Making A Killing (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 2) by Oliver Tidy Page B

up some of the ground he felt he had lost to the woman simply in their greeting , Romney said, ‘I’m not sure how long that will be possible for.’
    Marsh, who had taken an instant dislike to Mrs West and what she represented, took some satisfaction in her obvious discomfort at this news.
    ‘Oh. I had hoped that I could, what do you call it, assist you with your enquiries and then be left alone to grieve.’
    The two officers would later concur that there was not much evidence of the grieving about her that particular morning.
    ‘That might be possible from our point of view,’ said Romney. ‘It really depends on whether your relationship with the deceased was anything to do with his death. Was it?’
    Lillian West answered without a hint of discomfort at the directness of the question. ‘Not that I know of.’
    ‘I would imagine that as the late Mr Emerson’s affairs are settled – an expression he instantly regretted – something of your relationship might come out into the open. What people choose to do with that information will be out of our control.’
    ‘I see,’ she said. She turned her attention to the untouched tea in front of her.
    Romney said, ‘What exactly was your relationship with Mr Emerson?’
    ‘Do you mind telling me where you got my number from?’
    Romney said, ‘Mr Emerson’s son gave it to us.’
    ‘William. Of course. Oh well, I suppose it would come out eventually. If you got my number from William you must know what my relationship was with Phillip.’
    ‘We do need to hear it from you. William Emerson was sparing with details.’
    ‘He’s a sweet boy. We actually got on pretty well, considering.’
    ‘Considering what?’
    ‘Considering I’d been having a long-term affair with his father behind his mother’s back. But then I suppose that his connivance made him just as guilty. That’s the wrong word. I never felt guilty about it from his side of things.’
    ‘What did you feel guilty about?’
    ‘My husband is not like Phillip’s wife. My husband loves me, Inspector. My husband will be devastated if this becomes public knowledge. It will be very harmful.’
    Perhaps you should have thought about that before you started playing around behind his back then, thought Romney.
    As though reading his mind, she said, ‘Don’t seek to judge me, Inspector. You don’t know anything about us.’
    ‘Let’s talk about Phillip Emerson, Mrs West. Do you know how he was killed?’
    ‘Yes. My husband is a member at the White Cliffs Golf Club. As you can probably imagine, it’s quite a topic of discussion there at the moment.’

‘Do you know why anyone would want to do that to him? Why they would want to kill him? Being his lover I would imagine that you were privy to his secrets.’
    She mulled the questions and the comment for a long moment. ‘No. I have no idea why anyone would want to kill him. If he had secrets, he didn’t share them with me. I think that possibly you have misinterpreted the nature of our association. Ours was really just a physical relationship.’ She looked him in the eye and said, ‘I believe that the common terminology is fuck-buddies. We were friends, of course, but really it was all about sex. The whys and wherefores are none of your business. We met a couple of times a week at his flat in Waterloo Crescent. That was it.’
    ‘What were you doing at the flat last night?’
    ‘Who said I was there?’
    ‘I told you, Mrs West. I’m a policeman.’
    Her forced good humour was evaporating. ‘I thought I’d left something of mine there. Something personal and private. I wanted to retrieve it, naturally, before the police started poking around.’
    ‘What was it?’
    ‘Some underwear.’
    ‘We didn’t find any?’
    ‘I had it after all. Found it at home.’ Neither Marsh nor Romney believed her. ‘Look, I’m sorry that Phillip is dead. I’m sorry for him and for William. But I don’t know anything about it. If I did, I would tell you. If