The Mask of Memory

by Victor Canning

  Margaret said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  Quint pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to her.

  ‘That’s the police list, Mrs Tucker, of all the articles found on your husband after his death. You gave them a receipt. Would you just check through it.’

  Margaret read through the list. Then she nodded and said, ‘Yes, those are all the things. They’re in his dressing table drawer at Lopcommon.’

  ‘Not all, Mrs Tucker.’ There was a sharper note in Quint’s voice. ‘The gold wrist watch is not there. You remember getting that back, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. In fact I—’

  ‘In fact – you what?’

  ‘I remember being puzzled by it. You see, as far as I knew, Bernard never wore a wrist watch. He always wore a fob or pocket watch.’

  ‘Yes, we know. He left that in his London flat. He wore the wrist watch because it is a very special watch. It combines a small tape recorder. He needed it for the conference he attended before coming down to. Lopcommon. The watch is very important, Mrs Tucker – for two reasons. It will contain his comments and, maybe, other people’s conversations during the conference. And also – since he was conscious for some time before he died – very possibly some last recording by him. If he did record anything – and being the man he was I think he would have – he would certainly have stated where he had hidden the papers. He would have wanted us to know that, and he knew that we would not overlook the watch. We’d like to know where the watch is. Can you help us with that?’

  ‘How can I? I left it in the drawer when I went away.’

  ‘And you haven’t been to the house since?’

  ‘No.’

  Quint was silent for a moment or two and then looked at Lassiter.

  Lassiter, relieved that Quint was staying with the brief they had worked out, knowing how much the other would have liked to have gone hard in, said gently, ‘ Mrs Tucker, and you Mr Dougall – we know all about your personal relationship. We’re not interested in it, but I hope you will both see that if we’re to do our job properly we can’t entirely ignore it. Sometimes small, quite innocent actions can complicate serious affairs like this one. So I must ask you—’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ Dougall said. ‘ If Margaret had given the watch to me as a present she would have said so. And so would I. I haven’t got the watch, Mr Lassiter. It was in the house when Margaret left. Now you say it has gone. Then somebody has pinched it. Neither of us has anything to hide.’

  Lassiter said, ‘You’re on the wrong tack, Mr Dougall. If Mrs Tucker had given the watch to you, Mr Quint and I know that she would have said so openly. The watch has been stolen. That is as far as it goes at the moment. I wanted to raise quite a different point. And it’s a delicate one. So—’ he paused, knowing that it needed only the wrong word or inflexion to rouse this man, ‘—let’s start again, shall we? And this time with you. Are you entirely in Mrs Tucker’s confidence, Mr Dougall?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Has she told you about a consultation she fairly recently had with her doctor, Doctor Harrison?’

  ‘Yes, she has.’

  Margaret said, ‘ I told Maxie while we were away together. But I can’t see what this could possibly have to do with Bernard’s papers.’

  Quint said sharply, ‘ Then let me put something to you, Mrs Tucker. We can’t afford to overlook any possibility even though …’ he schooled his rising impatience, forcing his words to a slower tempo ‘… it may mean distressing you. You have had periods in the past when you did things and didn’t remember you had done them unless there was some concrete evidence which you couldn’t ignore.’

  ‘Yes, I have. I used to take things from shops without knowing it until afterwards. But not for a long time now.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t have known you’d done anything unless you’d found the articles in your hand or your pockets afterwards?’

  ‘No … I suppose not…’

  ‘Then I want you to consider this, Mrs Tucker. Relations are severely strained between you and your husband. He comes home for a weekend – the weekend on which you have decided to tell him you love another man and intend to leave him. But it’s some time before you get a chance to tell him. He works all Sunday on his reports and papers. You know they are important. He has said so. When he’s finished he goes up to his room and puts the papers away safely somewhere. He comes down for a drink with you. You tell him about Mr Dougall. There’s an argument, a quarrel between you, and finally he storms out of the house. That’s right?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Leaving you in a highly emotional state … mentally very agitated. Would you agree?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You want to be free to marry another man. He’s denying you that – quite irrationally, it seems in the circumstances. I wouldn’t find it difficult to believe that under this emotional stress you too might act irrationally. You do understand what I’m suggesting, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t, Mr Quint.’

  ‘You could have gone up to his room merely wanting to strike back at him, at anything of his. You could have seen the frigate model, picked it up to smash it, and then instead have opened it, perhaps guessing that his precious papers might be in it. Or, perhaps, the top just came away a little as you held it. There could have been papers in it. You could have taken them, burnt them in the fire, or ripped them up and put them in the dustbin. Ten minutes later you could have come out of your blankness and not remembered a thing about it.’

  ‘Putting it like that, I suppose I could. But I didn’t!’

  ‘Of course she bloody well didn’t!’ Maxie Dougall went to Margaret, sat on the divan beside her, and put his arm around her. ‘What the hell are you two playing at? It’s as crazy a thought as suggesting that she might have had a lapse of memory and gone out after him and pushed him over the rocks. Whatever Commander Tucker did with his papers it’s nothing whatever to do with Margaret. Commander Tucker hid the papers somewhere safe … all right, in Lopcommon if you like. Then he went out and slipped over the edge of a path. If he was the kind of man you say he was he’ll have recorded what he did with the papers. Any moon-faced yokel from the leafy lanes in this part of the world would know the answer you want is in that watch – and it’s been pinched while the house was empty. I could name a dozen men in these parts who go for quiet walks looking for pickings. Not professionals, just opportunists who, spotting an empty house, try their luck and aren’t too greedy and—’

  ‘All right, Mr Dougall.’ Lassiter interrupted him and stood up. ‘Neither Mr Quint nor I want to distress Mrs Tucker. We apologize if we have done so. We may seem devious to you, but we’re not.’ He smiled. ‘ We’re just hopelessly at sea over this. Quite frankly we wanted to put the suggestion to Mrs Tucker because we hoped it might start her memory working or bring out something, no matter how small—’

  ‘Well, I don’t like that kind of thing!’ Maxie Dougall stood up. ‘Nobody has the right to play around with another human being like that. Margaret’s had her fill of that already from Bernard Tucker.’

  Margaret said, ‘No matter what Maxie says – and I quite understand why he’s angry – I want to help you, so if there is anything else you would like to ask me I’ll try and answer.’

  Lassiter said, ‘That’s very nice of you, Mrs Tucker. There’s only one thing we want – those papers. Commander Tucker almost certainly hid them in the house, probably somewhere in or near his bedroom, and almost certainly in a hiding place he contrived himself. Perhaps you’d like to think quietly about that? Go back in your memory and if anything occurs to you – some small incident, some act, or some touchiness on his part that surprised you at the time – well, then we’d be glad to hear of it.’ He smiled. ‘After all, you did forget about the top of the ship model coming off. There may well be something else like that.’

  Outside, the wind and rain were roaring through the tall firs, and the river was beginni
ng to run high and brown with spate water. As Kerslake drove the two men off, Quint said to him, ‘When we get back Mr Lassiter will give you a description of a gold wrist watch which belonged to Commander Tucker. It was taken from his bedroom at Lopcommon some time after Mrs Tucker left here, but before we searched the house. Have the description circulated.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  When they reached the Empress Hotel Quint went in, but Lassiter stayed in the car to give Kerslake a description of the watch. As Kerslake finished writing in his notebook and closed it he said, ‘Is finding this watch important? I mean as far as these papers are concerned?’

  ‘It might be. Who knows.’ In his own mind Lassiter was sure that it was not. Bernard Tucker had given his ship models away. In a sense he had also given his wife away and, against his will, had given himself away to a service which he hated. Resentment had gone hand in hand with his own weakness. He had married his wife, not from love, but with the hope of escape. In his last few moments he was not the kind to do Warboys or the Department any favours.

  As Lassiter moved to get out of the car, Kerslake said, ‘May I ask you a question, sir?’

  ‘Why not? It’s a free country – but I don’t promise any answer.’

  ‘Well, sir, when you and Mr Quint first interviewed me you asked questions about a lot of local people.’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Including William Ankers.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You can choke me off if I step out of line – but I presume he was probably hired by Commander Tucker to watch Mrs Tucker.’

  ‘That’s so. And I presume you just can’t understand why we haven’t made any approach to him?’

  ‘Well, frankly, yes, sir.’

  Lassiter leaned back in his seat. For a moment or two he was disposed to say nothing which would in any way encourage Kerslake. He would be happier staying where he was in the long run. But he would never accept that.

  He said, ‘You’re thinking or hoping that one day you might get a chance to come into our sort of work. Right?’

  ‘It’s in my mind, sir.’

  ‘Then you’d better learn some first principles. If a State matter is highly secret or confidential you don’t enlarge your enquiries any more than you have to – particularly with seedy types like Ankers who can’t keep their mouths shut in pubs and other places. You don’t do this – unless you decide that the gain may be worth it. What would we get from Ankers that would offset the rumours he would spread and which the press would pick up in fifteen minutes flat?’ He grinned. ‘It’s bad enough having to rely on the professional ethics of doctors and solicitors. A lot of them gossip, you know. And I’ve known a few policemen who were guilty, too. Satisfy you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. And take my advice. You stay down here, Kerslake. In the wet and windy West Country.’

  That afternoon Billy Ankers drove to Bristol and posted a letter to Mrs Margaret Tucker. He hesitated a moment or two before dropping the letter through the mouth of the post-box, a hesitation which came from a doubt whether he had asked for enough money. After all a thousand pounds would be nothing to Mrs Tucker. Perhaps he should have asked for double that. In the end he let the letter drop, comforting himself with the thought that if this approach went smoothly there could always be – after a wise interval – another approach. He drove home through the heavy rain with the car heater turned full on, sucking gently at his pipe. Opportunity seldom knocked twice at any door. A man had to look after number one as best he could in this world, because for sure nobody else would bother to. Yes, if he worked it properly he could always come again … and again perhaps. Why not? A nice little pension for life…

  At six o’clock that evening Kerslake was with Quint and Lassiter in Quint’s room at the Empress Hotel. On the table close to the drawn curtains of the windows lay the gold wrist watch. Lassiter lounged in a chair nursing a glass of whisky. Quint sat on the edge of his bed in his shirtsleeves, forefinger and thumb of his right hand pulling gently at his lower lip. Outside the rain-drummed at the window, Kerslake, standing by the window, waited uneasily. From their expressions, for all he could tell, he might have done wrong in the eyes of these two men. If he had, then he could kiss any private hopes goodbye. If that were to be so … well, at least, it was better than having made no bid, no move to trap a chance that might never come again to take him into their world.

  Quint said, ‘Why did you pick on Ankers?’

  ‘Because he was to some extent already involved. He’d been watching Mrs Tucker for her husband. I guessed that.’

  ‘And I confirmed it for him,’ said Lassiter.

  ‘Also – although he’s never been caught – we’ve always felt he had itching fingers. He’s not over-greedy ever, and he’s been careful. He would know Mrs Tucker was away. He could have gone snooping around out there. I thought it was worth a try. After lunch I checked at the garage where he keeps his car. It was out.’

  ‘So you broke into his place.’ It was no question from Quint; a flat statement offering nothing.

  ‘No, sir. I called on him at his rooms. The door was open so I walked in and had a look around.’

  Lassiter said, ‘I’ve met that kind of door. Where was the watch?’

  ‘At the back of the gas meter. He wouldn’t have tried to get rid of it until any heat had died down.’

  Quint said, ‘So you walked out with it and left the door open so that when he came back he would think that somebody had turned the place over?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I emptied a few drawers and made a bit of a mess. He won’t think it was anything official. We get a good dozen robberies of a similar kind every week here. I thought you would … well, prefer it that way since there is such a large element of discretion attached to—’

  ‘Quite.’ Quint interrupted him, and then looked at Lassiter. ‘What do you think?’

  Lassiter shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think it saves a lot of time and trouble: The watch was found at Lopcommon by us at the back of a drawer or in some other convenient place into which it might have accidentally slipped.’

  Quint stood up. ‘All right, Kerslake. You didn’t go to Ankers’ rooms. You haven’t been here this evening with us. You have never seen the watch. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘All right, you can go. Just report here at the usual time tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you. Goodnight.’

  When Kerslake had gone, Quint picked up the telephone and asked for a London number. As he waited for the call, he said, ‘He was lucky.’

  ‘Why not? We all have our share. He knew how to handle it, too. Just at the moment, though, he doesn’t know whether he’s been patted on the back or kicked up the bottom.’

  ‘Which do you think?’

  ‘I think he’s big enough to take either. Overall it makes no difference. He’s now a name and a face you won’t forget.’

  ‘Some time I’ll think about it.’

  A few moments later Quint was talking to Warboys. His first words were no surprise to Lassiter.

  ‘Good evening, sir. You’ll be glad to know that I’ve found Commander Tucker’s watch…’

  Lassiter sipped his drink, his eyes on the wrist watch. The tape in it needed a special machine for any playback. Warboys would come down with it, and Warboys would play it to himself first – alone. It could be that neither he nor Quint would ever hear any part of it. If that happened it would be no loss to him but he knew that it would hurt Quint. No matter; one thing he was certain about was that Bernard Tucker would never have wasted any of his last few seconds of life on telling them where the papers had been hidden. Bernard Tucker was the last man in the world to have stood on the threshold of eternity concerned only with the desire to tidy up the affairs of a professional career which had so surely destroyed his own private life. Virtues and talents he had undoubtedly had, but little real courage to make a success of his longing for escape. Th
ere was nothing he could say in the few minutes before dying which could ensure him redemption; certainly not gasping out details of the hiding place of a pile of papers in which he must have recognized the same sort of deviousness and human weakness which had marked his own life. The only thing to be said in his favour was that he had died at the right moment, leaving his wife free to nourish and enjoy love and real companionship with a man for the first time in her life. He was beyond touching her now.

  Quint put the telephone down and said, ‘Warboys is coming early tomorrow. The watch tape is not to be touched until he arrives.’

  Lassiter drained his glass and got up to go to his own room.

  Margaret lay in bed listening to the rain and, over its steady pulse, the sound of the swollen river. In these days because of the extensive draining of fields and the lower moorland slopes, which in the past had soaked up the water and held it, sponge-like, to run off slowly, the storm water found its way quickly to the valleys and brought fast-rising spates, short-lived, but often violent. She knew this from Maxie, who slept, snoring a little, at her side. She had learnt so many things from him, the presence and names and habits of birds and animals which had always been around her but which she had never noticed; the quick, mouse-like movement of a tree-creeper in the garden pines and the brief flirt of goldcrests in the fir tops. It was as though he had given her a new pair of eyes and ears, and more than that he had given back to her, or made her rediscover, so much of herself which she had thought was gone for ever. To love and be loved, to regard and be regarded, to laugh with him and at herself, and to take a joy in the growing store of small jokes and intimacies with which their life was now threaded was like finding a treasure, long hidden and forgotten, and now suddenly restored.

  She lay there and thought of the two men who had visited her. Lassiter she liked, but the other, Quint, reminded her at times of Bernard. Maxie didn’t like Quint either; Maxie who had come as near to losing his temper as she had ever known when they had upset her, though she hadn’t been as upset as Maxie had imagined. They had a job to do and needed her help. She’d been a fool not to remember about the top of the frigate coming off – but it really had gone right from her mind. She lay back in the darkness, feeling the warmth of Maxie’s back against her own, the room contained by the sound of the outside rain. Could she ever possibly have done that? Gone to the model and taken the papers? Burnt or destroyed them without ever knowing it?