Thanet shrugged. ‘He didn’t feel like running into guests in the foyer? It can’t be easy, finding your home overrun by all and sundry who feel they have as much right there as you have. Or –’
They both turned as the door opened and the Byfleets came in. Byfleet’s arm was around his wife’s shoulders. She was wearing the same long dark green dress, her housekeeper’s uniform, presumably. Her eyes were still puffy with sleep and she looked alarmingly pale and fragile.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Inspector,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m afraid it takes me a little while to get going after a rest, these days.’
‘It really doesn’t matter, Mrs Byfleet. I’m sorry to trouble you again, but I’m afraid there are one or two small points …’
‘I understand.’
She and Byfleet sat down. He took her hand. Side by side Thanet noticed that they were already beginning to acquire that uncanny resemblance sometimes found in married couples who are very close to each other. He had noticed it before and wondered once again exactly wherein it lay. In facial expression, attitude, in tiny gestures or habits unconsciously picked up from each other? Did he and Joan have it?
‘It’s just that we are still trying to piece together Mr Martindale’s movements on Tuesday, and when we saw you yesterday you forgot to mention that you had seen him after dinner that evening.’
He watched the slow tide of colour suffuse the pale, almost translucent skin and wondered if she could remember their conversation yesterday as clearly as he did.
‘Did you see him again at all, after he’d had dinner?’
‘No.’
She shook her head in embarrassment. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I didn’t mention it before, but …’ She glanced at her husband and Thanet saw the grip on her hand tighten as Byfleet nodded.
‘It’s just that it was so awkward, so embarrassing …’
Surely Martindale hadn’t made a pass at her, in her advanced state of pregnancy?
‘I was just doing a routine check around the house as I always do at that time, to make sure that everything is in order – lamps lit, curtains drawn, that sort of thing – and as I was walking along the corridor past the Chinese room the door opened and Mr Martindale looked out. He said he wanted a word with me, so I went in. He …’ She glanced at her husband again and took courage. ‘It was horrible! He began to – well – quiz me, about the hotel. He began by asking how long I’d been here, whether I liked it and so on and then he started asking very specific questions about the number of staff, about how many guests we had, about staff wages and holidays and things like that … I just didn’t know what to say …’
She was becoming agitated and Byfleet put an arm around her shoulders again. She shook her head. ‘I mean, I know he was Mrs Hamilton’s brother, but I just didn’t feel he had the right … I tried to be polite, or pretend I didn’t know the answers but he just persisted … In the end I said I was sorry, but I just didn’t feel I could give him that sort of information without Mrs Hamilton’s permission, and he said I’d better get used to the idea that from now on I would ultimately be responsible to him, not to her … I asked him if that meant Mrs Hamilton wouldn’t be running the place any longer and he said yes, she would, but that he was the owner and everyone was going to have to adjust to the fact. I said that I still felt I would have to get Mrs Hamilton’s permission to give him the sort of information he was asking for. I was a bit nervous when I said it – after all, if he really did own the place, he was my employer and I thought he might be angry, ask if I was calling him a liar or something, but he just laughed and said to go ahead and ask her, that he admired loyalty in members of staff and would see me again when I had spoken to her.’
‘And did you speak to her?’
‘Not immediately. I met a guest on the way, who delayed me for a few minutes, then I found Mrs Hamilton had gone to the station to meet Adam. Then when she got back she went straight into the drawing-room to have’ drinks with the guests – she always does, before dinner – and then I had to come back here to get your supper, didn’t I, Des, so it wasn’t till just after nine that I eventually saw her.’
‘And she confirmed what he had said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?’
She shrugged. ‘It didn’t seem relevant.’
Thanet sighed. ‘I wish people would let me decide what is relevant and what isn’t.’
She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Never mind, you’ve told me now … We asked your husband, earlier, if he happened to notice the van drive out of the yard during the evening. He said no, but did you?’
She shook her head.
‘What about later on? Sam Tiller drove it back from the pub at 10.30.’
‘I didn’t notice,’ said Byfleet. ‘Did you, love?’
Another shake of the head.
‘And after that?
She hesitated. ‘I did hear something …’
‘When?’
‘Shortly after we went to bed. Somewhere around a quarter past eleven. I heard a car start up and drive off, and come back some time later.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I don’t sleep too well these days.’
Thanet remembered Joan’s restless nights during the latter months of her pregnancies. ‘No … Did you hear one car return, or two?’
‘Two, I think.’
‘And that was when?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. I didn’t think it was important.’
Thanet rose. ‘There is just one question I must put to you both. Did either of you, for any reason, drive the van that night?’
They obviously realised the significance of the question. Neither looked at the other as they shook their heads in unison.
‘We had no reason to,’ said Byfleet stiffly.
Picking their way carefully down the staircase outside Lineham said, ‘Did you believe them, sir?’
Outside Thanet took deep breaths of the clear, cold air. He shrugged. ‘Difficult to tell. She’s so obviously unwell and he’s so on edge about her …’
‘Of course, what she told us does give them some sort of a motive, doesn’t it, sir?’
‘You mean, they might have been afraid that they would lose their cosy billet if Martindale took over? Bit thin, isn’t it? A good housekeeper and chauffeur/handyman can always find a job, surely.’
‘When she’s pregnant and her health isn’t too good? Not as easy as all that, I shouldn’t think.’
‘Perhaps not.’
As they got into the Land Rover the lights in the courtyard came on. Byfleet was right, the whole area was well illuminated. Had Martindale strolled across this very spot on the way to his death?
As he had said to Lineham, earlier, Thanet was beginning to wonder if he would ever find out.
SIXTEEN
Arriving home at around 8.30 Thanet was surprised to find Bridget in the kitchen with Joan. He kissed them both, then said, ‘I thought you were on duty tonight, Bridget.’
‘Mandy wanted me to swap with her, so I worked the lunchtime shift today.’
Thanet nevertheless wouldn’t have expected to find her in – but managed not to say so. Bridget led such an active social life. At seventeen she was blossoming into womanhood – face and figure were fast losing the plumpness which had bedevilled her mid-teens and she always managed to look stylish when going out even though her wardrobe could hardly be called extensive. Tonight she was wearing jeans, trainers, a collarless man’s shirt and a baggy sweater which practically reached her knees, sleeves pushed casually up to just below the elbows.
He plucked at it. ‘This looks familiar.’
She flung her arms around his neck in mock humility. ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind. You don’t, do you?’
‘Can’t call a thing your own in this house, these days.’
‘Don’t tell me!’ said Joan. ‘We haven’t eaten, by the way. We thought we’d wait till nine to have s
upper, in the hope that you might be back in time. It’s ages since we all had supper together.’
Thanet beamed. ‘Lovely.’ His irregular hours had always meant that family meals were a hit-and-miss affair but when the children were younger he had at least known that if he did manage to get home at a reasonable hour they’d all be able to eat together. But lately, especially since Bridget had left school and begun working in the restaurant, this had become an increasingly rare event. ‘What about Ben? Has he managed to last out?’
‘I stuffed him with baked beans and toast when he got home from school,’ said Bridget with a grin.
‘I’ll go and wash my hands, then.’
Upstairs he remembered that he and Joan had promised themselves a serious talk with Bridget about late nights and jaunts to destinations unknown, and his heart sank. It would be a pity to spoil the pleasure of an evening together. Perhaps they could put it off to another time? He scowled at himself in the bathroom mirror as he shook his head. No. For his own peace of mind it had to be done. The problem was, how to choose the right moment.
By the time he came down supper was ready.
‘This looks good,’ said Thanet. ‘What is it?’
Bridget looked pleased. ‘Chicken with paprika and onions.’
‘Bridget cooked it,’ said Joan. ‘Don’t gobble, Ben,’ she added.
Ben scowled and went on shovelling food in as fast as he could. ‘I’ve still got homework to do.’
‘Don’t know how you can taste it when you eat at that speed,’ said Bridget.
‘It’s all right for you. You’re finished with all that, aren’t you? Nothing to do but enjoy yourself these days.’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I do work, you know.’
‘Call that work? A few hours a day? I should be so lucky.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Thanet. ‘Bridget had to go through what you’re doing now, remember.’
Ben laid down his knife and fork. ‘Any pud?’
‘All in good time,’ said Joan. ‘We’re still eating.’
Ben pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Well I can’t hang around. I’ll have it in my room, while I’m working.’
‘You will not!’ said his mother. Then, more gently, ‘Look, Ben, it’s ages since we all had supper together. Let’s just relax and enjoy it, shall we?’
He gave her a black look. ‘I’ll go without, then!’ And he stumped off.
‘Ben!’ Thanet half rose, then sat down again with a rueful look at Joan. ‘May as well let him get on with it. I can quite see he finds it difficult to enjoy a leisurely meal with work hanging over his head.’
‘He’s absolutely impossible these days,’ said Bridget.
‘He’s finding it difficult settling in to the new school, as you well know,’ said Thanet. ‘We have to make allowances.’
‘But he’s always having a go at me! It’s my clothes, or my make-up, or I’m taking too long in the bathroom, or –’
‘I think,’ said Joan, beginning to clear the plates, ‘that his nose is put out of joint.’
‘Oh, why?’
‘Well you used to get on so well together. Now you don’t have time for him any more – or so he feels.’
Now Bridget was getting cross. She stood up and picked up the other plates, clashing them together in a way which made Joan wince. ‘What am I supposed to do? Take him with me? Who wants a kid brother hanging around their neck all the time?’
She flounced out and Joan gave Thanet an exaggerated shrug of mock despair. ‘I always put my foot in it these days. No,’ she said as he stood up, ‘don’t bother to come out. We can manage.’
She and Bridget returned with the pudding, a lemon meringue pie, and the dessert plates. Joan began serving in an uncomfortable silence.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m not suggesting you should let Ben tag along with you, of course I’m not. But he is going through a bad patch and if you could find a little more time for him …’
‘But he’s always working! And if he’s not, I’m out.’
Thanet caught Joan’s eye and an unspoken message passed between them.
Don’t forget we’ve got to talk to her …
I know.
Bridget wasn’t stupid. ‘What was that supposed to mean?’
‘What?’ said Joan.
‘That look. You and Dad looked at each other.’
Thanet sighed. There wasn’t going to be a right moment to discuss this. Should they leave it? But the subject had come up and if he were realistic, he realised, there never would be a right time for what he had to say. Why did adolescents have to be so difficult? But he refused to give in to moral blackmail and fail to broach delicate subjects for fear of provoking an outburst of bad temper.
‘Well, now that you mention it …’
Bridget rolled her eyes. ‘What now?’
‘Bridget, I do think that’s unreasonable!’ Uncharacteristically, Joan was now becoming angry. ‘How many restrictions do we place on what you do, where you go, or who you go with?’
‘Hah. So that’s it!’ Bridget laid down the spoon she had just picked up, sat back and folded her arms. ‘Well, let’s have it. What have I done now?’
Pleasant family meals were evidently a thing of the past, thought Thanet with regret as he said sharply, ‘That’s enough, Bridget. Your mother and I wanted to have a sensible, adult discussion with you. Please, try to calm down.’
‘By “sensible discussion” I suppose you mean you’re going to lay down rules that I’m supposed to follow?’
‘Well you suppose wrong. I meant exactly what I said, a sensible discussion. That is, a discussion in which both sides put their point of view and a compromise is reached. Now, are you going to listen or are you going to behave like a spoilt adolescent?’
She glared at him. ‘Oh, so that’s what I am now, is it? A spoilt adolescent?’ She pushed back her chair preparatory to getting up.
Thanet put his hand on her arm, detaining her. ‘No, Bridget, wait. Just answer me one question.’
‘What?’ She was still glowering at him.
‘Can you honestly say we’ve been the sort of heavy-handed parents who lay down the law and expect you to accept what they say whether you like it or not?’
Pause. She chewed the inside of her lip, poised for flight yet unable honestly to answer in the affirmative. Eventually, ‘I suppose not,’ she said grudgingly.
‘Well in that case, can’t you at least listen to what we have to say, see if you think we’re being unreasonable this time?’
Another hesitation, then he felt the rigid muscles in her arm relax. But she was still sulky as she said, ‘Go on, then. Let’s get it over with.’
Thanet paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. He had to get this right first time.
‘Can you accept that as your parents we’re bound to worry about you?’
‘Oh, Dad!’
‘Yes, I realise you must find that irritating. When you’re young you don’t want to have limitations put on your freedom – and I want to make it clear that that’s not what we’re after. We know you, and trust you to be sensible, but at the same time we’d like a little more peace of mind ourselves. So what we’re asking is this: if you know you’re going to be late, could you give us a ring to let us know, and if you’re going out, we would like to know who you’re going with and where you’re going. That’s it.’
‘But that’s impossible!’ Bridget burst out. ‘I’ve told Mum over and over again! How can I tell you where I’m going if I don’t know myself? You don’t understand! Say I’m meeting Sue. She may have arranged to meet some other people as well and when we’re all together we say, Right, where shall we go tonight? It could be bowling, or to a pub – oh, don’t look like that, Dad. It’s different nowadays. Everyone goes to pubs and yes, I know I’m under eighteen and I promise you I don’t drink alcohol, I really don’t, but that’s where people get together these days … Or we might go to McDonalds o
r if one of us has a car we might drive over to the Chimneys in Biddenden or over to that Hungarian restaurant in Tunbridge Wells … And you needn’t worry about that, either. Whoever’s driving never drinks. We make sure of that. We don’t want to end up in the mortuary, either.’
‘Look love, you’re wrong in thinking we don’t understand. We do. And we do see the problem. We know that that’s how things work, and one of the reasons why we’ve never brought the matter up before is because we really couldn’t see any solution to it. But now, well, I think I’ve thought of a possible answer. But before I see what you think of the idea, I would just like to know if you can understand why we’re making a fuss about it. Can’t you see that not to know where you are, to think that we wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for you if by any chance something went wrong and you just didn’t come home – and don’t roll your eyes like that! I’m better placed than most people to know just how often these things do happen. If you’d met some of the frantic parents I have … But anyway, do you understand what I’m trying to say?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Well then, this is what I suggest. That you carry on as usual. You meet your friends, you go wherever it is you want to go, with one small difference. That when you get there you make a phone call, just a brief one, telling us where you are. That’s all. It need take only a few seconds and it would help us to stop worrying.’
‘Everyone would fall about laughing!’ She mimicked a child’s voice: ‘“Excuse me, everyone. I’ve got to go and ring my Mummy and my Daddy, to let them know where I am.”’
‘Would it really be so impossible? You needn’t tell them who you’re ringing. Or you can make us out to be ogres if you like, lay all the blame on us. We wouldn’t mind …’
She bit her lip, thinking about it.
What, exactly, would he do if she refused? Thanet wondered. He had no intention of playing the heavy father and laying down ultimatums which it would be impossible to keep. They never worked and would have a disastrous effect on what he liked to think, despite the present problem, was basically a good and sound relationship.
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