by Frank Smith
‘Could Nash have left the hospital after Price saw him, I wonder?’ asked Paget, but Tregalles shook his head.
‘Dr Price said Nash was there all evening. He said the man was pestering him for news about Tracy every few minutes. Nash never left the ward, let alone the hospital until just before I rang.’
Paget turned to Bromley. ‘What time would it have been when he left here?’ he asked. Charles thought for a moment. ‘It must have been getting on for half past seven by the time he left,’ he said slowly. ‘Which means . . .’
‘That he must have gone straight from here to the hospital,’ Paget finished for him. ‘And he couldn’t do that in much less than half an hour if you take into account the time it takes to park and get up to the ward. So, unless Dr Starkie’s estimated time of death is out by a country mile, there is no way that Nash could have killed Miss Halliday.’
Charles Bromley nodded slowly. ‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘I think I’m as much relieved as I am perplexed by this turn of events, because I’ve known George Nash for years, and he’s always struck me as a very level-headed man.’ He shot a quizzical glance at Paget. ‘But, then, if not Nash, who?’ he asked softly.
‘Who, indeed?’ said Paget. ‘Tell me what happened after Nash left the house? What did the others do while you and Dr Lockwood were dealing with Nash?’
Bromley frowned. ‘I don’t know, exactly. I think Toni and Beth both went upstairs. Paul simply disappeared, and once we’d seen Nash off the premises, Lockwood and I came back to find Margaret about to go upstairs. She said she was going up to talk to Toni, but Lockwood and I advised her against it.’
‘Oh? Why was that, sir?’
Bromley hesitated. ‘My wife has had trouble sleeping,’ he said. ‘Terrible nightmares brought on, or at least made worse, Lockwood and I suspect, by Toni’s behaviour these past weeks. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Toni, which would lead to even more stress. I wanted her to get some rest and wait till morning before trying to talk to Toni. But Margaret insisted that Toni had to be suffering from delayed shock after the accident, and said she was going up to see what she could do for her. That was nonsense, of course, but I realized that there was nothing I could say to change her mind, so I let her go. Later, when I asked how she’d got on, she refused to talk about it, but I gathered from her expression that it did not go well.’
‘And your son, Julian?’
‘No idea. Probably went up to his room.’
‘And what of Dr Lockwood? Did he stay or leave?’
‘He left. He said he was going into Hallows End to see a patient there.’
‘He was making a house call at that time of night?’
‘It’s not something he would normally do, but I think this was an emergency, and since he was so close, he decided to go himself rather than call for an ambulance.’
‘And you, sir? What did you do?’
‘I came along to the study. I had intended to report the matter to the police, but I finally decided that Nash had more than enough on his plate as it was. I couldn’t see the point of making even more trouble for him, so I didn’t call.’
‘And then?’
‘I had some work to do, so I got on with it. I spent something like an hour at it, then went along to the kitchen in search of a cup of tea. We had the painters in this week. I had asked them to use oil-based paint, because it lasts longer, but I’d quite forgotten how noxious and pervasive the smell could be, and you could smell it all through the house. Still can for that matter, as I’m sure you are aware. Mrs Lodge very kindly made a fresh pot, and I spent a few minutes in the kitchen talking to her and Beth. She and Mrs Lodge were making up a tray for Beth to take up to her room.’
‘So that would be about eight thirty or quarter to nine?’
Bromley nodded. ‘Something like that, yes.’
‘And you were alone all the time you were in your study?’
‘Yes. Well, Margaret popped her head in somewhere around eight fifteen or eight thirty to ask if I’d seen Paul, but I was alone the rest of the time.’
‘Did she say why she was looking for your brother?’
‘No. I was a bit preoccupied at the time,’ he said, ‘and I didn’t ask. But later, when I was in the kitchen, Mrs Lodge said that Paul had gone out and Margaret had gone looking for him. A short time later, Margaret came hobbling in with a sprained ankle, and looking like a drowned rat after being caught in the rain. I helped her upstairs and made up a cold pack for her ankle with a packet of peas from the freezer, and got her to bed. I went back downstairs, and that was when Paul came in, and he was soaking wet as well.’
‘And that would be what . . .? Nine thirty or so?’ Paget asked.
Charles shrugged. ‘Probably, but I really don’t know.’
‘Did your brother say where he’d been?’
‘No, but he had a cut on his face, quite a deep one, and when I asked him what had happened, he said he’d run into a door.’ Charles grimaced. ‘Hardly an imaginative explanation, but then that was Paul. He can be quite surly at times, so I didn’t bother to pursue it. I told him he should have a couple of stitches in it, but he ignored my advice and went on up the back stairs to his room. I went in to check on Margaret, then returned to the study.’
‘Did you see or talk to anyone after that?’
Charles shook his head. ‘Not until Thorsen came to the door.’
‘Did Miss Halliday and Major Farnsworth know each other?’
‘I don’t think she ever met the man,’ Bromley said. ‘And if you’re thinking there was some connection between the two, you’re barking up the wrong tree. However, from what I could see of his injuries, I did wonder if the major had been run down by whoever killed Toni.’
‘That is certainly a possibility,’ Paget agreed as he rose to his feet. ‘Sorry to have kept you up so late, sir,’ he said, stifling a yawn himself, ‘but you’ve been a great help and I do appreciate it.’
‘Only too happy to help under the circumstances,’ Bromley said as he, too, got to his feet. ‘What happens now?
‘I would like to take a look at Miss Halliday’s room before I leave. Our people will be in to do a thorough search later on today, but I would like to have a quick look round now if I may. We will leave someone on duty here in the house overnight, and Sergeant Tregalles and I will be back first thing in the morning to talk to the rest of the members of the household.’
Bromley frowned. ‘I’m not at all sure that my wife will be up to it,’ he said. ‘This has come as a terrible shock to her.’
‘I do understand, sir, and we are not insensitive to the feelings of members of the family, but I’m sure you realize how important it is that we talk to everyone while events are still fresh in their minds.’
‘I’ll talk to Margaret in the morning,’ Bromley said, ‘but I don’t know what you hope to gain from her at this stage. In any case, whether she feels up to talking to you or not will have to be her decision.’
‘Of course.’
On their way up to Toni Halliday’s room, Bromley warned Paget that the room might be in a bit of a mess, and he was right. The bed was made but it looked as if it had been slept on, and there was a pillow on the floor. A glass and a half-empty whiskey bottle were on the bedside table, and several items of clothing were draped haphazardly over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes looked as if they had been kicked off and left where they’d landed; a dresser drawer was partly open, as was the door to the wardrobe, and there were signs everywhere of a hasty departure. Even the dressing table had been cleared of all but an empty face cream jar, an eyeliner pencil, and a box of tissues.
Tregalles sniffed the air. ‘Is that what I think it is, sir?’ he asked innocently. The question was directed at Paget, but it was Bromley who answered.
‘It is, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘Marijuana. I tried my best to get Toni to stop smoking it, but I might as well have saved my breath.’
‘Tell me,’ said Paget, �
�how would Miss Halliday get downstairs and out to the barn without being seen?’
‘It wouldn’t be difficult if she was careful and chose her time,’ Bromley told him. ‘There are two sets of back stairs, one at each end of the house, and both go down to the passageway where you came in tonight. She could have gone out through the chapel at the other end of the house, but that would have meant a long trek around the stables to get to Manor Lane and the barn, so, I suspect she simply waited until the coast was clear, then left by the same door you used. From there, as you know, it’s only a short distance to the barn.’
Paget nodded. ‘You mentioned a chapel. Is that part of the house?’
‘Yes. It’s a small, private chapel. My grandmother became quite religious toward the end of her life, and she had it built as an addition to the house in the sixties. Unfortunately, one of the roof beams collapsed when a tree came down on it during a storm some years ago, resulting in a great deal of damage to the interior. I’ve been working with architects and builders on the restoration ever since, but it’s a slow business.’
Bromley smothered a yawn. ‘So, if you’ve finished here, Chief Inspector, I’d like to look in on Margaret and then get some sleep myself.’
‘Of course, and thank you again, sir. Just once more question. It appears that Miss Halliday’s person and her belongings were searched after she was killed. Do you have any idea what the killer might have been looking for?’
‘I noticed that myself,’ Bromley told him, ‘but I have no idea what it could have been.’ He led them down the back stairs where they were met by Renshaw, who must have heard them coming, because their coats were draped over his arm.
‘I’d like PC Renshaw to remain here for the rest of the night, if that’s all right with you, Mr Bromley?’ Paget said as he shrugged into his coat. ‘And a policewoman will be here first thing tomorrow morning as well.’
‘Of course. And if you become hungry,’ said Bromley, turning to Renshaw, ‘there’s plenty to eat in the kitchen, and I’m sure you can make yourself a cup of tea.’
‘Very kind of you, sir,’ said Renshaw. ‘Thank you.’
‘I know this means a double shift, for you,’ Paget told the constable, ‘but I’ll arrange for someone on the early shift to relieve you at six. Meanwhile, I don’t want anyone to leave the house. Understood?’
‘Understood, sir.’
Bromley opened the door. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that the media won’t connect this to what happened five years ago,’ he said with a weary sigh, ‘but I imagine they’ll catch on soon enough and they’ll dredge it all up again. But then, that’s hardly your problem, is it, Chief Inspector?’
Paget was about to move on, but Bromley wasn’t finished. ‘I would appreciate it if you would keep that in mind when talking to the Press,’ he said. ‘I did mention my concern to Chief Superintendent Brock earlier tonight, and he assured me that the investigation would be kept “low-key”, as it were, and nothing would be given out to the media without his personal sanction. Has he mentioned this to you?’
‘No, he hasn’t,’ said Paget, ‘but no doubt he will. Good night sir.’
The door closed behind them, followed by the metallic click of the lock.
The wind had dropped, but leaves and twigs littered the ground, and a pallid moon cast ghostly shadows on the wall. The light over the door set in the wall came on as they approached. The sergeant lifted the latch and pulled, but he had to tug hard before it would open, and the hinges groaned in protest.
‘Wood’s probably swollen with the rain,’ he said as he pulled it to.
‘Doesn’t sound as if the hinges have been oiled for a while, either,’ Paget said, and wondered if anyone in the house had heard the sound when Toni Halliday slipped through.
FIVE
Friday, September 9th – 12.50 a.m.
There was a second police car parked at the end of the track, and two more uniformed men had joined Hurley at the barn, but there was no sign of Charlie Dobbs or any of his people. PC Hurley told them that Inspector Dobbs had decided that, as everything around the crime scene where the major was found had been trampled into the mud, there wasn’t much point in staying. As for the crime scene inside the barn, he said it could wait till morning as well, so he had sent everybody home.
‘Might as well be on our way, then,’ Tregalles said, and was about to walk away when Paget stopped him.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘when Mr Bromley talked about the media raking everything up again, I had no idea what he was talking about, but you looked as if you did, so what was that about? Some sort of local scandal?’
Tregalles shook his head. ‘I suppose he assumed that you’d remember it. It was in all the papers. The Halliday affair four, maybe five years ago?
Paget shook his head. ‘Don’t recall it,’ he said. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘I’d almost forgotten about it myself, until I heard the name, Toni Halliday, when I got the call to come out here,’ Tregalles said. ‘It was when Bernard Halliday died. He was the archaeologist who used to do those shows on TV where they’d take you on a tour of some old city they’d dug up, then recreate the way people lived back then. He did a series, Journey into the Past, or some such thing. The wife and I enjoyed it. Anyway, Halliday got this tumour on the brain, and Mr Bromley was the surgeon who operated on him. He was one of the top Harley Street men at the time, according to the papers, but when Halliday died on the operating table, his daughter accused Bromley of killing him so he could marry her mother. Made a proper meal of it, the papers did. Knocked Tony Blair, the Euro, David Beckham and the Spice Girls right off the front pages for days. There was an enquiry, Bromley was cleared, but Toni Halliday wouldn’t shut up about it. The media kept egging her on, of course, and it got so bad that Bromley finally got fed up with it and packed it in and came back down here. I think he’s a sort of consultant now, although I’ve heard he still operates every now and then.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have done him much harm locally,’ Paget observed. ‘Magistrate and friend of the chief constable.’
‘True, but Toni Halliday was right in one respect. Whether he had anything to do with her husband’s death or not, Mr Bromley did marry Margaret Halliday a year later. Not that anyone should have been surprised, when you think about it. Mrs Bromley was a Chadwick, originally, and the two families, the Chadwicks and the Bromleys, go back a long way. Both made their money from coal, in fact I think they were in business together many years ago.’
Tregalles pursed his lips. ‘Come to think of it, she could be the last Chadwick. Her parents are dead, and there was a brother, but he was quite a bit older and I think something happened to him. Don’t remember what, exactly, but Audrey would know. I’ll have to ask her.’
‘I’m impressed,’ said Paget. ‘And surprised. I had no idea you were so well informed about the local gentry.’
Tregalles chuckled. ‘I’m not,’ he said, ‘but the Bromleys and the Chadwicks have lived here since God was a boy, and there was a lot in the papers at the time. Besides, there was a feature article about the chapel Mr Bromley’s restoring in the Star a year or so back. And when Audrey went with the WI on a tour of old churches, they stopped in there for a look, and she said Mr Bromley himself came out to talk to them and tell them about it.’
‘Interesting. Anything else?’
‘Can’t think of anything else at the moment.’
‘All right. Now, what about Thorsen. What did he have to say for himself?’
‘Not much we didn’t know already. Turns out the dog, Toby, actually belongs to the major, but since Mrs Farnsworth became allergic to the animal, Toby stays with Thorsen. The major picks him up each evening and takes him with him on his walks across the heath and along the river path above the river. Thorsen said he usually picked up Toby just after seven, and he was usually back by nine or nine thirty. Last night, when Farnsworth hadn’t returned by ten thirty, Mrs Farnsworth telephoned Thorsen to see if the ma
jor was there, and when he said he wasn’t, she persuaded him to go out and look for him. The rest we know.’
‘How old is Thorsen?’
‘Didn’t ask him, but I should think he’s seventyish or thereabouts. Hard to tell, because he’s a bit bent over and he walks sort of stiff legged. Rheumatism or arthritis or some such thing, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘And yet this old man sets out to look for someone, when it’s pitch dark, blowing hard and pouring rain? The major could have been anywhere out there on that stretch of land between here and the river. Unless, of course, Thorsen knew exactly where to look.’
Tregalles chuckled. ‘Tell you the truth, I think he was more concerned about the dog than he was the major. I got the impression he didn’t like Major Farnsworth very much.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I asked him if he knew Toni Halliday, or if he’d had had any dealings with her. He said he knew who she was, but he’d made a point of staying clear of her, because kitchen gossip had it she was a trouble-maker.’
‘Interesting,’ Paget observed, then abruptly changed the subject. ‘When you spoke to Mrs Nash on the phone, you said she told you that her husband had gone home to see to the whelping of their dog. Which means that he will probably still be up. We have to go through Clunbridge on the way home, so why don’t we stop and have a word with him?’