In The Shadow of Evil

by Frank Smith

  And his eyes were shifty, according to Tregalles, who took an immediate dislike to him.

  Paget led Paul through the events of Thursday afternoon and early evening, and found nothing in his story that conflicted with what he’d heard before. Paul admitted that his reason for coming down from London was to try to borrow money from his brother, but dug his heels in when Paget asked what the money was for.

  ‘It has absolutely nothing to do with this investigation,’ he insisted. ‘And, with all due respect, Chief inspector, I don’t think it is any of your business.’

  Paget didn’t press the point. Time enough for that later if it appeared to be relevant.

  When asked about his movements after Nash had gone, Paul said he’d gone up to his room. ‘I had a headache,’ he said. ‘I get them when I’m over-tired.’ He went on to explain that he’d taken a couple of tablets during his drive down the day before, and he’d left the rest of them in the glove box. So when he felt another headache coming on, he said, rather than go down for them, he went along to Margaret Bromley’s room to ask if she would let him have a couple of paracetamol tablets, because he knew she suffered from headaches herself.

  ‘Unfortunately, she didn’t have any,’ he said. ‘She said she’d been meaning to get some, but it had slipped her mind, so I went down to get them from the car.’

  Paget asked him about his encounter with Mrs Lodge at the top of the stairs. ‘Why were you in such a hurry, Mr Bromley? Mrs Lodge says you almost knocked her down.’

  Paul smiled. ‘Mrs Lodge does tend to exaggerate,’ he said, ‘although I suppose I did startle her. But I didn’t actually bump into her.’

  ‘Did you tell her you were going to the village?’

  Paul thought for a moment. ‘I think she asked if I wanted anything to eat,’ he said, ‘and I said I’d get something later if I needed it.’

  ‘She also said you were holding a handkerchief to your face, and she saw blood.’ Paget pointed to the jagged scar on Paul’s face. ‘How did you get that cut, Mr Bromley?’

  Paul grimaced. ‘I stepped inside Margaret’s room while she looked for her tablets,’ he said. ‘The door must have swung partly shut behind me, because when I turned to go I ran right into the edge of it. Didn’t do the headache any good either, I can tell you.’

  ‘I see,’ said Paget neutrally. ‘Please go on.’

  Paul said he had gone down to his car, found the tablets, and taken two of them, washing them down with water from a flask he always carried when driving. He went on to say he’d remained in the car while he tried to decide what to do about the money he needed, since Charles had refused to help him.

  ‘I was very tired,’ Paul explained. ‘I’d been up half the night before, then driven down from London in all that heat. The head was still aching, so I put the seat back to rest it, and I fell asleep.’

  Paget looked sceptical. ‘And how long do you estimate you were asleep?’ he asked.

  ‘Three quarters of an hour, give or take. I looked at the time when I woke up, and it was ten to nine, and it was raining hard, so I decided to wait for it to let up. But when I realized it wasn’t going to, I made a dash for the house.

  ‘Charles saw me come in,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he’ll remember.’

  ‘And you left for London shortly after that?’ Paget said.

  ‘Yes. About an hour later. My head was feeling better, and there didn’t seem to be much point in hanging about until morning, so I left. It was still raining, of course, but I ran out of the storm after about an hour, and it was clear sailing after that, no traffic to speak of, and I got home shortly after two o’clock.’

  ‘And after that . . .?’

  Paul said he’d gone to bed for a few hours, then made the rounds of his friends later in the morning.

  ‘Trying to raise the money you needed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you successful?’

  ‘I was, yes.’

  When Paget asked him how he’d spent the rest of the day, Paul said he’d gone into the office to pick up some papers relating to a property in which a client was interested.

  ‘It’s a commercial property,’ he explained, ‘and my client had rung up to ask if I’d go over it with him. I was on my way to see him when I heard the news on the car radio. I couldn’t believe it at first, but then I heard it again. It was a terrible shock, I can tell you. I met with the client, concluded our business, then came straight on down here.’

  ‘From . . .?’

  ‘Oxford. That’s where the property is.’

  ‘What time did you leave Oxford?’

  Paul sat forward in his chair. ‘Look, Chief inspector,’ he said in a let’s-be-reasonable-about-this tone of voice, ‘isn’t this becoming a bit ridiculous? All this business about times and trivial details . . .’

  ‘Do you find murder trivial, Mr Bromley?’

  Paul flushed. ‘No, of course not. That’s not what I—’

  ‘Good. So what time did you leave Oxford?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Paul flared. ‘I don’t know what time it was when I left bloody Oxford. If I’d known there was going to be an inquisition, I’d have looked at the clock.’

  Paget ignored the outburst. ‘Let’s try it another way. What time was it when you arrived here last night?’

  Paul sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know – it must have been about eleven. Charles was still up. I’m sure he’ll remember.’

  ‘Why did you come?’

  ‘Why?’ The question took Paul by surprise. ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘I mean why this sudden dash across the country when you heard the news? I gather you didn’t know Miss Halliday particularly well.’

  ‘Well, I . . .’ Paul fumbled for words. ‘It just seemed the right thing to do,’ he said at last. ‘I mean, I’d been here the night before, sitting next to Toni at dinner, and now she was dead. She was more or less my niece – well, in a way, through Charles, if you see what I mean?’ He stumbled to a halt.

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t see what you mean,’ Paget said. ‘Because if that was the only reason, why not wait and come down first thing this morning. Surely that would have done just as well?’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Paul said stiffly, ‘because I knew Margaret would be in a state of shock and I felt I needed to be here if only to offer moral support, so to speak.’

  ‘Very commendable, I’m sure,’ said Paget drily. He looked at Tregalles. ‘Do you have any questions, Sergeant?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ said Tregalles. ‘I would like to know more about this money you say you needed, and why you would come all the way down here to ask your brother for it, rather than ask these friends of yours in London for it in the first place? Especially since they seemed to be quite prepared to give it to you within hours of your return to London.’

  ‘It was a matter of pride, if you must know,’ Paul said loftily. ‘It’s not the sort of thing one likes to ask of friends, and Charles had always come through in the past. But not this time. In fact, he claims to be strapped for cash himself.’ He made a face. ‘I suppose he could be telling the truth, when you consider how much it costs to keep this place up. God knows how much he’s poured into it over the years.

  ‘But, no, Granny Bromley made him promise to keep the manor in the family, no matter what, and she could always count on Charles to do anything she wanted. But times change. The local developers have been trying to get him to sell off some of the land for years, and if he had any sense he’d take the money and run. Instead, he’s selling it off bit by bit to the local farmers on the understanding that they will keep it as farmland, then sinking the proceeds into this old place.’ Paul glowered. ‘And I wouldn’t have had to go begging to friends,’ he concluded sullenly.

  ‘So why didn’t you return to London straight away?’ Tregalles asked. ‘You say this argument with your brother took place in the middle of the afternoon, yet you waited until something
like ten o’clock to leave.’

  Paul shrugged. ‘Don’t know, really,’ he said. ‘I suppose I thought if I stayed over, I might get him in a better mood next morning, and he’d change his mind. Charles has come around before. But the more I thought about it, the less I thought it likely, so I left.’

  ‘And your friends came up with the money in a matter of hours,’ Tregalles observed drily. ‘I wish I had friends like that.’

  Paget stirred in his seat. ‘Thank you, Mr Bromley,’ he said. ‘We won’t detain you any longer, but I would like your business address, if you don’t mind.’

  Paul took out a business card and handed it to Paget.

  ‘And your client’s name, address, and telephone number, if you have it,’ Paget said. ‘The client you went to see in Oxford.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ Paul turned to face Paget. ‘My client has nothing to do with your investigation, and I refuse to drag him into it.’

  ‘Nevertheless, Mr Bromley, I would like the name and address,’ Paget said. ‘You have told us you were in Oxford yesterday, and we may wish to verify that.’

  Paul’s answer was to turn and walk to the door.

  ‘Would you prefer that I get the information from your employer?’

  Paul stopped. Grim-faced, he took out a notebook and gave Paget the information.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Bromley. Just one more question, sir, before you go. I understand that you and Mrs Bromley are engaged in some sort of business venture. Would you mind telling me what it is?’

  Paul’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as if suspecting some sort of trap. ‘Sorry . . .?’ he said.

  The silence between them lengthened. ‘Perhaps I misunderstood,’ Paget said. ‘Can I take it, then, that you are not engaged in a business deal of some sort with Mrs Bromley?’

  ‘You can take it any way you please,’ Paul snapped, ‘because I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.’

  ‘In that case, thank you, Mr Bromley,’ Paget said pleasantly. ‘I trust you will let us know if or when you plan to leave, because I’m sure we will need to talk again before you go.’

  ‘I think we’d better have another chat with Mrs Bromley,’ he said when Paul had gone. ‘So let’s go and find her before Paul has a chance to talk to her and they sort out their stories.’

  Directed by Mrs Lodge, they found Margaret Bromley in the summer house on the west side of the house. Set in a semi-circle of Katsura trees, their leaves already tinged with autumn colours, it was a pleasant, warm and restful spot. And Margaret Bromley, sitting in a cushioned rattan chair, with a book in her lap, had fallen asleep. She looked so relaxed and peaceful that it seemed a shame to wake her.

  Paget coughed discreetly, then louder. Mrs Bromley opened her eyes and tilted her head to squint at them against the sun, and sighed. ‘There’s no escape from you, is there, Chief Inspector?’ she said as she pulled herself upright in the chair. Her words were delivered lightly, but Paget sensed annoyance there as well.

  ‘I do apologize for disturbing you again, Mrs Bromley,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, we don’t have much choice, and I’m hoping you can help us. You see, Gwyneth Jones didn’t come home last night. She seems to have disappeared.’

  ‘Gwyneth? Disappeared? That’s not like her at all. Are you quite sure there isn’t some mistake?’

  Paget shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Bromley,’ he said gravely. ‘Her mother told us much the same thing, so we are taking her disappearance very seriously.’

  ‘You don’t think anything has happened to her, do you? One hears such dreadful things these days.’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Paget told her candidly. ‘Can you think of anywhere she might have gone? Anything she may have said to you that might suggest where she’s gone?’

  Mrs Bromley shook her head. ‘Sorry, but nothing comes to mind,’ she said. ‘Her mother has no idea?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Sorry to have troubled you again, Mrs Bromley.’ He made as if to turn away, then paused. ‘But perhaps you can help me with another matter?’

  ‘If I can,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘It’s a matter of clarification, really. Tell me, when you went out the other night to try to find your brother-in-law, did you actually look in his car?’

  ‘No. When I saw it sitting there in the garage, I assumed he had walked to the village. It never occurred to me that he might be in the car. It might have saved me a lot of trouble if I had,’ she concluded with a nod toward her swollen ankle.

  ‘How is it today?’

  ‘Somewhat better, thank you. The swelling is going down, but I still have to be careful. Perhaps if I hadn’t been in such a hurry and I’d looked where I was going . . .’

  Tregalles spoke up. ‘Like Mr Bromley’s accident,’ he said. ‘Your brother-in-law running into the door.’

  Mrs Bromley looked puzzled. ‘The door . . .?’ she said hesitantly. ‘Sorry, Sergeant, but I’m afraid you’ve quite lost me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Bromley,’ he said contritely, ‘but I thought he said it was your door he ran into on Thursday evening?’ She still looked mystified. ‘The cut on his face?’

  Unaccountably, colour rushed into Margaret Bromley’s face. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘The door. Yes, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’d quite forgotten. It was . . .’ She stopped speaking. The light in her eyes died. It was as if a shutter had dropped down behind them, leaving her face blank and featureless.

  It was happening again.

  Paget bent and waved a hand in front of her eyes. Nothing. No response. He touched Margaret Bromley’s shoulder. ‘Mrs Bromley?’ he said quietly. ‘Can you hear me?

  No response. ‘Mrs Bromley?’ he said louder. Suddenly, she shivered and shrank back in her chair. ‘Chief Inspector . . .?’ She seemed surprised to find him standing there. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was . . .’ She sighed heavily. ‘It happened again, didn’t it?’ she said with weary resignation. It wasn’t a question. ‘Sorry, Chief Inspector. I’m all right now. You were saying . . .?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be best if we go back to the house,’ Paget suggested solicitously. ‘I’m sorry if my question upset you.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we should.’ Margaret Bromley picked up her walking stick and eased herself forward in her chair. Paget offered his hand, and was somewhat surprised when she grasped it tightly and allowed him to help her out of the chair. He was even more surprised when she said, ‘I’ll take your arm, if you would be so kind. I’m afraid the ankle isn’t healing quite as quickly as I’d hoped.’

  She leaned heavily against him as they made their way across the lawn. He felt sure that what he and Tregalles had just witnessed had not been faked, but it had occurred immediately following a question about Paul’s alleged encounter with a door. And it was clear she had not known what Tregalles was talking about.

  Walking beside her, Tregalles asked another question. ‘It’s about something Julian said. He told us that, when he was on his way down from the top end of Manor Lane, Dr Lockwood’s car was coming up. He said it passed him just before he reached the gate. Yet you made no mention of seeing the doctor on your way back to the house. Did you not see him go by?’

  Paget felt Margaret Bromley stiffen, but she answered readily enough. ‘You’re quite right, Sergeant,’ she said. ‘I did see Dr Lockwood – at least I saw his car. He passed me in the lane, but I’d quite forgotten it until you reminded me. Sorry, but I really don’t see—’

  ‘He passed you, Mrs Bromley? He must have seen that you were having difficulty walking, to say nothing of getting soaking wet. Didn’t he stop and offer you a lift?’

  ‘I . . . I was at the entrance to the stable yard . . . well, inside it by that time, actually, so he wouldn’t have seen me.’

  ‘Too bad he didn’t come by sooner,’ Tregalles said. ‘It would have saved you from having to walk all that way back.’

  They continued on to the house in silence and went inside. Paget
offered to escort Mrs Bromley up to her room, but she declined, saying she preferred to tackle the stairs on her own because it was easier that way.

  It was clearly a lie, and they both knew it, but lie or not, it was also clear that they were being dismissed.

  SIXTEEN

  ‘Lies,’ Paget muttered softly when Margaret Bromley had gone. ‘I don’t know how Paul came by that cut on his face, but I’m sure it had nothing to do with a door, and Mrs Bromley knows it. The question is: why is she going along with his story? And you certainly hit a nerve when you asked her about seeing Dr Lockwood.’

  ‘I couldn’t see how she could get all the way back to the manor without help,’ Tregalles said. ‘Maybe she didn’t go down the lane at all. Maybe there’s something going on between her and Lockwood. Julian as good as suggested there was. But whether there is or not, she was certainly evasive.’

  ‘Evasive? That’s putting it mildly,’ Paget declared. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we’ve heard precious little in the way of truth from any of them.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you to it,’ he told the sergeant. ‘I have at least half a week’s work sitting on my desk, and if I don’t get it done over the weekend, I’ll have Mr Brock on my back, and that is something I can do without. And since I’m taking the car, have Len send someone up for you when you’re finished here. In the meantime, see if Julian’s about and, if he is, have another go at him. Find out if he knows anything about Gwyneth. She’s a good-looking girl, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’s tried it on with her at some time or other. And see if you can shake his story about where he went and what he did the night Toni died. After that, go and see Dr Lockwood. I doubt if he can help us in the search for Gwyneth, but let’s see if his story matches that of Mrs Bromley and Julian.’

  Julian was not being particularly helpful. He claimed to know nothing about Gwyneth’s private life, and said he resented the suggestion that he might. ‘I mean she’s all right, but she is just the maid,’ he said disdainfully. ‘Although one would hardly know it by the way Charles treats her.’