Wake the Dead

by Dorothy Simpson

  It sounded to Thanet unlikely in the extreme that Mrs Tanner should, nine months later, take it into her head to resort to murder in order to take revenge for her son’s prison sentence, but one never knew. Stranger things had happened, and if the woman were mentally unstable …

  He took down Mrs Tanner’s address and thanked Fairleigh for the information. ‘We’ll certainly look into it.’

  There was a knock at the door and Sam came in. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Hugo, but there’s a TV crew at the door. They want an interview with you.’

  Fairleigh groaned. ‘I suppose I’ll have to have a word with them, or they’ll never go away.’ He stood up. ‘If we’ve finished, then, Thanet?’

  ‘Just one other point, sir. Could I have the name of your mother’s solicitor?’

  Fairleigh frowned, then shrugged. ‘It’s Oliver Bassett, of Wylie, Bassett and Protheroe.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Good, a local firm. That should help.

  At the door the MP hesitated. ‘Er, Thanet …’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘I can rely upon your discretion, can’t I? I mean, the press are going to be after you too … Nothing too sensational, eh?’

  ‘I’m always discreet, sir.’ Fairleigh would have to be satisfied with that, thought Thanet. He wasn’t going to tie himself down with promises, false or otherwise. Occasionally the help of the media was invaluable, and one never knew when it might be needed. All the same, he was going to do his best to keep out of their way. He hated public exposure, unless it was essential. ‘If I could have a word with Miss Ransome now?’

  Fairleigh nodded. ‘Sam will take you up.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. We can find our own way.’

  ‘Through there, then.’ Fairleigh pointed to a door at the back of the hall and without waiting went out, closing the front door behind him.

  Thanet and Lineham were halfway across the hall when Grace Fairleigh emerged from a door on the right. She hesitated when she saw the two policemen and Thanet stopped. ‘Mrs Fairleigh …’

  Having heard so much about her from Caroline he was curious to talk to her again, and as an excuse to do so there was one small point that he could raise with her, even if he didn’t think there was much point in doing so.

  In the past, whenever he had seen her at public functions, he had been struck by her elegance, her poise, her air of dignity and remoteness. She must, he had thought, have always been a naturally reserved person. She and Caroline were a classic example of the attraction of opposites and it was obvious that both had gained much from mutual support and encouragement.

  According to Caroline the birth of the baby had transformed Grace and after seeing that photograph in the drawing room Thanet could believe it. The Grace Fairleigh who stood before them now was hardly recognisable as the same woman. How much of that warmth still survived beneath that cool, well-groomed façade? Signs of strain were evident in the bruised flesh beneath her eyes but apart from that there was nothing in her manner or appearance to indicate that anything in the household was amiss.

  The carefully plucked eyebrows arched in polite inquiry. ‘Yes, Inspector?’

  ‘There was something I wanted to ask you.’

  She said nothing, merely tilted her head a little, expectantly.

  ‘When I was talking to you and Miss Ransome yesterday, I had the impression that you were surprised when she said she hadn’t been upstairs during the afternoon.’

  There was a moment’s silence, during which her expression did not change. Then, with a hint of disdain, she said, ‘Then you were mistaken, Inspector. And now, if you’ll excuse me …’ She turned away and began to climb the stairs, head held high and back ramrod-straight.

  The corners of Thanet’s mouth tugged down ruefully. ‘Ouch. I suppose I asked for that, didn’t I?’

  ‘You didn’t really expect her to admit she thought Miss Ransome was lying, did you?’

  ‘How right you are. Mike. No, I didn’t. Come on.’

  Pushing open the door which Fairleigh had indicated they found themselves in the downstairs corridor of Isobel Fairleigh’s flat, near the bottom of the staircase. In the kitchen something sizzled in the oven and one end of the scrubbed wooden table was neatly laid for a solitary lunch, with white tablecloth embroidered with forget-me-nots, knife, fork, spoon and table-napkin in a silver ring.

  ‘Odd lot, aren’t they?’ said Lineham. ‘You’d think they’d have asked her around for dinner next door, in the circumstances.’

  ‘Quite.’

  Calling Miss Ransome’s name in order not to alarm her by their sudden appearance, they climbed the stairs and tried the sitting room: empty. The bathroom was also empty, its door ajar. Apart from Isobel Fairleigh’s bedroom, which was still sealed, the only other upstairs room was along the corridor to the right of the staircase. This must be Letty Ransome’s bedroom. They knocked and waited before opening the door to glance inside. It was simply furnished, with narrow brass bedstead, crocheted white bedspread and white curtains sprigged with rosebuds. The few items of furnishing were, Thanet guessed, rejects from the rest of the house: a narrow oak wardrobe with a spotted mirror, a rickety bedside table, a worn Persian rug beside the bed. There was no telephone extension in here, Thanet noticed. The contrast with the other rooms in the flat shouted aloud Letty’s position as a dependant. Just how much had she resented that position? Thanet wondered.

  On the bed lay a shabby black handbag and a black straw hat which had seen better days.

  ‘Looks as though she went to church too,’ said Lineham. ‘I wonder where she is.’

  ‘Outside, perhaps?’

  They tracked her down dead-heading the roses, trug on the ground beside her. She was wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat fraying at the edges, leather gardening gloves and a heavy-duty canvas apron over her black dress. She straightened up, flustered, as she saw them approaching. Despite the hat she looked hot, cheeks and forehead flushed with the exertion.

  ‘Oh, Inspector …’ She laid the secateurs in the trug on top of the rose clippings, took off one of the gloves and tucked behind her ear a strand of hair which had fallen across her face. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m … But it was so quiet indoors, without Isobel … I had to do something, you see.’

  She was apologising in case they thought she was being disrespectful to the dead. ‘Life has to go on,’ Thanet said gravely, aware that in situations like this people find clichés comforting.

  She looked relieved. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Could you spare us a few minutes?’

  ‘Of course.’ She dropped both gloves into the trug then took a wisp of handkerchief from the pocket of her apron, removed her hat and dabbed delicately at her forehead and upper lip. ‘It’s so hot today, isn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps we could sit in the shade, over there.’ Thanet pointed to a slatted wooden bench under a beech tree.

  Letty Ransome nodded agreement, tucked her hat under her arm and removed her apron as they walked, folding it neatly and laying it on her lap when she sat down. Evidently she did not think it proper to be interviewed by the police informally attired.

  Thanet sat down beside her and Lineham leaned against the tree.

  What was she like, Thanet wondered, beneath that spinsterly façade?

  At first it seemed that she had nothing new to tell them. Interestingly enough, she read the list of names in much the same way as Hugo: a swift glance through and then a second, more careful perusal. Had they both been looking for the same name? Thanet wondered.

  She dismissed out of hand the idea that Mrs Tanner could have had anything to do with the murder and then, frowning over Isobel’s diary, said that to her knowledge Isobel knew no one whose name began with B; the regular entries were a mystery to her. She knew nothing about the previous day’s mail, said that it was usually Grace who brought Isobel’s letters up and read them to her. ‘Such a sweet girl. She used to come up every morning and every evening to read
to Isobel. In the morning it would be the newspapers and in the evening The Forsyte Saga. Isobel was very fond of The Forsyte Saga. I used to come and listen too. Grace reads so beautifully, you know, and she’d just reached the place where Soames and Irene … I’m sorry, you won’t want to hear all this. But it upset her to see Isobel so helpless – well, it upset us all. Isobel was always so independent.’

  ‘What was she like, as a person, your sister?’

  A shadow flitted across Letty Ransome’s brow, but she said firmly, ‘She was very kind to me. She took me in, you know, gave me a home when Father died. Otherwise I’d have … Well, I don’t know what would have become of me.’ She flushed and said somewhat defiantly, ‘Oh, I know people thought she made use of me, but I didn’t mind. I felt it was the least I could do, to make life as comfortable as possible for her, in the circumstances. In any case, I think most people misunderstood her.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, people thought she was bossy, you know, and overbearing. And it was true, I suppose. But it wasn’t her fault she was like that, it was Father’s.’ She smiled and shook her head indulgently. ‘Dear Father, he never really got over his disappointment, you see. He so wanted a son. And when, after me, he was told that Mother couldn’t have any more children, he decided that Isobel would have to be the next best thing. I was always too timid, but Isobel, well, she was a bold, headstrong child, and he encouraged her. She was to be strong, determined, even ruthless, if necessary, if she believed herself to be in the right. He disapproved of women in politics – in many ways he was a conventional man – otherwise I’m sure he’d have encouraged her to try for Parliament herself. As it was he told her that she must be ambitious in her choice of a husband, and of course she was. Everyone thought Humphrey was heading for great things.’ She sighed. ‘We never know what fate has in store for us, do we?’

  ‘I suppose she must have been very pleased when her son became a member of parliament?’

  ‘Oh yes. Delighted. It was what she always wanted for him. And Grace, of course, was the perfect wife. Not like …’ She stopped dead, as if she had suddenly come up against a brick wall.

  Thanet’s interest quickened. ‘Not like …?’

  ‘Oh, just a girl Hugo brought home from Oxford once. But she wasn’t suitable.’

  So why this reluctance? Because she didn’t wish to discuss family matters which she felt did not concern him? No, there was more to it than that, he was sure. He would have to be careful, avoid direct questions, or she would clam up altogether.

  ‘I suppose your sister would have had very strong views about that.’

  ‘Yes, she did.’ Letty Ransome’s fingers had suddenly become very busy, rolling and unrolling a corner of the gardening apron on her lap.

  ‘It’s important for an MP’s wife to have the right background.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ She was frowning, scarcely listening to him. Trying to make up her mind about something? Her head was bent and she gave him a quick sideways glance. He could almost see her thinking, Shall I tell him?

  Tell him what?

  He glanced at Lineham who raised his eyebrows and lifted his shoulders.

  He decided to use silence. Most people find it uncomfortable, and few can withstand the pressure it puts upon them. Letty Ransome, he guessed, would not be one of them.

  Although she kept her eyes down, looking apparently at her fingers which were still busy with the corner of the apron, he knew that she was aware of his steady gaze, and could feel her tension mounting.

  ‘I …’ she said, and gave him another of those fleeting, sideways glances.

  He said nothing.

  ‘Yesterday …’ she began again. And stopped.

  He waited.

  She put her hand up to her forehead as if her dilemma were causing her physical pain. Which perhaps it was.

  ‘Oh dear. I don’t know what to do, I really don’t.’ She cast a frantic glance around the garden as if looking for help from an unknown source.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s worrying you?’ he said gently. ‘You’ll feel much better if you get it off your chest.’

  ‘You think so?’ She looked full at him now, as if seeking verification of his sincerity.

  ‘I do.’ He was firm, authoritative. He meant it. Whatever was worrying her would continue to worry her until she had unburdened herself.

  Her restless fingers relinquished the apron and she folded her hands together in her lap. She had come to a decision. ‘It’s about Pamela.’

  Thanet’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Pamela?’

  ‘The girl I was talking about. The one Hugo brought home from Oxford. I …’ She lifted her chin. ‘I saw her here, yesterday.’

  ‘At the fête?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure it was her.’

  ‘You’ve seen her often, since the time your nephew brought her home?’

  ‘No! That’s the point! Never! That’s why I was so surprised to see her. Here, in Thaxden. I’d forgotten all about her, but she really hadn’t changed much. She looked older, of course, and she’d put on a little weight. But apart from that … I recognised her at once. It was quite a shock.’

  ‘What was she doing?’

  ‘Oh, just wandering around the stalls, like everybody else.’

  ‘By herself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Thanet was remembering that expression he had caught on Hugo Fairleigh’s face yesterday afternoon. Fairleigh had looked disconcerted, had been watching someone or something intently, and Thanet had been sufficiently intrigued to try to see who or what it was. Could it have been this Pamela? If so, why had he looked put out? He might have been surprised to see a woman he had been fond of twenty odd years ago, but discomposed? Surely not – unless … Several pieces of the jigsaw suddenly clicked together in Thanet’s brain. His mind raced. Was it possible that this two and two really did make four?

  He betrayed none of his excitement, but Lineham knew him too well. The sergeant had stiffened. Or perhaps he had come to the same interesting conclusion himself.

  ‘What does she look like?’

  ‘Well, she’s an inch or two taller than me, and I’m five feet four, with dark curly hair.’

  ‘What was she wearing?’

  Letty Ransome frowned. Thanet guessed that she wasn’t very interested in clothes and didn’t pay much attention to them. But on this occasion she would have been sufficiently intrigued to notice, surely?

  Her eyes lit up in triumphant recollection. ‘I remember now. A navy dress with little white flowers on it. And long sleeves.’

  So in one respect at least he had guessed correctly. This was the woman that Mrs Kerk, Isobel’s housekeeper, had seen walking along the passage to the back door from the direction of the stairs, only a little while before Fairleigh and Doc Mallard had come hurrying in. Lineham had made the connection too. The sergeant’s eyes were alert with speculation. He looked, Thanet thought with amusement, like a hunting dog which had just caught the scent of the fox.

  Now to see if another of those pieces fitted. ‘Tell me, Miss Ransome, I couldn’t help noticing that when you looked through this list just now, it was almost as if you were looking for a particular name. Was it this Pamela’s?’

  Letty blushed. ‘Oh, you noticed. Yes. But it wasn’t there. But then, it wouldn’t be, would it – or at least, I wouldn’t recognise it, if she’s married, that is. And I should think she would be, she’s such a pretty girl.’

  Hardly the word to describe a woman of forty-odd, thought Thanet. But then Letty Ransome was in her late sixties, so perhaps it was understandable. ‘What was her maiden name?’

  ‘Grice.’ Letty’s forehead wrinkled. ‘That was one of the things Isobel didn’t like about her. She said it was such a common name, and just showed what sort of background the girl came from.’

  ‘Your nephew was serious about her?’

  ‘Oh yes. They actually got engaged. Pamela came here several times, to stay, and I
sobel was charming to her. Gave dinner parties for her, took her about and introduced her to friends … I was surprised she took so much trouble over her, considering how much she disapproved of the match.’

  Interesting, thought Thanet. He found it surprising too, from what he’d learned of Isobel. He’d have to think about that later.

  ‘So what went wrong?’

  ‘Pamela called it off. Hugo was heartbroken, he really was so fond of her. But she wouldn’t change her mind.’

  ‘Did she give any reason?’

  A delicate shrug. ‘Only that she didn’t think they were suited. Isobel was very relieved. And of course, it all worked out for the best in the end, when Grace came along.’

  Though perhaps not so well in the long run, thought Thanet, watching the shadow flit across Letty’s face as she no doubt thought precisely the same thing. ‘Did your nephew know she was here yesterday?’

  Letty shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I’ve hardly seen him since, and in any case it’s not really the sort of thing I’d be likely to mention.’

  ‘You didn’t see him speak to her at all?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘No. Er, Inspector …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I don’t know whether it’s worth mentioning …’

  ‘What, Miss Ransome?’

  ‘It’s just that, well …’ She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t want to waste your time.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t be. What is it?’

  ‘Well, it was a little odd …’

  This time Thanet just waited.

  She looked at him timidly. ‘It’s just that while Isobel was ill, there were a couple of phone calls.’

  ‘What sort of phone calls?’

  ‘Someone wanting to speak to her.’

  ‘A man, or a woman?’

  ‘I’m not sure. The voice wasn’t very clear, a bit sort of muffled.’

  ‘When was this?’