“Are you here to see the show, Miss Helliwell?” Eva asked, stepping closer to the till. “If so, you’d best hurry. That music says the show is about to start.” Eva cocked her head and tipped her ear towards the hallway leading to the theater.
“Actually, I’m here to see you. I don’t suppose you were working on Saturday, were you?”
“I was. You know I work most Saturdays. It’s one of the most popular days of the week at the cinema, and Mr. Mumford hates for me to have that day off,” Eva said, looking over her shoulder towards a wooden door at the far side of the room.
Mr. Mumford’s office was situated directly behind it, and Beryl was willing to bet that the owner of the cinema was unlikely to be in there alone if he could help it. Beryl thought no more of Mr. Mumford than she had of the propositioning film director.
“You didn’t happen to see Sidney Poole going past that evening while you were here at the counter, did you?” Beryl asked, turning slightly to face the plate-glass windows overlooking the street.
Eva had an advantageous position for watching all the goings-on once the tickets had been sold and the films were under way. Occasionally, a straggler would enter the cinema or a patron would come out to purchase cigarettes or some sort of refreshment, but in general, Eve’s responsibilities were confined to ticket sales just before the show commenced. In fact, it was common to see Eva sitting on a little stool behind the counter, trying to hide a book from view.
“I did see Mr. Poole. He came along right after Hector Lomax,” Eva said.
“Did you see the two of them interacting?” Beryl asked.
“As a matter fact, I did. Even from a bit of a distance, it was clear that they were having an argument,” Eva said.
“Did it get physical?” Beryl said.
“Mr. Poole might have jabbed Hector in the chest a few times,” Eva said. “Both men looked very angry.”
“Did Hector shove Mr. Poole back?” Beryl asked.
“I don’t think so. But he looked as though he was laughing. It looked as though Mr. Poole was the only one who was actually angry,” Eva said. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s connected to a case Miss Davenport and I have been hired to investigate,” Beryl said.
“Aren’t you working for Jack Prentice, trying to get his father off the hook?”
“We are looking at a number of other suspects in Hector’s murder besides just Frank Prentice,” Beryl said.
“I wouldn’t want to get Mr. Poole into any trouble,” Eva said.
“Surely you must have already told the police what you saw that evening,” Beryl said.
“No, Constable Gibbs never asked me about it,” Eva said. “Do you think Mr. Poole is involved?”
“I wouldn’t like to say that, but I think that the argument he had might give us a better idea of what happened to Hector that night,” Beryl said.
“Mr. Poole is one of my father’s good friends,” Eva said. “I wouldn’t like to get him into any trouble.”
“If Mr. Poole has done nothing wrong, he has nothing to fear,” Beryl said. “It’s your duty to tell the truth.”
“I guess you’re right. Besides, it’s not as though the police don’t already have the murderer in custody,” Eva said.
“They definitely do have someone in custody. So I’m sure you won’t mind telling me if anything else happened between Hector and Mr. Poole that you could see,” Beryl said.
“There really wasn’t very much more to it than that. Hector laughed, Mr. Poole shoved him, and then they both went out of sight before anything else happened,” Eva said.
Beryl looked out the window once more. From her vantage point near the ticket counter, she saw there were a few places the two men could have gone where Eva would no longer be able to see them.
“Did you see which direction they went? Did they go off in the same one?” Beryl asked.
“They did. Hector seemed to walk away from the situation, and Mr. Poole followed him, still waving his arms and shouting,” Eva said.
“Could you hear what he was shouting?” Beryl asked.
“I couldn’t. The glass is quite thick, and the music from the film was very loud, even all the way out here. I suppose I assumed he was shouting because of the way he was waving his arms about.”
“Did you see where they went exactly?” Beryl asked.
Eva stepped out from behind the counter and walked towards the glass. Beryl followed her and watched where the girl pointed her finger.
“Hector turned right down Little Hempfield Lane. Mr. Poole went right along after him, and then the two of them were out of sight,” Eva said.
“Little Hempfield Lane leads to the church, does it not?” Beryl asked.
“On the south side, yes,” Eva said. “There is a gate leading from the lane directly into the churchyard. You cross it and enter the church from there.”
Just then a young man emerged from the theater and made his way to the ticket counter. Eva smiled her apologies at Beryl and went back to her job. Beryl gave her a slight wave and then pushed open the heavy door once more.
She stood on the pavement outside the cinema and looked off in the direction of Little Hempfield Lane. Unless she missed her guess, that was exactly the side of the churchyard on which the vicar had noticed the headstone with the pipe ash littering its surface. Her thoughts were brought back to her surroundings when she heard her name being called. Edwina was determinedly making her way along the street, doing her best to capture Beryl’s attention without making too much of a scene.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” Beryl said.
Edwina’s face was flushed, and she was struggling to breathe normally. She must have hurried from the butcher’s at an unseemly pace. It was as much of a public display of excitement as Edwina was ever likely to make. Beryl felt the pleasurable tingle of an investigation making progress as she looked at her friend’s sparkling eyes. She tucked her hand in through Edwina’s arm and pulled her sedately along the sidewalk.
“Sidney just admitted that his wife was not at home when he returned from the pub the night of the murder,” Edwina said in a voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes darted back and forth, up and down the street, as though she was absolutely intent on not being overheard. Beryl could hardly fault her for that. Gossip moved through Walmsley Parva at much the same speed the influenza epidemic had and sometimes with similarly devastating consequences.
“She wasn’t at home when he arrived?” Beryl said. “So that means he doesn’t have an alibi for the approximate time of the murder.”
Edwina nodded her head in a most unladylike way. “But it also means that Alma does not have an alibi either. And she’s the one who lied about it. What do you think it means?”
“It could be nothing except that she confused one day with another,” Beryl said.
“You don’t believe that, do you?” Edwina said as a flicker of disappointment moved over her delicate features.
“A good investigator must examine all possibilities, including those that are disappointing or unpleasant. People do forget things and misremember dates.”
“I doubt very much that anyone would forget where they were when a fellow village resident was murdered,” Edwina said. “While I understand that your life may have been filled with people dropping like flies here, there, and everywhere, it’s not the sort of thing we are used to here in Walmsley Parva.”
“Don’t get yourself all dithered up. I was merely pointing out that it was a possibility. It’s far more likely that she meant to be deceptive. The question is, Why?” Beryl said.
“She as much as admitted that Hector was costing her business and creating trouble in her marriage,” Edwina said.
“Those certainly would be compelling reasons for me to do away with unwanted attention from a suitor,” Beryl said.
“But were they enough to cause her to murder him?” Edwina asked.
“I think that depends
entirely on Alma’s temperament,” Beryl said. “You know her far better than I do. Do you think she would be likely to take such matters into her own hands? Or would she have implored her husband to act on her behalf?”
“I would say that Alma was capable of doing either one. She’s a woman who knows her own mind and is willing to take action to get what she wants. Not everyone would have the ambition to start up a business like she has. I can’t imagine her wanting it to go to pieces for someone like Hector Lomax.”
“Do you think that her business was really in danger from Hector?” Beryl said.
“Yes, I think it really was. For two reasons,” Edwina said. She held up her fingers one at a time. “Firstly, the ladies of Walmsley Parva would not have appreciated the presence of a man during their appointments. Since he had become quite dependably likely to be present, it would give them pause when it came time to book another appointment.”
“What was the second thing?” Beryl asked.
“People would be inclined to say that there was no smoke without fire. They would have started to mention that Hector would not have continued to pursue Alma if she had not given him some sort of encouragement. Even though it was widely recognized that Hector was a cad and a pest, Alma, as a woman, would be expected to take the higher road,” Edwina said. “She would be the one to bear the responsibility for making it absolutely clear that she had no interest in him. People would say that if he continued to pursue her, it was because she had not done an adequate job in rebuffing him.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Beryl said. “It isn’t as though she asked him to start harassing her at her place of business.”
“It’s not a question of whether or not it was fair. It’s a question of whether or not it would be a reason for her to kill him. It wasn’t just that he was costing her money. He was costing her, her reputation,” Edwina said. “When there isn’t a lot of news, people feast upon mere morsels and are able to make quite a meal of them.”
“There’s another possibility, though, isn’t there?” Beryl said.
“You think that she had made up the idea of being at home with Sidney in order to give him an alibi?” Edwina said.
“It’s just as good a theory as her killing Hector, isn’t it?” Beryl asked.
“Of course it is. Alma’s reputation is no better off if her husband turns out to be a murderer,” Edwina said. “She would be ruined.”
“She also may love him and wished to protect him,” Beryl said.
“Yes, of course that could be part of it too,” Edwina said. From the look on Edwina’s face, Beryl thought her friend found it unlikely she could consider Sidney Poole a desirable mate. Beryl had to agree with her. None of her ex-husbands had resembled Sidney in even the most cursory of ways. Still, she could see how he might be of value to Alma.
“I was just speaking with Eva Scott, and she said that she saw Sidney and Hector arguing just outside the Palais after they left the pub the night of the murder,” Beryl said.
Edwina pulled her notebook from her pocket and began to scribble down a few notes. Beryl took it as a good sign that the case was making enough headway that Edwina was worried she might forget small details.
“Was she able to hear what they were arguing about?” Edwina said.
“No, she was not. But she did say that they turned off along Little Hempfield Lane,” Beryl said, raising an eyebrow significantly.
“So Sidney may well have followed Hector to the churchyard. That makes a decent case for Alma to be the one giving Sidney an alibi, doesn’t it?” Edwina said.
“One of us is going to have to go back and question Alma again about her alibi,” Beryl said. “I think you should be the one to do it.”
“Why me?” Edwina said.
“You have a longer acquaintance with Alma, and you aren’t an outsider like me. I think she will feel that you are more likely to understand her reasons for stretching the truth,” Beryl said. “Besides, you have such a tactful way of dealing with such things, and there’s no one whose ability to separate the truth from fiction I would trust more than yours.”
Edwina’s eyes widened. “I think you’re just saying that to convince me to be the one to do an unpleasant task.” Edwina slipped her notebook back into her pocket and scowled.
While it was true that Beryl was not above a well-placed bit of flattery in order to convince others to do her bidding, Edwina’s ability to ascertain the truth was one of the things Beryl most admired about her. She had an uncanny knack for putting her finger on untruths, and even why those untruths were offered in the first place. If anyone could get Alma to open up about her misstatement, it was Edwina.
Chapter 29
Edwina reluctantly agreed to speak with Alma again about her alibi statement. She would likely have protested and would have tried to think of some excuse to fob off the task, but as fate would have it, Alma exited the nearby fish-and-chip shop just as Edwina was about to volley her first excuse. Beryl patted her on the arm and delivered one of her knowing winks.
“Strike while the iron is hot, my dear Ed,” Beryl said. “I shall head back to the Beeches and eagerly await your news.” She spun Edwina around and gave her the slightest of pushes in the direction of the chippy. Edwina squared her shoulders, adjusted her hat, and reminded herself that she was on the job.
She slowed her pace but kept Alma in sight. She wished to speak with the other woman out of the way of prying ears. Alma might be able to forgive her for asking impertinent questions in private. She would be unlikely to do so should Edwina embarrass her in front of others. Alma crossed the street and struck off in the direction of the village green. Edwina followed at a leisurely pace, keeping her quarry well within sight. She was pleased to see Alma head for a bench near the duck pond.
When it became clear that Alma intended to sit in the sunshine to enjoy her lunch, Edwina quickened her pace and joined her on the bench.
“Care for a chip?” Alma said, extending a cone of newspaper tantalizingly filled with perfectly browned bits of potato.
She had breakfasted several hours earlier, and Edwina felt her stomach rumbling at the sight of one of the world’s best culinary inventions. Her conscience suggested she decline, as it might be a conflict of interest to accept gifts from a suspect. Her taste buds and her stomach clamored for her to be reasonable. Edwina reminded herself that she was the moral rudder in her partnership with Beryl, and politely declined.
“Suit yourself,” Alma said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t admit it, but I sneak off and buy a nice bit of fish from time to time. The butcher’s wife is expected to happily consume all manner of sausages and chops, but the truth is, I don’t think you can beat fish and chips when they are properly done.”
“I’m sure that Mr. Poole wouldn’t begrudge you a bit of culinary diversity from time to time,” Edwina said, regretting her refusal as she watched Alma break off a piece of golden-brown batter-encrusted fish.
A flock of ducks waddled towards them, and Edwina wondered how soon it would be before they would encircle the bench in search of a portion of Alma’s lunch. Edwina was quite fond of ducks, birds of all sort, for that matter, and she wished she had brought the bag of stale bread that she kept on hand to feed them.
It was little things like that that made her remember the war years with sharp pangs. While she had never felt hungry throughout those terrible times, she had felt a chafing at the restrictions rationing had brought towards the end of the war. It was a small thing, really, but Edwina had long since discovered that the small things were often the most important ones.
The pressure of the group to conform to expected behavior was always intense in a small village like Walmsley Parva. But during the war, the village had thrown itself fully behind the war effort and all that entailed. The residents of Walmsley Parva, at least publicly, had fully embraced the idea of food conservation and rationing. The notion of wasting good bread on wild ducks was not to be entertained. Edwina felt that the fri
endly flock that inhabited the village green in her own corner of the empire had suffered along with the rest of them. She was inordinately relieved when Alma broke off a piece of potato and tossed it towards the gobbling flock.
“Sidney doesn’t know about it,” Alma said, tossing another piece of chip into the fray. “My husband doesn’t hold with fish.” She gave Edwina a look that said such a thing was not to be comprehended.
“It must be very difficult in a marriage to know what to keep to oneself and what to put out for discussion,” Edwina said.
“It can be a bit of a trick, that’s for sure,” Alma said. “Although the truth of the matter is, the vast majority of husbands spend so very little time listening that it doesn’t much matter. Although, I daresay, if I came home with this to serve for tea, he would notice right sharp like.”
“It seems to me that some men are far more attentive than others,” Edwina said. “Hector Lomax, for instance, was far more attentive than one would perhaps appreciate.” Edwina held her breath and kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ducks as she waited for Alma to reply. In her experience, people often opened up of their own accord if one did not insist on glaring at them.
“You and Miss Helliwell seem to have a whole hive of bees in your bonnets about my connection with Hector Lomax. Is there something you want to come right out and ask me?” Alma said, turning on the bench to face Edwina full on.
“As you likely already know, Jack Prentice has hired us to see if it’s possible that anyone other than his father could have murdered Hector. I would not be doing my job if I did not make enquiries of all those who have had reason to dislike him of late,” Edwina said.
Alma looked at her for a moment, studying her face the same way she did when she was considering how best to implement a new hairstyle. Finally, she let out a deep exhalation and seemed to have come to a conclusion.
Murder Cuts the Mustard Page 18