"She's very good. But the thing is, she's originally from Marlow, and she'd been part of the MADS— that's what we call the Marlow Amateur Dramatic Society— when she was younger."
"Lizzie Jenkins is from Marlow?"
"She is," Verity said proudly, and Judith could see that the woman's panic over her missing husband was in a battle with the thrill of celebrity and was briefly coming second. "She's come all the way from Hollywood just to thank Oliver for training her up when she was a teenager. You see, she credits Oliver with being the first person to fire up her enthusiasm for acting."
"So, you were all out on the boat together?" Judith said to get the conversation back on track.
"Oh— of course— yes, that's right. Lizzie hired this rather grand pleasure cruiser— you know, one of those old things from the 1920s— called the Marlow Belle. It was all very glamorous. Not that Lizzie's grand in any way. She'd got the Marlow Bar and Grill to provide the most wonderful spread, and Harrow and Hope had supplied their best sparkling wine. It was all rather special."
"Where did you go?" Judith asked.
"We went from Marlow to Maidenhead Lock and back again."
"And your husband was on the boat?"
"Oh, yes, he was on the boat. That's something else I should mention. Oliver's rather larger than life— in all respects. He's a big presence, if you know what I mean, and his voice is so loud you always know when he's around. But the thing is, when we got back to Marlow and we were all leaving, I wasn't sure I saw Oliver get off. I mean, he must have been there— I'm pretty sure that Duncan said he saw him head into town ahead of us. Duncan is the technical director of the MADS. I was puzzled that Oliver would slip off like that, but I must admit, I also wasn't paying all that much attention. We'd been drinking sparkling wine for a few hours by this point, and it was so exciting chatting to Lizzie about her life in Hollywood. I must confess I was a bit giddy, although I was very definitely cross when everyone said their goodbyes and I realized that Oliver had already left. If nothing else, it was rude to Lizzie. She seemed disappointed that he'd gone without saying goodbye. So I went home to find out what was up with him, but he wasn't there."
"What time was this?"
"I don't know exactly. We got back to Marlow a bit after six. Maybe six thirty? I was home by seven or seven thirty."
"And when did you last see your husband for definite?"
"That's what I found surprising. I don't remember seeing him at all on the return leg of the boat trip. He gave a speech— toasting Lizzie's success— as we left Marlow. And I remember him as we went down to Maidenhead. We were all milling about, drinking, and chatting, inside the boat and on deck, but I can't recall seeing him after we'd turned around and started to head back."
"Could he have got off the boat at Maidenhead?"
"I don't see how. We stayed in the middle of the river the whole time, and the boat didn't stop at a jetty or anything like that. He didn't get off."
"How very curious. Then what about the locks?"
"There's only one lock between Maidenhead and Marlow, and he didn't get off then— I'm sure of it. There's a little reception area at the back of the boat, and we were all on it when we came back through the lock. Thinking about it, I can remember seeing everyone else, but I don't remember seeing Oliver. Not that that's what's puzzling. It's the fact that he didn't come home afterwards. That's what's got me so spooked. I mean, who just disappears like that? And doesn't reply to any of the phone calls and texts and emails I've been sending him through the night?"
"Yes, that is somewhat odd, isn't it? But can I ask, why did you come to me?"
The question seemed to catch Verity by surprise, and she didn't immediately reply.
"You suspect something's happened to him, don't you?" Judith offered. "Something quite bad."
"No, of course not," Verity said.
Judith took a sip of her tea and considered the woman standing in front of her. Verity's nerves seemed real enough, but Judith couldn't help feeling that there was something a touch staged about their encounter. It was Verity's manner, almost as if she were playing the part of a panicked wife. It would make sense, Judith thought to herself. After all, Verity was into amateur dramatics, wasn't she? Was this another role for her?
A ringtone started trilling from Verity's back pocket. She pulled out her phone and frowned as she looked at the screen.
"Is that him?" Judith asked.
"No," Verity said, "it's Sally Boulton."
"Who's she?"
"An old friend. She played a few small parts in MADS productions back in the day. I wonder what she wants?"
Verity took the call.
"Sally, how are you?" she asked. After listening for a few seconds, she exhaled sharply and started mumbling "No, no, no" over and over. And then the phone fell from her hand and clattered to the floor.
"What is it?" Judith asked.
"It's Oliver. His body's been found."
And then Judith saw the moment it hit Verity.
"He's dead."
