6 - Superfluous Death

by Hazel Holt

  I’d gone to bed by the time Michael got in and the next morning, which was Saturday, he was rushing around in such a flap, packing his things to go away to stay with his friends in Cornwall for the weekend, that I didn’t have a chance to discuss my new theory with him.

  ‘Bye then, Ma. I’ll be back on Sunday evening—oh, about eight, I should think, but don’t get agitated if I’m later. And, yes, I’ll phone when I get there. Have a nice peaceful weekend.’

  I stood in the doorway and waved.

  ‘Take care! Love to Giles and Barbara! Drive carefully ...’

  The car turned out of the drive and he was gone. I went back into the house, turning over in my mind once again the possibility—now it seemed to me almost a certainty—that Jenny Drummond had murdered both Miss Graham and Carol. The trouble was, I had no proof.

  It was a cold morning and although the dogs rushed out into the garden when I opened the back door for them, and ran around leaping and barking, Foss took a few steps outside, felt the wind ruffle his fur and retreated back into the house. He looked up at me reproachfully (Foss always assumes that bad weather is my fault, though he never seems to give me credit for the good days), gave a wail of displeasure and stalked upsnd d up atairs, where I could hear him thumping on and off the various beds, trying to decide which one to favour with his presence.

  I did a little desultory housework, looked at the chaos that was Michael’s room and decided (as I so often do) to tackle it some other day. I was restless and couldn’t settle to anything, and, although there were several jobs I’d promised myself I’d do while Michael was away, I found myself putting on my coat and going out.

  I parked the car by the sea wall and walked along towards the harbour, clutching my scarf about me and keeping my head down because of the blustery wind. There was one other person out in this cold, unfriendly weather, leaning on the high wall, watching the boats bobbing up and down in the harbour basin below. As I approached I recognized the girl in the full grey coat, billowing out in the wind, which was whipping into tangles her long, tawny hair. It was Jenny Drummond. For a moment I hesitated, unsure whether I should turn and go back the way I’d come, but then with a sudden resolution I walked towards her.

  ‘Hello, Jenny,’ I said. ‘What very bracing weather!’

  She hadn’t been aware of my approach and, as I spoke, she turned, looking startled and confused.

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mrs Malory! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you—this wind! Are you exercising your dogs?’

  ‘No. I just felt restless and wanted to get out—you know the feeling.’

  ‘Yes, I felt rather the same. After all week cooped up in the office I needed to get out into the fresh air and clear my head and get a bit of exercise.’

  On an impulse I said, ‘Look, if you’ve nothing else to do, come back with me and have a coffee. Michael’s away for the weekend so I’ll be glad of a bit of company.’

  She drew her coat around her and said, ‘That’s very kind of you. I’d love to. Anyhow, I think I’ve probably had enough fresh air for the moment.’

  On the way back we talked of general things, the weather, the imminence of Christmas shopping and other banalities, and all the time I was wondering what, if anything, I was going to say to her about the murders.

  I dealt with the dogs’ usual exuberant greetings, banished them to their baskets and led the way into the kitchen.

  ‘Come and talk to me,’ I said, ‘while I put the coffee on.’

  I put the coffee and water into the machine and got two cups and saucers down from the dresser. I have never got used to mugs (although I keep a few for Michael, since that generation seems uneasy with saucers), never finding anywhere to put them down that wouldn’t ca woer. I havuse a ring or a heat mark on a polished surface. Jenny was idly examining my display of china on the dresser shelves.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got one of those George the Fifth coronation mugs, too,’ she said, ‘like Miss Graham’s.’

  I stood still, one cup in my hand. Then I put it carefully down on its saucer and said, ‘Yes, that’s right, she did have one.’ I turned and looked at her. ‘Fancy you remembering.’

  Jenny’s expression was indefinably wary and I was aware of a sudden tension. She gave a light laugh.

  ‘They’re rather unusual, I suppose. I saw it that day I took some papers round for her. You remember I told you I’d met her. She was so kind, gave me tea and cakes! We had quite a chat—I suppose she was lonely—that’s when she showed me the coronation mug; she was very proud of it.’

  ‘No,’ I said flatly.

  ‘What?’ Jenny looked at me in amazement.

  ‘No, that’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Miss Graham hated that mug. It was the only thing that her brother’s wife let her have when he died; she was furious. She hid it away in her china cupboard in the kitchen, never got it out, would certainly never have shown it to a stranger.’

  We were standing staring at each other now. There was a flicker of panic, gone in a moment, to be replaced by a smile.

  ‘What are you saying?’ she asked.

  ‘I think,’ I said slowly, with a feeling that I was burning my bridges, ‘that you saw it in Miss Graham’s cupboard when you put away the second cup and saucer—the other you left on the draining board—after she was dead.’

  ‘What do you mean? I wasn’t there that day.’

  ‘I think you were. Why else would you lie about the mug?’

  She shook her head. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I really don’t know what you’re getting at. If you’re accusing me of murdering Miss Graham—and the whole idea’s utterly ridiculous—then I must tell you that I was in the office all morning on the day she was killed. Ask Josie, she’ll confirm it, she was on reception all day. She’d have seen me go out.’

  ‘You didn’t go out that way,’ I said.

  She stared at me, her confidence suddenly shaken. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, there is no other way out.’

  ‘Actually there is,’ I said. ‘You forget that it was my husband who originally took those offices when he set up the practice, so I know the building very well. That little room on the ground floor, which is now your office, used to be the old scullery and there was a larder leading off it with a door that gave out on to the side alley at the back. When the place was converted into offices the larder was turned into a sort of stationery cupboard, but the door into the alley is still there. You somehow managed to find a key to fit the lock and were able to come and go without anyone seeing you. On the morning of Miss Graham’s death, I imagine you cancelled or postponed your appointments and slipped out, without anyone knowing. Am I right?’

  Her face was blank, but I could tell that she was thinking furiously. ‘And why,’ she said, ‘should I have wanted to kill an old woman I didn’t know?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. You were looking through Miss Graham’s file and came across all that business about the Trust and the possible development of the land and you realized then just how much money Ronnie Graham would inherit when his aunt died. That’s when you made up your mind to make him fall in love with you. It would have been very easy for an attractive girl like you to cast a spell over a man like that.’

  We stood there for a moment in silence and I wondered if she was going to deny the whole thing.

  ‘Why did you have to kill Carol?’ I asked. ‘Why couldn’t you have just gone away with Ronnie when the fuss over the murder had died down? Surely there was enough money for all of you?’

  She looked at me sharply. ‘You haven’t a scrap of proof, have you, for all this?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s all speculation.’

  ‘Who else knows about your little theory?’ she asked.

  ‘Michael does.’

  ‘But not the police?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Right, then. Since you’ve got so far, I’ll fill in the gaps. Murderers in books always seem to want to tell someone how clever they’ve been, and I can
see why. People are such fools, really. They always believe what you tell them. How did you know about Ronnie and me?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘Someone told me they’d seen you together at a service station on the M5,’ I said, ‘when you were both supposed to be sppoan>omewhere else.’

  ‘God! This place!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Yes, we were together that weekend. I had to make sure that he’d go along with the business about Carol. It was important he should have a watertight alibi for the night when she—she died.’

  ‘You made that terrible explosive?’ I asked. ‘But why? Why that way?’

  ‘Neat, wasn’t it?’ Jenny laughed. ‘I remembered something like it in a film I once saw. It wasn’t difficult to work out how to put it together—all the components were readily available. And, anyway, I didn’t think anyone would connect a woman with an explosive device. And they didn’t, did they?’

  ‘But all the other people you injured—children ...’

  ‘No one else was killed.’ Her voice was cold. ‘Only Carol. She wouldn’t have agreed to a divorce and I needed to be legally married to him to make sure that I got my share of the money.’

  ‘But he knew what you were doing?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said carelessly, ‘but he didn’t have any real option after the first death. That was a pity. It should have looked like an accident. I’d got hold of the digitalis when I went to see my aunt (she takes it for some sort of lung complaint) and if that fool of a doctor hadn’t been away he’d have signed the death certificate as heart failure without any sort of question. He’d been pestering the old woman about her flat, so he’d be pretty anxious that there’d be no inquiry about her death, since he’d have been a suspect himself.’

  ‘The police would still have been suspicious about the death, though,’ I said. ‘I was able to tell them about Miss Graham’s habit of always using her dishwasher, so the neatly washed-up cup and saucer on the draining board would have given you away.’

  ‘You’ve been very busy about all this, haven’t you?’ she said sneeringly. ‘Why? Is it because you’re just nosy and interfering or did you have an ulterior motive?’

  ‘Miss Graham was an old friend,’ I said. ‘Of course I wondered about her death, especially since I found her.’

  ‘And you haven’t told that policeman friend of yours about me?’

  ‘No, not yet, though of course—’

  ‘And you won’t.’

  I stood, backed up against the sink as she stood threateningly close. For a moment I wondered if she was going to attack me, but she merely said contemptuously, ‘Because if the police bring any sort of case against me, I shall say that I plotted the whole thing with that precious son of yours.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘People know we’ve been out a lot together. I’ve made sure of that; it made a very good cover for my affair with Ronnie.’ She laughed unpleasantly. ‘And remember, he had access to that file as well. I’ll tell them that after both murders we’d have been able to blackmail Ronnie for the rest of his life, wouldn’t we? And Michael and I could be living together somewhere abroad very comfortably on the proceeds. It’s a perfectly reasonable scenario.’

  I looked at her incredulously, but she was quite serious.

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘No one would believe you.’

  ‘You think not? Don’t be too sure; people are always ready to believe the worst of anyone. He couldn’t prove it wasn’t true. It would be his word against mine, and I can be very persuasive when I want. You ask Ronnie!’

  ‘It’s impossible—’

  ‘And even,’ she went on relentlessly, ‘if the police didn’t believe me, mud still sticks, doesn’t it? Especially in a little town like this.’

  I stood there in silence, not knowing what to say.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I won’t stay for the coffee. I’ve got a lot to do. I must see Ronnie and get some money from him if I’m going away—as I think I must, now. The first installment, that will be, an earnest of much more to come. I can find my own way out. Goodbye, and think very carefully indeed about what I said.’

  The door slammed and Tris came out from the dining room, barking, to investigate. I dropped to my knees and hugged him tight, as if by making some sort of contact I could free myself from this terrible numb feeling of incredulity and horror. The coffee machine made a sudden grumbling noise and I realized with a start that I was still wearing my outdoor coat.

  The phone rang and, in a daze, I moved to answer it.

  ‘Ma?’ It was Michael. ‘Just to let you know I’ve arrived safelyarrpan>

  With a great effort I pulled myself together.

  ‘Oh, good,’ I said, my voice sounding strained and unnatural. ‘Not too much traffic, I hope?’

  ‘Ma, are you all right? You sound a bit peculiar.’

  ‘No. No, I—I just rushed downstairs in a hurry.’

  ‘Oh, right, then. See you on Sunday.’

  ‘Goodbye, love, take care.’

  I put the phone down slowly. Then I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat on one of the kitchen stools. Tris sat at my feet looking at me anxiously.

  ‘Oh, Tris, what shall I do? I can’t tell Roger. I’m sure she wasn’t bluffing; she’s really vicious, and now I suppose she’s desperate and really dangerous.’

  All day I turned the problem over and over in my mind, but trying to think things through simply made me more confused. My instinctive reaction was to keep quiet, anything to spare Michael from whatever horrible accusation she might make. Let her go away, let life get back to normal. But then I thought of poor Miss Graham and Carol. Should their murderer, evil and amoral, be allowed to go free? That would be intolerable. My head ached and that night, in despair, I took a sleeping pill and sank gratefully into an oblivion where no questions needed to be answered.

  The next morning was no better. My head still ached and I felt sick and lethargic. Like some sort of automaton I fed the animals and made myself breakfast. Halfway through the day I suddenly thought of Ronnie Graham. On an impulse I picked up the telephone and dialled his number. The phone rang and rang, as though in an empty house. Perhaps he had gone away with Jenny. I didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

  I sat in a chair by the window and watched the clouds gather over the hill outside, all shades of black and grey, and then the rain came, driven by the wind in sheets across the ground. I sat on, not moving, not thinking of anything now, just being.

  I didn’t hear the car and was startled by the light suddenly being switched on and Michael’s voice.

  ‘Ma? What on earth are you doing sitting here in the dark? What’s the matter? What’s happened?’

  It was such a relief to hear his voice, to know that I was no longer alone, that someone else could think what should be done, that I found I was crying uncontrollably.

  Michael took my hand and sat beside me on the arm of the chair.

  ‘It’s all right, everything’s all right. Just tell me what happened.’

  So I told him.

  Michael was completely certain of one thing. We must tell Roger exactly what had happened.

  ‘But she’ll try to implicate you,’ I said again and again.

  ‘Now honestly, Ma, how could you think that Roger would believe that!’

  ‘But he might, and even if he didn’t she’d try to blacken your name. Professionally it could do you all sorts of harm! And you know what people here are like! No, we must think about it.’

  ‘All right. Don’t upset yourself any more. We’ll sleep on it and decide in the morning. Now, what about something to eat? I’m starving and I bet you are too.’

  I slept better that night, and without a sleeping pill, and the next morning I reluctantly agreed with Michael that we should go and see Roger.

  ‘I suppose we’d better ring first,’ I said, ‘to make sure he’ll be there.’

  I was just going into the hall when the phone rang. It was Roger.


  ‘Sheila? Something very surprising has happened. Ronnie Graham has killed himself.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘The neighbours became suspicious, and we found him in his car in the garage, with a hosepipe connected to the exhaust.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘The thing is, he’s left a note. Apparently he’d been having an affair with a girl called Jenny Drummond and together they plotted to kill his aunt and his wife. He’s written a very full account of it all.’

  ‘Good heavens!’

  ‘I think you know the girl,’ Roger went on. ‘She’s a friend of Michael’s, isn’t she?’

  ‘They work together,’ I said quickly, ‘and occasionally play badminton.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I thought Rosemary said—’

  ‘Oh’e="Tont>—I gave a little laugh—‘I did try to do a little match-making at one time, but that put Michael off, I think!’

  ‘Well, it seems to me he’s had a lucky escape. She sounds a pretty dangerous lady!’

  ‘Have you seen her?’ I asked.

  ‘No, she’s gone from her flat. Her car’s gone, too. Graham, in his note, said he’d given her all the money he had, so she could be anywhere by now. We’ve got a call out for her, of course. Poor chap. I don’t suppose he stood a chance with a girl like that.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose he did.’

  ‘She’d have gone on blackmailing him for the money for the rest of his life, but it wasn’t just that. He said he couldn’t live with the thought of what he’d done, what he’d condoned.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, well, I thought you’d like to know how things came out,’ Roger said.

  I went into the sitting room and told Michael what Roger had said.

  ‘I feel terribly guilty, though. If I’d said something straight away, Ronnie might still be alive.’