Dead and Gone

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘Ah,’ said Mintar. ‘Inspector . . . Thanet, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And this is Detective-Sergeant Lineham. You’ve had no luck, I gather?’

  Mintar shook his head. ‘No sign of her. Oh, sorry, this is my sister-in-law.’

  She gave a brief smile of acknowledgement and said, ‘Jane Simons.’

  Mintar crossed to a side table where bottles, decanters and glasses stood on a silver tray, and poured himself a shot of whisky. He held up the bottle. ‘Anyone?’ There was no response.

  Rachel had gone to perch on the arm of the chair in which her boyfriend was sitting and Thanet thought he saw a twinge of distaste cross Mintar’s face as his eye fell upon them.

  Mintar drank the whisky in a single gulp and poured himself another, but he put the glass down without drinking any more and, gripping the edge with both hands, leaned heavily on the table, his bowed head and hunched back eloquent of his despair. His sister-in-law, who had seated herself nearby, rose swiftly and went to put an arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up, Ralph,’ she said. ‘There must be some perfectly reasonable explanation for her disappearance.’

  ‘What, for example?’ He twisted to face her, needing, Thanet guessed, to find a focus for his frustration. Time to intervene.

  ‘I think it would be more constructive if you could give me some idea of what happened here this evening,’ he said.

  Mintar made a visible effort to pull himself together. ‘Very well.’ Leaving the second glass of whisky where it was, he crossed to stand in front of the fireplace with his hands clasped together behind him, dominating the room. ‘Briefly,’ he said, ‘we had a supper party here tonight. Afterwards, most people decided to go for a swim.’

  Headlights again flashed across the front window. ‘That’ll be Howard,’ said Mintar. He hurried out, followed by Jane Simons and Rachel.

  Thanet and Lineham exchanged glances. We’re never going to get anywhere at this rate.

  Suddenly the room seemed full of people as they all came back in together. Mintar shook his head despondently. ‘No joy.’ He introduced the two new arrivals, both in their mid-forties: Howard Squires and Arnold Prime. They were a complete contrast to each other, the next-door neighbour being shorter and more compact of build, moving with an easy grace, Jane Simons’s boyfriend well over six feet, loose limbed and gangling.

  Thanet tried again. ‘Mr Mintar was just giving me some idea of what happened here this evening. If you would all sit down . . . ?’

  All but Mintar complied. He returned to stand before the fireplace, as if establishing his authority in the room.

  ‘So,’ said Thanet to Mintar when they were settled, ‘if you would go on with what you were saying, sir . . .’ Looking around, he could not prevent an inward smile: the room was beginning to resemble the denouement of an Agatha Christie mystery, the difference being that here they were at the beginning of a case, not the end, and were not even sure yet whether any crime had been committed. Though the cast was not quite complete, he realised: Mrs Squires wasn’t here. He wondered why.

  Mintar nodded. ‘Right. Well, I was just explaining that after supper everyone except me decided to go swimming—’

  ‘And me,’ said Mrs Mintar.

  ‘Sorry, before you go on, sir, may I just ask if there’d been any kind of . . . disagreement, during supper? Any arguments, quarrels, even?’

  Headshakes all around.

  Thanet saw with some concern that Rachel’s hands were starting to shake. After her earlier outburst she had been very quiet and he thought she had settled down.

  Mintar hadn’t noticed and he gave a barely suppressed sigh of impatience. ‘Everyone except myself – and Mother’ – he corrected himself with a glance in her direction – ‘decided to go swimming. I had some work to do and was glad of the chance to excuse myself. I went straight to my study and stayed there. At around a quarter to eleven Rachel came to ask me if I’d seen her mother. She told me they hadn’t realised at first that Ginny wasn’t around. They’d looked in all the obvious places, she said, but—’

  ‘We couldn’t find her!’ Rachel burst out. ‘We’d looked everywhere! And then Dad came out, and we looked all over again. We looked and we looked, but she was gone! She’d just . . . disappeared!’ The shaking was more obvious now.

  Her father took a few steps towards her but she didn’t notice, turning her head into Matthew Agon’s chest as she started to weep.

  Howard Squires jumped up. ‘I’ll get something,’ he said, and hurried out.

  Thanet was interested to note a flash of pure dislike in Mrs Mintar’s eyes as she watched him go.

  ‘Howard is our family doctor,’ Mintar explained.

  It was pointless to continue, Thanet decided. If Virginia Mintar really had disappeared, normal procedure would in any case be to interview everyone separately. He just seemed to have been pushed into this somewhat fruitless situation by circumstances. ‘I think we’ll leave this for the moment, sir. Miss Mintar is obviously very distressed and I suggest she be taken to her room. We’ll go and see how the men are getting on outside and then, with your permission, we’ll do a preliminary search of the house.’

  Mintar hesitated, then gave a weary nod and waved a hand. ‘Whatever you think necessary.’

  Outside in the hall Lineham rolled his eyes. ‘Whew! What a crew!’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it. We’ll go back out via the kitchen.’

  ‘A lot of undercurrents, didn’t you think, sir? The prospective son-in-law doesn’t exactly seem to be the flavour of the month, does he, and as for the old lady . . . She’s a real acid drop, isn’t she? Didn’t seem to care tuppence that her daughter-in-law has Apparently vanished into thin air, so she can’t have been on particularly good terms with her. And did you see the way she looked at Dr Squires as he went out?’

  ‘He’s obviously done something to upset her.’

  ‘I’ll say! And I can tell you this, I wouldn’t fancy her for an enemy myself.’

  ‘What are you saying, Mike?’

  The sergeant shrugged. ‘Just that if young Mrs Mintar turns out to have had a nasty accident her mother-in-law would certainly go on my list.’

  ‘Let’s not jump the gun. We’ve no idea yet what’s happened to her.’

  ‘Difficult to think of an innocent explanation, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Of course, just because they all agreed there hadn’t been a quarrel doesn’t mean that there wasn’t one, does it?’ They had reached the kitchen and Lineham waved a hand. ‘I mean, say she came in here to tidy up a bit before changing and someone followed her . . .’

  ‘True.’ Thanet looked around. Dishes were stacked in little piles on the work surfaces near the sink and the dishwasher stood open. He stooped to look inside. Someone had loaded in the dinner plates, knives, forks and a couple of pudding dishes, but had left the task unfinished. Five more of the latter stood on the draining board nearby. ‘I wonder if it was Mrs Mintar who stacked the dishwasher. If so, it looks as though she was interrupted.’

  Lineham picked up a champagne bottle which stood amidst a cluster of appropriate glasses and held it up to the light. ‘Empty,’ he said. ‘Some kind of celebration?’

  There was a tap on the window: PC Chambers was outside with several of the men.

  Thanet and Lineham went out into the courtyard. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Not so far, sir. It’s difficult in the dark – lots of shrub borders and a small spinney at the far end of the garden.’

  ‘I’m sure it must be. If no one finds anything and there’s still no news of her by morning we’ll put a lot more men on to it.’

  But the initial search was concluded without success and after a brief search inside the house Thanet decided to call it a day. ‘We’ll be back first thing tomorrow,’ he assured Mintar. ‘Meanwhile, let’s hope she turns up.’

  She did, but not in the way Thanet had hoped. Next morning he was s
having when the phone call came.

  ‘Bad news?’ said Joan, as he put down the receiver.

  ‘Mrs Mintar’s body has been found. In a well in the garden.’

  TWO

  Lineham came hurrying across as Thanet’s car drew up in the courtyard.

  ‘You must have put your foot down, Mike.’

  Lineham grinned. ‘I was up and dressed and having my breakfast when I heard.’

  The sergeant had always been an early riser.

  ‘The SOCOs will be here soon,’ he went on. ‘I didn’t see much point in taping off the whole courtyard, in view of all the people who were tramping through it last night, so I’ve just isolated the area around the well. I hope that’s OK?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘And I’ve called the fire brigade. The gardener says the well’s about sixty feet deep.’

  ‘Good.’ Kent no longer had an Underwater Search Unit and it wouldn’t be worth calling on West Sussex for this. The fire brigade was used to cooperating with the police. Thanet glanced at a middle-aged man leaning against the wall near the door to the annexe. ‘That him?’

  ‘Yes. He found the body. And I said to notify Doc Mallard that we’d need him later. There’s no point in him coming just yet. It’ll take a while to get her out.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Uh-oh, here comes Mr Mintar. Better brace yourself, sir. He’s on the warpath, demanding to know why the well wasn’t searched last night.’

  That makes two of us, thought Thanet. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? All the way over in the car he had been trying to answer that question, and the only explanation he could come up with was that he hadn’t realised it was the genuine article, had thought it a purely ornamental feature. Even so . . . Never take anything for granted, he thought. How often have I tried to din that into my team?

  ‘Here he comes.’

  Mintar came charging across the courtyard, obviously seeking a focus for his anger. He had dressed in a hurry. One side of his shirt collar was tucked inside and he was wearing no socks. He was unshaven and seemed to have aged ten years overnight: every line on his face seemed to sag and his skin looked parched, as though all the youth and vigour had been irretrievably sucked out of it. Not so his eyes, which burned with fierce emotion.

  ‘Thanet!’ he said. ‘About time too! I hope you’re going to come up with a reason for your disgraceful negligence! Why the hell wasn’t the well investigated last night? It’s such an obvious place to look.’

  In that case, why did you all overlook it too? But Thanet knew Mintar was right. The well should have been checked and that was that.

  ‘You do realise that if my wife had been found then she might still be alive?’

  Thanet trusted that this would prove not to be the case. Leaving aside any culpability on his part, Mrs Mintar was dead and nothing could bring her back. He hoped for her sake that death had come swiftly and mercifully.

  ‘I assure you that I’m as concerned as you are to find out what went wrong.’

  ‘I should hope so! In any case, you can rest assured that I shall be taking the matter up with your superiors.’

  There was no point in making excuses. ‘I can only apologise.’

  But Mintar was not to be mollified. ‘Easy enough to say that, isn’t it? Words cost nothing. But they certainly won’t bring her back.’

  ‘I really am deeply sorry about your wife.’

  ‘Yes, well, just think how you’d be feeling if it was your wife down there.’ Mintar glanced at the well and perhaps it was the image which his words conjured up that unmanned him for suddenly his anger seemed to evaporate and he stopped, swallowed hard, his mouth trembling. ‘You can’t begin to imagine—’ He turned abruptly away and blundered towards the kitchen door.

  Lineham made as if to follow but Thanet stopped him. ‘It wouldn’t do any good at the moment. He needs to be alone for a while. Let’s have a word with the gardener. What’s his name?’

  ‘Digby.’

  ‘Going to be another scorcher, don’t you think?’ said Lineham as they walked across the courtyard.

  Thanet agreed. Already, even so early in the morning, he could feel the heat of the sun’s rays penetrating his lightweight jacket. He glanced at the cloudless sky, screwing up his eyes at the white-hot haze which surrounded the incandescent sun. He blinked to clear his vision, seeing dazzling silver discs within his eyelids.

  Digby didn’t look a very prepossessing character, he thought as they drew nearer. The gardener continued to lean against the wall, arms folded, watching them with a sardonic expression. He had a long lugubrious face with droopingjowls and soft pouches beneath the eyes. For one who worked out of doors his skin was surprisingly pasty, the colour of moist putty, and his wispy hair had been carefully combed across his scalp in an attempt to diguise the fact that there was little of it.

  Thanet longed to bark, sergeant-major fashion, ‘Stand up straight when we’re talking to you!’ Instead he said mildly, ‘Tell us what happened this morning.’

  ‘I’ve told him once already,’ said Digby, jerking his head at Lineham. The man managed to make the word ‘him’ sound like an insult.

  Well educated, Thanet thought, with just a trace of Kentish accent.

  ‘I’d like to hear it for myself. In detail, please.’

  Digby sighed and shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I was crossing the courtyard when I noticed that watering can standing beside the well. It struck me as odd. Mrs Mintar was always very fussy about not leaving tools and stuff lying around. Fanatical, you might say.’ He glanced around. ‘This courtyard was her pride and joy and she liked to keep it shipshape.’

  Thanet looked as well. He had noticed last night that a great deal of hard work and loving care had been expended on the courtyard. Mrs Mintar had obviously been very fond of flowers. Climbing roses and clematis intermingled on the house walls; there were hanging baskets overflowing with colourful annuals and an abundance of terracotta pots and tubs. ‘She looked after all of this herself?’

  Digby nodded. ‘Except for watering the camellias, yes.’ He pointed out the four big evergreen shrubs planted in wooden half barrels on either side of both kitchen and annexe doors. ‘I do them, during the week, anyway. Mrs Mintar did them at weekends.’

  ‘Why didn’t she always do those?’

  ‘It’s a heavier job. We use water from the well for them.’

  ‘Ah.’ Thanet was beginning to see where this was leading.

  ‘Why?’ said Lineham.

  ‘Lovely soft water, isn’t it. Tap water around here is very hard and camellias don’t like it.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Well, when I picked up the can I realised it was half full. Now that was even more peculiar. I mean to say, who’d leave a can half full of water, in a heat wave? But then I thought, perhaps they’d had people around last night, and she hadn’t quite finished watering when they arrived, forgot to complete the job later. And sure enough, when I checked, I found that two of the camellias were bone dry. So I thought I might as well finish the job off.’

  ‘Very conscientious of you,’ said Lineham.

  Digby scowled. ‘It’s important to keep camellias well watered in July and August, that’s when the flower buds for the following year are forming. Anyway, I used up the water in the can first then went to draw more from the well. That was when I noticed the chain wasn’t across and the padlock wasn’t locked – the key was still in it.’

  Apparently Mrs Mintar had been fussy about safety as far as the well was concerned, dating back to when the children were small. She had therefore had a removable cover made and this was always secured by a padlock and chain.

  ‘Let’s be clear about this. You’re saying the cover was on the well but that it wasn’t secured in any way?’

  ‘Yes. Anyway, I took the lid off, the bucket went down, hit bottom, as I thought, and came up empty. I knew the water was getting low, she’d been worried in case it wouldn
’t last the season, but not that low. So I looked down.’ He shrugged. ‘That was when I saw her.’

  ‘Let’s take a look,’ Thanet said to Lineham. And to Digby, ‘Wait here, please.’

  Normally he dreaded that first sight of a corpse but this time he approached the well without the usual churning in his gut. She would, after all, be sixty feet down. The bad moments would come later, when the body was brought to the surface.

  The well was in the centre of the courtyard and in mitigation of his negligence last night Thanet could see why he had mentally dismissed it as purely ornamental, for ornamental it certainly was. Surrounded by a low wall of dressed stone, it was spanned by a decorative wrought-iron arch. The bucket suspended from the roller at the centre of the arch, however, should have alerted him to the fact that it might still be in use.

  In the distance vehicles could be heard approaching.

  ‘Sounds like the fire engine,’ said Lineham. He had equipped himself with a torch and he switched it on as they ducked under the tape.

  Thanet’s over-sensitive back muscles protested as, careful not to touch the coping, they leaned over and peered down into the darkness. Far, far down the torch beam picked out a splash of brilliant colour and a paler crescent which could be the side of her face. Yes, it was. As Thanet’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light he began to make out the shape of a half-submerged crumpled body more clearly. ‘Not much doubt about it, I’m afraid, is there,’ he said, straightening up.

  ‘Notice that, sir?’ Lineham nodded at a smear of what looked like blood on the inner edge of the coping. ‘Bashed her head as she went over, perhaps?’