by Anne Morice
‘How come?’
‘Don’t you see that you only have to produce this letter of Julie’s and give an account of what passed between you this morning and you both have a reasonably tidy little alibi for Mrs Graham’s murder. Hadn’t that occurred to you?’
I cannot tell whether the answer he finally produced was the same as he would have given spontaneously for at this point there was an interruption, lasting for several minutes, which altered the tenor of our subsequent conversation. Toby put his head round the door and announced that I was wanted on the telephone, withdrawing it again before I could ask who by.
When I returned, Kit, having refilled his glass, was toasting his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, and I said,
‘You’ll have to drink that down sharpish. I’ve got to go out.’
‘Where to? Want me to drop you off?’
‘No, thanks. It’s out of your way, if you’re going to London. I’m Dedley bound.’
‘What do you want to go there for?’
He was still gazing complacently into the mirror, twitching his tie about, and I could not resist bursting the narcissistic bubble.
‘I don’t want to, it’s an order. Chief Detective Inspector Payne has requested my presence.’
Watching his reflection, I saw his jaw drop as he put out both hands and clutched the chimney piece to steady himself. Then rallying again, he picked up his glass, saying with a great show of indifference,
‘What a bore! What do they want now? I thought they’d squeezed you dry?’
‘So did I but something fresh has come up, something I might have seen before the murder was committed, apparently. He wouldn’t go into details. I told him I’d be there in half an hour so I can’t hang about much longer.’
Kit ignored this.
‘They must be out of their minds! How could you have anything meaningful to tell them about what happened before the murder?’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t know. And I’ll probably have enough trouble answering the inspector’s questions, without bothering with yours. So would you kindly get a move on?’
‘Oh, stop fussing. Basically, they have no right to send out orders like this. You ought to stand up to them and refuse to go. Personally, I’d see them in hell first.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t agree. If I do possess some vital evidence, it makes me rather vulnerable, wouldn’t you say? For my own protection, I’d be a mug not to tell them about it at the soonest possible moment.’
I had been fidgeting by the door as I spoke, and now grasped the knob in the manner of one who would brook no further delay, but in fact I was not in half such a hurry as I pretended, considering that it would be time well spent if I could finally goad Kit into betraying what was really on his mind, and there were signs that this was at last about to occur. He threw his cigarette into the fire and said quietly, hardly moving his lips,
‘Let’s get this straight, shall we, Tessa? Did you or did you not see anything?’
‘Like what?’ I asked, moving back a few steps away from the door and resting my arms along the back of an armchair. ‘Or should I say, like whom?’
‘Oh, hell! That means you did. I’ve had this feeling all along. But why not be frank about it? You surely can’t suspect her of being implicated?’
‘It’s not my job to suspect anyone of anything. I assume we’re taking about Julie?’
‘You know darn well we are.’
‘Who wasn’t at home when you answered her summons this morning? Which is the true reason why you never got around to discussing Sarah’s will? Did she tell you she’d been at Missendale?’
‘Yes, that is . . . no . . . no, she didn’t.’
‘But you guessed? Is that it?’
‘She wasn’t there when I arrived, see? Although I was a bit late, as it happened. I waited about ten minutes and then she came in. She told me the butler had made a mistake saying she was out. She’d been in her room all the time.’
‘And you believed her, naturally?’
‘Sure. Why not? She moves around pretty quietly and it was feasible the butler really had got it wrong. It wasn’t until the police came and she got in such a goddam flap that I began to have doubts. And when they’d gone she said . . . she asked me, if it ever came up, to swear we’d been together the whole time. But if you saw her at Missendale . . . ?’
‘Well I didn’t, if that’s any comfort to you. Not that it will do her much good, will it?’
‘Why not? You surely wouldn’t repeat what I’ve told you?’
‘No, but there’s still the butler.’
‘Oh, him!’
‘Yes, him. If he’s asked, he’s bound to say she was out when you arrived.’
‘So what? He could have been mistaken and anyway it’s only his word against hers and mine. Also I don’t see that bunch doing anything to wreck their jobs. It’s not just Fernando and his wife, you know, the whole family works in the house. They have everything to lose.’
‘You’ve strayed into Benson-Jones dreamland by the sound of it. However, if you want to believe that money conquers all, don’t let me stop you. Are you ready to leave now?’
‘No, you won’t stop me,’ he agreed, as we walked out to the Common where our cars were standing. ‘And if it comes to it, I wouldn’t have any objections to saying that I went up to her room and found her writing to Aunt Maud, or whatever. You know why?’
‘Yes, I know why. Because you believe that whatever Julie was doing, whether at Missendale or not, she is innocent of any crime, past, present or future. And the reason why you believe that is because it suits you to.’
‘Oh, drop dead!’ he said, getting into the Bentley and slamming the door. He then rolled the window down to deliver the parting shot.
‘You can think what you bloody please. It’s nothing to me.’
I did not quite believe him. The evidence showed that he cared a good deal what I thought, and had bared his soul in order to find out what it was. Nevertheless, one question remained unanswered. There was no telling whether his concern for Julie was genuine, or whether indeed he had made up the whole story while I was out of the room, conceivably with the aim of blurring any memory I might retain of a white Bentley parked outside the Eglinton Arms when I slowed down to make the sharp left turn for Missendale.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1
‘And what have you been up to now?’ Robin asked me. ‘You don’t have to answer unless you wish to,’ he added politely. ‘I am not here officially.’
‘Oh, good! Where are you officially?’
‘Still writing up my report. It didn’t take as long as I’d expected so I’m giving myself a few hours off.’
‘And spending them at the Dedley police station?’
‘I am not sure that my unofficial status gives you the right to ask all the questions, but the answer to the last one is that I got wind of some funny goings on at Missendale Potteries and I deemed it advisable to come down and do some checking up.’
‘Well, I’m delighted to see you, and I only wish you would deem that kind of thing more often. However, I imagine you’re not the sole reason for my being invited to the party? Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?’ I said, addressing the last question to Inspector Payne, who had been a patient audience throughout the preceding dialogue, although giving his eyebrows a good deal of exercise. ‘No trace of that message from the Cleaners, I suppose?’
‘Not so far, Mrs Price, but we’ve found something else. The missing bike, no less.’
‘Good for you! Where was it?’
‘In the woods, just off the road, and not five hundred yards from the Potteries. We may have a little identification job for you later on, but meanwhile there’s something we’d like you to point out to us, if you can spare half an hour?’
‘Gladly. What can it be, I wonder?’
‘The exact spot where you stopped your car this morning, when you realised your tyre was going down. I
take it you can remember roughly?’
‘Yes, it’s the only straight section for several miles and I aimed for the halfway point, but I can’t see how it’s going to help you.’
‘Shall we trot along there, then?’ the inspector asked, ignoring this. ‘The car’s outside.’
He stood up and Robin and I followed him out of the room.
I felt a shade uneasy during the drive. It was ridiculous to suppose that the inspector had seen through my ruse, or that, even if he had, this solemn little procession to the scene of my crime would have appealed to one who led such a full and busy life. Nevertheless, the uncomfortable doubts persisted and I could not even keep my spirits up with innocent chatter to Robin because he sat in front with the uniformed driver and I shared the back seat with Inspector Payne, a disposition of personnel which also struck me as faintly sinister.
We rounded the last bend before the road straightened out and he tapped on the driver’s shoulder as a signal to slow down, at the same time turning enquiringly to me.
‘Somewhere along here?’
‘Another fifty yards,’ I agreed. ‘I wanted to give myself the best chance of being seen from both directions and there was no urgency. I could pick my own spot,’ I added, sounding defensive in spite of myself.
‘Which, conversely, means that you had an excellent opportunity to observe the motor cyclist, both before and after he passed you?’
‘Not before. I heard him, of course, but I was bending down and the car blocked my view. I did see him from behind because when he passed me at such a lunatic speed I was naturally curious to take a look at him.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
‘Sorry, no. He was wearing the usual gear and I only got a view of his back. His way of driving was a trifle reminiscent but I don’t suppose that would count as evidence.’
‘It’s all too common, unfortunately. How about the bike? You didn’t note the number, by any chance?’
‘There wasn’t time. I doubt if I’d have thought of it, even if there had been.’
‘I see. And how fast do you estimate he was travelling?’
‘I’d say sixty, at least; perhaps more. I wish you’d tell me what this is all about.’
‘Yes, but just bear with me a little longer, Mrs Price. First, I’d like you to tell me exactly what occurred next.’
‘Why nothing. I just got back in my car and drove on. I’d checked the tyre, you see, and I knew it wasn’t bad enough to affect the steering very seriously, and I thought that by taking it slowly I might get to a garage before I was in real trouble. In fact, I didn’t pass one, but I found myself at Missendale and I stopped at the Grahams’ to ask if I could borrow a pump.’
‘Ah! So you were driving very slowly? Somewhere around twenty miles an hour, would that be?’
‘Something like that. Why?’
‘So that you’d have been particularly well placed to notice any pedestrian, either approaching or proceeding in the same direction as yourself?’
‘Yes, I suppose so, although I don’t remember one.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
On firmer ground now, I said, ‘Yes, I am sure, but it doesn’t prove there weren’t any. I was concentrating on my own troubles and also it had occurred to me by then that I must be somewhere near the Grahams’ place so I was looking out for that. I could have passed half a dozen pedestrians, I suppose, without consciously registering the fact.’
‘Even if you had recognised one of them?’
‘No, obviously that would have been different. I suppose you’re thinking of Martin Graham? I am sure I would have noticed him and stopped. After all, it was his house I was making for.’
‘And, purely as a formality, did you notice anyone lying by the road?’
‘No, I didn’t. Whereabout was he found?’
‘According to this Mrs Paley who picked him up, it was about half a mile from here.’
‘On which side.’
‘The right, from your point of view. She was coming the other way.’
‘Well, that accounts for it. It puts him on her nearside doesn’t it? Whereas there could very easily have been a car between him and myself when I passed. I was going at such a crawl that I was overtaken by practically everything on the road.’
Robin had taken no part in the interrogation but, catching his eye from time to time, I had seen him watching me thoughtfully and felt relieved to have glided into the area of factual reporting. As though recognising this, he now focused attention on Inspector Payne.
‘Well, it was worth a try, Arnold, but it seems your prize witness hasn’t come up with anything you didn’t already know.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ he answered placidly. ‘None of it contradicts certain assumptions we’d already made, which is a step in the right direction, and Mrs Price may be able to add something when she’s seen the bike.’
‘Where exactly was it dumped?’ I asked, when we were back in the car.
‘A hundred yards or so from where Mr Graham was allegedly knocked down.’
‘A mere step from the Potteries, in fact?’
‘Correct. So even if young Walter was to blame, he could still have walked the rest of the way home and arrived there ahead of you. On the other hand he insists that his bike must have been stolen between ten o’clock this morning, when the Grahams went out, and around two when you arrived. He seems positive that if it had gone before they left they’d have noticed and told him about it.’
‘And what’s Mr Graham’s version of the accident?’
‘He claims not to know what hit him, far less who. A complete mental black out, as you might say. Still, that’s common enough at this stage. When the shock wears off the memory may return.’
‘And the bike? Was there anything to show that it had been involved in a collision?’
‘You’d have made a good policeman, Mrs Price.’
This was not exactly answering the question, but I could hardly complain about that because I was equally unhelpful when it came to dictating my own statement. I was not required to advance any theories as to the ownership of the motor cycle, since it had already been traced to Walter through the registration number, but I could produce no information at all about the one which had passed me on the road, far less identify its driver.
2
‘Still on the subject of motor vehicles,’ Robin said, as we drove back to Roakes, ‘did you ever get this one fixed? Think carefully before answering.’
I did so, taking so long about it that he may have thought I had missed the point, for he went on:
‘Arnold tells me that he got one of his boys to pump up the tyre for you, but did you ever have time to take it to a garage to be repaired? It doesn’t do to neglect these things.’
‘Okay, okay,’ I said crossly. ‘No need to labour it. I guessed I hadn’t fooled you but what you should remember is that the outcome would have been exactly the same, whether it had been a false puncture or a genuine one.’
‘How so?’
‘Simply that my letting out the air on purpose didn’t change anything. If Nature, or whoever is in charge of these matters, had done it for me, I’d still have played safe and stopped where I did. I’d still have driven on at a snail’s pace and I’d still have made straight for the Potteries. So what’s the odds?’
‘Just this, my poor girl. If you’d never contrived the business at all you wouldn’t have been parked at that particular point when the accident occurred. In other words, you might have seen it happen.’
‘Well, yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Don’t think I’m complaining. For once your deviousness seems to have kept you out of trouble instead of pitching you headlong into it. I just thought it was worth pointing out.’
‘On the other hand there might not have been an accident if there’d been a witness.’
‘Oh, so you believe that was contrived too?’
‘Martin could have fixed it, you
know, having murdered his wife and needing to fix himself up with an alibi. At least I gathered the inspector’s inscrutable mind was working along those lines.’
‘Not altogether.’
‘No? What’s changed it?’
‘He’s seen Graham now, and heard the doctor’s report. The injuries are not serious, but neither are they of the type to have been self-inflicted. Furthermore there are stains and tears on his clothes which are consistent with his being in some kind of collision. I don’t doubt that the analysts will find matching evidence on the bike.’
‘All the same, if he’d stolen it, he might still have faked all that and then flopped down by the road, waiting to be rescued.’
‘Having first disposed not only of the bike, but also of the leather jacket and the helmet and goggles?’
‘Yes, that does make it awkward, I admit. But what does he say about it himself?’
‘Well, he’s lucid enough, up to a point. As I told you, his injuries are quite superficial. In fact, they’re sending him home in the morning. Arnold rather pressed for it. I think he’s curious to see what he gets up to.’
‘Lucid up to what point?’
‘To the period immediately before the accident; but, as you heard, most people get a blessed amnesia of that kind. All they know is that one minute they were walking along, whistling a merry tune and the next thing is they’re waking up in hospital.’
‘It’s particularly convenient in Martin’s case, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Maybe, but it could also be true.’
‘Does he remember why he was on the road at all?’
‘Yes, all that part is perfectly clear and has been confirmed by unbiased witnesses. His wife dropped him off at the museum and then went on to play golf. The arrangement was that she would call for him around twelve thirty and drive him home to lunch.’
‘But she didn’t?’
‘No. He says she telephoned just before she was due to say she’d been held up. The curator’s secretary confirms that a call did come through for him at about that time, and he took it in her office. Unfortunately she’s rather a prim lady and she left him to hold his conversation in private. Also she didn’t ask the caller’s name, which is fairly annoying of her, but she’s pretty certain it was a woman.’