Dead and Gone

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘But he did. He contacted the Salvation Army. It wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t find her.’

  ‘He did not! That was Mum! He was dead against it. They had terrible arguments about it and in the end she just went ahead and did it of her own accord. He wasn’t too pleased, believe me! But by then the trail was cold, it was presumably too late and they never found her.’

  Although Thanet knew that the Salvation Army frequently managed to trace people who had been missing for far longer than Caroline, he did not contradict her. What was the point? It would only cause her further distress.

  ‘Did your sister’s elopement come as a complete surprise to you all?’

  ‘Absolutely. Of course, looking back, you could see it must have been on the cards. I mean, there’d been awful rows about Caro going out with Dick and she told me she was absolutely fed up with it. But she didn’t breathe a word about eloping to anyone.’

  ‘And no one noticed she was unusually excited or tense?’

  ‘No. That was probably because the night she went away, Gran came back unexpectedly from Turkestan or somewhere. She had been off on one of her trips for a couple of months. She’s always going on these plant-hunting expeditions, she’s a botanical artist. Anyway, we knew she was due back soon but there was some sort of mix-up or misunderstanding about dates and no one was expecting her when she arrived that evening. So of course there was general fuss all around and a celebratory dinner – she always produces a bottle of champagne the night of her return.’ Rachel gave a brief smile for the first time and Thanet saw how beautiful she could be when warmth and animation informed her features. ‘Gran always believes in doing things in style. I hope I’m like that when I’m seventy-seven! Anyway, we were all too busy listening to her traveller’s tales to pay much attention to Caroline. As soon as we’d finished dinner, which took rather longer than usual, Caro excused herself, said she had a headache.’

  ‘You didn’t look in on her later, to see how she was?’

  ‘She’d hung her “DO NOT DISTURB” notice on the door. I didn’t think anything of it, just assumed she’d gone to sleep. So it wasn’t until next day that anyone realised she’d gone. By then, of course, they must have been well away.’

  ‘Your father said your mother never got over it.’ Thanet still couldn’t understand why, if Mintar was so fond of his wife, he had been so set against trying to find Caroline, when it obviously meant so much to Virginia. Was it simply stiff-necked pride that had prevented him from backing down?

  ‘No, she never did. She seemed to carry on as normal, but . . . Well, you’ve seen her room, haven’t you?’

  ‘All the clothes, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. She was never like that before. Oh, she used to enjoy shopping, who doesn’t, but not like that, not to that extent. I tried to get her to see she needed help, but she wouldn’t acknowledge there was a problem, wouldn’t even talk about it.’

  ‘Did she ever think of hiring a private detective to find Caroline?’

  ‘She actually did hire one, sometime last year. But he didn’t get anywhere either. It didn’t help that Dick’s mother was so uncooperative.’

  ‘Do you think she knows where they are?’

  ‘Not by the way she behaves – she blames Caroline, you know, for causing her to lose her son. As if he hadn’t had anything to do with the elopement!’

  ‘What was he like, Dick?’

  Another smile. ‘Drop dead gorgeous!’ she said, sounding like a normal teenager for the first time. ‘In fact, I have never been able to work out how such a hideous old woman could produce anything so scrumptious. I had a terrific crush on him myself and I wasn’t a bit surprised when Caro went overboard for him. I was green with envy when they started going out together.’ She grimaced. ‘He was a great deal more pleasant to have about the place than Digby, I can tell you.’

  There was a knock at the door. Lineham answered it. The firemen had finished, apparently.

  ‘Tell them we’ll just be a few minutes,’ said Thanet. He turned back to Rachel. ‘Digby. Why don’t you like him?’

  She pulled a face again. ‘Him and his camera. He gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Camera?’

  ‘It’s his hobby. Photography. Wildlife, supposed to be. And to be fair, he is a very good photographer. He’s got an exhibition on at the moment, in the branch library in the village. Not exactly the Tate, but still . . .’

  ‘What did you mean by “supposed to be”?’

  She looked uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘No, please, I’m interested.’

  ‘Well, I’m never quite sure that he doesn’t sometimes photograph people.’

  ‘You, you mean?’

  She nodded. ‘I’d never sunbathe in the nude when he’s around, for example. And I’m careful to choose my spot if I’m wearing a bikini.’

  ‘Have you told your father this?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not certain about it, you see. I’ve never actually caught him at it. It’s just a feeling I have. And the way he looks at me. Slyly. As if he knows all my secrets.’ She gave a shiver of distaste.

  ‘I’m sure your father would want to know, if you feel like that. I know I would, if it were my daughter.’ At the thought of Bridget Thanet experienced another shaft of anxiety. What was happening to her now? He was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to ring Joan and find out. He rose. ‘Well, thank you very much for your help, Miss Mintar—’

  ‘Rachel. Call me Rachel.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you, Rachel. I know it can’t have been easy for you. You’ve been very brave.’

  To his dismay he saw that the compliment had brought her to the verge of tears again and he kicked himself for not keeping the tone impersonal. Still, nothing and no one was going to keep her on an even keel for long today, he guessed.

  Outside the firemen were all packed up and ready to go. Laid out neatly on a sheet of polythene was an array of objects which had been brought up from the bottom of the well. ‘Anything interesting?’ he said.

  The fire chief shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t think so. Anyway, there it is. We’ll leave you to it. Good luck.’

  Thanet thanked them, then went and sat in the car for a few moments to ring Joan in privacy. But there was no news as yet and he returned to the well, where Lineham was studying the finds: assorted bottles and jars, some broken and some intact; various bits of shaped wood, probably pieces of ancient toys; a trowel with a broken handle; a number of pieces of clay pipes; an old biscuit tin; a little stack of broken china and some unidentifiable pieces of rusty metal.

  ‘Nothing much there,’ said the sergeant.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘Mrs Mintar senior, I think. But first I’d like to take a closer look at the swimming pool, get a better idea of the lie of the land.’

  They left the SOCO bagging the objects retrieved from the well, then, taking the route the Squires must have followed when returning to the pool last night, walked past the end of the annexe. This had a small, private garden of its own at the rear, Thanet saw, surrounded by a tall yew hedge which also flanked the raised terrace on to which the French windows of the drawing room opened. Below that, down a short flight of steps, lay the swimming pool. Beyond it was a tennis court and over to the left a small single-storey building.

  ‘The pool house?’ said Lineham.

  They went to have a look inside. There were two changing cubicles, a shower, and a lavatory.

  ‘Simple, but adequate,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Not so simple and more than adequate,’ said Lineham, opening another door. ‘Look, there’s a sauna. Very nice, too.’

  ‘Don’t see the attraction, myself,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Have you ever had a sauna?’

  ‘Can’t say I have.’

  ‘There you are, then! How can you pass judgement till you’ve tried it? It’s great! Very relaxing.’
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  ‘Not my cup of tea.’

  ‘You ought to give it a whirl some time, sir. You might be surprised.’

  ‘You’re not advertising a health club, Mike.’

  They went outside again to take a closer look at the pool area. It was paved with non-slip tiles and, except for the side nearest to the house, was surrounded by a neatly clipped waist-high box hedge affording shelter and some degree of privacy for sunbathers. On the poolside, across one of the shorter ends, was a long roller with a heavy blue plastic pool cover rolled up on it. There were comfortable sun loungers with yellow and white striped cushions and a slatted cedarwood table with matching chairs, shaded by a large cream canvas Italian umbrella. Conscious of the sun beating down on his head, Thanet walked around to the side furthest from the house, then, turning to look back at the house, squatted down. Yes, from this side of the pool and probably to about halfway across anyone in the water would have a clear view of the drawing-room windows and the door to the corridor leading to the kitchen. Only the roof of the annexe was visible; it too must have a small terrace but the yew hedge which surrounded it shielded it from view. Mrs Mintar senior would have been able to hear the swimmers last night, but she wouldn’t have been able to see them. On the other hand, some of her windows overlooked the courtyard . . .

  The water lay as flat and calm as a steel mirror and its blue depths looked infinitely inviting. Thanet leaned forward to test the temperature. It felt pleasantly warm.

  ‘Thinking of having a dip, sir?’ said Lineham, eyes wide with mock innocence.

  Thanet scowled and stood up. ‘Old Mrs Mintar,’ he said. ‘Now she’s had time to think, perhaps she saw or heard something last night.’

  SIX

  Lineham rang Mrs Mintar’s doorbell.

  No reply.

  He rang again.

  Still no response.

  ‘Try the door,’ said Thanet.

  It opened. Thanet put his head in and called.

  ‘Who is it?’ A voice from the left, sounding annoyed.

  ‘Inspector Thanet and Sergeant Lineham.’

  ‘Go into the sitting room. I’ll be out in a minute.’

  The door to the sitting room stood ajar and they stepped inside. It was furnished in bright, clear colours: blues, greens and turquoise, with a touch of purple here and there. Not the room of an average seventy-seven-year-old. But then her son and granddaughter had made it clear that she was anything but that. Glazed doors stood open on to a little terrace and Thanet glimpsed a huge Chinese ceramic pot overflowing with summer bedding plants and a narrow border crammed with roses and summer-flowering perennials.

  On the walls hung groups of striking botanical paintings and as Thanet stepped across to take a closer look he kicked something lying on the floor. He bent to pick it up. It was a small brown pill bottle. Automatically he read the label: Glyceryl Trinitrate 300 mg. Take one as directed.

  ‘Looks as though she has angina,’ he said to Lineham. He put the bottle on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Wonder how that affects her expeditions.’

  ‘Quite.’ Thanet returned to the group of paintings: Pulsatilla ambigua, he read, Pulsatilla occidentalis, Pulsatilla campanella.

  ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ Mrs Mintar had come into the room. ‘Commonly called pasque flowers, from the French. ‘Pâques,’ she explained to his uncomprehending look.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, digging into his memory. ‘Easter.’

  ‘Quite. Hence passefleurs – “Easter flowers”.’

  ‘Did you do these after one of your expeditions?’

  She looked amused. ‘You know about those. You really have learned a lot about us in a very short time, haven’t you? Yes. But not one expedition. Several.’

  The pill bottle was no longer on the mantelpiece, he noted. She must have removed it while he was taking another look at the paintings and was no doubt hoping they hadn’t noticed it. So she didn’t want them to know of her condition. Interesting. ‘Do you go away often?’

  ‘A couple of times a year. More often if I can.’ Talking about her work she became more animated. ‘I’ve been very lucky, really. Expeditions are very expensive to mount and there are always loads of botanists anxious to get out into the field. But fortunately I’ve got this other string to my bow, being able to draw and paint. The sponsors often want more than just a photographic record, and I’ve gradually carved out a niche for myself. This year, for instance, I was in South America from just after Christmas to the beginning of March and I hope to go to south-west China in November.’

  ‘Have you always done this work?’

  ‘Oh yes. Barristers’ wives have to develop their own interests, their husband’s work is so time-consuming that they’d go mad if they didn’t. I would have, anyway.’

  ‘So your husband was also in the legal profession.’

  ‘He became a High Court judge, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘You don’t use your title?’

  She made a dismissive gesture. ‘I don’t go in much for that sort of thing. I’d rather paddle my own canoe.’

  The metaphor was apt. He could just imagine her white-water rafting down the Amazon. Though the angina must somewhat cramp her style these days – if, that is, she made any concessions to it. Which, he guessed, she probably didn’t. She was the type who’d rather die on a mountain than of old age in a hospital bed. He turned back to the paintings. ‘These are really lovely.’

  ‘Thank you. I just thought they’d make an interesting group.’

  ‘Pastel, aren’t they?’

  Her eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Yes, they are.’

  ‘It’s unusual to see botanical paintings in pastel. I thought they were invariably in watercolour.’

  ‘They are. The ones I do for the RHS magazine, for example, are always in watercolour. These I do for my own pleasure and they aren’t strictly botanical, more interpretations of the botanical, shall we say.’

  ‘And much more exciting, if you ask me. More . . . dramatic.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to say so. But I don’t imagine you’ve come here to discuss my work, Inspector. I know we could stand here having an interesting conversation for the rest of the morning, but I’m sure you’re anxious to get on.’ And if you We not, I am.

  She was wearing wide-legged cotton trousers and a loose cotton smock smudged with pastel dust. She must have been working when they arrived, which was, no doubt, why she had sounded so annoyed at being interrupted. But painting? Only a few hours after her daughter-in-law’s body had been found?

  ‘I can see you’re thinking I must be pretty heartless,’ she said, ‘to be working under these circumstances. But there’s no point in pretending that there was any love lost between Virginia and myself. I am sorry for my son’s sake, of course, but as far as I’m concerned it’s good riddance.’

  ‘You don’t mince your words, do you?’ said Thanet.

  ‘What’s the point? Waste of time, in my opinion.’

  ‘Well, it certainly makes my job much easier.’

  She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously impatient to get back to her work. She hadn’t invited them to sit down and had remained standing herself.

  Well, he wasn’t going to be rushed, thought Thanet. It was time he made it clear who was in charge here. ‘May we sit down?’

  She hesitated. She was so forthright that he almost expected her to refuse, but good breeding took over and she made a grudging gesture. If you must She herself perched on the very edge of an upright chair as if to emphasise the fact that she hoped the interview would be brief.

  ‘Naturally,’ said Thanet when they were all settled, ‘in view of what has happened, we’re trying to piece together everyone’s movements yesterday.’

  ‘Quite.’ She folded her arms as if to contain her impatience. Well, get on with it, then, her body language shouted.

  ‘If you would take us quickly through the day?’

  ‘The whole day?’

&
nbsp; ‘Please.’

  She gave an exasperated sigh before beginning her account. She had stayed at home all day, apparently. She had worked in the morning and had a leisurely afternoon, going for her daily swim before settling down to read the paper. After tea she had showered and changed before joining the others for pre-supper drinks.

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘About 7.30.’

  ‘And you had drinks on the terrace?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Which way did you go to get to the terrace? Did you go outside and around the side of the annexe, via the courtyard, or is there a connecting door to the house?’ Thanet was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t checked this point. He did seem to remember seeing a door in the corridor leading to the kitchen which might give access to the annexe, but he hadn’t investigated.

  ‘Yes, there is a connecting door, and that was the way I went.’

  ‘Along the corridor from the kitchen to the terrace?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Pity. ‘Would you have happened to notice if the well cover was on or off at that point? You might have glanced out when you locked the front door, for example?’

  ‘I didn’t. So no, I didn’t notice.’

  They skipped quickly to the point where the dinner party broke up and once again Thanet heard the by now familiar account of what had happened. As the others had already told him, after carrying some dishes through to the kitchen Mrs Mintar had retired to her own quarters. ‘I’d had enough of being sociable by then.’

  ‘So then what did you do?’

  ‘Read a book until Ralph came to ask me if I’d seen Virginia. Then, of course, I got caught up in all the commotion.’

  Thanet glanced at the back wall of the sitting room, where a small window overlooked the courtyard. ‘Did you hear any noises from the courtyard, between the time you got back and your son’s arrival?’

  She hesitated.

  So there was something. ‘Well?’

  But still she hesitated. Then she said, ‘I’m just not sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you know what it’s like, when you’re reading, when you’re really engrossed in a book. You’re often not even aware of it when someone has spoken to you directly.’