The Windermere Witness Read Online Free Page B

change anything. People might shout and bustle and throw accusations, but the Hall would drift serenely on, its gaze on the forested slopes across the lake, and keep the whole business in perspective. Simmy took a moment, as she was escorted towards a room somewhere to the left of the main entrance hall, to appreciate the fabulous rotunda with the gallery running around it, like a replica of St Paul’s Cathedral. Would whispers run around it, like its more famous forebear, and reveal the secrets behind the death of Mark Baxter?
    Her strongest feeling was one of being an interloper, an unjustified intruder, there under false pretences. She was, after all, a humble florist, with no claims at all to special insight of any description. At some point, outside the Hall, she had been parted from Melanie, who had said, ‘See you later,’ before melting away. Simmy could not help feeling that Melanie would make a far better witness; that she had a firmer grasp of what had been going on.
    She was shown into a room which contained seven or eight people sitting at tables. As she focused more carefully, she saw they were in twos, and that notes were being taken. The room was more than large enough for the pairs to speak privately without being overheard. A man with a long head and small eyes behind spectacles appeared to be waiting for her. Her escort was a young constable, who said, ‘Mrs Brown, sir. The florist.’
    ‘Ah! Yes. Thank you very much for coming, Mrs Brown. It’s a big help for us if people can come and see us quickly, while everything’s fresh in their minds, as it were.’
    She raised an eyebrow at him, and waited to be invitedto sit. ‘Sorry,’ he realised. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Moxon. Do sit down.’
    She glanced around the room, wondering whether all the other interviewers were of such senior rank as hers. It seemed highly unlikely. She recognised none of the interviewees.
    ‘I still don’t know what happened,’ she complained.
    ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. But first I need to make a note of your full name and address, and phone number, if that’s all right.’
    She gave them automatically, trying to quell any temptation to make difficulties. In the back of her mind, her rebellious mother muttered about databases and unwarranted storage of personal material.
    ‘Thank you,’ he nodded. ‘Now, I expect you’ll understand that we need all the help we can get. We’ve asked you for interview, because I have it on the authority of a Constable Joe Wheeler that you were here this morning, with the wedding flowers, and that you spoke to the young man, Mark Baxter, as you were leaving. Is that correct?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What time would that have been?’
    ‘When I spoke to him? Something like twenty past nine, I suppose. I got here just after eight, and spent an hour arranging the flowers in the room they were using for the ceremony, and the banqueting room. Then I went up to the bridal suite and delivered the buttonholes and bouquets. I was back in Windermere at about a quarter to ten.’
    ‘A five-minute drive?’ he frowned gently.
    ‘I got stuck in Bowness. There was a coach and quite a few caravans coming and going. It might have beentwenty-five past nine, perhaps, when I saw Mark. We only chatted for a couple of minutes.’
    ‘Had you ever met him before?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What did you chat about?’
    ‘The wedding. He seemed excited to be an usher. He wanted the best buttonhole and I told him they were all the same.’
    ‘Did he say why he was outside?’
    ‘Waiting for his father, he said. There were three or four other men waiting with him.’
    The inspector’s little eyes brightened. ‘Indeed? And did you know any of them?’
    ‘No, but Mark told me their names. One was the best man, Glenn, I think. Plus the groom and a Spanish man called Pablo. And Felix, of course. He’s the groom’s cousin – in a wheelchair. You’ll easily confirm that. They were all quite a lot