Preface to Murder

big place. You must have bumped into one another from time to time.’
‘We got on well enough,’ said Ian. ‘As I explained, there was no terrible break-up, just a parting of the ways. We still met up for coffee now and again. She told me about her book, and when I saw that she was appearing at the literary festival I thought about going to hear her talk, but I had another engagement that night. Now I rather wish I’d gone to the festival.’
‘Did Diane have any other relationships since the divorce?’
‘You mean a boyfriend?’ said Ian. ‘Not to my knowledge.’
Bridget turned to Louise. ‘What about your relationship with Diane? It can’t have been easy being Ian’s second wife. Did Diane ever show any resentment towards you?’
Louise seemed amused by the suggestion. ‘Not at all. Diane wasn’t a jealous woman. I can’t say that she was my best friend, but we certainly never exchanged any unpleasantries. And if you think I had any problem being Ian’s second wife, you couldn’t be further from the truth. It didn’t bother me that I didn’t get to him first, I was simply glad that he was available when I met him.’ She held Ian’s arm and leaned in towards him affectionately.
This was all very grown up. Bridget’s mind conjured up an image of Tamsin, Ben’s fiancée. No matter how many times she repeated the word, she still couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that her ex- was about to remarry. Bridget still hadn’t met Tamsin, but her mental picture of her always resembled the beautiful but wicked stepmother from Snow White. Bridget couldn’t imagine the soon-to-be Mrs Tamsin Hart being as magnanimous towards her as Louise was towards Diane. Of course, there was always the possibility that it was Bridget who was at fault, harbouring irrational and unpleasant jealousy towards her replacement. She shook her head, dismissing the absurd idea as quickly as it had arisen.
‘What was your other engagement on the evening of Diane’s talk?’ Bridget asked Ian, getting back on track.
‘A retirement party for one of the hospital consultants.’ He stopped and gave her a questioning look. ‘Are you asking me to provide you with an alibi? I can give you the details if you like.’
‘Please.’ Although Bridget had no reason to suspect Diane’s ex-husband of foul play, no detective ever got results without being nosy.
‘The party was at a restaurant in Thame. Louise and I went together and got a taxi back here afterwards.’
‘What time did you arrive home?’
Ian looked to his wife for confirmation. ‘Was it around midnight?’
‘Just before,’ said Louise. ‘I remember because I turned the radio on in the kitchen whilst I was making myself a cocoa. It helps me unwind before going to bed.’
That reminded Bridget of something that she’d been meaning to ask Ian. ‘Was Diane a heavy sleeper?’
‘Diane?’ Ian sounded surprised. ‘Not a bit of it. She always slept lightly. And she tended to wake up early. She used to say that life was too short to spend it asleep.’
‘One last thing – can you think of any reason why someone would have wanted to harm your ex-wife?’
Ian shook his head from side to side. ‘Diane wasn’t always the easiest person to get on with, but I can’t think of anyone who would hate her enough to kill her.’
Bridget turned to the son who had so far sat in silence, drinking his coffee and eating the biscuits. Crumbs lay scattered over the trousers of his suit. ‘It must have been a terrible shock to hear the news of your mother’s death this morning.’
Daniel brushed the crumbs absently onto the Persian rug where they disappeared into the intricate pattern. ‘A shock, yes. But I can’t say that I was terribly upset.’
‘You didn’t get along with your mother?’ Bridget knew from personal experience that the parent-child relationship could be tricky. She lived in constant fear that she and Chloe would grow apart. Bridget’s own parents had grown distant from herself and her sister Vanessa after the death of Bridget’s younger sister, Abigail, and it was only during this most recent Christmas that the gulf that had separated them for so many years had finally been bridged and the family had come together again. But whatever rift had developed between Daniel and his mother could now never be healed. Would he spend the rest of his life regretting that? From his expression and body language, Bridget doubted it.
Daniel twisted awkwardly in his chair. ‘How can I put this kindly? The maternal instinct didn’t come naturally to my mother. She was always too focussed on her career and her politics. All she ever talked about was Israel, Palestine, and American imperialism. She didn’t have time for me, and she didn’t have time for Dad either.’
‘Daniel, is that really fair?’ asked Ian. ‘Your mother loved you deeply.’
Daniel folded his arms across his chest. ‘Well, she had a strange way of showing it. If she’d shown you a bit more love, perhaps you wouldn’t have had to divorce her.’
Bridget intervened before a full-blown family row could erupt. ‘You felt your mother neglected you?’
‘In a word, yes. Dad was always there for me, despite having such a demanding career. And Aunt Annabel too. She’s been more of a mother to me than my own mother ever was. I spent almost as much time in her house growing up as I did in my own.’
He smiled warmly at the memory, and Bridget could imagine Annabel’s higgledy-piggledy cottage being a much more welcoming place for a young child than Diane’s imposing house, where nothing was out of place. His kind-hearted aunt might well have provided Daniel with the affection he craved, and that his mother was unable to give him.
‘And Louise has always been very kind to me as a stepmother,’ Daniel added. ‘It