by Hazel Holt
I guessed that the Ellis’s took one of the more lurid Sunday papers.
‘No!’ I exclaimed.
‘I’m not supposed to know, of course,’ she said. ‘He tries to tidy up himself when he’s been. But you can always tell.’
‘Wash-basins.’ I said wisely.
She gave me an approving look. ‘Men seem to think that taps just clean themselves.’ she said. ‘Oh, lots of little things they wouldn’t notice.’ Mrs Ellis seemed to have no very high opinion of men.
I took a deep breath. There was something I very much wanted to ask. I hoped that we were now on sufficiently cosy terms to do so.
‘Do you ever see the women? I mean, are there several or just the one?’
She drew her lips into a thin line of disapproval. An old-fashioned young woman, Mrs Ellis, but I could have guessed that, I suppose, from her children.
‘There used to be several, but lately, these last few months, there’s been just the one.’
‘Really! Much younger than him?’
‘No, not really. I was quite surprised – the others were girls, from his office I should think. No, this one’s older, in her forties, but very smart. She’s got very good clothes, you know, casual but very good quality, suede and that.’
‘Sounds very sophisticated,’ I said, ‘not really his type I’d have thought.’
‘That’s right. Treats him very off-hand, she does, and he loves it. I saw them sometimes, when the weather was nice, out in the garden. The cottage is down in a dip, but if you’re walking along the back road you can look down and see it quite clearly. I don’t suppose he’d know that. Shouldn’t think he’s walked anywhere in his life!’
‘Did – do they meet here or come separately?’
‘Oh, she always comes in her own car – a dark green one it is, big, must be expensive. She must have money – I can’t think what she sees in him!’
‘I don’t suppose she comes in the winter, though, does she?’
‘She didn’t come for quite a bit, and then, In the New Year, she was here for one night.’
‘In the New Year?’ I asked, hardly daring to breathe.
‘Yes, the first Tuesday, that would be. I know because I saw her car drive through the village in the afternoon and then I saw it at the cottage early the next morning.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, well, it was quite a coincidence, really. I had to take Debbie here to the hospital to have her plaster off and the ambulance was calling at half past eight – it has to come ever so early so they can pick up people on the way in. Barry’s mum was having Craig for me – well, toddlers get so fed up hanging about in hospitals, don’t they – so I took him round just before eight. She lives up on that back road, so I looked down at the cottage as I went by and saw the car was still there. It was ever such a cold day and I thought they’d have to have all the heating on full blast if they were there over-night. That cottage isn’t damp but it takes quite a while to warm up. It’s what Barry’s dad calls back-sundered, doesn’t get a lot of sun till the afternoon. Anyway, she was there that night, but I haven’t seen any sign of her since. P’raps she’s got fed up with him, or else his wife’s found out.’
‘Goodness,’ I said, ‘it’s just like a telly play!’
‘Oh, we see all sorts round here,’ she laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe.’
I was wondering how to change the subject so that she wouldn’t suspect that my only interest was Philip Bradford and his visitor, when the little boy suddenly caught sight of the plate of biscuits and grabbed at it, spilling them all on the floor. We knelt on the floor to retrieve them and Mrs Ellis said, ‘Now look what you’ve done – what will Mrs Malory think!’ and Debbie said primly, ‘He shouldn’t have another biscuit, it’ll spoil his dinner.’
I looked at my watch gratefully and got up.
‘Good gracious, is that the time! You’ll be wanting to get on and give the children their dinners. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s been nice having a chat,’ she said. ‘Just you let me know when your friends are coming and I’ll see to everything.’
I was so absorbed in thoughts of Lee and Philip Bradford that for a moment I couldn’t think what she meant. Then I pulled myself together and thanked her.
‘And do, please, remember me very kindly to your father and tell him that I miss him.’
‘I’ll do that. Dad’ll be ever so interested that I’ve seen you.’
I said goodbye to the two children and Debbie responded politely.
‘They really are marvellous children.’ I said, as we went to the door. ‘So beautifully behaved! When I think what my son was like at that age...’
She looked pleased and said, ‘You’ve got to be firm with them, else they rule your lives.’
I was amused at this echo of Anthea’s remark about my animals. But we all, I thought as I went down the path to my car, need someone or some-thing to rule our lives, or how empty they would be. Then I thought of Lee. Money and possessions had ruled her life, and look where that had got her.
Chapter Fourteen
I didn’t feel, somehow, that I could tell Inspector Dean about my find – for all I knew, what I had done was illegal. So when I got back I telephoned Taunton police station and asked to speak to Roger.
‘Sheila? Is anything the matter?’
‘No, but I’ve got something to tell you, and some-thing to show you. But unofficially, as it were.’
‘Ah. Well now. I have a day off tomorrow and I know that Jilly wants to have a session with her mother about curtains and things for the new house, so I could drive her over to Taviscombe and, if you like, come and see you some time in the afternoon, and you could tell me then.’
‘Oh marvellous, bless you, Roger. But what will you tell Rosemary and Jilly?’
‘I could be borrowing a book, do you think? I could say I rang to see if you’d got a copy of – what? Dynevor Terrace. Have you got a lending copy of that, by the way? I’ve always wanted to read it and never been able to get hold of it.’
‘Indeed I have. I always buy up copies of Charlotte M. Yonge whenever I see them in secondhand book-shops, so that I can lend them to fellow enthusiasts. I’ve got two spares of Dynevor Terrace so you shall have one to keep – unless that counts as bribing the police?’
Roger laughed. ‘That depends on what you’ve got to tell me,’ he said. ‘But thank you very much indeed. I’d love to have it. I’ll come about three o’clock then, if that’s all right?’
Roger arrived promptly the following afternoon. I was glad to see that Foss and Tris took to him at once. Tris barked excitedly as if he was a long-lost friend and rolled with his paws in the air – something he doesn’t do for everyone. Foss simply appropriated him. He took one look at Roger, leapt on to his lap, turned round twice and went to sleep.
‘Oh goodness, Roger, I am sorry – put him down, you’ll be all over cat hairs.’
‘Certainly not, I wouldn’t dream of disturbing him. I’m very honoured.’ And he stroked him gently with one finger so that the very tip of Foss’s tail twitched slightly with pleasure. I
reflected that Jilly really had got a pearl among men.
‘Now then, what’s it all about?’
So I told him about the property deal – I implied that I’d got it all from Charles so as not to get Carol into trouble – and I sort of hinted that it was common knowledge, or at least gossip, that Philip Bradford was involved with Lee, and let him put two and two together. I explained how I’d had the luck to meet Bradford at Anthea’s and managed to get the keys of the cottage.
‘Oh, well done!’ Roger exclaimed as if applauding some clever stroke.
I described the cottage and how near it was to Plover’s Barrow and then I told him about the eye-liner.
‘I’m positive it’s Lee’s. It’s the make she uses, and her colour.’
I got up and took the plastic bag with the liner in it from a drawer.
‘Here it is. I ha
ve a horrid feeling that it was probably illegal to take it. And perhaps I should have left it in situ as evidence, but I was terrified that Bradford might somehow see it and take it away. If only I’d had a camera...’
Roger took the plastic bag carefully and laid it on a small table beside him.
‘I don’t imagine that Mr Bradford will claim ownership of this little item,’ he said. ‘But of course we don’t know how long it’s been there.’
So I explained my theory about Lee having stayed there the night before she was murdered, and all about the spillage in the oven and the water in the ice-tray.
‘Good God!’ he exclaimed. ‘Detection and deduction! Remarkable, my dear Holmes!’
I laughed happily. ‘And there’s Mrs Ellis!’
With some pride I reported my conversation with Mrs Ellis – about Lee’s involvement with Bradford and the fact that her car was seen at the cottage on the morning of the murder.
‘Women.’ Roger said. ‘They’ll beat Special Branch any day! How on earth did you get all that out of her?’
‘Well, it helped a bit that her father used to be my milkman...’
Roger grinned. ‘You’re wasted – the whole WI mafia. You should be running the CID!’
‘Anyway. Does it help? I mean, it’s another suspect, isn’t it, instead of Jamie and Andrew?’
‘Motive?’
‘Oh, money, of course. You see, if she was still stringing Bradford along – and she obviously was, because she spent the night with him – he had no idea that she was buying up the property in Charles’s name and was going to ditch him. But he might have found out that night – she might even have told him. The more I find out about her, the more I feel that she was an amazingly destructive sort of person, someone who’d hurt other people just to see them wince! Anyway, she might well have told him what she’d done, and that she was going to marry Charles, and that he couldn’t do a thing about it.’
‘For two reasons.’
‘Yes, because she could let people know that he’d abused his position on the Council by telling her about the development, and she could let his wife know about their affair.’
‘Neat.’
‘Well. He would have been furious, wouldn’t he, and worried, because she would be a danger to him. He couldn’t, obviously, kill her at the cottage, but he knew that she had an appointment at Plover’s Barrow that day. So after she’d left, he walked over there and – well – killed her.’
Roger looked thoughtful.
‘It’s possible. I still wonder about the client who never showed up, though. And the horseman who was seen riding away?’
‘The hunt was out that day, remember? It could just have been a stray rider. Anyway, life is full of loose ends, if you come to think of it.’
‘And he simply walked back to – what’s the cottage called?
– Barleymead. And then drove back to Taviscombe. Well, Mr Bradford certainly has some explaining to do. We’d better have a word with him.’
‘Roger – I don’t quite know how to put this. Could you manage to question him without letting him know that Mrs Ellis told me about him? Only if he’s not guilty, then he’d be pretty annoyed with her, and she’d lose her job. And I think they need the money...’
‘It’s all right. Information received. He need never know that it was your Mrs Ellis. Or that it was you, for that matter.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind, he was an odious man and I certainly don’t want to meet him again.’ I suddenly thought of something. ‘I must get those keys back to him somehow, without seeing him. That is – unless you want to go and have a look for yourself...’
‘My dear Sheila, what are you suggesting? Entering private property without a search warrant!’
‘No, of course not, I didn’t think. I forgot for a moment that you were official! Well, I’ll just drop them through his letter-box with a polite note. When will you be going to see him?’
‘I think I’ll leave that to Inspector Dean. As he’s local he may have his own thoughts about Bradford, especially if Bradford has a bit of a reputation.’
‘But won’t the Inspector think it’s odd that I told you and not him?’
‘Leave it to me. Inspector Dean is an old friend and I think I can put it tactfully.’
‘Oh good, I was a bit worried about that. Can you stay for some tea or will Rosemary be expecting you back?’
‘No, I must get back to them, thank you very much.’
‘In that case I’ll get you that book. Come and have a look at my collection.’
I gave him the copy of Dynevor Terrace and we had a most agreeable conversation about the linked novels, so much so that I quite forgot that he was a detective inspector until he said, as he was getting ready to go, ‘I mustn’t forget to take the evidence with me,’ and picked up the plastic bag.
‘Let me know what happens, if you can,’ I said.
‘I’ll do my best. And thank you – for everything.’
After he had gone, while it was still in my mind, I wrote a hasty note to Bradford, saying that I thought the cottage was delightful and that I would be writing to my friends. I put the keys in the envelope with the note and got out the car. I hoped that I could drop them through his letter-box before he returned home in the evening.
He lived in a large house on the other side of Taviscombe and, as I parked outside, I was glad to see no car or any other sign of life. I thrust the envelope through the letter-box and almost ran down the path, since I really didn’t feel I could bear to come face to face with Philip Bradford after all I had told Roger about him that afternoon.
That evening Michael telephoned from Oxford to ask me to send some books on to him. When I went up to his room I was appalled to see how awful it looked. Because of my obsession with the Lee affair I had neglected my household tasks. No, that’s not quite true. I loathe housework and am delighted to find any excuse to turn my back on it. I needed to feel very strong, anyway, before tackling Michael’s room because he never, ever puts anything away, and since he never throws anything away either the room was silted up with archaeological layers going right back to his early childhood. Indeed, as I looked along the overflowing shelves for Prescott’s Conquest of Mexico and Constitutional Conflicts of the XVIIth Century, I found scribbled-on copies of My First Dinosaur Book next to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
I hadn’t touched anything since Michael had gone back after Christmas, apart from throwing all the inferior garments that he had rejected as unworthy of Oxford into the laundry basket. The room looked not only chaotic but shabby as well, and I decided that I would have it redecorated before he came back for the Easter vacation. Since I am absolutely useless with a paint-brush I knew I’d have to get it done professionally, and I seemed to remember that Marjorie Fraser had told me that she had found a very reliable man to do some decorating for her. On an impulse I rang her. She provided the name of the decorator most efficiently and then she said, rather gruffly, ‘You seem to be in with the police – have they found out any more about this Lee Montgomery business?’
I guessed that she was worrying about Jamie, and felt sorry for her.
‘As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘I think there is something new. It’s just possible that there might be someone else – other than Jamie or Andrew, you know—’
‘Who is it?’ she demanded.
But I didn’t feel I could tell her anything about Bradford so I simply said vaguely, ‘Well, I don’t know for sure, but I sort of got the impression that the police have their eye on someone else. I don’t know the details but I hope it might divert their attention from Jamie ... Have you seen him recently?’
‘No. He hasn’t been out the last couple of times. Too worried, I suppose. I spoke to him on the telephone and he said that inspector had been there pestering them. He’s extremely worried about the effect of it all on Andrew.’
‘Poor boy—’
‘The police have absolutely no proof,’ she said fiercely.
‘They can’t do anything if they’ve no proof...’
She sounded strained and uncertain, quite unlike the brisk, confident person I was used to. I was very sorry for her. Love is never easy, and when it comes late in life and to such an unlikely person – well, as they say, it’s the devil and all.
I said, rather helplessly, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll all come right in the end.’ But as I put the telephone down I thought that even if Bradford had killed Lee, and Jamie and Andrew were safe from suspicion, I could see no happy ending for Marjorie where the Hertfords were concerned.
Chapter Fifteen
A few days went by and I was still waiting for a word from Roger. I employed the time by catching up on my marmalade making. I had bought the Seville oranges quite a while ago and they had been sitting in the larder reproaching me ever since. Normally I had the whole thing done and the pots neatly labelled and in the store-cupboard before the end of January. As I cut up the oranges I went over and over in my mind all the events of the past weeks and I decided that, in a way, the most peculiar feature was Charles’s reaction to the whole affair. He had seemed to be deeply infatuated with Lee when we all had that pub lunch together, and had sounded quite distraught when she had been missing. But oddly enough, when he actually heard about her murder, he hadn’t sounded, somehow, like a lover and a fiancé. Well, of course, there were the exclamations of horror and he had certainly seemed shocked, but then there were all those questions about the police going through her papers. That, surely, had been more the reaction of someone concerned about a business deal – and a shady business deal at that – than of a man in love.
How much had he known about Philip Bradford? He obviously knew that Lee had got the tip-off about the development from someone, but had he known who? He couldn’t have known about Lee’s affair with Bradford – or could he? Would someone engaged in that kind of business deal think that an acceptable way of getting information? I pulled myself up short. What a horrible thing to think about one of my oldest friends. Next I would be wondering if Charles had murdered Lee!