by Anne Morice
‘You really want me to guess?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I can’t. Sorry to stumble at the first fence.’
‘He was carrying a ladder.’
‘Good God!’
‘Naturally, it had no significance for me at the time. I was rather surprised to see him there, but I doubt if I’d have given it another thought if the silly boy hadn’t gone out of his way to emphasise his presence. He must have seen my car but he pretended he hadn’t. He dropped the ladder down by the side of the house, then turned and ambled back the way he had come. What do you make of that?’
‘The only immediate thing that springs to mind is that it’s a point in Albert’s favour.’
‘Explain, please!’
I gave him an account of Albert’s abortive attempts to get into the bathroom where Betsy was already lying dead, and he said:
‘Yes, I see. That does tie in, doesn’t it? At the time, of course, my only reaction was a vague curiosity about what Digby was up to, and even that was temporarily submerged by the floods which Maud’s will unleashed. It wasn’t until I was driving past the same spot again, on my way out, that I recalled the incident and for some reason it seemed to crystallise the misgivings which had been building up all day. That was when I had the impulse to ask Pete to stop the car and give you a message. I can’t say I’m often subject to premonitions; fairly unimaginative sort of chap, as a rule, but I’ll go so far as to say that at that moment I experienced an almost physical sense of evil at work.’
‘And how right you were! Thank you for telling me. I’ll certainly keep my ear to the ground, and if anything does come up I’ll let you know at once. Can I ask you one question before I go?’
‘As many as you like.’
‘Just one. If you won’t think it impertinent, could you tell me about Betsy’s will? I mean, who gets the money now?’
‘You may find the answer somewhat ironical. You’ll realise of course that her will as not been changed since she inherited her mother’s estate. We can’t tell how she would have disposed of things, had there been time, but as it stands, all property, investments and other holdings pass to Jasper.’
‘Ah!’
‘Yes, but this is the curious part; the jewellery is bequeathed to Margot. When the will was drawn up Jasper stood to inherit something like ten or twelve thousand pounds. Even allowing for the double death duties, his share will total almost ten times that amount. Margot’s position is even more startling in a way. Instead of the few trinkets she would have received if Betsy had died a week earlier, she now gets the whole of Maudie’s collection as well. I can’t be precise about the value because the market varies, but most of it is really big stuff, which she acquired or had thrust upon her in her heyday. I can tell you this much, however; there’s a tiara and matching diamond necklace which alone are insured for around forty thousand pounds.’
‘So we’re back where we came in, with all the old faces squarely in the picture again,’ I told Robin, while discussing these matters as we drove out of London on Friday evening. ‘With the possible exception of Dickie and Jasper.’
‘I don’t quite go along with that. Dickie may be presumed to benefit where Margot does, and Jasper certainly isn’t doing too badly.’
‘Yes, but only because things took the wrong turn at the beginning. If Betsy had drunk the milk instead of Maud, Jasper would have been out in the cold with a measly ten thousand. What’s more, once Maud was dead, he had only to tell Betsy to hand everything over to him and she’d have done it in a flash. If it had ever come to a tussle between him and Margot he’d have won hands down. He was the last person who needed to kill her to get possession of it.’
‘What construction do you put on Gerald’s story about Digby?’
‘God knows, Robin, although it ties in with his car being missing at that particular time. Presumably he drove it away and parked it somewhere out of sight of the house; and then if anyone had noticed his absence he could say that he felt so broken up by the loss of his old gran that he couldn’t face the funeral and had gone for a spin in the country; something like that.’
‘He’d have had a job hiding the car, wouldn’t he? It’s fairly conspicuous and, if it had come to the crunch, the chances are that someone, somewhere would have noticed it standing empty.’
‘Yes, but he’s such an ass that he may not have thought of that. Or perhaps he only meant to fall back on that story as a last resort, hoping to get away with the tale about having come in late and sat at the back of the Church, which in fact he did get away with.’
‘All the same, he’d have to have taken the car some distance away and it wouldn’t have left him much time for returning on foot and carving up the balcony posts before Gerald arrived on the scene. And that’s not all, Tessa. Wouldn’t there have been a gigantic risk of you or Betsy catching him in the act?’
‘Not really. It’s true that we were in the morning room at the time, but well away from the window, and anyway he’d have been fairly safe so long as he’d propped the ladder up between Betsy’s balcony and the one leading out of Maud’s room. All the same, I don’t seriously suspect Digby of having a hand in that job.’
‘Because of your theory that it was done some days earlier?’
‘Oh no,’ I said, wondering vaguely what could have given him that idea, ‘not at all. It’s simply that there was one very subtle touch about Sophie’s fall, which I couldn’t mention before because Betsy had seen fit to remove the evidence.’
‘What evidence?’
‘Well, actually, Robin, it was Margot’s hat.’
‘Margot’s hat?’ he repeated in a dazed tone. ‘Whatever next?’
‘You wouldn’t be so surprised if you’d seen it as I did, lying on the ground beside Sophie. It gave me a proper jolt, I can tell you, because just for a moment I thought she must have been holding one of the cats when she fell. That’s exactly what it looked like; a dead cat. But I don’t think it came down with Sophie and I’m sure it didn’t get there by accident. I think Betsy saw the point of it long before I did, and that’s why she threw it back into the house even before I went to telephone Dr Macintosh.’
‘And what was the point of it?’
‘Well, look at it this way, Robin: on the face of it, there was something so hit and miss about that balcony trap. It must have been planned for Betsy, but days or weeks might have gone by before she fell into it. Perhaps the murderer wasn’t in any special hurry when he set it up, but then he realised that she would soon be moving out of that room and back to the Stables, so he had to act quickly. Hence Margot’s hat.’
‘Meaning that Betsy, seeing it from above, would mistake it for a dead cat and lean over the balcony to get a closer view?’
‘Yes, and that’s precisely what she would have done, don’t you think? And that, I imagine, is just what Sophie did. You may remember that she had this special kind of affinity with cats? Some people might have ignored it, but she wasn’t one of them, and neither was Betsy. And that’s really why I rule out Digby. He simply hasn’t got the sort of mind to invent a trick like that.’
‘You can’t tell. He may not express himself very lucidly, but that could be because his thought processes are more complicated than the average, not less; or even that they’ve become so, simply because he finds it hard to communicate.’
‘Well, that’s a novel idea, Robin. Is it based on experience?’
‘Not entirely. I simply feel it’s a mistake to assume that inarticulate people are necessarily simple minded. It’s sometimes the other way round. Take Toby, for example.’
‘He’s not what I call inarticulate.’
‘No, perhaps laconic is more the word for him, but certainly a good deal less chatty than, say, Lulu.’
‘Who’s not very bright, I agree; although they make a good team. It was a remark Toby made about Lulu which first gave me the idea that we were wrong in thinking that Sophie had been enticed on to the balcony and th
en pushed. In other words, that the murderer, having laid his bait, wasn’t necessarily anywhere near her when she fell. Toby said that even Lulu wouldn’t be silly enough to fall off a balcony, however keen she might be to see what was down below. I suddenly visualised it from that angle, instead of the other way on, and I realised the significance of Margot’s hat.’
‘Well, I don’t think we can give her much credit for that.’
‘Maybe not, but later on she produced another valuable item, right off her own bat. She told me that the Family Planners met on Tuesday, not Wednesday. And she was right, you know, Robin. I checked up on the Town Hall notice board when I was there for Sophie’s inquest. So why did Betsy pretend to have been at the meeting on the day Maud died, which was also by a curious coincidence the day Gerald brought the new will down for her to sign?’
‘I take this to be a rhetorical question to which you will now provide the answer?’
‘No such luck. I hoped you might.’
‘Perhaps what you need is another chat with Lulu.’
‘And perhaps what I need even more is for you to have an unofficial chat with Chief Inspector Mackenzie.’
‘I can do better than that. I’m down for an official chat with him in his office tomorrow morning.’
‘Honestly, Robin, you might have told me!’
‘It was practically inevitable, don’t you think? With the Dedley case wrapped up and on its way to the post, who more obvious than I to answer the Storhampton call?’
‘Although, if you had told me, I am not sure I would have been so free in passing on everything Gerald said. On the other hand, he didn’t swear me to secrecy.’
‘And since his object is to catch the villain, why should he quarrel with the methods?’
‘Quite so, my love. And with your expertise, Mackenzie’s resources and my inside information all working to the same goal, I don’t see there can be much to stop us, do you?’
‘I wish I shared your confidence,’ he replied, changing into low gear for the long, winding climb up to Roakes Common. ‘I have my own ideas about who’s responsible, but I very much doubt if it will ever be proven.’
As it happened, I also had some ideas on the subject, and furthermore had already begun to work out a few plans to find the proof. Vanity urged my getting to it ahead of Chief Inspector Mackenzie, but I was not above seeking help from the rival firm and I asked Robin if he would use his official status to dig up a piece of information for me.
‘I might,’ he replied warily. ‘Depends what you want to know.’
‘It’s a question of property,’ I explained. ‘The ownership of certain property, to be precise. I could probably get it for myself, given time, but it might take days; whereas Mackenzie would probably only need to lift the telephone.’
‘Tell me exactly what you want to know,’ Robin said, and I did so.
XVII
(i)
Robin had taken the car, to keep his appointment with Chief Inspector Mackenzie and Toby was loth, if that’s not too weak a word, to lend me the Mercedes; so I had to hire a taxi to take me down to Storhampton.
Owen, the driver, was an old friend, dating back to my spinster days, and as we had a gap of several months to fill in our exchange of family news, almost half the distance had been covered before we broached the subject of my immediate destination. Owen was ablaze with curiosity to learn that I was on my way to the Rectory for Betsy’s funeral, although casting a somewhat disapproving look at my outfit. The hot weather had returned, not quite on the scale of its former tropical splendour, but promising enough to enable me to wear my newest summer dress, which happened to be bright yellow.
‘It’s all right,’ I explained. ‘I have it on the best authority that Mrs Craig specifically asked for no mourning.’
‘Ah,’ he said sombrely, as though I had confirmed some dark suspicion of his own. ‘Yes, I daresay she did. Said a lot of funny things, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘What can you mean, Owen? She was vague and absent-minded sometimes, but not in the least off her head.’
‘Well, I don’t know what else you’d call it. Kindest thing, I’d say, and I wouldn’t be the one to cast the first stone. She had her troubles, we all know that, and I daresay the old lady’s death was the last straw.’
I was so flabbergasted by these remarks that it took me a minute or two to find the right words to protest.
‘Oh, come on, Owen! You’re surely to God not hinting that Mrs Craig took her own life?’
It was his turn to become speechless and he went brick red, glaring ahead of him and pressing his foot down a little too hard on the accelerator. This turned out rather badly because, as we swept round a downhill bend, we ran smack into a herd of cows lolloping across the road. He had to stand on the brake and come to a dead stop while they banged up against the bonnet, staring in at us through the windscreen with moody expressions and indolently flapping their tails against the side windows.
‘Is that really what you meant?’ I asked.
‘Sorry to speak out of turn,’ he mumbled. ‘But I took it for granted you knew.’
‘But it isn’t true, Owen.’
‘It’s what everybody hereabouts is saying,’ he replied obstinately; then, finding a new outlet for his annoyance, began to abuse the farmer for cluttering up the highway with his stupid animals.
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘We haven’t got to catch a train.’
‘All right for some.’
This was true in a way, because personally I had begun to feel grateful for the interlude which was giving me time to reconsider my attitude. I now saw the error of persisting in my denials as to the cause of Betsy’s death, for it was quite possible that the police had reasons of their own for encouraging if not instigating the rumour that it was suicide.
His brief outburst concluded, Owen also started to relax and, as the car groped forward again past the receding sea of black and white rumps, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to me before taking one himself.
‘Do you know anyone called Ted Williams?’ I asked, fishing for my lighter.
‘I used to know a bookie by that name.’
‘This one’s a tobacconist.’
‘Oh, him! You mean the chap as had the shop up near the hospital?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Can’t say I knew him exactly. I used to go in there sometimes, when I had a long wait, but not more than I could help. It was a run-down sort of place and he always seemed to be out of the brands I smoke. He’s gone now.’
‘So I heard. Has he retired?’
‘Doubt it. There was some tale about his old man dying and he had to take care of his mother, but it’s more likely he’d done a bunk, I’d say. Left a good many debts behind, so they tell me.’
‘Married?’
‘Not that I know of. If he was, he didn’t have his missus serving in the shop, and she certainly didn’t do much cleaning up after hours. What’s it to you?’
‘Someone I know is thinking of taking over the shop and modernising it a bit.’
‘It’s a good site,’ he admitted. ‘There’s nowhere else up there when the pubs are shut and there’s some people can’t wait to jet their fingers round a fag when they’ve been hanging about in the Out-Patients half the day. Do you mind if I drop you off at the gate instead of going right up? I’ve got to collect the old lady from Ballards Farm next and drive her over to Reading. She’s on the fussy side and those blasted cows have made me a bit late.’
‘You can drop me where you like, but you’ll have to go into the drive to turn round, won’t you?’
‘No, I won’t. There’s a right of way through the woods I can take, just opposite the Rectory.’
‘I thought that was just a bridle path?’
‘Used to be. They’ve widened it now, so as the tractors can get through when they’re cutting timber. It’s not much of a surface, but all right in this weather and it brings me out just wher
e I want to be.’
‘Okay, Owen, let me out here, then; and thanks a lot.’
‘Cheerioh! Mind how you go!’
One way and another, a rewarding twenty minutes on several counts, and I was inclined to feel, as I trudged up the drive, that the chief inspector would be well advised to start buckling on his roller skates.
(ii)
The front door was wide open, as usual, and, coming from the midday glare outside, it took a second or two to adjust my sight to the shadowy interior. When the picture cleared I saw that its central feature was a composition in black and white, represented by two figures posed against the staircase. One of them was Piers, in a dark suit, standing with his back to me and talking to Albert, who faced him and was therefore the first to notice my arrival. He appeared to have lost about a stone in weight and his white jacket sagged over rounded shoulders and drooped to a limp, uneven hemline just above his knees.
One hand gripped the banister knob, but he half raised the other, either in a feeble salute or as a warning to his companion, and Piers spun round and came towards me, all smiles.
He not only wore a dark suit but a black tie as well, although I reminded myself that he was probably in mourning for Sophie, which would naturally take precedence over Betsy’s wishes, and the effect was certainly becoming to his flaxen beauty.
‘Why, Tessa my darling, how good of you to come,’ he said, linking his arm in mine and kissing the top of my head.
‘I wanted to. You know how I felt about Betsy.’
‘Yes, indeed, and she was utterly devoted to you. We all know that, my dearest. Oh goodness, how terrible it all is! One misses her desperately. My poor mother is just about on her knees. I was giving Albert a few instructions about lunch and so on, since no one else seems inclined to lift a finger.’
‘Poor Albert, he looks simply terrible.’
‘And feels it, my darling, as much as any of us, I do believe. I begged him to come and sit with us all in Church, but he absolutely won’t. He means to go down there later, on his own.’