In At The Death

by Francis Duncan

  ‘That’s all right, sir,’ Boyce said, with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. ‘It means that we know where we are. The position is then that you hadn’t seen him for several years and that you didn’t have enough real contact with him when you did meet to learn very much about his private life.’

  ‘That’s a fair summing up, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need to take up more of your time, sir,’ Boyce said, rising. ‘I’m much obliged for your help.’

  Doctor Reedley looked mildly surprised.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I’d been able to give you any. I daresay you already knew what little I’ve been able to tell you about Hardene before you came.’

  ‘It isn’t always the things you hear that are important, sir. Sometimes it’s the things you don’t hear.’

  Boyce was on his way to the door when he turned.

  ‘Oh, there was just one more thing, Doctor. I don’t suppose you happen to know where Doctor Hardene qualified?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do. Glad to be of some service, anyway,’ Reedley said. ‘It was Edinburgh.’

  Walking back to the car Tremaine turned to gaze back at the cottage, admiring its natural setting and the lawns and flower-beds surrounding it, so clearly set in order by loving hands.

  ‘It’s a delightful spot, Jonathan. Poor devil, losing his wife like that. Must have made everything a mockery.’

  ‘Hasn’t got much to do with what we came for,’ Boyce observed, ‘but I hadn’t the heart to stop him.’

  ‘What was the meaning of the cryptic remark?’ Tremaine asked, as they passed through the gate. ‘I mean the bit about the things you don’t hear.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Boyce raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘A fellow comes back to England after a long time abroad. No relatives and apparently no friends. It seems reasonable to me to suppose that he might have opened his heart now and again to a nice old couple from whom he was buying his practice. But did he give anything away? No, sir, not on your life. By not telling us anything that very fact tells us something. Hardene didn’t want to talk. And a man who doesn’t want to talk usually has a very good reason.’

  Tremaine nodded.

  ‘I see what you mean, Jonathan.’

  They drove back to Bridgton and went straight to Hardene’s house. Sergeant Witham was waiting for them.

  ‘Nothing to report from my end, sir,’ he said, in answer to Boyce’s question. ‘But I daresay you’d like to have a talk with the housekeeper. Seems that she had a bit of a nightmare. Local man told me about it when I got here.’

  ‘A nightmare?’ Boyce regarded his subordinate enquiringly. ‘Sounds a bit personal. Where do we come in?’

  ‘She thought she heard somebody outside the house, sir—trying to get in, she says. Anyway, she pushed up her window and called for the man on duty and then went downstairs to let him in as soon as he reached the door.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Nothing, sir. There was no sign of anybody in the house or in the garden and no trace of any attempt to force an entry. I’ve had a good look around myself, and I must say everything seems to be in order.’

  ‘Just a bit of reaction, eh? I’ll have a word with her, though, to see what she has to say about it. Ask her to come in. Oh, before you do,’ Boyce added, as Witham turned to go upon his errand, ‘what’s she been like this morning? Upset? Signs of being off-colour?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say so. Seems pretty level-headed to me. Not likely to start hearing things or go into hysterics—if that’s what you’re after, sir.’

  ‘Yes, that’s more or less what I’m after,’ Boyce said. ‘All right, ask her if she can spare a minute or two.’

  Mrs. Colver, when she came in, certainly showed no sign of being so far overwrought that her nerves were beginning to play tricks with her. There were shadows under her eyes and her face had lost a little of its former high colour, but it was clear that she was perfectly self-controlled.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs. Colver,’ Boyce said pleasantly. ‘I hear you had a rather disturbed night.’

  ‘Someone tried to break into the house,’ she told him levelly.

  Boyce appeared to be considering the point. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment or two and then brought his glance back to her face.

  ‘I suppose you’re quite certain? Don’t think I’m trying to doubt your word, but you’ve had rather a difficult time and it’s bound to have upset you. And sleeping in the house alone under such circumstances couldn’t help but make you—well, not quite yourself. You probably wouldn’t be sleeping quite as soundly as usual. Any slight noise outside the house might have awakened you and you might have thought it to be much nearer than it actually was.’

  A slight twist appeared at one corner of her tight lips.

  ‘Do I look the kind of person to imagine things, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘I’ll admit,’ Boyce said, ‘that you don’t. But even a person with the strongest nerves, waking up suddenly in the dark, is quite likely to be mistaken about the source of an unexpected sound.’

  ‘Someone tried to break in,’ she repeated firmly. ‘I’m as certain of it as I am that I’m talking to you now. The mistake I made was in hearing him too soon. When I pushed up the window and shouted I scared him and he was able to get away before the detective came. I ought to have waited until he was inside the house before I let him know I’d heard him.’

  ‘Both the local detective and my own sergeant have had a thorough look around but they haven’t been able to find any trace of anyone.’

  ‘I told you,’ she said stubbornly, ‘I called out too soon. He was at the back of the house, and if he’d walked down the garden path he wouldn’t have left any footprints. Your men wouldn’t have found anything.’

  ‘All right,’ Boyce said. ‘We’ll keep looking. How do you feel about things now?’ he added. ‘I mean as far as sleeping in the house is concerned?’

  Her lips came together even more determinedly.

  ‘I’ll stay.’

  She looked at Boyce, clearly asking whether he wanted her further, and when he nodded an indication that he had said all he wished to say, she moved towards the door.

  Mordecai Tremaine said:

  ‘One moment, Mrs. Colver. I wonder whether you can help us a little more with this unwelcome visitor?’

  A glint of antagonism came into her eyes.

  ‘How can I? I’ve told you all I know. I didn’t see him. I only heard him.’

  ‘Quite so. What I meant was that possibly—without perhaps being aware of it—you may know something that will provide us with a clue. Have you, for instance, ever noticed anyone taking an unusual interest in this house? Not just within the last twenty-four hours but before Doctor Hardene’s death.’

  She turned slowly away from the door and came back into the room; there seemed to be a distinct hint of unwillingness in her manner.

  ‘Yes’ she said slowly. ‘Yes, I have.’ Her eyes left Tremaine’s face for an instant or two. She appeared to be searching in her memory for the answer to his question. ‘There was someone—a man—about two or three days ago. It was about ten o’clock at night. Doctor Hardene had had to go to a political meeting and I was in the house on my own. I had to go out into the garden—I wanted to go to the coal store—and when I opened the back door of the house I saw a man on the path. As soon as he heard me he ran out through the gate that leads to the lane behind the house. I was too surprised to do anything at first and by the time I started to go after him it was too late. I went as far as the lane but by that time he’d gone.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘Doctor Hardene came back not long afterwards and I told him about it.’

  ‘What action did Doctor Hardene take?’

  ‘He said we’d have to make sure that everything was securely fastened in case we had burglars, and we went over the house together.’

  ‘Did he notify the polic
e?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not as far as I know, anyway.’

  ‘Did Doctor Hardene make light of the incident or did he seem disturbed by it?’

  ‘He was upset by it,’ the housekeeper said. ‘I could tell that. But he didn’t say anything to me except to be sure and see that the doors and windows were shut every night just in case there was anybody prowling around the neighbourhood.’

  Tremaine pushed back his pince-nez; they had been slipping towards the end of his nose with a relentlessness of purpose that had been fascinating Jonathan Boyce.

  ‘Could you recognize this—stranger—again, do you think, Mrs. Colver?’

  ‘I—I don’t know,’ she told him, hesitatingly. ‘It was very dark, and I was taken by surprise. I didn’t have a really good look at him.’

  ‘But you did get a general impression of him, no doubt—his height, build, and so on. Could it, for instance, have been Mr. Rex Linton?’

  Her eyes widened. She stared at him without replying, her expression difficult to read.

  ‘I believe you know Mr. Linton,’ Tremaine went on. ‘A reporter on the Evening Courier. The young gentleman who’s been very friendly with Miss Royman.’

  ‘Yes, I know Mr. Linton,’ she said at last. ‘But it couldn’t have been him I saw. This man was taller and I think he was a lot older.’

  She stopped. But it was clear that there was something else she wanted to say. Tremaine gave her a lead.

  ‘Yes?’ he said gently.

  ‘It’s about Mr. Linton. Now that you’ve spoken about him.’ The words came slowly at first, as though she was feeling her way, and then with a rush. ‘I have seen him near the house. He’s been up here several times.’

  ‘To meet Miss Royman?’

  ‘Sometimes. But not always. I’ve seen him about after Miss Royman had gone home. Once he came in to see Doctor Hardene. I heard them in the surgery. They had words.’

  ‘Was it a—serious—argument?’

  ‘Mr. Linton seemed very excited. I heard Doctor Hardene say something about it not being any of his business and he’d better keep out of it, and Mr. Linton said that it was his business and that he was going to make Doctor Hardene pay. I didn’t hear very much of what they actually said, of course—I didn’t go too near the surgery.’

  ‘Were they still on bad terms when Mr. Linton left?’

  ‘Yes. I heard Mr. Linton shout something as he came out of the surgery and he slammed the door hard when he went out of the house as though he wasn’t in a good mood.’

  ‘When did this quarrel take place?’

  ‘About a fortnight ago.’

  ‘Did Mr. Linton come again afterwards?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not when I was here.’

  Tremaine rubbed his chin. He glanced at Boyce over the pince-nez. He seemed uncertain how best to phrase his next question.

  At last:

  ‘Have you any idea, Mrs. Colver,’ he said, ‘what the trouble between them was about?’

  Once again the housekeeper’s lips straightened into a thin, tight line.

  ‘It was about Miss Royman. Mr. Linton considered that the doctor was becoming more friendly with her than he thought he ought to be.’

  ‘And was that the case?’

  ‘There’s no smoke without fire,’ she told him. ‘But that’s not for me to say. You’d better ask her yourself.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tremaine said, uncomfortably. ‘Yes. Quite so. Thank you, Mrs. Colver.’

  The housekeeper went out of the room in silence, giving Jonathan Boyce a backward glance as she did so. It was both speculative and faintly hostile. When the door had closed behind her Boyce looked at his companion.

  ‘Well,’ he observed, ‘you brought her out. D’you think there’s more to come?’

  ‘I think she’s hiding something, Jonathan,’ Tremaine said slowly. ‘At first she wasn’t anxious to say anything, and then she changed her mind and opened up. All that about Rex Linton coming here, for instance.’

  ‘She certainly sounded as though she wanted to see him in trouble,’ Boyce agreed. ‘We’ll have to take it up—especially in view of the legacy the girl’s been left. There may be something in it.’

  Sergeant Witham came back into the room. He glanced behind him into the receptionist’s room before closing the door.

  ‘Housekeeper seems a bit up in the air, sir,’ he said to his chief. ‘Looks as though you might have rattled her.’

  ‘Did she say anything?’ Boyce asked.

  ‘No. That was it, sir. She just went by as if she couldn’t get past me quick enough. Funny. She’s been quite matey up till now.’

  ‘Has she been out of the house at all this morning?’ Tremaine said.

  ‘Not that I know of, sir,’ the sergeant returned. ‘Not since I’ve been here, anyway.’

  ‘Has she had any visitors?’

  ‘Couple of tradesmen—baker and milkman. Nobody that you might call social, though.’

  ‘What about the telephone? Has she used it?’

  The sergeant nodded.

  ‘She put through a call about half an hour before you and the Chief Inspector arrived. As a matter of fact, she didn’t seem to care for it much when I came through the hall while she was speaking. The door was open and I could see what she was doing. I’d been out in the garden and she gave me the feeling that she hadn’t expected me to show up quite so soon. She made a point of not going on with what she was saying until I was out of the way again.’

  Boyce stirred.

  ‘What are you after, Mordecai?’

  ‘I’m not sure myself,’ Tremaine said. ‘But I’d like to know a bit more about Mrs. Colver. And one thing I’d like to know about is her banking account—if she has one.’

  ‘We’ll see what we can do. Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. I’d certainly like to know something more about her visitor of last night.’

  ‘Then you don’t think it was just imagination?’

  ‘I think there was somebody outside the house. And I think she had a pretty good idea beforehand what was likely to happen. That’s why she stayed here. She guessed you’d leave someone on the watch so that she wouldn’t be in any serious danger.’

  ‘You mean,’ Boyce said, leaning forward, ‘you think she was scared?’

  ‘I mean that she seems to have raised the alarm without losing much time. Whoever it was didn’t even have a chance to start getting into the house. It sounds to me as though she must have been lying awake expecting something.’

  ‘In that case, why not tell us about it? Why didn’t she say if she was scared of an attempt being made to get in?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Tremaine said, ‘she didn’t want us to find out too much. She didn’t want to risk anybody getting into the house but at the same time she didn’t want to start too many enquiries. She’s a clever woman, Jonathan. Or a determined one.’ He stopped. He added, after a moment or two: ‘It’s love that makes a woman determined.’

  ‘Love?’ Boyce echoed the word, his surprise evident in his face. ‘She must be well over fifty. You’re not serious!’

  Tremaine’s expression was grave.

  ‘Yes, Jonathan,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am serious.’

  The tension was broken by the shrill ringing of the bell. Witham slipped unobtrusively from the room and was back a few seconds later.

  ‘It’s Miss Royman,’ he announced. ‘She’s been making one or two calls this morning—had to go to the local hospital in the city about some talk or other the doctor was to have given, and see some of his political friends to return books and papers he’d borrowed. Do you want her in, sir?’

  ‘Yes,’ Boyce said. ‘Yes, I do.’

  The cold morning air had brought a flush to Margaret Royman’s cheeks. She looked very pretty. Mordecai Tremaine felt his heart doing foolishly sentimental things.

  Boyce gave no sign that he was being similarly affected. He pulled a chair forward, his manner precise and official.

&n
bsp; ‘Good morning, miss. Glad you’re here.’

  ‘Good morning, Chief Inspector,’ she said, seating herself. She gave him an enquiring glance. ‘Your greeting sounded a little—ominous.’

  ‘Did it, miss?’ Boyce was bland. ‘I’m sure I didn’t mean it that way. As a matter of fact, all I wanted was to have a little chat with you about Mr. Linton.’

  ‘Oh.’ She could not repress the start she gave, although she controlled herself quickly. ‘Mr. Linton? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘My information, miss,’ Boyce said, ‘is that you and Mr. Linton are on what might be called friendly terms.’

  ‘We are—friends,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t see what connection—–’

  She broke off. Boyce eyed her shrewdly, peering from under his bushy eyebrows.

  ‘You don’t see what connection there is between that fact and the business I’m engaged upon? That’s just the point, miss. I’m given to understand that Mr. Linton and Doctor Hardene knew each other—and that they weren’t exactly on the best of terms.’

  ‘Who—who told you that?’

  There was a gasping note in her voice and she had difficulty in keeping it steady.

  ‘The real question,’ Boyce said, ‘is whether or not it’s the truth. I thought that maybe you would be the best person to give me the answer.’

  There was no mistaking his meaning and the girl made no attempt to hide that she was aware what was in his mind.

  ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose you were bound to find out sooner or later. Yes, it is true. Rex came here to see Doctor Hardene. There was quite a scene. Rex told me about it. But that doesn’t mean that he had anything to do with—with Doctor Hardene’s death. In fact, I know he didn’t.’

  ‘You know he didn’t?’

  Her glance met the prolonged stare Boyce gave her without even the suggestion of flinching.

  ‘Doctor Hardene’s body was found at half past ten,’ she said steadily. ‘Rex and I were together all the evening. He saw me home and we didn’t arrive there until almost that time. So Rex couldn’t possibly have got all the way back to the downs and committed the murder.’