Dead by Morning

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘Yes, but Toby had borrowed it. They’d set out in his car, Lewis’s that is, but as they were driving through the village he realised he’d got a slow puncture. He didn’t want to waste time changing the wheel and he saw Sam’s van in the car park at the Drovers so he came in to ask if he could borrow it for half an hour. Of course, Sam said yes.’

  ‘Where does his mother-in-law live?’

  ‘Ashford.’

  So Fever would have had to pass the gates of the Hall on his way. ‘How long was he away?’

  ‘Only half an hour or so, as he promised. As soon as he got back I drove home to see if Vince was OK.’

  Outside in the car Lineham said resignedly, ‘I just don’t believe this. How many more people d’you suppose drove the wretched thing that night?’

  ‘The Byfleets?’ said Thanet.

  ‘How much d’you bet?’

  ‘I’m not a gambling man, as you well know, Mike. But the way things are going the odds in favour seem pretty high. We need to find out if she actually saw Martindale that night when she went to his room, anyway, so let’s go and ask them, shall we?’

  FIFTEEN

  On the way back up the drive they passed the middle-aged couple they had seen earlier, returning from their walk, and in the stable yard Adam Hamilton was mooning about, kicking a stone. Thanet scarcely recognised him at first; he had discarded his bizarre outfit of yesterday in favour of jeans and a scruffy sweater – a discard of his father’s? – which hung on him in folds and with sleeves so long that they completely covered his hands. He came over as they parked the car.

  ‘Hey, Inspector, how’re you doing?’

  ‘Fine, thanks.’

  ‘Found out who dunnit yet?’

  ‘Done what?’ Though it was clear what Adam meant.

  ‘Oh come on! Bumped off dear Uncle Leo, of course. It’s obvious that, as Eliza Doolittle would say, someone done ’im in.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Stands to reason, doesn’t it? I keep my ear to the ground and the word is he really stirred things up in the short time he was here.’

  ‘And who’s the popular choice of villain?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘You pays yer money and you takes yer choice … I couldn’t care less as long as it wasn’t the old man.’

  His tone was flippant but briefly Thanet glimpsed the fear behind the façade. Adam, whether he knew it or not, was looking for reassurance that his father wasn’t involved. Unfortunately Thanet couldn’t give it to him, not at this stage. His own tone was correspondingly light as he said, ‘You think it might have been?’

  The boy shrugged, looking suddenly very young and defenceless. ‘Had a bloody good motive, didn’t he?’ He rallied, flinging his head back and gesturing theatrically about him. ‘The old ancestral acres and all that.’

  Thanet took pity on him. ‘I shouldn’t lose too much sleep over it just yet. As you say, your uncle seems to have stirred up a good many sleeping dogs in the short time he was here and anyway there’s no indication yet that it wasn’t an accident, pure and simple … Look, I wanted a word with the Byfleets. Do you happen to know where they might be at this time of day?’

  ‘Since Mrs Byfleet’s been in pod Ma’s insisted on her having the afternoon off, so she might be in the flat. I don’t know about him, he could be anywhere around.’

  ‘Where do they live, exactly?’

  Adam pointed to some windows above a row of stable doors. ‘Over there. You go in through the right-hand stable, there’re some steps leading up.’

  Thanet thanked him and he and Lineham began to walk in that direction. Adam fell in beside them.

  ‘It’s pretty boring hanging around here at half-term. Trust me to be away when something really exciting happened for once. So if I can help at all …’

  ‘Go on keeping your ear to the ground. And if you come across anything interesting, let me know.’

  ‘Anyone special you’d like me to keep an eye on?’

  ‘Not at the moment, thanks.’

  Adam looked disappointed and walked moodily away, hands in pockets, in the direction of the house.

  ‘Poor kid. Must be worried sick,’ said Lineham.

  ‘You noticed, then. Yes. But there’s not much we can do about it at the moment.’

  The door Adam had indicated was propped open with a stone and led into a long building divided off on their left into a series of stalls where horses had once been kept. This end section had been gutted and a sturdy wooden staircase with wide, open treads and a handrail had been fixed to the right-hand wall.

  ‘Pretty dark in here,’ said Lineham. ‘Wonder if there’s a light.’

  He looked about and found one, just inside the door. He clicked it on and a bulkhead light fitment at the top of the staircase came on, illuminating the door beside it. Byfleet answered their knock and when he saw who it was stood back without a word. He led them through a tiny vestibule into a large sitting-room which ran the whole depth of the building with windows to front and rear. It was, Thanet thought, a delightful room, the sort of room he would be very happy to live in himself, with beams overhead infilled with rough plaster painted a rich, creamy white. Overflowing bookshelves stood between the windows, and the colours in the flowery chintz curtains were echoed in the comfortable, slip-covered armchairs and the patterned rugs on the wide, highly polished floorboards. There were brightly coloured cushions, plants and flowers and, in addition to a small portable television set, there was a modest stereo system and an extensive collection of records and tapes on specially constructed shelves. A bundle of lacy white knitting lay on one of the chairs and a low table with an unfinished game of chess laid out on it stood nearby. On another table stood a beautiful blue-and-white ceramic bowl heaped with odds and ends – some coloured pebbles, a silver nutcracker, a corkscrew, a pocket diary, a brass doorknob, a screwdriver and a pair of pink baby’s bootees. Table lamps cast welcoming pools of light. It was a living-room in the best sense of the word, a room for enjoying life. The contrast with Mrs Rankle’s bleak kitchen was almost painful.

  ‘Did you want to speak to my wife?’

  ‘We’d like a word with both of you, actually, Mr Byfleet.’

  Up until now Thanet had had little more than an occasional glimpse of the housekeeper’s husband and he studied him with interest. Without the bobble hat his ears did not stick out quite as much as Thanet remembered, and the man was younger than he had thought, in his late thirties, perhaps. Divested of his anorak he was even thinner than Thanet expected, a tall, bony, gangling individual whose joints seemed articulated rather than smoothly linked by muscle and tendon. He looked tense, but there was no special significance in that. Most people were tense when interviewed by the police, innocent and guilty alike. And perhaps Byfleet was feeling especially protective towards his wife at the moment, as she’d been having a difficult time with her pregnancy. His next words confirmed this.

  ‘She’s having a rest.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But she should be up soon. She asked me to call her at a quarter to four.’

  The implication was clear. He didn’t want to wake her before time. Thanet glanced at his watch. Three-thirty. ‘That’s fine. We can talk to you first, while we’re waiting.’

  They all sat down.

  Byfleet looked expectantly at Thanet but as prearranged it was Lineham who spoke. ‘We understand you picked up some guests from Gatwick last night, Mr Byfleet.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You took the Rolls-Royce, I believe.’

  ‘I usually do when I’m collecting guests.’

  ‘I bet they love it.’

  ‘They do seem to appreciate it, yes.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man. It’s one of my life-long ambitions, to drive a Rolls – oh, don’t worry, Mr Byfleet, I’m not hinting. But even a humble copper can have his dreams.’

  This brought a faint smile to Byfleet’s face.

  Well done, Mike, approved Thanet. Lineham had done
well to get Byfleet to relax even to this degree.

  ‘Anyway,’ Lineham went on, ‘you got back at around …’ He pretended to consult his notes.

  ‘Five to eight,’ said Byfleet. ‘Or thereabouts.’

  ‘Did you meet Mr Talion going down the drive in the van? He had to go and check on some sheep that had got out on to the road about then.’

  Thanet was sure that Lineham was well aware that Talion had left a good ten minutes earlier.

  Byfleet was shaking his head. ‘I didn’t meet anything coming down the drive. But even if I had I wouldn’t have known Mr Talion was driving. It was dark.’

  Lineham shrugged. ‘But your headlights would have been on. You might just have recognised someone. Anyway, if you say you didn’t meet anything …’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  Thanet missed the next exchange. He was wondering if Martindale had realised that the approaching van was going to run him down. Thanet imagined the scene: Martindale walking through the darkness, the sound of his footsteps crisp in the frosty night. Then, from behind him, the sound of an approaching car, its headlights casting long fingers of light towards the entrance gates. Martindale would have stopped walking, perhaps moved in close to the fence at the side of the road for the car to pass. At what point would he have realised that it wasn’t going to, that he himself was its target? Perhaps he never had realised. The tear in his overcoat was in the back. Perhaps he had been hurled all unawares into Eternity. Of course, it was possible that it had been an accident after all. The driver could have seen the pedestrian ahead, braked too fiercely in order to pass him, and found himself skidding on the icy road. And of course the entire incident could have taken place on the main road and not in the drive at all. In any case it was highly unlikely that Martindale would have glimpsed the face of his killer.

  Thanet switched his attention back to the interview.

  ‘If you had happened to look out of any of the front windows, would you have been able to recognise anyone crossing the stable yard? How well lit is it at night?’

  Lineham had evidently been asking if either of the Byfleets had seen anyone drive the van away.

  ‘Very well lit really. Mrs Hamilton had extra lights installed when a guest twisted her ankle on the cobbles last year.’

  ‘Who is responsible for switching them on?’

  Byfleet shrugged. ‘Theoretically I am. But if I’m not here when it gets dark one of the others will do it.’

  ‘Were they on when you got back that night?’

  ‘I think they must have been, or I’d have noticed.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Yes, they were.’

  ‘Your wife was already here when you got back?’

  ‘Yes. She knew I’d be back about eight, so she came over to finish getting supper ready.’

  Had Thanet imagined it, or was there a touch of unease there? Any mention of Mrs Byfleet seemed to disturb her husband. It would be interesting to see them together.

  ‘And you say you sat down to supper straight away?’

  In the kitchen, presumably, thought Thanet. There was no dining table in here. Unless they had eaten off trays. He opened his mouth to ask then thought better of it. Perhaps this point had already been covered in the brief snatch of conversation he had missed while thinking about the accident. He mustn’t let his attention wander again.

  Lineham had noticed and raised his eyebrows. You wanted to ask something?

  Thanet shook his head.

  ‘How long did you take over supper?’

  Byfleet shrugged. ‘Not that long. Twenty minutes, half an hour perhaps.’

  So, over the crucial period when the van had stood idle Byfleet was claiming that he and his wife were enjoying a cosy domestic interlude.

  Lineham hadn’t missed this point. ‘You usually eat at that time?’

  ‘Generally between eight and half past, yes. By then the guests are usually at dinner, and my wife is free.’

  ‘And she goes back over to the Hall afterwards?’

  ‘For an hour or so, yes. From around nine to ten.’

  ‘She works long hours.’

  ‘She does have the afternoons off. And at least one full day every week.’

  Delia Hamilton commanded an astonishing degree of loyalty from her employees, thought Thanet. So far he hadn’t heard a single grumble about her.

  Lineham glanced at his watch. ‘Well, thank you, Mr Byfleet. It is ten to four now, so perhaps you wouldn’t mind waking your wife?’

  Byfleet frowned then stood up, reluctantly. He hesitated then said, ‘Look …’

  Thanet and Lineham said nothing, waited.

  ‘My wife … She’s not been well.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Hamilton told us,’ said Thanet.

  ‘I don’t want her upset unnecessarily.’

  A touch of belligerence there.

  ‘We’re not inhuman, Mr Byfleet. We just want to ask her one or two simple questions.’

  Byfleet looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that … Well, this baby … it’s … We’ve been married five years and we’d given up hope, you see, and then …’

  ‘I understand.’

  Byfleet hesitated a moment longer, as if in need of further reassurance, then turned away and disappeared through a door at the far side of the room, closing it behind him.

  ‘Bit jumpy, isn’t he?’ said Lineham.

  ‘Mm. I can’t make up my mind if he’s got something on his mind or if it’s just that he’s concerned that all this shouldn’t upset his wife. He obviously feels very protective towards her.’

  ‘Understandable, I suppose. They’re both getting on, for a first baby, and the pregnancy hasn’t been straightforward, apparently.’

  ‘Quite. Er … I’m afraid my attention wandered for a few minutes back there, Mike. Where did he say they were while they were having supper?’

  ‘In the kitchen at the back of the building.’

  Thanet got up and wandered over to the bookshelves. He was always interested to know what people were reading. The Byfleets seemed to have pretty catholic taste. There was biography, mostly fairly light, a modest collection of poetry, a whole shelf of non-fiction covering topics ranging from travel to do-it-yourself, and row upon row of fiction, both classical and contemporary. On the bottom shelf, below a row of romantic historical novels, were a few children’s books. Thanet squatted to inspect them: Alison Uttley, Beatrix Potter and the once despised but now reinstated Enid Blyton. Smiling reminiscently he picked out The Famous Five Go Adventuring Again, one of his own favourites. Inside the front cover was written in neat, carefully rounded script:

  Mona Taylor

  The Limes Preparatory School

  Burgess Road

  Brighton

  Sussex

  England

  The British Isles

  Europe

  The World

  The Universe.

  He smiled and held it out to show Lineham. ‘Things don’t change much, do they? I remember writing this myself, and I bet you do, too. And so did Ben and Bridget.’

  ‘Yes. No doubt my two’ll get around to it in due course. Pretty nice place they’ve got here, haven’t they? Bit unexpected, really. For that matter, he’s not exactly your typical handyman, is he?’

  ‘Presumably he likes the life. Perhaps they just enjoy working together.’ Thanet was now glancing at the records and tapes. Popular classics, Gilbert and Sullivan, old pop songs, none of the more recent stuff. He could almost hear Ben and Bridget chanting ‘boring’.

  ‘Taking their time, aren’t they?’ Lineham was getting restless.

  ‘If she’s been asleep she’d have to have a few minutes to collect herself.’

  ‘Is the Super expecting you to report in again today?’

  ‘’Fraid so.’ Thanet returned to his seat.

  Lineham groaned. ‘It’s getting beyond a joke. Think he’s going to turn up every day, like he did today?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not! I’m try
ing to tell myself the novelty’ll soon wear off.’

  ‘It’d better, or he’ll be having a mutiny on his hands.’

  ‘Now now, Mike. You didn’t say that. Or if you did, I didn’t hear it. And do stop prowling around like that, you’re getting on my nerves.’

  ‘You were prowling yourself until a minute ago!’ Lineham plumped down on his chair looking disgruntled. ‘I hate hanging about like this.’

  ‘I wonder if they’ve finished the post-mortem yet.’

  ‘Should have, by now.’

  ‘Doc Mallard said he’d let us know if there was anything interesting and there hasn’t been a word, so it doesn’t look as though we’re going to get much help there. I’m beginning to think this case might be a non-starter, Mike.’

  ‘It’s not like you to say that. But I see what you mean. And I agree, there doesn’t seem to be much prospect of proving who did it even if we do find out. Still, we’ve had cases before when we’ve said exactly the same thing and we’ve made it in the end – or you have, at least.’

  ‘Mm.’ Thanet was beginning to feel drowsy. If he had to sit in this very comfortable chair much longer he would fall asleep. The first couple of days of this type of investigation were always very tiring. There were so many people to see, so many leads to follow up, so many judgements to make, impressions to absorb. It was fine so long as you kept going, but once you stopped and lost your impetus … Abruptly he got up and crossed to the window in an attempt to rouse himself. ‘They are taking a long time …’

  ‘Perhaps they’ve knotted sheets and climbed out of the window,’ said Lineham with a grin.

  ‘Ha ha. Very funny.’ Thanet peered out into the stable yard. The sky had clouded over and once again it was getting dark early. Tiller emerged from his work shed and crossed the cobbles, trundling a wheelbarrow. From here there was an excellent view of almost the entire yard, across to the back of the house. Tiller’s house was at the end of this same side and Hamilton’s office in the block at right angles. All of them would have had a clear view of Martindale if he had come out of the back door, especially if the yard had been well lit. Thanet said so.

  Lineham came across to look. ‘Yes. And in that loud checked overcoat of his he would have been easily recognisable. But why come out of the back door, not the front?’