by Bruce, Leo
“Yes, yes,” said Carolus. “What was it you found?”
“I found she was as good as gold and a comfy easy little tricksky…. Oh, that. Well, I felt something with my foot that wasn’t a stone nor yet a log lying there, and I looked round to see what it was. And if you’ll treat me right, I’ll tell you, but I can’t call any witness, because she was only here for the day and went back on the bus that evening and I couldn’t find where she lived if I wanted. You did say a fiver, didn’t you?”
“I don’t think you need to tell me, Socker. I think I know.”
“No, you don’t, then. You couldn’t. It’s something you never could guess, lying out there.”
“Not a pair of boots?” said Carolus.
Socker stared at him resentfully.
“There’s only one person could have told you. You must have come on that lying deceitful slut and found out from her. The double-faced little harlot. The thieving underhanded trull.”
“No one told me anything. It was a guess. But you shall have your fiver. Let’s see them.”
Socker untied the string round the sack and pulled out a pair of nail-studded boots, almost unworn, but a little weather-beaten. Carolus examined them.
“They correspond with the footprints, of course? They were the ones bought in Northleach on the day before the murder?”
“Ay, they are. So it wasn’t my little baggage that told you, bless her? She was a nice soft little handful, all tricks and kisses, and I wouldn’t want to think she was a scheming grabbing one, when I’m seeing her again next Thursday.”
“No. No one told me. Is that all?”
“They weren’t twenty yards from where I found the old man’s body, and hidden just the same way. I can’t tell you no more because I don’t know anything more, but isn’t that enough? Doesn’t it tell you who did for him?”
“I knew that already. But it’s useful. Now take these to the police station, like a sensible chap.”
“That I won’t do. I’ll leave ’em in the bar, and if they like to give ’em to that Slott when he comes nosing round at closing time they can do so. Only don’t let him come asking me questions.” Socker paused, then added with scorn and disgust, “Affiliation orders!”
Not caring for this particular irrelevance, Carolus handed him his five pound-notes and watched him go.
Habbard appeared in the hall fingering a different but surely no less commemorative tie.
“Very glad to see you back,” he said. “We’ve been getting a terribly mixed lot of visitors this summer. Not at all the kind of people one expects in a hotel of this sort. Notice we’ve changed the lighting? All old ships’ lanterns now. You still trying to find out who killed poor old Willick?”
“I’m still interested in the case.”
“Extraordinary. That sort of thing would scarcely be up my street, I’m afraid. But I can’t see why you should have any problem. It can only have been the man Larkin. If you had seen him I’m sure you would have no doubt. He was a frightful cad; you could see that at a glance. The clothes he wore … really! And that dreadful voice. I ought to have told him we were full.”
“But he behaved perfectly well?”
“It depends on what your standards are, my dear chap.” Habbard grew lofty. “Personally I considered his behaviour that of an ill-bred boor. He had the impertinence to give me orders. If he’d had the smallest pretensions to being a gentleman he would have known better than that.”
“Of course,” said Carolus, who was amused.
“Then, like all persons of that class, he considered it gave him importance to complain of the servants. I don’t say our staff is faultless, but I flatter myself I’ve trained them to know their places. This Leech or Larkin shouted at them like a bargee, then came to me with complaints.”
“But he was only here one night.”
“Time enough, I assure you. Even when he came to pay his bill he was grumbling about the woman who cleaned his room. According to him she had opened his suit-case and examined his passport. He shouted at me about it as though I had been there.”
“He actually came and told you that Mrs Gunn had looked at his passport? That’s interesting. How did he know, I wonder?”
“She had admitted it, apparently. But I could not be expected to concern myself with the sordid details of a thing like that. How do you like these Tudor coffin-stools? The Association has just bought two hundred of them. They don’t like giving one of their hotels a thing unless the rest can have them. I understand we are all getting large punchbowls this year. We always make a real old English feast-day of Christmas. Great tradition. Our people respect that sort of thing. And of course the money would go in super tax if they didn’t.”
19
MRS GUNN’S short dumpy body was disappearing into Carolus’s room when he reached the top of the stairs. He followed her in, said good morning and asked how she was.
“Oh, you’re back, are you? Well I thought you’d come back and more than once I said to my daughter, ‘That gent’ll be back,’ I said. I’m fairly well thank you though this time of the year I have to be careful of my cough it comes on cruel in the early mornings and I don’t seem to be able to get rid of it.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“What’s the use now they’re on the National Health? There’s so many goes to try and get something out of it that anyone might be dying before they’d believe you weren’t making it up. Still, there you are, you can’t have everything. You’re the gent that asked me all those questions about that man that murdered poor Mr Willick, aren’t you? They know now it was him done it and thrown himself off a ship afterwards so I can’t see what there is to ask questions about, though sometimes I think people will never forget about it when I can’t have a quiet drink in the evening without them asking me what he looked like and that knowing that I did his room.”
“Very natural curiosity, Mrs Gunn. But I don’t suppose you can tell them much, because you only just caught a glimpse of Larkin once, didn’t you?”
“There was the next morning when I took his tray in after he’d jumped back into bed.”
“You saw him plainly then. Was he wearing his glasses?”
“To tell the truth he had his head almost under the clothes when I went in.”
“Then when did you see him?”
Mrs Gunn paused breathing heavily.
“I don’t know about see him,” she said at last, “but he was a nasty horrible fellow and anyone could tell he was a murderer the way he went on shouting at you as if you were I don’t know what then running with stories to Mr Habbard …”
“This is something you haven’t told me about.”
“You never asked did you? It’s only that when he got back that afternoon and came tearing in here as though he was being chased he knew by some means that I’d seen his passport and started shouting at me something wicked which I’m not used to and told him so double quick.”
“But how could he know?”
“He said something about the catch being opened and people spying at what didn’t concern them and asked me straight out if I’d looked at his passport so I turned round and told him, ‘What if I have?’ I said. ‘It was lying there wasn’t it?’ I told him; I said, ‘I don’t know what there is to make all this fuss about,’ I said, so he started shouting that he would complain to the manager and I turned round and said ‘You complain,’ I said, and he didn’t like that, taking him up like that I mean. I never told you about all this because it had meant trouble and I didn’t want to bring it up again. He was a nasty sort of man who made you feel queer to look at him and I for one wasn’t surprised when I heard he’d turned out to be a murderer. Now don’t ask me any more because I don’t know anything and I’ve got my work to get on with.”
“Thank you, Mrs Gunn.”
Suddenly a sound like a water-pipe with air in it came from Mrs Gunn and Carolus realized that she was giggling.
“I see that Socker waiting
to speak to you this morning and I said to myself I wonder what mischief he’s up to, I said. You don’t want to take any notice of what he tells you—he doesn’t know what it is to speak the truth and only thinks of one thing.”
Carolus, resisting the temptation to ask what that might be, left Mrs Gunn and came downstairs. The Old Snuggery was open now and he went in to find Rupert on a stool at the counter and Mickie leaning across so that their faces were close together.
“I’m going across to Packinlay’s,” Carolus said.
“You have my sympathy.”
He drove out to the Old Lodge and found Packinlay working in his garden. He did not give Carolus quite the hearty welcome of last time, seeming a little less boisterous since then.
“Hullo, Deene,” he said. “I heard you were coming back. Very glad to see you, but I can’t think what brings you now. Surely you can’t have any more doubts about this business?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“You accept the explanation which the police have accepted?”
“Oh no. But I know what happened. I’ve only come down here to tie up a few loose ends.”
“I see. Well, do come in. The wife will be pleased to see you. She’s not awfully well today, actually. Touch of laryngitis. Lost her voice.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Ethel Packinlay was in the sitting-room in which they had sat before, and greeted Carolus with a smile.
“I don’t think there’s any more I can tell you,” said Packinlay. “You pretty well pumped me last time you were here. It was like being up before old Buzzard. Remember?”
“I wish you could think of anything which throws light on the relationship between Gregory Willick, Lance Willick and Larkin. It’s so very confused in my mind.”
“It is in mine, rather. At least, not as between Gregory and Lance. That was a fairly normal uncle-and-nephew relationship. I don’t think they were enormously fond of one another or anything, but Gregory realized his obligations to Lance, who should have had an equal share with him of the family fortune, and Lance was grateful to Gregory for all he did for him. They were both reasonable men behaving reasonably. It is when we come to Larkin that the confusion arises.”
“Exactly. How did Lance like being landed with looking after Larkin in Tangier?”
“Not much, I fancy, but, as he was dependent on Gregory, I expect he felt he must do as he was asked.”
“Did he know all along that Gregory was paying quite large sums to Larkin?”
“Oh yes. I’m sure he did.”
“How did he take that?”
Packinlay suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“Look here, Deene, tell me straight, is that an important question?”
“It is, yes.”
“It’s really necessary for you to know the answer to that in order to clear up this whole thing?”
“It is really important.”
“As it happens, I can answer it, but only by admitting something I should have preferred not to mention. My wife always tells me I should keep my big trap shut, but in this case I’d better let you have it. You see, I once read a private letter of Gregory’s.”
“But good heavens, Packinlay, you were almost a private secretary to Gregory Willick.”
“I assure you he wouldn’t have looked at it like that. I’ve told you the precautions he always took with his personal letters. This was the only time I ever knew him to leave one lying about. It was on his study table, and he was called out to speak to one of the tenants and left it there.”
“And you read it. Who was it from?”
“Lance.”
“Oh, I see. Complaining about Larkin.”
“No. On the contrary, it seemed to me to bring out a rather nice side of Lance’s character. It was asking Gregory to send Larkin some more money, as he was broke again.”
“Gregory never knew you read it?”
“Good heavens, no! There would have been hell to pay. You ask my wife. She’ll tell you what Gregory was like when he was put out by anything. He certainly never knew about that. Now what about a drink, Deene? Darling, will you see what you can produce?”
Ethel Packinlay left them.
“Sorry she’s got this laryngitis,” said Packinlay. “So awkward to lose one’s voice.”
“Very. How long ago was it that you read that letter?”
“Must be about three years ago. My wife would probably remember better. She says I have no memory for dates.”
When the drinks were brought and handed round, Carolus raised his glass and waited breathlessly. He was rewarded.
“Good health!” said Ethel Packinlay.
Lunch at the Barton Bridge Hotel was every bit as good as its membership of an organization called the United Ancient Hostelries Association would promise it to be. The ‘great tradition of hospitality, good liquor and good fare’ which it had inherited was demonstrated by the menu. There was a soup described as cream of celery in which could be recognized a basis of tinned soup thinned down, there was a coloured cereal substance described as ham loaf, there was tinned Russian salad, there were tinned peas. The only item which had been through no process of preservation was the potatoes, which were boiled. This was completed by something described as ginger pudding.
“Ah,” said Rupert, gazing at the display of willow-pattern china over the new open fireplace with its ingle-nooks. “What it is to stay in an ancient hostelry. When I think that you have Mrs Stick at home to cook for you I realize what sacrifices you are prepared to make for the sake of the truth.”
But there were no sacrifices at Barton Place that night, for the dinner was excellent and Marylin was looking very beautiful. Carolus refrained from asking questions, but told with some animation of his adventures in Tangier.
Over coffee, however, he told Marylin that there were only two small matters he wanted to clear up with Mrs Hoppy and Ridge.
“Ridge will be over at his cottage now, but you could walk across if you want. Hoppy will be down in their sitting-room when they’ve washed up. Perhaps you would like to go down?”
“I find her a bit formidable,” admitted Carolus.
“I have a splendid idea. Her one passion is television. Couldn’t you want to see some programme or other and ask if you may go down? Hers is the only set in the house, needless to say.”
“Can I lie as wildly as that? What possible programme could I want to look at?”
“Let’s see. Armchair Theatre. No? Hancock’s Half-Hour? Criss-Cross Quiz? Discussion? Youth at the Helm? Wilfred Pickles? Godfrey Winn? I know it’s difficult. Ah, here you are. There’s some boxing. You could bear that. I’ll go and tell Mrs Hoppy you want to come down for it. She’ll be delighted.”
It seemed that Marylin was right. There was a suggestion of a smile on the tall woman’s face when Carolus reached her comfortable little sitting-room.
“It’s very kind of you, Mrs Hoppy. I just wanted …”
“To see the boxing. I was going to watch it myself. Sit down, sir. I don’t suppose you’d like a cup of tea?”
“I should, very much,” said Carolus. “There’s nothing …”
“Like a good cup of tea. No. I’ll put the kettle on at once. I don’t know what we should do without the television now we’ve got used to it. It’s funny Mr Gregory never wanted it nor Mrs Sweeny for that matter.”
“I’m sure it’s very interesting. Do you look, I mean listen, I mean watch, every evening or just…”
“When there’s something special? No. Every evening. We sit right through. I shouldn’t want to miss anything.”
It was Mrs Hoppy herself, fortunately, who turned to the subject of the murder.
“I hope you’ve cleared it all up to your own satisfaction, sir?”
“Well, in a way. There are still a few things that worry me. I was going …”
“To ask me about them? As long as it’s before This Week comes on at half-past eight I’m sure I’d be only too glad.�
�
“There seem to be such contradictions about Mr Gregory Willick himself. Some speak so highly of him and some …”
“Haven’t a good word to say. I know. Well, to my mind he was betwixt and between. There was good in him—no one could deny that—but he could be very awkward indeed sometimes and make people so angry that they’d threaten to do all sorts of things.”
“What about Mr Lance Willick?”
“We didn’t see much of him. He came here on leave once or twice during the war and seemed a very nice gentleman. Since he’s gone to live abroad he only comes down for a short time now and again.”
“Did he ever bring anyone …”
“To stay with him here? No, certainly not. He came to see Mr Willick on business.”
“So you had never heard of this man Larkin till the police wanted to interview him?”
“I seem to have heard the name spoken in the house, but that’s all. It’s nearly time to switch on, if there’s nothing else?”
“That’s for you to say, Mrs Hoppy. There’s no other question, but perhaps …”
“I might have something to tell you? There are things it’s not my place to talk about but there was this visiting of Mr Willick’s at the Old Lodge which no one can tell me was for nothing and if Mr Packinlay had suddenly got to know I don’t know what might have happened. Then there’s the Outside Staff and no one knows where he was that afternoon because I don’t believe that about him being over at Hill Wood. He told Mr Ridge he’d met a schoolmistress there and I don’t believe it because she’s a most respectable party. I don’t know what to think about Mr Gusset but I know he was angry with Mr Willick that day because he wouldn’t give him money for something. Now it’s time we switched on.”
There was no escape for the next hour, and Carolus had to bid a rather hasty farewell to Marylin, because he wanted to reach Ridge’s cottage before the chauffeur had gone to bed.
He was relieved to see a light in a downstairs window, and found Ridge alone, his wife having retired.
“I shall be glad if you’ll come in, sir. I was hoping I should have the chance of a word with you while you are here, because I’ve remembered something I think you ought to know, if I may be allowed to say so. Would I be presuming if I asked you to have a glass of beer?”