‘Michael was married and they were having an affair, a sexual relationship, as well as being bridge partners. Weekends away in hotels at bridge tournaments; you don’t need to have a vivid imagination.’ Agnes picked up the biscuit from her saucer and took a bite. ‘Then it all came crashing down around them,’ she said, spraying crumbs across the table.
Dixon waited.
‘Solicitors got involved and it was really nasty for a time,’ continued Agnes. ‘I don’t remember what happened after that, I’m afraid.’
‘Solicitors got involved with what?’
‘Their win in the County Finals qualified them for the Regionals, but they were banned by the Somerset County Bridge Union.’ She looked at Dixon over her glasses. ‘Complaints were made,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘So they applied to the court for an injunction, the ban was overturned, and off to the Regional Qualifier they went. There was no real evidence, just gossip. All very unpleasant.’ The old lady took a sip of tea. ‘I don’t think any of this lot here will remember it. Most of the old members have gone now.’
‘Why were they banned?’ asked Dixon.
‘Cheating.’
‘And did they cheat?’
‘The Deirdre I knew would never have cheated, no. They didn’t need to anyway; they were that good.’
‘How were they supposed to have done it?’
‘A series of signals to each other during the bidding phase. I know it does happen when some pairs get carried away. It’s fiercely competitive, bridge, you know. We may look like a bunch of old fuddy-duddies to you, young man, but this is do-or-die stu—’ She caught herself. ‘Probably the wrong phrase in the present situation, I suppose.’
‘What signals?’
‘Hold the cards low for a poor hand, high for a good hand, scratching an ear or an eyebrow. It’s just a matter of working it out in advance. Coughing is another one, like that Who Wants to Be a Millionaire case. At the bigger tournaments they had people watching for it, and now they use cameras. I never saw Deirdre after that. She changed bridge partners – married the new one, I think – started playing somewhere else; never to the same standard. I don’t think she could face people after all the scandal.’
‘So, let me make sure I understand this correctly,’ said Dixon, watching Louise scribbling in her notebook. ‘Complaints were made that Deirdre and Michael cheated in the County Finals and they were banned from the Regional Qualifier as a result?’
‘Yes.’
‘They instructed a solicitor.’
‘Someone from Taunton, I think.’
‘It went to court, they were granted an injunction, reinstated and allowed to compete at the Regional Qualifier?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Did they win?’
‘No.’
‘So, who made this complaint?’
‘The pair they beat in the County Finals,’ replied Agnes. ‘Sounded like sour grapes to me. I thought so at the time and I still do.’
Hunches were best followed, and he had nothing to lose. ‘I don’t suppose their names were Thomas Fowler and George Sampson, by any chance?’ asked Dixon.
‘Yes, that’s them; from Yeovil way, I think. I’d not come across them before, but then I wasn’t on the circuit, just a social player. Sore losers, they were, though. The whole episode was really sordid.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘What’s this when it’s at home?’ asked Dixon. He was staring at a plate on the kitchen worktop, a knife and fork neatly placed either side of it. Leaves, a tomato, grated cheese.
‘I made you a salad,’ replied Jane.
‘A salad?’
The lights were off in the living room, only the top of Jane’s head visible over the back of the sofa. Monty’s tail too, hanging over the arm. The dull glow of a black and white film the only illumination in the whole cottage.
Dixon flicked on the kitchen light.
Yes, it was a plate of salad, with a bottle of low-fat salad dressing.
‘I thought I might take Monty out for a walk in a bit.’
‘I’ve done that. I was home early, don’t forget; walked him up the lane and made you supper.’ She paused the film. ‘It’s going be lovely when I go on maternity leave. I’ll be able to do this every night, then we can really get your blood sugar levels under control.’
And suddenly all became clear.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
‘There wasn’t enough salad for me, so I had to have a curry. I used the last of the mango chutney too.’
The crafty sod. He might not be able to see her grinning, but he could hear it in her voice.
‘I got a tin of red salmon to go with your salad tomorrow, but I forgot the beetroot,’ continued Jane. ‘D’you like tinned salmon?’
Rub it in, why don’t you?
