by June Wright
“You and your sister seem to make a habit of knocking me over, Mr Cruikshank.” The agent shot me a quick terrified look. He glanced left and right and then retreated into the shop.
The library had been my objective so in I went. Constable Cornell was near at hand so I felt quite safe. I was tired of playing the game in the dark. It was time someone attacked in the open. In the broad light of day with my guardian watching every move, I was more annoyed than frightened at the remembrance of the string in the Holland drive and the affair at the bus stop. I felt an urge to be nasty.
Cruikshank put the counter between himself and the onslaught. The fact that the library was empty only deepened my desire for a fight. The stage seemed set for the purpose.
I made certain of receiving a bedspread I had left to be cleaned before I started. I watched him wrap it up and saw his fingers shake and fumble with the string.
“By the way, Mr Cruikshank,” I said, putting a firm hand on the parcel. “How is the sick aunt? Any more attacks lately?”
He muttered something inaudibly.
I went on scornfully: “It was providential that she demanded your presence at her bedside at a time when the late Mr Holland was checking up on your position as his agent.”
He was silent. His eyes darted now and then towards the door. I leaned over the counter.
“How quickly she recovered! You were able to return just after Mr Holland’s death when Middleburn was no longer a place of embarrassment. I think you follow me, Mr Cruikshank,” I added quickly as he started to make some protest. “Mr Holland had you sized up. He knew your little games, just as the police do now.”
“The police!” The agent looked terrified.
“Certainly,” I said, throwing discretion to the wind. “They have known all the time. They are waiting for the opportunity to tie up your disappearance with Mr Holland’s murder. It is never wise to run away, Mr Cruikshank. Flight draws instant suspicion. You have a much better chance if you stay and try to bluff your innocence.”
He shook all over as though with a sudden ague. “Will you leave my shop!” he whispered. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, yes, I do, and I am not leaving until I have finished my piece. I don’t like murder, Mr Cruikshank. I am married to a man whose job it is to solve such crimes. I wonder what he would do if he knew that his wife was nearly another victim of the Middleburn killer? I doubt whether he would stop to complete that tie-up I mentioned.”
The agent’s face was livid. His voice rose. “You’re mad. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“It is fortunate that I do. There are several things you and your sister,” I added, noticing Maud peeping round a bookcase, “will have to explain to the police sooner or later. I am warning you now just in case you are both planning another string across my path or a convenient bus to push me under. I trust I make myself clear?”
Cruikshank opened his mouth again, and shut it quickly as his squeaking door was opened. I had finished what I wanted to say. I even had the satisfaction of the last word. I was about to pick up my parcel from the counter, when someone from behind tossed down a book to be exchanged. I noted the title automatically, as do all bookworms.
Then a familiar, flat voice spoke my name. “Mr Jenkins said he was ready for you, Mrs Matheson.”
It was Mrs Ames again. I frowned in a sudden uneasiness. Her words had startled me. Jenkins was the chemist. He must have completed the job already. But Mrs Ames had been served in the shop before me.
My heart began to beat hard. For some reason I was nervous.
Mrs Ames still stood alongside me. She had made no move to wander around the bookshelves. Cruikshank was quiet behind the counter, but his eyes, alive with malice, were on my face. Even Maud Cruikshank had come out from her shelter to watch me. Now that I had satisfied my anger I felt lost and bewildered. I was just the right material for fear to invade.
I tried to jerk my head away from those watching faces, but could not. I could hear Tony’s voice calling from the pusher outside the shop, but I felt unable to get out to him. I was frightened—frightened lest something was going to happen to me before I reached the door. I dared not move until I had broken free from the influence of those three people.
Then the door squeaked again. I could not look around, but I felt an overwhelming relief. The noise of that unoiled hinge meant safety from some intangible terror. Constable Cornell stood beside me at the counter. He gave no hint of recognition and addressed Cruikshank. He wanted some envelopes. I remember wondering why he wanted to buy them and not a writing pad. Mrs Ames moved away and Cruikshank turned his back to search the shelves behind the counter. Curiously limp and tired, I left the shop.
II
I made my way back to the pharmacy, my mind vague and far away. I did not know what it was I had experienced, but I felt very alone and lost again.
It took Mr Jenkins four explanations to succeed in bringing me down to earth. Technically, each explanation of the test he had made was well above my head. When I realized that the gist of it coincided with my own suspicions, I became more practical.
“Will you do me a favour?” I requested. “Make up what you have told me into a written report and hold it until I ask you for it. Keep the dum—”
“Brhp,” said Mr Jenkins ostentatiously.
I turned round. Constable Cornell stood beside the weighing machine set near the doorway. He held his packet of envelopes in one hand, while from the other dangled the parcel I had left on Cruikshank’s counter.
Cornell said in a polite stranger’s voice: “Left this down the road, didn’t you? They said it was yours.”
I thanked him in an even politer and more distant voice. I did not care for Constable Cornell’s habit of popping up at opportune and inopportune moments so readily. When he asked Mr Jenkins for a packet of envelopes my misgivings deepened.
“That will be all for me, thank you, Mr Jenkins,” I said in a clear frank voice. “I’ll let you know when I want those things.”
The chemist nodded in a casual manner. Between us we would not have deceived Tony, let alone a member of John’s squad. Cornell was weighing up the merits of different paper as I left.
I felt very satisfied with the morning’s work. The emotional disturbance in the library was only a ripple on the surface compared with the evidence I now held and the pleasure I had had in haranguing Cruikshank.
I saw Daisy Potts-Power and smiled at her warmly instead of trying to avoid her eye. She kept me in conversation for some time which I made no attempt to limit, out of pure malice. Constable Cornell was obliged to stare at a window full of ladies’ lingerie for ten minutes. However, he showed no sign of embarrassment or impatience.
Daisy asked me when I was going to call on “poor mother” again. I made a vague promise and then changed it to an interested: “Very soon. Tell her I am looking forward to concluding our conversation.”
Daisy was puzzled by the cryptic remark.
“Mrs Matheson,” called a voice from the kerb. I turned my head. The sister in charge of the Health Centre had drawn up in her car. The engine was still running.
I cut Daisy off quickly and went over to the car. Sister Heather looked disturbed.
“What is it?” I asked at once. She switched off the engine.
“I went along to your home but you were out. I was hoping I’d catch you in the village. I want to talk to you.”
“Just a minute,” I said, and parked Tony against a shop window which would keep him entertained for a while. Sister Heather opened the door of the car and I climbed in beside her.
“Yes, what is it, sister?”
She regarded me long and earnestly before she spoke. “Mrs Matheson, you are very friendly with Mrs Holland, are you not?”
“I don’t know about the ‘very.’ I have seen her quite a deal since we moved to Middleburn. Let us say I am very interested in her and her baby.”
My companion spoke
drily. “Yes. You succeeded in bringing her down to the Centre.” The remark was as cryptic as the one I had made to Daisy Potts-Power, but I was not puzzled by it. I waited for her to continue.
Sister Heather waited for Constable Cornell to pass the car before she spoke. “You have influence with her. I am asking you to use it. Persuade her to leave the Hall at once.”
I gave the nurse a quick, searching glance. “That would require a great deal of influence on my part. Do you think I am qualified enough?”
She nodded.
“Why do you want her to leave?” I asked bluntly.
Sister Heather spread out her hands wearily. “Does the reason matter? I think you have guessed it, even if you do not know for certain already.”
“I might,” I agreed, with caution. “Supposing I do persuade Yvonne Holland to leave, where is she to go? She has no relatives.”
Sister Heather was quite unembarrassed as she made her suggestion. “I want her to stay with you. You have plenty of room at your place to put her up.”
“Here, I say!” I protested. “I admitted I was interested but I didn’t say we were bosom friends. I can’t take strange mothers and their children in just because they are being persecuted. Ten to one she wouldn’t come, anyway.”
“I think you could make her come, Mrs Matheson.”
“Influence, sister?”
“Amongst other things. She won’t see me or—or Doctor Trefont. You are the only other one who has any working knowledge of the Hall. If you were to talk to her frankly, I don’t think there would be any difficulty.”
“If that is the case,” I replied, “I will be the first person to talk frankly. I am a great believer in the unvarnished truth. It gets you somewhere, whereas innuendos only leave you to struggle along to the same vague goal.”
Sister Heather turned her ignition key. “Then I take it you’ll do as I ask?”
I opened the door and slid one leg out. “I suppose so. You speak as though the responsibility was all mine.”
Sister Heather gave me a troubled look. “It is, Mrs Matheson. Believe me, it is. Please do your best.”
“OK,” I replied negligently. “I’ll let you know how I get on.”
I did not go straight to the Hall after this interview. Tony wanted his dinner and Constable Cornell’s lean and hungry look had become more evident. After all, one should feed the household pet as well as the son and heir. Tony had his meal first. I put him into his cot for a nap and then sat down to lunch with Constable Cornell in the kitchen.
He was as unobtrusive a guest as he was a shadower. At first I thought it might be embarrassing sharing a salad with a strange policeman without John there. Cornell’s position in my household was out of the way. One could not class him as a casual labourer like a gardener and pass the luncheon through the kitchen door to be eaten on the porch. On the other hand, it would have been absurd for me to feed in lonely state in the dining-room, while he ate in the kitchen where I usually had meals in John’s absence.
Constable Cornell, however, was not in the least put out. No doubt he was accustomed to adapting himself in his particular line of police work. He ate with solemn satisfaction, neatly avoiding any curious questions on my part without appearing rude. I gave up after a while and we talked on everyday topics. Cornell was chary with words, but I found myself mentally filling in the gaps, and lunch time passed quite pleasantly.
“When the boy wakes I want to go over to Holland Hall,” I said, watching him closely.
He nodded into his third cup of tea.
“How will you get on?” I asked. “It was all right this morning, but you will be more noticeable in a private house.”
He disdained an answer to such a foolish question. He merely asked how long before we started. I tried to match his superiority by pointing out that children must have their day sleep. Our departure depended entirely on Tony.
I took a childish pleasure in the fact that Tony again slept over his usual time. But still Cornell showed no impatience. He seemed quite happy to sit on the kitchen porch and stare at the back fence. I longed to know what went on in his mind, or whether it was as concrete in consistency as his appearance. I had offered him a magazine or two, but though he thanked me politely, they remained unread at his side.
I was curious to see how he would get over his position when I was at the Hall. Would he desert me at the gates or plod along behind the whole time I was seeking Yvonne out? But he deserted me even earlier than that.
Tony awoke, calling for me. I dressed him and led him through to the kitchen.
“I’m ready, Mr Cornell,” I called. Instead of hearing his laconic “Oke,” there was no reply. I opened the wire door but the porch was empty. I shrugged and turned back. The magazines I had lent him were neatly placed on the kitchen table. I called his name through a window in the front of the house thinking he might be waiting at the front gate. But there was still no reply.
“Come along, Tony. Our watchdog seems to have got off the chain. We’ll go on ahead. After all it is his job to mind us, not we him. I don’t anticipate needing his protection this afternoon.”
I kept a look-out for Constable Cornell all the way to the Hall. His presence had worried me in the beginning. Now I noticed his absence and felt incomplete without my attendant.
Old man Ames sat smoking on the tiny porch of the Lodge. I waved to him and he answered it by taking his pipe from his mouth and describing a circle with the stem. As we passed, the door of the Lodge opened swiftly and Robin rushed out calling Tony’s name. Tony pulled his hand away and darted forward. Perforce I had to follow, whereas I had no desire to stop and chat with the old man.
He asked me if I was going up to the Hall. The children could play together for a while. He would look after them. Robin and Tony were watching me with anxious eyes, so I accepted the offer.
The Hall door was wide open. Before I could ring, Mrs Mulqueen came down the passage. She did not see me waiting on the threshold until I spoke her name.
She came forward. I noticed she looked ruffled and out of temper. Her manner was rude when she asked what I wanted.
“When are we going to get rid of all these curious policemen?” she complained, following me along to the stairs. Yvonne, I had been informed, was in the nursery. She spent most of her time there nowadays.
“It is unpleasant,” I agreed, wondering if I came within that category, being the wife of one.
“I thought we’d finished with them,” she went on. “No one has been near us for a day or two when in came one just now. He said he was sent to look over James’ rooms. As if that hasn’t been done a dozen times already, I am going to make a complaint to your husband, Mrs Matheson. A picture from my sitting-room is missing. We can’t have these strange men wandering around the house.”
“I am afraid it is one of the evils that naturally follow on murder,” I told her, backing up the stairs.
“I still won’t believe my brother was murdered,” she asserted with a toss of her head. “He had been worried and upset for months—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “But the fact still remains it was murder, despite any wishful thinking as it is termed nowadays. It used to be called self-deception.”
I made a swift ascent after this Parthian shot.
I identified the door of the nursery. I had not been on this floor by day. It seemed quite different with the sun streaming in at the window at the end of the passage. Before I had time to knock, the adjoining door opened and Nurse Stone came out. The woman’s face was flushed and her breath stank.
“So,” she muttered in a nasty voice. “The busybody has put in another appearance. The baby is asleep. He is not to be disturbed.”
“I have no wish to disturb him,” I said, trying to speak calmly. “I understand Mrs Holland is in the nursery. I came to see her.”
The nurse stepped in front of the door. “No, she isn’t. She has gone out. So you can just go too. I heard all about you the other
night. I am in charge of the baby, and I won’t have any interference from you or anyone else. So you can just go, my fine lady. And keep away or it will be the worse for you.”
I caught the sound of footsteps the other side of the door. The significance of the woman’s low tones had not escaped me.
“Is that you, Yvonne?” I called clearly.
“Mrs Matheson?” said an uncertain voice.
“Get out,” said Nurse Stone, raising her voice and still blocking the way.
“I want to see you, Yvonne.”
The nurse looked at me savagely. I moved aside in haste. Her fist was clenched and her arm half-raised when a door further along the passage opened. Out walked Constable Cornell. The woman dropped her arm as he stood still in the passage watching the scene with incurious eyes. Nurse Stone, realizing he was a representative of the law, could do nothing but retreat. I slid through the half-open door of the nursery. I had overcome one obstacle. Now Yvonne.
“What is it you want?” she asked, after I had locked the door behind me. I bent over the baby before I spoke. He looked pale and wasted.
“You,” I said, turning to answer her question, “and Jimmy, of course. How would you like to come and stay with me for a while?”
She looked both surprised and startled.
I raised one hand. “Before you answer, I want to say a few things. Speak frankly, in fact. I seem to have been doing quite a bit of it today. I think it pays.”
Yvonne sat down in a chair near the cot, while I perched myself on the arm of the chair and looked out the window. I wanted to marshal my forces.
“I am not sure how much you realize, Yvonne,” I began, “but you do know or suspect that Jimmy is in deadly danger in this house. I have been advised by good friends of yours, although you will not for some reason recognize them as such, to persuade you to take shelter with us for a while. My husband”—and I crossed my fingers under a fold of my skirt; I did not know what John’s reaction would be—“will be delighted to have you stay.”