Gone Away

by Hazel Holt

  ‘But didn’t you tell them about the phone conversation, about Jay?’

  She looked defiant. ‘I’m not going to get mixed up in all this,’ she said. ‘You know what the police are like.’

  ‘Oh Carol, really, you must give them all the help you can. You want them to find out who did this terrible thing, don’t you? And what about those property dealings that you thought were a bit dodgy – you must tell them about that.’

  ‘No fear! They’d only think I had something to do with it, and if she’s not here any more they’ll want someone to blame. They’ll fit you up as soon as look at you, that’s what Derek always said!’

  I tried to reason with her, but it is difficult to persuade a person who has lived with someone on the wrong side of the law, as she had done when she was married to Derek, to trust the police.

  ‘Honestly, Mrs Malory, I just can’t.’ She looked round nervously, though we were obviously quite alone. ‘Look, I’ll tell you but you must promise not to let them know I told you.’

  I felt very uneasy about this compromise and wished passionately that Peter was here to advise me. But Carol was adamant and I supposed this was better than nothing.

  ‘Well, all right then, Carol. Tell me what you know.’

  ‘It was that Mr Bradford—’

  ‘Councillor Bradford?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. I heard bits of phone conversations and heard them talking sometimes. She didn’t know I was listening half the time, or when she did she probably thought I was too stupid to put two and two together.’ Carol had certainly disliked Lee, I thought. And Lee had seriously under-rated Carol.

  ‘What was it all about?’

  ‘I’m not really sure, but it seemed to me that Mrs Montgomery was buying property for him, but not in his own name. That’s illegal, isn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly is. Whereabouts was this property?’

  ‘All in the same area – just outside Taunton. There was an old garage that had been closed down for quite a bit – very run-down – and some cottages and a small farm and a bit of land. I don’t know if that was all. As I say, I had to piece it all together. And, he never came here – not after the first time. She sent me out then, to get some stationery – just to get me out of the office. Anyway, like I say, he never came to the office again. He rang sometimes and I think he went to her flat.’

  I had a sudden thought. ‘Is he a shortish man with a red face and a grey moustache?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Do you know him?’

  ‘I think.’ I said evasively, ‘that I must have seen his picture in the Echo.’ And, indeed, now I came to think of it, I remembered smudgy newsprint photos of a man, very like the one I had seen coming away from Lee’s flat that day. ‘Councillor Bradford, Councillor Philip Bradford – P.B.! Do you think he was the person she was meeting on the fourth?’

  Carol seemed less excited than I was at this piece of deduction.

  ‘I shouldn’t think she’d have put it in her appointments book if it was him – she never put anything on paper about all that – not in the office. There’s nothing here now, anyway. I went through all the papers while she was away.’ She looked slightly shamefaced. ‘Well, I had to protect myself. If there had been anything – well, I couldn’t afford to get mixed up in it – not with the children and all. You understand that, Mrs Malory.’

  I thought of how relatively lucky I had been, of the kindness and loving support I had had when Peter died, and there had always been enough money for Michael and for me. Who was I to judge Carol?

  ‘Yes, of course I understand,’ I said gently. ‘Which reminds me. Mr Fordyce, the dentist, you know, at the end of the Avenue, is looking for a new receptionist. I saw his wife the other day and she said that Molly, who’s with him now, is leaving – her husband’s moving to Yeovil, I think. It might be worth while giving him a ring and asking. You can give me as a reference if you like.’

  I felt a slight qualm at the thought of giving a reference to someone who was withholding information from the police, but I told myself stoutly that Mr Fordyce was hardly likely to put Carol in the same position that Lee had done! And after all, in the long run, Carol was doing what she was doing for the sake of her children. Surely no one would blame her for that.

  Carol’s enthusiastic burst of gratitude embarrassed me, and I drew on my gloves and got up to go.

  ‘And you won’t let the police know anything I told you – about the phone call and the property deals?’

  ‘Not for now – I expect they’ll find out about them from someone else, anyway,’ I said with an air of false assurance.

  I collected Mrs Aston, who was complaining that there was no coffee machine in the waiting area like there was ‘up Taunton’, and drove her back to her cottage. There was just half an hour before I had to go to the police station so I went into the Buttery for a cup of coffee and tried to decide exactly what I was going to tell them.

  I was glad to see that there was no one I knew in the Buttery, but I took my coffee (having regretfully resisted a Danish pastry) into the far corner away from the window and sat with my back to the door, just to be on the safe side. I badly needed to get my mind clear before I saw the police. Since Carol hadn’t told them about the phone call or about Councillor Bradford, then neither would I. My conscience was definitely uneasy at withholding information, but to tell them about it now would only get Carol into trouble. Still, they’d be getting into Lee’s flat and perhaps there they would find papers about the property deals and even some reference to the mysterious Jay. And there seemed no point in my telling them some-thing as vague as Anthea’s sighting of Lee and that man by the cliff-path. Anyway, if I knew Anthea she’d be off hot-foot down to the police station with that little tit-bit as soon as she heard the news she couldn’t resist! All I needed to do, then, was to tell them about Charles and his anxiety and about my meeting with Lee before Christmas and our visit to Plover’s Barrow. Put like that it seemed fairly straightforward. If they thought my reason for going back to Plover’s Barrow yesterday was a bit peculiar, then I hoped that they would just put me down as a slightly neurotic, middle-aged female and not question it too much.

  Inspector Dean was a small, wiry man with thinning dark hair. His manner was brisk and cheerful and he greeted me as an old acquaintance.

  ‘Mrs Malory, how nice to see you again. Mrs Dean and I had the pleasure of meeting you and your husband a few years ago at a Law Society Dinner. I was so sorry to hear about your husband – it must have been a very trying time for you.’

  I had a vague memory of the occasion and of meeting a jolly little woman in royal blue crepe, and I triumphantly salvaged a piece of information from my memory.

  ‘Your daughter was just going up to Oxford, wasn’t she, to read Chemistry at my odd college. How is she doing?’

  He looked pleased and said, ‘Oh, very well. She got a very good result in her finals and they want her to stay on and do research. Her mother and I are very pleased, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Isn’t that marvellous. You must be so proud. Doesn’t time fly! My son is up at Oxford now – I was so glad that Peter knew he’d got a place before he died.’

  The Inspector pulled out a chair for me and offered me a cup of coffee.

  ‘No thank you, I had one just before I came.’

  ‘Right, then, I suppose we’d better get a statement from you about this nasty business.’

  He called in a constable, who sat at the end of the table prepared to write. I told him as succinctly as I could about the phone call from Charles and how I had offered to make enquiries for him and had drawn a blank, and how, after the second call, I had suddenly thought about Plover’s Barrow. ‘A sort of hunch, really’ – I used the word deliberately, as being suitable for an investigation. I didn’t feel I could get away with ‘a woman’s intuition’, yet, in a way, that’s what it was that had made me turn left along the road to Plover’s Barrow when what I had in my mind was Wringcliff
Bay.

  He questioned me closely about my encounter with Lee and our visit to the house before Christmas and I repeated, word for word, what I could remember of our conversation.

  ‘So you think that Mrs Montgomery had definitely decided to marry Mr Richardson, then?’

  ‘Oh yes – well, she seemed determined to let me know that.’

  ‘And she thought that you might be hostile?’

  ‘Not hostile. Just a bit anxious for Charles’s happiness, if you know what I mean. I’ve known him since we were children, and all his friends – well – we wondered if she was the right person to make him happy. But it was his life, after all...’

  ‘Yes, I see. But you didn’t really like her?’

  ‘I hardly knew her – I suppose she just wasn’t my sort of person, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I see. Well now, we’ve had a preliminary pathology report, and as far as they can judge she was killed around January the fourth – the house was cold so the body didn’t deteriorate as it would have done in the summer.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think that house would ever be really warm.’ I said irrelevantly, ‘I did feel bad that I didn’t try to get in and see if she really was dead – but, honestly, it was such a dreadful shock...’

  ‘Just as well you didn’t, Mrs Malory. It was best that nothing was disturbed.’

  ‘Did you find any clues? Can you tell me any-thing?’

  ‘No fingerprints on the knife, if that’s what you mean – but then everybody knows about wearing gloves nowadays – all that detective fiction.’ He gave me a brief smile. ‘But it’s early days yet and we’re still feeling our way.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Now then, Mrs Malory, perhaps you could give me some idea of what you were doing on January the fourth.’

  I had become so used to the idea of myself as a detective that to be considered as a suspect startled me considerably. My astonishment must have been very apparent because Inspector Dean said soothingly, ‘We’re just clearing the ground.’

  I gave a slight laugh. ‘Of course. And I did discover the body, didn’t I. In a detective story that would make me a prime suspect.’

  I fished in my handbag and found my diary.

  ‘Hang on – January the fourth. Michael was still on holiday, so we went into Taunton to the sales to try and get him some respectable underwear. I do believe he cleans his bike with some of his shirts! Yes, and then after that, on our way back from Taunton, I dragged him to tea with my old aunt who lives at Bishops Lydeard. We didn’t leave there till well after six. Just under an hour to get back – yes, I remember, I was rather cross because I’d missed my favourite soap opera! And we spent the rest of the evening quietly at home.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Malory. That’s fine. I’ll just get the Constable here to type it out for you to sign. If there’s anything else, we’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Inspector-just one thing ... Did she die straight away – I mean, did she lie there suffering? I shall have to tell Charles, and it would be so much kinder if...’

  ‘It would seem that death was more or less instantaneous. Whoever did it knew just where to put the knife, or if he didn’t then it was a lucky guess – well, lucky for him!’

  ‘You say “him”?’

  ‘Well, a manner of speaking, really. Though the blow seems to have been struck from above, by someone taller than she was, and she was of medium height.’

  ‘I see. Tell me – will Roger – Inspector Norton be involved in the investigation.’

  ‘We will be reporting back to Taunton CID, certainly, and we use their computer facilities and so forth. Yes, I expect he’ll be in touch about it.’

  ‘I just asked – he was so kind and sympathetic yesterday. He is sort of a friend of a friend,’ I said confusedly.

  Inspector Dean chose to ignore this explanation – as well he might – and simply said, ‘It must have been a very nasty experience for you, especially as you knew the lady.’

  ‘I suppose I feel rather awful because I didn’t really care for her as a person – I’m only really sad because of poor Charles.’ A thought struck me. ‘Will you be in touch with him in Cincinnati? I mean, I was going to ring him tonight – I couldn’t bring myself to do it last night, I’m afraid – will that be all right?’

  ‘Yes, indeed – you go ahead and we will be in touch when we know just what we want to ask him about all this.’

  The Constable returned with my statement and I signed it, feeling slightly as if I were committing perjury. I wondered again what Peter would say – a legal document was very sacred to him.

  Inspector Dean held out his hand. ‘Goodbye Mrs Malory. Thank you very much.’ he said in a friendly but non-committal way.

  As the glass doors swung to behind me, I stood on the top step and drew in a deep breath of fresh air, not only to dispel the warm stuffy air of the police station, but also to savour an almost irresponsible feeling of freedom. I got into my car and drove sedately away.

  As I got into the house the phone was ringing. It was Rosemary. I had told her briefly the night before what had happened and she had been loving and sympathetic. But I hadn’t wanted to go over and over the ground with her and had pleaded tiredness and rung off quickly. I prepared to fend off her questions again, but it was she who wanted to be brief.

  ‘Isn’t it sickening?’ she said. ‘I was longing to have a real chat with you about it all, but I’ve got this miserable virus thing that’s going round and I feel absolutely awful. And the thing is, I promised to drive Mother to the chiropodist this afternoon. Could you be an angel? I know she could get a taxi, but you know how mean she is about things like that. Besides, it’s getting difficult to find a taxi-driver in Taviscombe she hasn’t quarrelled with. I’m awfully sorry to have to ask you at such short notice...’

  I assured Rosemary that I didn’t mind in the least and arranged to pick up Mrs Dudley at three o’clock.

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ I said, ‘and go straight back to bed

  – Jack can perfectly well make his own supper when he comes in!’ ‘Well, he’ll have to,’ Rosemary said. ‘The thought of food is absolutely unendurable:

  ‘Is there anything I can get you in the way of shopping while I’m in the town?’ I asked.

  ‘There probably is something, but I’m not really capable of rational thought at the moment ... Oh dear, sorry, I have to dash again!’ She rang off abruptly.

  I ate a quick sandwich and changed into a suit more worthy of Mrs Dudley. I drove her to the chiropodist and hung about for half an hour and then collected her and drove her back to her large house on the outskirts of Taviscombe. She was very full of the praises of the chiropodist. He was a new man in the practice, and according to Mrs Dudley a vast improvement on the others. I wondered how long this enthusiasm would last – it was unlikely to be long. Soon, like all the other ‘marvellous little men’ she had discovered, he would be ‘absolutely useless’ and she would be looking around for someone new.

  ‘Now then.’ she said, ‘you must come in and have a cup of tea.’

  I protested that I had other things I must do, but she waved them aside and I found myself in the familiar drawing room where Rosemary and I had had so many tea-times together, desperately trying not to catch each other’s eye so that we wouldn’t giggle.

  A round table was laid with a lace-edged cloth and I noticed that I was now deemed worthy of the best Royal Worcester china.

  ‘Oh good, Elsie’s got everything ready.’ Elsie was the downtrodden little woman who had been Mrs Dudley’s slave ever since I could remember. She must have been well on into her seventies, but still looked much as she did when Rosemary and I were children. She came in now with the silver tea-pot and hot-water jug and exclaimed with pleasure at seeing me again. I asked after her little dog, and her face lit up as she embarked on a rambling story about how he had learnt to open the kitchen door himself. (‘Would you believe that Mrs Malory!’) Mrs Dudley cut h
er short. ‘We’re ready for the tea-cakes now, Elsie.’ And Elsie scuttled away to return in a few minutes with hot buttered tea-cakes on the green dish with the raised design of cherries round the edge that I always used to covet.

  Having tea with Mrs Dudley was like slipping back in time to another world, which would have been delightful if only one didn’t have to listen to her conversation, which was largely malicious gossip about practically everybody in the town. I tried to concentrate on the excellent food (two sorts of jam and three kinds of home-made cake as well as the tea-cakes

  – at this rate I wouldn’t need any supper). But suddenly she had my full attention.

  ‘Rosemary told me about that Montgomery woman being murdered – she says that you found her. I could hardly believe it. Rubbish, I told her, a nice girl like Sheila wouldn’t go getting herself mixed up in a dreadful thing like that!’

  ‘Not mixed up exactly, Mrs Dudley.’ I said. I tried to explain as factually and unsensationally as possible what had happened, and fortunately I mentioned Charles’s name and she was immediately diverted.

  ‘Well, he’s well out of it. And I’d tell him so to his face. She was obviously only after his money. A very hard sort of woman

  – you know what these so-called “business women” are.’ ‘Did you know her at all?’ I asked. ‘I made it my business to go and have a look at her when

  she first set up that estate agent place. I went in and asked about details of houses – said I was considering something smaller, though of course I wouldn’t dream of living anywhere but here. We came here when we were first married, you know ... Where was I? Oh yes, that Montgomery woman. Very smarmy – sly I would call it. Wouldn’t trust her an inch. Just what I expected. Which is what I told Mrs Hertford.’

  ‘Mrs Hertford?’ I was now completely confused.

  ‘Well, yes, of course.’ The breathy voice sank to a whisper and she leaned forward confidentially. ‘The Montgomery woman was her daughter-in-law, you know.’