sorry.’ Conway took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his face. ‘I thought she was so much better,’ he said unsteadily. ‘She seemed so much calmer and brighter. I was so sure she’d be completely better before long. She was so young, she had everything to look forward to.
‘We planned to start a family after we’d found a place of our own, that was something she wanted very much indeed. We went looking at houses a lot when we first came here, then we had to stop when she wasn’t well, it was too much of an effort for her. I hoped we’d be able to start looking again quite soon.’
‘Had your wife made a will?’
Conway nodded. ‘We both made wills when we got married. Very simple and straightforward, leaving everything to each other.’
‘Was her life insured?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t, she’d never taken out any insurance on her life. I don’t think it ever occurred to her, it certainly never occurred to me. I took out a fairly substantial term insurance on my own life when I got married, so Anna would be all right if anything happened to me. I’m on the road a good deal, there’s always the risk of an accident.’ He shook his head again. ‘But I never took out any kind of insurance on Anna’s life. I had no reason to.’
Early afternoon somnolence brooded over the neighbourhood when Sergeant Lambert drew up before Dr Peake’s elegant villa. The doctor was expecting them after a phone call from the Chief. He received them in his consulting room; Anna Conway’s file lay on the desk before him.
Anna had first called to see him towards the end of June; she had come alone. It became clear in the course of the visit that she hadn’t told her husband she was consulting him. She was clearly in a distressed state though she was equally clearly exercising a considerable degree of self-control. She complained of a fairly standard assortment of nervous symptoms of varying degrees of severity.
At the end of the visit Dr Peake had asked her if she didn’t think it might be a good idea to bring her husband into the picture, at least to the extent of telling him she was seeking medical help. But she wouldn’t hear of it.
