by Penny Kline
‘What makes you say that?’
‘She’s clever. Cleverer than you’d think. She says some people are so evil they’d be better dead. Better if they’d never been born.’
‘Is there something you want to tell me, Arthur?’ She ought to make it clear neither Barnaby nor Simmy was responsible for Noel’s death.
He put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and took out the money Willa owed her. ‘Did your friend go to art college? I mean, when she was young. I went to an exhibition in London. It was rubbish.’
‘In what way?’ Did he mean Tate Modern? It was not her job to instruct him in contemporary art, installations and the like, but she enjoyed his company. At least, she did when he was not talking about Noel. Perhaps she should try to arrange more tuition, with other pupils. She could put a card on the board at the supermarket. Or perhaps it was something you had to do online.
‘A small one,’ Arthur said, ‘the exhibition. In a kind of shed. Mum likes to think she’s an intellectual. This bloke had made a video of a drunk person. It was on a loop, on and on, and someone else had set up an electric car circuit. Models, I mean, and no different to a kid’s toy except there was a card explaining what it meant.’ He burst out laughing and, against her better judgement, Jane joined in. ‘You know the The Emperor’s New Clothes?’
‘I do.’
‘I reckon we’re mugs going to their exhibitions. I reckon they’re laughing at us.’
‘I’m not sure it’s quite that simple.’ But she was being patronising. ‘But I do know what you mean, Arthur. Perhaps it’s best to try and keep an open mind.’
‘About Noel?’
‘No, you know I didn’t mean ...’
‘I can think of at least four people who are not sorry he’s gone. Revenge is sweet. That’s a family motto I saw once. It was on the wall in one of those boring old houses open to the public. When I was a kid, my dad thought taking me to places like that was educational.’
‘Right then.’ She wanted to ask who were the four people. But, whoever he had in mind now, he was wrong. It was Eddie who had committed the crime. ‘Back to work.’
He gave a slow smile, hitching up his jeans and sitting down again. ‘I’m not much good at writing essays – introduction, middle bit, and conclusion – but I don’t see why you can’t write the stuff in note form. Dave’s one of the guilty four. That’s what Simmy thinks.’
‘I hope you haven’t been gossiping to people.’
‘My mum and dad had this big bust-up. Something to do with when she asked Noel to come round to discuss loft conversions. Dad said we didn’t need one, but I don’t think that’s what the row was about. She said she was leaving him, leaving Dad I mean, but she was only gone for two nights. I knew she’d be back. Dad gets on her nerves but she’d be no good on her own.’
‘I’d like you to write a short description.’
‘Of the people in Faraday Road?’
‘No! Not people, a place, somewhere you like. Where you went on holiday perhaps.’
‘A place?’ He made it sound like she had asked the impossible. ‘Would the park be all right? I haven’t been there for ages. Simmy saw Noel there, with another woman. Short dark hair, could have been Spanish or Portuguese. No, not Mrs Cardozo. No one from this road. His loft conversions all have sticking out balconies, don’t they? What are they for, what’s the point? Anyway, there’s no way he’d have lost his balance. He may have slept around but he wasn’t a complete idiot.’
THIRTY-ONE
In the small hours, the world felt like a place, full of pain and suffering. And fear. It was the owl that shriek’d. But waking at half past four was not so bad. Radio Five Live had stopped its phone-ins and “The News” had begun, interspersed with plenty of sport, but that was only to be expected. Some sports were mildly diverting but Jane had an aversion to rugby, and Five Live had a habit of broadcasting sudden deafening bursts of sound, medleys of past commentaries that might have been acceptable during the day, but not in the small hours.
Once she had flinched at “breaking news”, but lately the term had been extended to include virtually anything. A member of the royal family had expressed an opinion on comprehensive schools. A football manager had been sacked. This morning it was something to do with the supply of energy. Turning onto her back, being careful not to reactivate the cramp that had plagued her left leg during the night, she stared at the light filtering through her bedroom curtains.
Uppermost in her mind was Arthur and his remark about Noel’s death, tossed out nonchalantly enough, but she was getting to know the boy and nothing he said was as casual as it appeared. I reckon the men women fall for are the ones that are no good. Wise words from someone so young. Was he thinking about his mother? Willa was hardly the discreet type, and Arthur could well have overheard phone calls between her and Noel. Or returned home early from school and heard suspicious sounds emanating from her bedroom.
Sometimes Jane wondered if Arthur knew something about that dreadful afternoon and was teasing her, tempting her to ask him to tell more. When he talked about the computer game he and Simmy were devising, it was clear he was a believer in violent retribution. But Eddie was the murderer. Not intentionally, perhaps – a court of law would say she was not of sound mind – but at what stage of her illness did responsibility come to an end? Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow. If the truth came out, Eddie would be none the wiser, but Jane would be the talk of Faraday Road. She might have to move.
Lying in bed was a mistake. Vague worries were exacerbated. Imagination ran riot. Best to get up and face the world. A brisk walk to clear her head.
Leaving the house, she came across Gus, stuffing a bag of rubbish into his black wheelie bin.
‘Morning, Miss Marple.’ He was wearing his dressing gown, and the frayed ends of grey cotton trousers hung over a pair of red flip-flops. While his shop was still a going concern, he had left early, returning at seven or even later. Now, like her, he had no routine. Your days are your own, as a crass television presenter had remarked, in good spirits herself since she had an interesting, well-paid job.
‘Put too much washing in the machine.’ Uncharacteristically, Gus felt the need to explain why he was not fully dressed.
‘Do you have a dryer?’
‘A what? Oh, one of those things that eats up electricity.’
‘I don’t expect Dave would mind if you hung your washing in the garden.’
‘You don’t, don’t you? Shows how well you know Dave.’
Jane sighed. ‘It’s not as though he takes any trouble with it. The dandelion seeds blow over into mine. If he doesn’t want the bother of cutting the grass, he should have the whole thing paved.’
Gus sniffed and she realised her mistake. ‘More patio stones, you mean. How’s Eddie?’
‘I’ve been thinking about the day she went missing.’
‘Is that what you call it? The Day Eddie Went Missing. Well, I suppose it’s an improvement on The Day Noel Threw Himself Off The Balcony.’
‘I’m going for a walk. They say it releases endorphins in the brain.’
‘Thought you wanted to ask me something.’
‘Did I?’ Should she mention how Willa had said she saw him returning to the house, not long after two? Gus would think she was accusing him, and Willa could have made it up. Besides, it was irrelevant now. ‘I forget what is was. Can’t have been important.’
‘If you say so. Need to get changed. Business meeting.’
‘Another? Starting a new business, are you?’
He gave a snort. ‘What did you think of the funeral?’
‘I met an old flame of Noel’s.’
‘That blonde woman?’ But he had no interest in anything she had to say and was going back into his house.
Just as well. She had almost decided to tell him about the handcuffs but he had given no indication he was prepared to listen to her, so he was not the right person to confide in. Except, who else
was there? ‘Oh, Gus,’ she called, and he turned, rubbing his eyes.
‘On the day of the accident, Willa saw you coming back up the road. I’m not sure what time it was. A bit after two o’clock I expect when she was on her way to a lingerie party.’
‘Aha, the plot thickens. So, Sherlock, you think I was on my way to do the dastardly deed. By the way, is Eddie still able to handle money?’
‘No.’
‘Doesn’t need it. Like the Queen.’
‘Her memory’s worse. It’s impossible to have a sensible conversation. Except now and again she remembers something from the past. A few weeks ago she started talking about a visit to Greece we made twelve years ago. The airport at Athens, the boat that took us to one of the islands. Little details I’d completely forgotten.’
‘Odd thing, the brain.’ But he was more interested in his bin. Had he thrown something away and regretted it? Not long ago, foolishly, she had bought a pair of shoes because she liked the colour, but when she tried them on at home discovered they squeezed her toes and would undoubtedly give her corns. Searching for the receipt, she had been reduced to looking in the bin, then found it, screwed up at the bottom of her shopping bag.
Gus was muttering away, something about Sainsbury’s. ‘Only when I saw her, standing outside ...’
‘Eddie? You saw her? When? What time was it?’ Jane’s sharp intake of breath had given her away but, oblivious, Gus was still busy with his bin.
He straightened up, pointing at a pair of magpies on the roof opposite. ‘Evil creatures. Raid nests and eat fledglings. Two-fifteen. Had an appointment at half past.’
‘On that Saturday? A quarter past two? When you saw Eddie?’
‘Checked my watch and realised I had ten minutes to fill so I might as well do some shopping. Someone had tied up a Jack Russell and Eddie was deep in conversation.’
‘You’re quite sure it was Eddie?’
‘Her memory may not be up to much but she looks the same as she always did. Never one for bothering about her appearance. Artistic temperament and all that.’
‘And it was definitely two-fifteen? A dentist’s appointment, was it?’
‘Why d’you say that?’
‘You mentioned last week you’d felt a twinge. A wisdom tooth you thought.’ Weak with relief, Jane had calculated it would have taken Eddie at least twenty minutes to reach Sainsbury’s. Simmy had knocked on the door just before two so, in order to have reached the supermarket by two-fifteen, Eddie would have to have slipped through the front door while Jane was showing Simmy into the sitting room. And it made sense she would have made a beeline for the place where they had done their weekly shop.
‘I wish you’d told me before, Gus.’
‘You knew she’d gone to the shops.’
‘Yes, yes I did.’ She must have taken the fluffy handcuffs to the loft soon after she brought her back from The Spruces. Following loud demands for ice cream, Jane had left her in front of the television – a programme about cats that did things “that made you laugh” – and hurried, half walking, half running, to the nearest shop and back. Ten minutes, not more, but quite long enough for Eddie to forage about in the kitchen, find the handcuffs behind the herbs and spices, and take them next door. ‘I’ve been thinking, Gus.’
‘Never a good idea.’
‘I know some people liked Noel’s loft conversions, but others thought them an abomination.’
‘And like all good private eyes you need to eliminate suspects.’ He slammed down the lid of the wheelie bin. ‘Not guilty. As I told you before, out, hoping to get a close-up of a summer visitor. Someone had seen a flock of redstarts in a field. Came back for a lens I’d forgotten.’
‘Where did you see the bird? No, it doesn’t matter. I just wondered ...’
‘Love you and leave you.’ He had a foot in his front door. ‘Need to check my washing’s dry.’
A business matter. Was he hoping to re-open his shop, or perhaps he intended to set up some kind of photographic service? Or “a business matter” could mean another rendezvous with the woman from number twenty-two. But none of that concerned her just now. He had seen Eddie outside Sainsbury’s at two-fifteen. She was in the clear.
THIRTY-TWO
Simmy had put in an appearance. ‘Oh, Miss Seymour, Arthur likes you and he thinks if you ask my dad what happened to my mother ..
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Will you? Today?’
‘Yes, if I can find your father.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Simmy’s contorted expression changed into a smile. ‘Arthur says Mr McNeill was an alpha male. The biggest ape in the herd. The one that mates with all the females.’
‘Yes, well you and Arthur ...’ A familiar figure was approaching and Jane was afraid she might have overheard. ‘Corinne. Are you looking for me?’
‘So you’ll ask him?’ Simmy was watching Corinne with narrowed eyes. ‘ A lady who brought her chair to be repaired said we could stay in her caravan in Cornwall, but Dad won’t go.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. As I said, I’ll talk to him later, dear.’ And she would. He would take it badly but knowing Eddie was innocent had given her new energy. However unpleasant he was, she would stick to her principles, refuse to leave until he had told her the truth. ‘Come inside, Corinne. Tea, or I think you prefer coffee.’ Jane had taken to drinking prune juice but now was not the time to discuss digestive systems.
‘I’m not sleeping, Jane.’
‘No, I’m sure.’ She could have added “join the club” but it might have sounded callous, and in any case, Gus’ revelation had meant that, for the first time for days, she had slept for seven uninterrupted hours.
‘It’s Barnaby.’
‘Didn’t he come to see you?’ Jane was staring at the woman from number twenty-two who was carrying a heavy box into her house. Something to do with her DIY? Gus would know.
‘Oh, he came all right.’ Corinne started to explain but a baby’s yells heralded the appearance of the Tidewell family.
‘Morning Jane.’ Tricia Tidewell was trying to force Ada into her buggy while simultaneously attempting to separate Liam and Pippa. She turned to Corinne. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs ... about your ... it was so awful. Ian and I had been thinking of having our loft converted. Oh, I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. Stop it, Liam, what did I tell you?’
‘Do as you’re told, Liam.’ Jane sounded fiercer than she had meant to, but it worked. ‘Stand still, Pippa. And you, Liam, can hold the buggy while your mother straps in Ada.’
‘Oh, Jane, it must be because you used to be a headmistress.’
‘Head of department. Go inside the house, Corinne, I’ll be with you in a second.’ School holidays were always too much for Tricia but, instead of buying them more and more toys and games, she should be teaching the two older children how to behave, if necessary, sending them to their respective bedrooms.
‘Sorry.’ Tricia was making her apologetic face. ‘Tell Corinne I didn’t mean ... about Ian wanting a loft conversion.’
‘Tricia?’
‘Yes. Oh, is there something I can do to help? I always feel so useless. Ian is away again; he says working away is less tiring than being at home.’
‘He should do his fair share.’
‘Except I was the one who wanted another baby. Ian thought two was enough. He said if we had another it would be no good asking him to help.’
‘I see.’ Jane did, but had no wish to discuss the matter. ‘Tricia, I meant to ask you, were you about on the afternoon of Noel’s ...’
‘I can’t remember.’ Tricia pulled down her white hair band. ‘I could have gone to the park. Saturday, it was a Saturday. I’ll have a think. You’re wondering if I saw something.’ Some of the wisps of hair had been caught. ‘If someone went up to the loft with Noel. Only why would they? Is that what you were thinking?’
‘Was Ian here? I mean, do you suppose he could have noticed what time Noel went up there?’
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‘Ian? He never notices anything. And I’m always occupied with the children.’
‘It’ll be easier when they’re all at school.’
‘Yes, but ...’
Jane waited. Surely the silly woman wasn’t planning a fourth child.
‘I’ll have to find a job and I’m not qualified. I passed art and geography but not maths and you have to pass maths. Why did you want to know – about Noel going up to the loft?’
‘No reason. Just to get the facts correct.’ Jane lowered her voice. ‘For Corinne’s sake.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Tricia’s face flushed scarlet, and Liam and Pippa were silent, and even Ada was sitting quietly in her buggy. Did she know something? Had she been one of Noel’s admirers? No, of course not, she wasn’t his type, quite apart from the fact she never had any time on her own.
Back in the house, Jane found Corinne lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. In spite of her fragile state, she had still managed to apply ample amounts of eyeshadow and rouge. No, these days it was called “blusher”. And there was something called “eyeliner” that made people look like pandas.
‘He wanted money, Jane. Barnaby – he only came because he wanted money. For gambling debts. Not horses, football. Only they don’t play football in the summer.’
‘I believe they do in Australia.’ Should she tell Corinne how the boy had forced Noel to give him a “loan”? Not much point now, except Noel had been afraid the boy would ask for more? Was that what had happened – and had Noel refused? And Barnaby had followed him and ...
‘I’m not like you, Jane.’ Corinne hauled herself into a sitting position and fluffed up her hair. ‘I’ve never had a job, not a proper one. I did work in a shop for a few weeks when I was sixteen. Then I met Gerard and solicitors earn such a lot – just for letters and phone calls. It’s extortion. Me and Noel weren’t actually married. I told you that, didn’t I? It was only because Gerard was being silly about a divorce, I mean about the house, Gerard’s house. And mine. If you’re married even if you didn’t pay for the house and —’