The Word Is Murder(56)

‘He was a very good actor,’ Cornwallis agreed. ‘But I would never have approached him at his mother’s funeral, even if the opportunity had arisen. It wouldn’t have been appropriate.’ He allowed himself a little joke. ‘I was hardly going to ask him for an autograph!’

‘Well, I have some news that may surprise you,’ Hawthorne said. He helped himself to a single crisp, holding it as if it were evidence. ‘Damian Cowper is also dead.’

‘What?’ Cornwallis stared at him.

‘He was murdered this afternoon. Just an hour or so after the funeral.’

‘What are you talking about? That’s impossible!’ Cornwallis looked completely shocked. I would have thought the news had already been on TV or the internet but the two of them must have been too busy with their children to have seen it.

‘How was he killed?’ Barbara asked. She looked shocked too.

‘He was stabbed. In his flat in Brick Lane.’

‘Do you know who did it?’

‘Not yet. I’m surprised Detective Inspector Meadows hasn’t been in touch with you.’

‘We haven’t heard anything.’ Cornwallis gazed at us, searching for words. ‘What happened at the funeral … is there a connection? I mean, there must be! When Irene told me about it, I thought it was just an unpleasant joke …’

‘Someone with a grudge. That’s what you said,’ Barbara reminded him.

‘That seemed the obvious conclusion but, as I said, it was completely outside my experience. But if Damian’s been killed, I would imagine that puts everything in a very different light.’

Hawthorne had had second thoughts about the crisp. He dropped it back in the bowl. ‘Somebody put an MP3 recording alarm clock inside the coffin. It went off at half past eleven and played a nursery rhyme. I think it’s a safe bet that there is a connection. So I want to know how it got there.’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Why don’t you have a little think for a minute?’ Hawthorne was on edge. I think the mess of the place, the children bouncing up and down, Barbara with her wine and her crisps, everything about Willesden Green was beginning to get on his nerves.

Cornwallis looked at his wife as if seeking her support. ‘I can assure you that it wasn’t placed there by anyone who works for me. Everyone at Cornwallis and Sons has been with the company for at least five years and many of them are part of the family. I’m sure Irene told you. Mrs Cowper was taken directly from the hospital to our central mortuary at Hammersmith. We washed her and closed her eyes. Mrs Cowper did not wish to be embalmed. Nobody asked to view the body – even if they had, there would have been no opportunity to do anything amiss.

‘She was placed in the natural Willow Weave coffin which she had chosen. That would have been at around half past nine this morning. I wasn’t there but all four pall-bearers would have been in the room. She was then carried to the hearse. We have a private courtyard with an electric gate, so no-one can come in off the street. From there, she was taken directly to Brompton Cemetery.’

‘So she would have been in someone’s sight all the time.’

‘Yes. As far as I can see, there were perhaps three or four minutes when the coffin was left unattended: when it was in the car park behind the chapel – and, incidentally, I shall make sure that in future this never happens again.

‘But that was when the alarm clock could have been put in the coffin.’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

‘How easy would it have been to open it?’

Cornwallis considered. ‘It would have been the work of just a few moments. If it had been a traditional coffin, made of solid wood, the lid would have been screwed down. But with a willow coffin there are just two straps.’

Barbara had finished her drink. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a glass of wine?’ she asked us.

‘No, thank you,’ I said.

‘Well, I’m going to have another. All this talk about murder and death! We never discuss Robert’s work in the house, usually. The children hate it. At Andrew’s school, they had to give a talk about their dad’s business in front of the whole class and he made everything up. He said Robert was an accountant.’ She gave a hoot of laughter. ‘I don’t know where he got his facts from. He doesn’t know anything about accountancy.’ She went to the fridge and poured herself a second glass of wine.

As she closed the fridge door, another boy came in, wearing tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt. He was taller than the other two, with darker hair that fell clumsily over his face. “Why are Tobes and Seb in the garden?’ he asked. He noticed us. ‘Who are you?’

‘This is Andrew,’ Barbara said. ‘These men are policemen.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘It’s nothing for you to worry about, Andrew. Have you finished your homework?’ The boy nodded. ‘Then you can watch television if you want to.’ She smiled at him, showing him off. ‘I was just telling these gentlemen about your school play. Mr Pinocchio!’

‘He wasn’t very good,’ Cornwallis said. Then he mimed his nose stretching. ‘Wait a minute. That’s a lie. He was brilliant!’

Andrew plumped himself out, pleased with himself. ‘I’m going to be an actor when I grow up,’ he announced.