Doomed to Die

by Dorothy Simpson

  She was shaking her head vehemently. ‘And how can you say I’m innocent? If I’d called an ambulance immediately, as I should have, and stayed with her until it arrived, Perdita would still be alive … Don’t you see?’ she repeated. ‘I helped him, didn’t I? First I made her unconscious so she was helpless, didn’t have a chance … Then I unlocked the door to let him in and finally I left her alone and defenceless! I made it so easy for him!’

  ‘Not intentionally!’

  ‘That doesn’t make any difference. Oh, it might make a difference legally, but morally, emotionally … No, I’m as guilty as he is.’

  Broxton cast a look of helpless frustration at Thanet. Can’t you make her see how wrong she is?

  But Thanet knew that nothing he could say would make any difference. Somehow Vanessa Broxton was going to have to come to terms with what had happened, but it would take time, a long time. Perhaps she never would get over it. He had seen this coming. This was why he had said nothing as yet about Perdita having been forced into accompanying her husband. It was, he knew, unfair to the dead woman to go on allowing Vanessa Broxton to think so badly of her, but if Vanessa knew she had misjudged Perdita, that if only she had allowed her to explain Perdita would still be alive, she would be feeling even more guilty. Assuming the murderer were caught she would have to find out eventually, of course, at the trial if not before, but perhaps by then she would be less raw, less in shock. No, the best course would be to take her husband quietly aside at some point, tell him the truth, and suggest he tell his wife if and when the time was right to do so.

  Geoffrey Mordent was also trying to comfort her. He patted her arm. ‘Guy is right, Vanessa. You didn’t intend to harm her. As we’ve said all along, it was an accident, you must hang on to that. At least you now know that it wasn’t you who killed her.’

  ‘I know you’re trying to be kind, Geoff, but it won’t work. I know how I feel and nothing is going to change that.’ She looked at Thanet. ‘If you want me to make that statement, Inspector …’

  She stood up.

  ‘Sergeant Lineham will go with you. Thank you for being so frank with us.’

  ‘What will happen now, Inspector?’ said Broxton.

  ‘At the moment, nothing. But we might well have to talk to you again, Mrs Broxton, so please don’t go away without letting us know.’

  Lineham opened the door and Vanessa Broxton led the way out, grim-faced, her burden of guilt only marginally lighter than when she had arrived.

  EIGHTEEN

  When Thanet let himself into the house that evening Joan was just putting the telephone down. She snatched it up again, listened, then pulled a face before replacing it.

  ‘Oh, what a shame, I’ve been talking to Bridget, you’ve just missed her. I didn’t want to upset her, when she’s just settling in, but I thought she’d be furious if I didn’t let her know about Mum.’

  Bridget was very fond of her grandmother.

  ‘She wanted to come home right away, but I said no. I thought it would be too unsettling for her, and now that the worst of the danger is past … You do think that was the right thing to do?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that was best. It would be pointless for her to come home at this stage. And I agree, if you hadn’t said a word about your mother she’d be furious when she found out, later … Your mother’s still all right, then?’

  Joan nodded.

  ‘Good. How about Bridget?’

  Joan wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure. We chatted for a while before I told her, and although she says everything’s fine, I suspect she was just trying to reassure me.’

  They went into the kitchen, where Joan had supper under way. She began peering into saucepans, stirring things.

  ‘I wonder what’s wrong,’ said Thanet. He trusted Joan’s intuition in such matters.

  ‘Just the strangeness of it, that’s all, I should think. We thought she’d be a bit homesick at first.’

  ‘You think I ought to give her another ring? No, I suppose not. She’d realise why.’

  ‘Or think we’re fussing. No, best to leave it for the moment. Anyway, she said she might be going out.’

  Out. Thanet blanked out alarming visions of smoke-filled pubs crowded with undesirable young men, of frenzied discos where drug-pushers and pimps lurked in the shadows on the look-out for just such tender prey as Bridget.

  ‘Did she say who with?’

  Joan shrugged, straining the water off the potatoes. ‘Some of the other girls, I imagine. I didn’t ask.’

  Far better not to, they had discovered. Bridget was happy to volunteer information unprompted but presented with questions she became the proverbial clam. Most teenagers were the same, Thanet assumed. He would just have to get used to the idea that she was now out of his orbit, that the people with whom she was in daily contact were strangers to him, the places she frequented as unfamiliar as if she were in a foreign land.

  Joan added margarine, black pepper and milk to the potatoes, plugged in the hand blender and switched it on. She raised her voice slightly above the noise. ‘No point in worrying about it. She’ll tell us soon enough if she wants to talk. She probably wants to feel she can cope with it by herself. And knowing her, she wouldn’t want us to worry.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Joan glanced at his face, switched off the blender and put it down. Then she came to put her arms around him. ‘She’ll be all right, darling. Don’t worry.’

  Joan’s hair was soft and silky against his cheek and smelt of summer meadows. ‘I know.’

  They kissed, a kiss of mutual reassurance. Their first chick had flown the nest and it was hard to accept that she was on her own now. They could only hope that they had equipped her well enough to face whatever problems came along without too much heartache.

  Joan turned back to her preparations.

  ‘I’ll lay the table,’ said Thanet.

  ‘It’s done.’

  ‘Ben in?’

  ‘He ate earlier, it’s Judo night.’

  ‘Of course. I’d forgotten it was Wednesday. Well, I’ll just pop up and see your mother, then.’

  ‘Right. You might well find she’s asleep. I made some soup and gave it to her about half an hour ago, I thought it would be the best thing for her at the moment.’

  Upstairs all was silent. Joan had left a small table lamp alight in Bridget’s room and Thanet tiptoed in, suppressing the familiar sensation of loss that gripped him whenever he was reminded of her absence. Mrs Bolton was asleep, curled up on her side, only the top of her head visible above the duvet cover. Her breathing was shallow but regular. Reassured, Thanet moved quietly back across the room and down the stairs.

  ‘Fast asleep,’ he announced.

  ‘Good. We’ll eat, then.’

  Supper was unusually good. Joan was an excellent cook, but with a full-time job she had neither the time nor the energy to spend on preparing food during the week. That was another way in which they were going to miss Bridget, Thanet realised. On her evenings off from the restaurant where she had been working for the past year, if she wasn’t going out Bridget had often cooked the evening meal for the family, frequently experimenting with recipes she had gleaned at work. But today, despite the fact that Joan had had her mother to look after, she had obviously made a special effort and Thanet made appreciative noises as they ate the cream of celery soup (made with skimmed milk, as Joan was quick to point out) and chicken breasts cooked with a ragout of peppers, courgettes, onions and tomatoes. For pudding there was a selection of fresh fruit.

  As they ate Thanet told her about the latest developments in the Perdita Master case.

  ‘Poor woman,’ said Joan, when he had finished telling her about the interview with Vanessa Broxton. ‘How is she going to feel when she finds out that Perdita hadn’t been neglectful of the children after all …? She must feel bad enough already. But to learn that it really wasn’t Perdita’s fault, that if only she’d given her a cha
nce to explain none of this need have happened …’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s terrible to think your life can change so dramatically for the worse in such a short space of time. There she was, with everything any woman could wish for and then suddenly there comes this bolt from the blue … You know, I’m really surprised that she didn’t give Perdita an opportunity to explain. She did know her, after all, knew that she just wasn’t the kind of woman to walk out on two babies without some pretty compelling reason.’

  ‘I think that half the problem was that when she got home she was feeling pretty fragile. For a start, she must have been disappointed that her first decent case for many months had gone short on the first day. Then she broke down on the motorway and had to wait ages for the RAC to arrive. To find Henry in such a state and then to discover that Perdita had apparently just walked out on them … It must have been the last straw.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that.’

  ‘At least her account helped me to understand what really happened. Until then I just couldn’t seem to get it clear in my mind. Anyone can lose his temper, have an argument, and it was easy to see how Perdita had slipped in the spilt milk … But there’s such a divide between something that happens in the heat of the moment and the deliberate act of killing someone with a plastic bag. The second I realised that two people must have been involved it all made sense. I can’t think why I didn’t see it before. I was just being particularly dense …’

  They had finished eating and Joan began to gather up the dishes.

  ‘Leave that,’ said Thanet, taking them from her. ‘I’ll do the washing-up – no, no argument,’ he said firmly as Joan began to protest. ‘You go and put your feet up. Coffee?’

  ‘D’you mind having tea?’

  ‘Tea it shall be.’

  ‘I’ll just pop up and take another look at Mum. No, I must, really. Then I’ll sit down, I promise.’

  But Thanet had almost finished the washing-up before Joan came back downstairs. He could understand her need to keep checking on her mother, but he was concerned about her. She was looking very tired. The strain and anxiety of the last two days had taken their toll and he hoped she wasn’t going to exhaust herself by over-zealous nursing.

  When he took the tea in she was looking thoughtful. She accepted her cup with a word of thanks and then said, ‘So who d’you think could have done it?’

  Thanet sat down, adjusting a cushion in the small of his still-aching back. He lit his pipe. ‘Ah, well that’s the problem. There are several possibilities. But to be frank, I don’t think it was either Master or Swain. Mike says he can imagine Master saying to himself, Well, if I can’t have her no one will, and I suppose to some degree I can agree with that if the act of smothering her with that bag were done in the heat of the moment. But if Vanessa Broxton caused the fall, I can’t imagine Master coming into the kitchen and cold-bloodedly murdering his wife. If he had seen her lying there on the floor I think he’d have been much more likely to get into a panic, ring for an ambulance, and try to revive her. And the same goes for Swain. No, as I said to Mike, whoever killed her really wanted her dead.’

  ‘So that leaves her mother-in-law or Swain’s wife. Your back’s playing up tonight, isn’t it? Why don’t you stretch out on the floor?’

  ‘Perhaps I will, when I finish my pipe.’ Thanet grinned. ‘I was tempted to this afternoon, but I didn’t think Draco would approve. He’s been looking pretty grim today, by the way.’

  ‘New developments?’

  ‘I didn’t like to ask.’

  They were silent for a few moments, thinking of the Dracos. Joan sighed and then returned to their discussion. ‘What’s Mrs Master senior like?’

  Thanet grimaced. ‘Let’s just say I’m glad she isn’t my mother-in-law.’

  ‘Which reminds me.’ Joan put her cup down and started to get up. ‘I’d better just …’

  Thanet put his hand on her arm and gently restrained her. ‘It’s not ten minutes since you last went up.’

  ‘I know, but I must. It won’t take a minute …’

  Thanet laid his pipe in the ashtray. ‘I’ll go this time.’

  When he got down again his pipe had gone out and he decided to take Joan’s advice, stretch out on the floor. Tired muscles protested at first as they came into contact with the unyielding surface and then, miraculously, as Thanet relaxed, the pain began to ease. ‘Lovely,’ he said, with a beatific smile.

  Joan nudged him with her toe. ‘Don’t go to sleep. You still haven’t told me. Why don’t you like her? Perdita’s mother-in-law, I mean? What’s she like?’

  ‘Well, I told you about the fuss she’s making over the ring, so that gives you some idea … Let me see, she’s slim, elegant, looks a good ten years younger than she must be. Sharp, forceful, likes to get her own way, arrange the world as she wants it. Which includes having a firm grip on her son.’

  ‘Poor man. A bit like Mike’s mother in that respect, then.’

  ‘Yes, Mike didn’t like her, I can tell you. But Mrs Lineham is only a mild version of Mrs Master, I assure you.’

  ‘And Mrs Master hated Perdita, you say?’

  ‘The general opinion is that she would have hated whoever her son married. Apparently she never showed her dislike openly, presumably for fear of alienating Giles, but everyone agrees that she never missed a chance of getting at Perdita, making her feel inferior.’

  ‘D’you think he really was unaware of what was going on?’

  ‘No. That was obvious, from various things he said to his mother when we interviewed him yesterday. But I suspect he’d never actually brought it out into the open before.’

  ‘So she’s a real possibility, you think?’

  ‘Yes. Though if she was telling the truth, she’s in the clear. She says she arrived there somewhere around nine, perhaps a little earlier.’

  ‘But you don’t believe her?’

  ‘Well, that’s the trouble. There’s one detail in her story which seems to bear it out. She says she could hear a child screaming, so she left, didn’t bother to wait because she thought Perdita would be occupied with trying to calm him down.’

  ‘So that would have been just before Vanessa arrived home.’

  ‘That’s right. Wait a minute, though!’ Thanet rolled over on to his side then sat up, wincing. ‘Just say all that was true, but that on the way home Mrs Master changed her mind. She desperately wants that ring back, you know. Perhaps she thought she’d been too hasty, should have waited. So she went back, arriving after Perdita’s return. She couldn’t make anyone hear, so she went around the back, looked in through the kitchen window, saw Perdita lying there, found the door unlocked and saw her chance …’

  ‘You really think she’d be capable of that?’

  Thanet thought for a minute or two before answering. ‘Yes, I do.’ He eased himself down on to the floor again.

  Joan shivered. ‘She doesn’t sound my idea of the ideal mother-in-law either! What about Vicky? Victoria Swain,’ she added to his uncomprehending look. ‘She was usually called Vicky at school.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’d say the same about her. It’s interesting, really. To meet the Swains individually you’d say she’s the one who wears the trousers, but when you see them together you soon realise that he does. She tries to hide it under that flippant devil-may-care attitude, but it’s obvious that she adores him and would, I imagine, do anything to keep him. And the other thing is that her image is obviously very important to her. I should think she’d go to any lengths to preserve it. She sees herself as strong, successful, independent. She wouldn’t enjoy being made a laughing stock in front of her colleagues, seen as a woman who couldn’t keep her husband.’

  ‘Well, as I told you, she was certainly a law unto herself at school. If she wanted to do something she did it, and if it got her into trouble then that was just too bad.’ Joan grinned. ‘I used to dread her doing something wrong while I was on duty. She’d just stand there with a
mocking smile on her face and apologise sweetly while it was obvious to anyone watching that she was just making fun of you.’

  Thanet shook his head and tutted. ‘Oh dear oh dear! Very undermining of one’s authority, that!’

  Joan picked up a cushion and swiped him with it. ‘You’re supposed to be sympathetic!’

  Thanet put up his arms to fend her off. ‘I call this taking unfair advantage of a man while he’s down. I was only joking!’

  ‘Precisely!’ But she put the cushion down, got up. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  ‘But …’

  But she was already gone. She couldn’t go on like this, she’d wear herself out. He’d have to talk to her about it and she wouldn’t like that. He sighed. Joan could be pretty stubborn when she chose. He rolled over and eased himself to his feet. He couldn’t argue with her from the disadvantage of a supine position.

  When she came back down he was sitting on the settee.

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be resting your back.’

  ‘It’s much better, honestly. Besides, this is more important. Listen, love, you simply cannot go on running up and downstairs every ten minutes.’

  Joan was immediately on the defensive. ‘I didn’t while we were eating, did I?’

  Thanet shook his head in exasperation. ‘That’s beside the point. You know what I mean.’

  ‘I can’t help it, Luke.’

  ‘But you can. You must. I’m only thinking of you.’

  ‘I realise that, but it won’t go on indefinitely, you know. Once the first couple of days are over I’ll feel better about leaving her alone for longer periods. I just have to keep on making sure she’s all right, that’s all. I keep thinking, if she had another attack and I didn’t know … It was different while she was in hospital. I knew then that someone was keeping an eye on her all the time. But here, there’s only me. I’m the one who’s responsible.’

  Thanet could understand all too well how she felt. And knowing Joan, if he extracted from her some kind of promise which was against her conscience, that would worry her so much she’d be even worse off. Reluctantly, he conceded. ‘I can see that. All right. But do try not to overdo it, love.’