‘So I assume you’ve not heard from Sophie?’
Fox shook his head. ‘I’ve got to make a decision on that one this weekend.’
‘You mean list her as missing?’
He nodded.
‘The longer she goes without making contact with anyone, even her mother, the more we have to worry about her. My guess is that she’s just scared. According to Julia Ellis, she phoned up two days ago and said she wanted to work out who killed Nick.’
‘So she’s gone underground to play Nancy Drew.’
‘It seems that way.’
‘What do you know about Lana Goddard-Price?’
‘Who Sophie was house-sitting for?’
Ruth held up her hand. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but can I just think out loud here? It’s just that I can’t work out why Lana would ask Sophie to house-sit for her. It’s the one thing about this story I can’t get my head around.’
‘The one thing?’ said Fox wearily. ‘Most days I think this thing’s like a box of snakes, can’t make head nor tail of it.’
‘I take it you’ve tried ringing Lana’s phone? I couldn’t get through.’
‘Yes, Ruth,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m a police inspector, not an idiot. We tracked down Simon Goddard-Price in Geneva, who gave me the landline of their house in Cap Ferrat.’
‘So you’ve spoken to her.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did she say? Come on, Fox, give me something!’
Fox took another drink and shrugged.
‘She was shocked, upset, as you’d expect. Although I suspect she was more worried about the scandal of having a house-sitter who was mixed up in a murder than she was about Sophie’s well-being. The husband was more bothered about the house. In fact, he made the housekeeper come back from holiday to do an inventory of the property to check for theft.
‘And was anything taken?’
‘No. Unless you count the unauthorised use of some rather expensive dresses.’
Ruth saw an opening.
‘Burglary wasn’t Nick’s style anyway,’ she said casually, giving him a sideways glance. ‘How much do you know about the fraud operation he was involved in?’ She was fishing of course; all she knew about Nick’s past was what Barbara Beddingfield had told her in the café.
‘You mean the wine scam?’ said Fox.
Bingo.
‘That was why he was in London, wasn’t it?’ said Ruth smoothly.
Fox nodded.
‘Our information is that Nick was touting bottles of expensive vintage wine at the Chariot party for twenty per cent under the market value. The Serious Fraud Squad seem to think it might have been counterfeit.’
‘So you think there was enough money in the scam to warrant murder?’
‘Ruth!’
‘All right, all right!’ she said, holding up her hands. ‘Sorry. It’s just . . .’