by Bruce, Leo
“She doesn’t like Scotter,” explained Boggett.
“Nasty sneaking kind of man, I’ve always said. And what he thinks of himself: supposed to be all on the side of Labour and ashamed of his own brother-in-law. He married Boggett’s sister— and a nicer woman you couldn’t meet—when he was quite a young man, before he knew he was going to get where he is. You should see him if we happen to meet in the street anywhere. You know what I heard from Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock …”
“Never mind about Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock. Tell him about the parcel.”
“If you don’t keep quiet I shan’t tell him anything at all. So now then. This Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock are the two ladies that help Mrs. Parador. You should see them together! There’s Mrs. Byles as tall as a telegraph post and Mrs. Pocock a funny little thing no bigger than her own daughter. I see them sometimes at the kayfe in the afternoon. It was them told me about this parcel Scotter brought for Mr. Parador and give to him himself. Now what’s Scotter doing bringing parcels, that’s what I should like to know. He’s too high and mighty to talk to anyone but he delivers something from his shop. Doesn’t make sense.”
“What did I tell you?” Boggett asked Carolus proudly. “I told you she’d have something to tell if she got going.”
“This Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock,” went on Mrs. Boggett. “Told me a lot of things about what’s supposed to have gone on before Mr. Parador was done for. I let them talk. It was only when they began about where I work that I turned on them because that’s as good as saying something to me.”
“You mean about Mr. Rumble?”
“That’s what they said it was, but it was meant for me. I know that very well. Saying there was something between him and Mrs. Parador and had been for a long time. I turned on them pretty quick when they said that. ‘You be careful what you’re saying’, I told them. So then they got on to the vicar.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It seems there was words once between him and Mr. Parador. This Mr. Hopelady’s a man who likes a joke and tried it on with Mr. Parador. You should have heard him shout, Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock said. You could hear it all over the house. ‘Get out, you snivelling bible-thumper!’ Mr. Parador shouted, so Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock said, and they never expected to see him come to the house again. But he was up there on the very afternoon of the day Mr. Parador was murdered. Trying to get a subscription for something from Mrs. Parador. At least that’s what it sounded like to Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock because they heard her say she was sorry she had so many calls on her, and they said Mr. Hopelady came away with a face as long as a poker.”
There was no need for Carolus to say encouraging words or for Boggett to challenge. Mrs. Boggett had Got Going.
“Then those Limpoles,” she said. “The three of them’s so mean they half-starve themselves rather than buy proper food. She does all the work. The elder brother Charles never goes out if he can help it The younger one, Edward, would be just the same if it wasn’t for his garden. He loves that I must say. I saw him the other day as I happened to be passing the house and there he was talking to Mrs. Parador who was taking her dog out for a walk and must have gone in to look at something. They were both of them stooping down but what they were staring at I don’t know. The other brother and the sister were nowhere in sight otherwise they’d have had something to say. She’s not quite all there if the truth were known.”
“Who? Miss Limpole?”
“That’s it. Going off for walks at all hours of the day and night. Coming in when it’s nearly getting light Boggett will tell you about that He’s out half the night, very often. All I know is, she’s Been Seen. You don’t know what to think, do you?”
“Yes,” said Carolus disconcertingly.
“Well, I’m sure I don’t. You know Mr. Parador gave Boggett the sack once, don’t you?”
“There’s no need to bring that up again,” said Boggett.
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“It was only because of the lawn.”
“That’s what Mr. Parador said it was but you know very well it was Something Else.”
“It was Ur done it,” said Boggett referring once again, apparently to that ancient city of the Chaldees.
“No it wasn’t anything of the sort. You know very well why it was. Why should Mrs. Parador have wanted to get rid of you, anyway?”
“I knew too much for her liking.”
Mrs. Boggett wheezed angrily.
“You knew too much. You don’t know your arse from your elbow if the truth were told.” She turned to Carolus. “It was him shooting his mouth off at the Oak, if you want to know. And getting half-sozzled at dinner-time that day and going to mow the lawn all in zig-zags so that when Mr. Parador came home he thought he’d been having a game of snakes and ladders. That’s what it was and he can’t say different.”
Boggett winked vigorously to Carolus.
“I don’t know what else you want to know,” reflected Mrs. Boggett. “I could always ask Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock anything you wanted. They’re quite obliging when it comes to it. At least Mrs. Byles is, I don’t know about Mrs. Pocock so much. They’re about the only two go out to work any more. Thrivers do their own, though I don’t know how they manage, and the sister works for those two Limpoles. As for the vicar, he wouldn’t get anyone even if he could afford it, not with all those children. Little feens they are, too.”
“How, little fiends?”
“So they are. There was two of them grinning all over their faces at me the other morning when I was trying to start my scooter. ‘I’ll give you good as a circus’, I told them. It was a good thing their father came along just then and apologised else I might have done them an injury.”
Carolus looked at his watch.
“I have to go to a cocktail party at Mrs. Dogman’s,” he said.
“That’ll be nice,” said Mrs. Boggett “I wouldn’t go not if they was to go down on their bended knees and asked me. Lot of gossip-mongering la-di-dah women talking about those that aren’t there. I know—I heard last time What Was Said. You won’t find me taking people’s reputation away like that behind their backs. She’ll be half-drunk as likely as not. It wouldn’t be the first time. As for him, I don’t know what to say. He’s No Good, if you ask me. They’ll all be there though, and some you don’t know about. Thrivers, Mrs. Parador, Dr. Sporlott. All of them.”
“What about the Limpoles?”
“They never Touch Anything but I shouldn’t be surprised because there’s bound to be something to eat which they won’t have to pay for. Nor wouldn’t I be surprised if Scotter’s there, though his wife wouldn’t go, I do know that. Then there’s the vicar …”
“Surely not on Sunday evening?”
“Oh yes, after Church, he will. He’d never miss anything. And his wife. They lock the children up in the attic when they go out…”
“Really, Mrs. Boggett, are you sure of that?”
“That’s what I’ve Been Told, anyway.”
Carolus rose to say good-bye and thank his hostess.
“That’s all right,” said Mrs. Boggett. “So long as you don’t expect me to talk a lot of gossip I don’t mind telling you what I happen to know. I’ll have a word with Mrs. Byles and Mrs. Pocock when I see them. If anything turns up I daresay Boggett will know where to find you.”
Carolus found Rupert Priggley sitting in the car.
“I thought I might as well just have a glance at the niece,” he explained casually.
They set off for the Dogmans’ home.
Chapter Seven
THE DOGMANS’ HOUSE WAS NOT LARGE, BUT HAVING A MODERN Georgian type front and standing a little way back from the road it looked very much a ‘gentleman’s residence’. Carolus drove in,
He rang the bell, and a woman in a noisy frock, wearing a gay auburn wig came to the door.
“Oh darling, you should have walked straight in. I don’t know who you are but somebody must have asked you.”
“Yes, you did,” said Carolus, assuming this to be Chatty Dogman. ‘You phoned me at lunch-time today. My name’s Deene. This is Rupert Priggley.”
“Did I, darling? Yes, the name does sound somehow familiar. Do come in and have a drink. You’ll find one over there. Talk to somebody, won’t you? There aren’t enough men, but then there never are, are there?”
She disappeared among her guests.
Carolus found himself in a long room, fairly crowded. He located the drinks which were on a brand new refectory table, presided over by a man in a check suit.
“Hullo, did the wife send you over for a drink? That’s right Let me pour it for you. I suppose you’re a friend of hers. I’m afraid we haven’t met, or have we? I’m Willy James Dogman.”
Carolus explained how he came to be there but Dogman only paid enough attention to be polite.
“I’m staying at The Royal Oak,” finished Carolus lamely.
“The Royal Oak? That’s a ghastly pub. What are you staying there for?”
A difficult question.
“Oh, just for a night or two,” said Carolus apologetically.
“Can’t stand that type who keeps it. Never have liked liars,” said Dogman.
They were interrupted by Chatty.
“Darling, give me two nice stiff gin and tonics, will you? Your friend Scotter’s dying of thirst.”
“So he wants two, does he?” said Dogman laughing noisily.
“Come along, darling. A little more gin—that’s right Christ, there’s Elspeth arriving with her niece.”
Carolus turned to see a handsome woman bearing down on them. Elspeth Parador was very nearly a beauty and full of charm. As soon as Carolus was introduced she drew him away.
“I know all about you,” she said. “Maggie phoned me. We all call my brother-in-law Maggie. He loathes it.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m glad he remembered to phone you.”
“Yes, and I’m glad you’ve come. It would be wonderful if you could prove my old Felix didn’t commit suicide. I thought the inquest was a farce.”
Carolus noticed that Rupert and Elspeth’s niece, a rather vacantly pretty girl of eighteen were already in conversation.
“You don’t think I’m a heartless brute to come to a party so soon, do you? I adored Felix but honestly, he wouldn’t want me to go on weeping for ever.”
“Not at all,” said Carolus. “I quite understand that you want to get out.”
“Thank you,” said Elspeth warmly. “I’m sure we’re going to get on. When can we meet and really have a talk? I don’t think I’ve a lot to tell you but I’ll try.”
“Tomorrow?” suggested Carolus.
“Yes. Come and have a cup of tea or something. About four?”
“I’d love to.”
“You must meet everyone here. Chatty will never remember to introduce you. You know the Thrivers?”
“Yes, Magnus rang them too.”
“Then I give you your choice. Both a bit quaint. Over by the mantelpiece is Edward Limpole and his sister. And quite alone in front of that bookcase is our local chemist, Mr. Scotter. You’ve probably heard of both.”
“I have. May I try the Limpoles first?”
“Come on, men. We can leave the children here.”
Edward Limpole did not look quite the old-fashioned puritan of his reputation. He was thin and narrow and wore rimless glasses. He looked serious, even rather worried, but there was something kind and friendly in his smile and Carolus wondered whether it was quite natural. For his sister the only adjective was gaunt.
“Edward. Nora. I want you to meet Mr. Deene.”
Edward Limpole tried to give a greeting but seemed confused. His sister blinked with some hostility.
Carolus could be socially cruel and decided to let the brother or sister break the silence. At last a question came—from Edward.
“Are you interested in gardening, Mr. Deene?”
“I’m no expert”
Nora Limpole spoke without ceasing to stare at the top of the far wall.
“My brother thinks of nothing else.” She had a peculiar voice, like a horse quietly neighing.
“And you?” asked Carolus politely.
“It bores me stiff.”
“My sister doesn’t really mean that”
“Oh, yes I do. It was the garden I quarrelled with Felix over.”
Sweat was on Edward Limpole’s forehead and he tried to interrupt, but Carolus seemed interested. “Really?” he said encouragingly.
“Yes. I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself spending thousands on an ornamental patch of ground when children are dying of starvation.”
“I don’t suppose he liked that?” said Carolus fatuously.
“He deserved it. He could start nearer home if he didn’t want to support Oxfam. I don’t think the Hopelady children get enough to eat.”
“Nora,” said her brother in open consternation. “You really mustn’t say such things. Mr. and Mrs. Hopelady will be here presently.”
“I say what I believe to be true.”
“My sister is a qualified nurse,” said Edward helplessly, as though that explained everything.
“I’ve seen suffering, Mr. Deene.”
“Most of us have, in one form or another.”
“I sometimes wonder if my brothers have. They’re so complacent.”
Carolus was relieved to see Chatty Dogman coming across.
“I’d like to see your garden if I may,” he said to Edward before she reached them.
Edward brightened up.
“Please do. It’s not very much but I’ve got some interesting things. I’m going to be at home all next week so come when you like.”
Nora was looking into the distance again.
“Darlings,” said Chatty. “You’ve all got empty glasses. What’s yours, Edward? Scotch? No, of course you don’t. All right lemonade. Nora? The same? You’ll have a drink, won’t you, darling? I forget your name. Do come across and get it Willy James will be incapable of pouring out in a minute. Wait, I could do with another myself.”
Carolus followed her to the refectory table.
“Darling, this poor man’s dying of thirst. And just a teeny one for me.”
“You’ll be tight,” said Willy James bluntly.
“I like that coming from you.”
Elspeth joined them.
“How did you get on?” she asked Carolus with a smile.
“Oh, very well. She told me about her quarrel with your late husband.”
Elspeth’s smile disappeared and she looked suddenly unhappy.
“I know it’s silly,” she said, “but I’m still not used to hearing old Felix called my late husband. Yes, they did have a row. Felix could be a little quarrelsome, you know, but I think this was her fault. She’s reaUy a bit eccentric. Now you deserve to meet someone nice, so I shan’t introduce Scotter yet He’s nice, I suppose, but so prickly. Jimmie! Come here and meet Mr. Deene. He’s been suffering under the Limpole yoke. This is Jimmy Rumble. He’s been a pet to me since it happened, though we scarcely knew each other before.”
Carolus faced a smallish man with an open face and a clipped, slightly greying moustache, very much what used to be called a gentleman, meaning that he had been at a good school and perhaps in a good regiment.
When they were a little apart from the rest, Rumble said, “Elspeth tells me you’re going to get at the truth about Felix’s death.”
“Yes. If I can.”
“I quite agree it probably wasn’t suicide. The only thing that worries me is … suppose it turns out to be anything else …”
“Murder, you mean?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Don’t you think that might be even worse for Elspeth? Frankly, she’s my only interest in the case. I’d almost rather see a murderer get away with it than have her upset again.”
“I see what you mean. But is the truth even worse than doubt?”
“It’s a tough qu
estion. I never got on too well with Felix. It’s only since this happened I’ve been seeing much of Elspeth. I don’t think he approved of me.”
“Why not?”
“Not for any particular reason, perhaps. He wasn’t altogether an easy man to get on with. Some years ago I bought a travel agency, chiefly to give me something to do, really. He pretty well called me a fool to throw my money away. ‘Foreign travel’s a passing craze’, he said. But that’s all forgotten now.”
“Didn’t you point out that it was a passing craze which has gone on ever since man could stand upright?”
“He wasn’t a man you could argue with.”
Somehow the two of them were drawn into a group in which were Enid and Patsy Thriver. He saw that Patsy was going to speak as though they shared a secret and was pleased to find himself being introduced to a man and wife he had not seen before and, as it happened, never saw again.
At that moment there was sudden darkness. There were no screams, though the buzz of conversation rose in pitch and grew louder.
Chatty’s voice could be heard above the rest, sounding a little hysterical.
“God, Willy James! Can’t you do something? Put a new fuse in! I don’t know where I put my drink.”
Patsy spoke in a low voice to Carolus.
“One always finds there has been a murder when the lights come on,” she said.
But there had not been a murder. It was only the manner in which the Reverend George Hopelady announced himself. He knew the main switch was in the hall and he was having one of his jokes.
“Good evening! Good evening to you all!” he cried entering joyfully, his flushed, bony little wife following him into the room.
There was some relief and a little laughter from his supporters, but one could not say that the vicar had had a wild success. Rupert Priggley who with Elspeth’s niece had been helping Chatty by carrying a huge tray of food into the room had been caught in mid passage unable to set down the tray. He was frankly furious.