by Frank Smith
Paget repeated the question. ‘Mr Bromley said you were looking for his brother, Paul.’
Mrs Bromley looked away, frowning slightly as if trying to remember. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s right,’ she said vaguely. ‘And then I went into the kitchen to ask Mrs Lodge if she had seen Paul. She said she thought he had gone down to the village.’
Margaret Bromley stopped speaking. The silence between them lengthened.
Concerned, Paget leaned forward. ‘Mrs Bromley . . .? Are you all right?’
His words seemed to bring her back. ‘Yes, yes, of course I’m all right,’ she said sharply, then shrugged guiltily and said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I really am all right, so there’s no need to look so worried. It’s just that I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, and now, with this happening . . . Charles says it’s stress. He didn’t want me to talk to you this morning, but I wanted to do it if it will help you find who did this terrible thing.’ She lifted her eyes to meet those of Paget. ‘So,’ she said firmly, ‘where were we, Chief Inspector?’
‘You said Mrs Lodge told you she thought your brother-in-law had gone to the village,’ he said. ‘What did you do then?’
‘I went outside to see if his car was there. The garage door was up and the car was there, but Paul wasn’t, so I thought he might have decided to walk to the village. It was a nice evening, so I decided to walk down there myself.’
‘It wasn’t raining then?’
‘No. Clouds were gathering, and there was some rumbling in the distance, but I thought the storm was still a long way off, so it took me by surprise when it started to rain.’
‘Even so, it must have been getting dark by then. May I ask why it was so important for you to find your brother-in-law?’
A hint of colour crept into her face as she shook her head. ‘I wanted to talk to him about a business matter before he returned to London.’
‘You knew he intended to return to London last night?’
‘Not last night, no, but I thought he might be planning to leave early this morning.’
‘Did you find him?’
‘No. I had just started down the long hill when I turned my ankle and I had to turn back. It was my own fault. I should have known better than to go down Manor Lane in high heels, and to make matters worse, that was when it started to rain. I couldn’t hurry because the ankle was so painful, so I was completely drenched by the time I reached the house.’
‘Did you meet anyone, either on the way down or on the way back?’
Margaret Bromley shook her head.
‘I was thinking in particular of Major Farnsworth,’ Paget said. ‘I assume you do know the major?’
A flicker of distaste crossed her face. ‘Not really. That is to say I met him once, briefly. It was shortly after he and his wife moved into Lower Farm, and I have seen him go by in the evening with the dog, but I didn’t see him last night. The only one I saw was Julian.’
Her voice faded, as did the light in Margaret Bromley’s eyes, and Paget had the eerie feeling once again that there was no one there.
‘Mrs Bromley?’ he prompted. There was no response. Paget exchanged glances with Tregalles, and was halfway out of his chair when she blinked and said, ‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. What did you say?’
‘Perhaps you would prefer to finish this later?’ he suggested.
‘I am rather tired,’ she admitted, ‘but I would like to get this over with now that I’m here. Is there much more?’
Wherever Margaret Bromley had been a few moments ago, she seemed to be in full control of herself now. ‘You were saying that you saw Julian when you were on your way back to the house.’
‘That’s right. He came through the gate from Manor Lane as I reached the door. We came into the house together.’
‘Did he say where he’d been?’
‘No. We were both soaking wet and cold, so we were more interested in getting out of our wet clothes. Julian dashed upstairs, and I went into the kitchen to sit down, and found Charles there. He took a look at the ankle, then helped me up the stairs. I had a warm bath, then laid on the bed with a packet of frozen peas and a bandage on the ankle.’
As if reminded of her injury, Margaret Bromley drew her outstretched leg closer in an attempt to find a more comfortable position for her foot.
‘I won’t keep you much longer,’ Paget assured her, ‘but there is just one more question before you go, if you don’t mind. Did you by any chance see Paul Bromley later in the evening?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,’ she said. He knocked on my door and said Charles had told him I was looking for him.’
‘Do you remember what time that was? Approximately?’
‘Around ten, I think it was. I remember I was hanging my clothes up to dry before turning in for the night, when Paul knocked on the door. I’d left them on the floor when I stripped off, and they were still wet,’ she explained.
‘Did he say where he’d been?’
‘No.’
‘Did he mention anything then about leaving for London?’
Margaret Bromley pulled herself forward, placing both hands on the arms of the chair, testing her foot against the floor. ‘No,’ she said vaguely as if thinking of something else, ‘and I think I would like to lie down, now.’ She stretched out her hand. ‘Would you mind, Chief Inspector?’
‘Of course, and thank you for being so patient, Mrs Bromley.’ He stood up to help her to her feet.
They made their way to the door where WPC Maitland stood waiting to take Mrs Bromley’s arm and escort her back to her room. But before they could leave, Paget took out the glassine envelope Grace had given him, and held it up for Mrs Bromley to see. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘do you recognize these pieces of jewellery, Mrs Bromley?’
She stared. ‘I most certainly do!’ she said. ‘They’re mine! What are you doing with them?’
‘You didn’t give them to anyone?’
‘Give them to anyone? Of course I didn’t give then to anyone. Where did you get them?’
‘They were found among your daughter’s belongings in the barn,’ he said gently.
‘Oh!’ Margaret Bromley’s eyes expressed such a mixture of emotions that Paget couldn’t tell what was going through her mind. She held out her hand. ‘May I have them?’ she asked huskily.
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. ‘They are part of the evidence recovered at the crime scene, but they will be returned to you as soon as possible. Sergeant Tregalles will give you a receipt to show that we have them in our possession. Could you give me some idea of their value?’
‘I really don’t know what they would be worth now,’ she said as she continued to stare at them as if hypnotised, ‘but I believe it would be safe to say the figure would be in excess of six or seven thousand pounds. Charles could tell you. He will have the insurance policy filed away somewhere.’
EIGHT
Before going in search of the next person on his list, Tregalles took time to catch up on his notes. ‘She seems like a very nice woman,’ he observed as he flipped through the pages, ‘but I don’t think she was being quite straight with us.’
Paget walked over to the window and stood looking out. ‘Not that I disagree with you,’ he said, ‘but why do you say that?’
‘Well, for starters, she was so upset with her daughter that she stormed out of the room and almost knocked Julian down, then she couldn’t even talk straight to her housekeeper, but then things suddenly change.’
‘Go on.’
Tregalles tapped his notebook. ‘I don’t know what happened, but something must have, because suddenly the only thing she’s interested in is finding this brother-in-law of hers. Asks her husband if he’s seen him; asks the housekeeper, then goes tearing off down the road in her high heels to find him, even though it’s beginning to get dark and a storm’s in the offing, and I can’t help wondering why?’
‘She said it had to do with a business deal,’ Paget s
aid.
‘I know what she said, but it must have been one hell of a deal to make her go tearing off like that. Didn’t even stop to change her shoes? And we’ve only got her word for it that that was where she went. She said she twisted her ankle when she was part way down the long hill, and that has to be at least a quarter of a mile from here. So, if that ankle is as bad as it appeared to be this morning, I don’t see how she managed to get back here in the pouring rain without help.’
‘So, what are you suggesting?’
‘I think something happened between the time she saw Mrs Lodge and the time she started to look for Paul,’ Tregalles said slowly. ‘Something that scared the hell out of her, maybe?’
‘Such as?’
‘Don’t know,’ Tregalles admitted. ‘Maybe she found out that Paul was going to kill Toni? That would explain her trying to find him. She tried to stop him but she was too late, because he hadn’t gone to the village at all, but to the barn.’
Paget turned to face him. ‘If that was the case, why didn’t she enlist the aid of others to stop him? Why didn’t she raise the alarm or call the police? And why didn’t she tell us just now?’
‘Well, put that way, that might not have been the reason,’ Tregalles admitted, ‘but you know what I mean. It’s just that it must have been something out of the ordinary to make her go dashing off like that. And was it my imagination, or did she go blank on you a couple of times? Or was that some sort of act?’
‘I don’t think it was an act,’ said Paget slowly. ‘She seemed to be genuinely out of it for several seconds each time. Mr Bromley said she was suffering from stress, but that looked like something more than stress to me.’
‘Drugs?’ the sergeant suggested. ‘Seems like Toni was into drugs as well as drink, so maybe mummy’s into them as well.’
‘Or a side effect from medication,’ Paget said. ‘But both her husband and her doctor would have picked up on something like that.’
‘Unless Bromley is just saying it’s stress so he won’t have to admit his wife’s an addict.’
‘And Lockwood?’
Tregalles shrugged. ‘We don’t know what he has to say yet, do we? Family doctor to the Bromleys . . . He might just go along with it if Bromley asked him to. In fact,’ he added darkly, ‘it may be Lockwood who’s keeping her supplied.’
‘I think that may be a bit of a stretch,’ Paget said drily, ‘but I’ll keep it in mind. Anything else?’
‘Just one thing. If Mrs Bromley still had any illusions about her daughter, I think they were knocked sideways when you showed her the jewellery.’
Paget nodded. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said soberly. He moved back to his seat and sat down. ‘So, who’s next?’
Julian Bromley’s name was next on the list, but Paget decided to rearrange the order. ‘Let’s have Gwyneth Jones in,’ he said. ‘So far, everything we’ve heard has come from the family. We might get a different view of things from the maid.’
Gwyneth Jones looked more than a little apprehensive when Maitland ushered her in. ‘Nervous’ was the note Tregalles put down beside her name, then added ‘Why?’
She sat down on the edge of the chair, hands clasped tightly together, knuckles white and rigid. She was a pretty girl, but her dark-blue eyes were rimmed with red, and it was clear that she’d been crying.
‘Do you mind if I call you Gwyneth?’ Paget asked by way of opening the conversation.
The question seemed to surprise her. ‘No, sir. Everybody does.’
‘Good. And there is no need to feel nervous, Gwyneth. All we are trying to do is find out as much as possible about Toni Halliday’s movements prior to her going to the barn last night, so we will be talking to everyone in the house.’
‘Yes, sir.’ It was as if she had brushed his words aside and was bracing herself for what was to come.
‘I’d like you to begin by telling me what happened at dinner last night. Just take your time and tell me how you remember it.’
‘You mean about Mr Nash coming in, sir?’
‘Let’s start before that. What time did dinner begin?’
‘Seven o’clock on the dot, like always,’ Gwyneth told him. ‘Mr Bromley is very particular about that. But Miss Halliday came in a few minutes later, after I’d served the soup.’
‘You seem quite sure of the time.’
‘Yes, sir. Mr Bromley doesn’t like people to be late, and I kept looking at the time and wondering where Miss Halliday had got to.’
‘Did she offer any explanation for her late arrival?’
‘No, sir.’
‘How would you describe Miss Halliday’s condition?’
Gwyneth frowned. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ she said hesitantly.
‘Well, was there any indication that she’d been drinking, for example?’
The girl looked at Paget as if trying to judge what he might want her to say. ‘I think she might have, sir,’ she said cautiously.
‘Might have . . .?’ Paget probed gently.
‘Well, it’s just that she wasn’t too steady on her feet, and she knocked her knife off the table when she sat down, and I had to get her another one.’
‘Was that normal? Would you say she was in the habit of drinking?’
Gwyneth considered the question. ‘Not really,’ she said slowly. ‘More fits and starts, if you know what I mean, sir. I never actually saw her take a drink, except for wine at dinner. But there were times when she acted like she’d a had a drink or two too many, but different somehow.’
‘Different in what way?’
‘It’s sort of hard to explain, sir.’ Gwyneth sat frowning down at her hands in her lap. ‘It was like she was – well, off in a world of her own, sort of.’ She looked up at Paget. ‘She could be quite nice, then.’
‘So there were times when she wasn’t very nice. Is that right, Gwyneth?’
The girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘It’s just that she could be a bit sharp sometimes, if you know what I mean.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
Gwyneth squirmed. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I don’t think it’s for me to say.’
‘But I do mind, Gwyneth. You see, if we are to find out who killed Toni Halliday, we have to know as much as possible about her, so all we want is the truth, good or bad. And what you tell us here remains here, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now, I get the feeling that you and Miss Halliday didn’t get along very well, and if that is the case, I’d like to know why.’
‘Well . . . it’s just that there was no pleasing her some days. It used to be nice working here, but everything changed when she came. It was like walking on eggs being around her, because you never knew what sort of mood she was in.’ Gwyneth rolled her eyes. ‘And the way she spoke to her mother—’
She stopped dead. Colour flooded into her face. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I didn’t mean . . .’ The colour deepened.
‘No need to apologize, Gwyneth,’ Paget said. ‘How did Miss Halliday speak to her mother?’
Gwyneth tilted her chin and looked squarely at Paget. ‘It’s just that I didn’t think it was very nice, that’s all, sir,’ she said, ‘’specially with her mum being ill and all. It was like Miss Toni was always trying to put her mum in the wrong and make her feel guilty so she’d give in to her.’
‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that for me, Gwyneth,’ Paget said. ‘Making Mrs Bromley feel guilty? About what?’
‘About everything. It was the way she said things. I know if I spoke to my mum like that I’d get a clip round the ear. It didn’t matter how nice Mrs B was to her, Miss Toni always managed to twist it around somehow to put her mum in the wrong. And it wasn’t only her mum; she did it with everybody.’
‘Again, can you give me an example?’
Gwyneth eyed him uncertainly. ‘Well, like yesterday morning. I was upstairs doing the rooms when she came along the corridor. Mrs B was just coming out of h
er room, and Miss Toni says, “I have to go into Worcester, so I’ll need the keys to the car.” Just like that! No “please” or anything like that. More like they were her keys. You’d have thought it was her car, not her mother’s.’
‘How did Mrs Bromley react?’
‘She said she wouldn’t mind a day out herself, and it would be nice to have lunch out for a change, just the two of them. But Miss Toni went right off the deep end. She said if her mother didn’t want to let her have the car, then why didn’t she say so straight out. She went on and on about her mother not trusting her with anything of her own. Got into a proper old snit about it, she did.’
‘What did her mother have to say?’
‘She gave in to her, sir,’ Gwyneth said with a puzzled frown. ‘She said if Miss Toni needed the car that badly, she could have it, then she went into her room to get the keys, and that was when Miss Toni spotted me tidying up in her bedroom. The door was wide open, so I couldn’t help but see and hear what was going on. I mean it wasn’t as if I was trying to listen; I was just there doing what I was supposed to, but she came to the door and told me to stop sneaking around and spying on her.’
‘What did she say, exactly, Gwyneth? Her words as near as you can remember them.’
‘Like I said, sir, she told me to stop spying on—’
‘Her actual words, if you don’t mind, Gwyneth,’ Paget said firmly.
The girl glanced around the room as if afraid of being overheard and lowered her voice. ‘It’s just that I wouldn’t want Mrs B to know I told you,’ she said, ’specially now her daughter’s dead.’
‘She won’t hear it from us,’ Paget assured her, ‘so, please, Gwyneth, tell me what Miss Halliday said.’
Gwyneth drew a deep breath. ‘She said, “And you can keep your shitty little snout out of my business, Miss Nosey Parker. Creeping around, spying on me so you can tattle-tale to the lord of the manor.” She meant Mr Bromley,’ Gwyneth explained. ‘She’d say things like that when Mr B wasn’t around. Sort of sneering, like, if you know what I mean. I told her I was just making the beds like I was supposed to, but she wouldn’t have it. She said, “Just remember your place here. One word from me and you’ll be out on your arse, and then where will you be? There’s not much call for scullery maids around here, is there?”’