Death of an Innocent (Richard and Amelia Patton)

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘And you paid a hundred each for them? Richard...really!’ He thrust them back into my hands.

  ‘Strictly speaking, I bought them for you, Philip. You did say, out-of-pocket expenses.’

  Olivia twisted in her seat. ‘Is this true, Philip? You asked Richard to buy back...Let me see.’ She reached for the pictures and he leaned forward to hand them to her. Some of the authority had gone from her. It was a snatch she used, and I saw that there was a flush on her cheeks. Her fingers fumbled them. She peered with a creased forehead, turning them to catch whatever light there was. I realized she was lost without her reading glasses.

  ‘What is it? What?’ But it was closer to a plea than a demand. ‘These are two photographs,’ I explained, ‘of a body lying in shallow water. I did say that. If you look closer —’

  ‘How can I see!’ she cried. She waved a hand towards Philip, who at once went to search drawers for her spare reading glasses.

  ‘I’ll describe them,’ I offered. ‘They are identical except for one tiny detail. They’re of a young woman who was drowned. At the beginning of May, it was.’

  ‘Let me see them again,’ Philip put in, reaching across to hand her her glasses, and at the same time taking back the photos. ‘A tiny detail? I don’t see...oh yes I can. Olivia, he means that one of the photographs shows a round yellow sticker stuck to her anorak, or whatever it is. How very strange.’

  ‘Isn’t it!’ I agreed.

  ‘Do you know this person’s identity?’ she asked, making an effort to keep her lips moving correctly.

  ‘Well yes.’ I took the prints back from Philip, who’d been glancing at their backs. Then I returned to my seat. Now it was Philip who was bright and attentive, Olivia who was uncertain, her hands moving in her lap. ‘Her name was Nancy Ruston.’

  ‘Nancy...’ Then she clamped her lips shut.

  ‘Yes. You know, Mark Ruston’s sister. He must have mentioned her, some time or other.’

  She flapped her hands and looked around wildly, ‘I’m not going to listen to any more of this nonsense. Burglars and photographs, and a young woman dead in the water. Oh, this is too much!’

  Philip reached forward and placed a hand on her arm. ‘You will please let me handle this, Olivia.’ This was her business manager speaking, the man whose job it was to protect her from the unpleasant aspects of life, such as me. For a second she seemed about to fling his hand away, but he whispered, ‘Please,’ and slowly she subsided. But still he watched her. Her head was jerking, as though attempting to shake free from unwelcome thoughts, and her cheeks were moving with a chewing action. He removed his hand and looked across at me, quite calm, but his eyes were deeply sunken and dark. I sensed an inward retreat.

  ‘Richard, I’m counting this as an insufferable intrusion. Will you kindly explain why you’ve brought this strange and even fantastic story here, and what it’s got to do with us.’ He smiled in the general direction of Melanie. ‘And with the police. Then afterwards, you will please leave, and I think I’m safe in saying you will not be welcome here again.’

  ‘I had to risk that, Philip. But the chain of evidence is quite complete. Can I explain?’

  ‘That’s what I’m asking.’

  ‘Very well. This house was entered illegally, in such a way that it pointed to a specific burglar. When I saw him, he admitted it quite openly, and produced these photos as the items he’d stolen. He sold them to me — on your behalf, Philip — but in fact he cheated me. This man, you see, has always operated on contract. That’s to say, he was paid by someone to take one or more specific items. But in this case, as I’ve now found out, he was paid to obtain the negatives, and not particularly these photos, which were printed from them. Once in control of the negatives, you see, his client could start calling bluffs. Or at least, to evade the danger they represented. Harvey Cole cheated me, Philip, because he sold me the prints. He’d already disposed of the negatives to his client.’

  Philip spread his palms. ‘This is all very interesting, but I don’t see how we can help you. In what way does this concern us?’

  ‘Philip — for heaven’s sake — the stuff was stolen from here! You or Olivia must therefore have been the photographer who took these pictures.’

  He smiled, this time hideously exposing his teeth in a predatory manner. ‘But Richard, you’ve said he cheated you. So why can’t you see — he also lied to you? Those photographs mean nothing to either of us.’

  ‘I hadn’t really finished telling you how far the link extends, Philip. Do give me the chance.’

  ‘Quite frankly, like Olivia here, I’m convinced you’ve gone quite far enough already.’

  ‘For an extra hundred pounds, Philip, he told me the name and address of his client.’

  He was leaning forward, knees apart, hands swinging between them. For a moment he stared blankly at me, the tip of his tongue just visible between his lips.

  ‘Who was?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Mark Ruston.’ I turned my gaze to Olivia. ‘The same Mark I’ve already mentioned. Who might have mentioned his sister to you.’

  She moved her head. The sound she made might have been one of disgust. Philip took it on.

  ‘Mark Ruston paid a burglar to steal photographs...’

  ‘To steal the negatives,’ I corrected.

  ‘To steal the negatives, then, from this house! Really, Richard, you’re taking this too far.’ He cocked his head, now once again in full control of himself. ‘I suggest you take your questions to Mark himself. He’ll have your explanation — or whatever it is you want.’

  ‘I can’t do that, I’m afraid. Mark is dead.’

  I said that to Philip, but my eyes had been on Olivia. She gave a gasp, then plunged her face forward, her hands coming up to clasp and contain the anguish, and from between her fingers came the protest: ‘Mark! He’s dead. Oh dear Lord!’ It was almost as though she’d written it in purple prose, I thought miserably.

  Amelia was at once on her feet, whispering to her, glancing back at me in disapproval and blame.

  It seemed a good time to pause, and look round to Melanie. I was appealing for help. It was another woman’s reactions I’d found myself baffled by. But she inclined her head with a wry smile. You’re doing fine, Richard, her eyes told me. Fine, hell!

  I had my eyes back on him by the time Philip spoke again.

  ‘My wife thought a lot of Mark.’ Not himself, I noted. No sympathy for Mark there. ‘When was this?’

  ‘He died last night. I’m sorry, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t realize that.’ You damned liar, Richard!

  ‘How?’ he asked flatly. ‘How did he die?’

  ‘He was found hanging by a rope from one of the rafters inside a shed.’

  ‘I didn’t like him,’ he said blandly. ‘I’ll admit that. But...such a death! There is something pitiable about suicide.’

  I didn’t correct his assumption. ‘I’ve always thought so. All that internal suffering.’

  ‘And remorse.’

  ‘That too,’ I agreed.

  We were carrying this on, giving Olivia time to recover her composure. Remorse, he’d said!

  Olivia whispered: ‘I don’t believe this.’ She raised her head, and one hand thrust Amelia aside.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to her. ‘But it’s true.’

  She shook her head, put two fingers to her lips, then again stared at her lap, and at her hands as they moved down and wrestled there together.

  Philip continued in his uninvolved, even disinterested, voice. ‘Very well, Richard, you’ve told us Mark is dead, and those photos are of his sister, Nancy, also dead. Will you please tell us why you’ve come here with your eternal questions.’

  ‘You speak as though you’ve never met her.’

  ‘Of course I haven’t.’

  ‘But you told me you’d made an appointment to see her, at Potter Heigham, possibly on the very same day she died.’

  ‘She didn’t turn up. I also told you
that. Perhaps because she was already dead. Do you think?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ I clamped my teeth on my pipe stem at a sudden thought. Then I firmly docketed it away.

  ‘Then I repeat, Richard: why’re you pestering us with your questions? We know nothing of these things.’

  I sighed. ‘Please don’t pretend to be stupid, Philip, because I know you’re not. It should be obvious, now. There’s evidence that Mark killed his sister. Mark is now dead. The facts have got to be assembled in their correct order for the coroner, and it’s obvious from the photos, which were stolen from this house, Philip, that something was known by the photographer about the time and manner of Nancy’s death. For pity’s sake — it must be obvious! We have to know when and why and how those photographs were taken. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Quite clear, Richard. You don’t have to be so pedantic about it. What is not clear is how you’ve come to the conclusion that your photographer is here.’ His eyes were wide open with innocent enquiry. He might even have been laughing at me.

  I stared at him. Was he mad? His attitude certainly bordered on the paranoid. How much longer could he continue to deny it?

  ‘Very well, Philip, I will tell you.’ And I felt like hell.

  16

  I stood up to ease the stiffness the chair was causing, and managed to catch Melanie’s eye once again. Couldn’t she now take over, before I went beyond the point of no retreat? She stared back at me blankly, sitting firm and straight with her briefcase between her feet. My pipe wasn’t drawing properly. Nothing seemed to be going right. I returned to my chair and took up the thread of my theme. Amelia had slid her seat closer to Olivia’s, and was now sitting with a supportive hand on her arm. It was difficult to continue when I could detect no apparent sympathy from any direction.

  ‘Look, Philip,’ I said. ‘You’re the photographer around here. Those shots are good. Sharp and crisp and correctly exposed. I know very well that anybody with a modern camera can get good results, but all the same, this photography indicates a fair bit of experience. The negatives were recently recovered from the man who paid Harvey Cole to steal them from here...’ I signed. ‘And if you think I’m repeating myself and stating the obvious, that’s because you refuse to budge an inch.’

  He pointed a finger at me. ‘Then tell me, Richard — why should I go to all this trouble you’ve mentioned...all this photographing and sending pictures to Mark? I don’t see this. Please explain.’

  ‘Is that what you really want? Think about it, Philip.’ It was his wife I was considering.

  He nodded rapidly. There was no time to waste on thought. ‘Let’s hear it, by all means.’

  Amelia made a gasping sound and seemed about to speak, but I glanced at her, and something in my eyes silenced her. I turned back to Philip.

  ‘You’d been looking for some way of getting Mark Ruston out of your life and out of Olivia’s. He was becoming a pest. I know how it all began. Mark came to this house. There’s a law about adopted children; they can now trace their real parents. Or parent. In this case, only one was recorded — the mother. That was Olivia.’

  I saw Amelia whisper something in Olivia’s ear, and prayed it might not have been the wrong thing. At that time, Olivia was looking neither distressed not guilty. Now she suddenly spoke up, reaching way down for her composure.

  ‘There’s no need to be portentous, Richard. Yes, I had a child. It was Malcolm Ruston’s. There was no chance that we could marry. Later, I married Philip. It’s all very straightforward, and your attitude is frankly quite ancient. Mark came here...’

  ‘And you welcomed him?’

  ‘Of course. Would you expect me not to?’

  ‘Perhaps. Having discarded a child —’

  ‘How dare you!’ she flared at me, and now Amelia clutched at her arm, her eyes snapping at me, and saying, ‘That was inexcusable, Richard!’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘All right, Olivia, I apologize. Attitudes change.’ I meant hers, not mine. ‘I was saying to Philip that he had no reason to like Mark, himself. You may not have thought about that, Olivia. Mark was welcomed too heartily for Philip’s comfort, and over the next few months he took over far too much of your interest and concentration and time — well, Philip saw Mark only as a thick, black cloud in his life. Am I correct, there, Philip?’

  ‘I didn’t have any impulse to cheer at the sight of him,’ he agreed sourly. He seemed not to be aware — or blithely ignored the fact — that I had just proved his previous story to Amelia and myself to be a complete lie.

  `So when you had reason to believe he’d killed his sister —’

  ‘Killed his sister?’ demanded Olivia, her voice strained, her eyes wild. ‘Whatever’s this? Why on earth would Mark...he’d never harm a soul...’ she darted a glance at Philip, who looked away quickly.

  ‘There was a very good reason, Olivia,’ I said. ‘In fact, it came to the point where Nancy became a positive menace to Mark. But I’d rather leave that for now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I do mind!’ Olivia declared. She nodded sideways to Amelia. ‘Really, Mellie, your husband must be impossible to live with.’ She was recovering fast.

  ‘In a minute,’ I promised. ‘It would interrupt what I was saying to Philip.’

  He waved a hand. ‘Oh, don’t mind me.’

  I took him at his word. ‘Philip, you see,’ I explained to Olivia, ‘knew exactly why Mark would want Nancy dead.’

  She swivelled in her seat, staring at him. ‘Is this true?’

  ‘Yes, I knew.’

  ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘The things I keep from you, Livie, run into the thousands. I treated this as one more annoyance to be kept from you.’ He made that sound deliberately offensive.

  Her eyes and mine were both on him when I said: ‘So you knew about Mark’s motive for killing her. Was that the reason you took those photos?’

  ‘I haven’t said I did that.’ Again I got the bland denial.

  Olivia’s attention shot back to me. ‘And neither did I. So there’s your answer. Isn’t that enough? I’m tired of this, and I’d like to rest...’

  ‘I’m sorry, it is not enough. Whoever took those pictures rigged them so that when they were sent to Mark they represented a threat. Keep away from here or I will send these pictures to the police, something like that.’

  Olivia shot to her feet, leaving Amelia’s hand suspended in the air. ‘Are you implying I would send threats to Mark? You must be quite out of your mind.’

  ‘Mark believed it was you sent them. He told me that. He assumed it was you.’

  ‘As a threat! Never!’

  ‘From you, he didn’t take it as a threat.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I’d rather not say.’

  Amelia breathed out. She tried to smile, but her eyes, on me, were bleak.

  ‘I demand —’ began Olivia, but I had to interrupt that. I’d led myself into a tricky situation.

  ‘The fact remains, Olivia, that Mark thought that. It’s clearly untrue. They originated from this house, and if it was not you...’

  I was talking to her back. She had whirled around, and now stood over Philip. He was still sitting there, hands dangling free between his legs. He looked up at her calmly, waiting.

  ‘Philip!’

  He managed a smile. Heaven knows how he did it, against the imperious boom of her voice. Yet it was a smile of defeat.

  ‘All right, Richard,’ he said past her. ‘You can see I’ve got no alternative. You did that cleverly, I’ll say that much.’

  I had not. It had been forced on me. I didn’t contradict him. ‘Sit down, Livie,’ he said coolly. ‘What I did, everything, it was in your best interests.’

  For a few moments she stood there, then she turned from him, and though her face was now expressionless she fell heavily into the chair. ‘Livia!’ said Amelia. She offered her hand. I saw Olivia’s fingers clutch at the hand, urgently, fiercely.

&n
bsp; ‘It’s taken a long while, Philip,’ I said. ‘But now we’ve got to it. You admit, then, that it was you who took the photographs?’

  ‘I admit that.’ He smiled. It might have been that he thought he had gained something.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, embarking on the next stage.

  ‘Why what? You’ve already said. I sent them to Mark.’

  ‘I didn’t really mean that. I meant, why did you spend some days...and she’d been in the water quite a while when she reached the place she was found...why go to all that trouble to find the body?’

  ‘To photograph it. Damn it, I’ve said I did that.’

  ‘But that wasn’t all of it, was it? You did a bit of jiggery-pokery with a yellow charity sticker, which you must have kept for several days just for that purpose.’

  ‘Oh...that!’

  ‘Yes, that.’ I paused. He didn’t seem about to add anything. Then he straightened, realized he was on a stool and couldn’t lean back negligently, so compromised by sitting straight up, arms folded across his chest, looking defensive although he intended to imply confidence. He said nothing. I had to go on.

  ‘Will you tell me what day you found the body?’

  He seemed to feel there was no danger in admitting that. ‘On the Thursday.’

  ‘You mean the Thursday following the charity collection?’

  ‘That Thursday, yes. The police found her two days later, so how could it’ve been any other Thursday?’ He raised his eye-brows mockingly, having gained a point.

  ‘I’m sorry — of course — I wasn’t thinking. So you found her, on the Thursday, wearing a sticker...’ I used my eyebrows, equally expressively.

  ‘Of course. Yes.’

  ‘But Philip. Ask yourself. How could she possibly still have had on a sticker, after all that time? It would’ve soaked off long before —’

  ‘Pure conjecture. In fact, it was still there.’

  ‘Very well. So you took a picture of her, still wearing that sticker, and then took the sticker off in order to take another one. For Mark’s benefit.’