The Death of Kings

by Rennie George Airth

  She caught Madden’s questioning glance.

  ‘He was left a lot of money in her will, though I’m told he’s gone through most of it already. It meant he didn’t have to look for a job, something he’s never really had. However, I still don’t see what his marriage to Margaret might have had to do with Miss Blake’s death.’

  ‘Probably nothing,’ Madden agreed. ‘In fact this is what I meant by saying that inquiries of this sort have a way of delving into people’s private lives, and not always appropriately.’ He paused. ‘And on that note I think I should take my leave. Thank you for all your help. You’ve been very patient with me.’

  He prepared to rise to his feet, but checked his movement when he saw that his hostess was distracted. She had looked away at that moment, frowning. He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, and in the end it was he who spoke.

  ‘I’m looking forward to telling Helen about our meeting. She was eager to have news of you.’

  Mrs Castleton’s face cleared at once. She turned to him.

  ‘Will you tell her how very happy I am to hear that she did all she set out to do? And say I’d love to see her again.’

  ‘I’m sure it can be arranged.’ Madden smiled. ‘In fact I’ve a feeling she’ll be writing to you very soon. If I know Helen she’ll want you to come down to Highfield and spend a week-end with us.’

  ‘Nothing would make me happier.’

  She rose then and led him through the house, pausing in the sitting-room to point out a framed photograph resting on a table by a window. It showed a man dressed in white duck trousers and a striped vest standing at the wheel of a yacht with a wide expanse of ocean behind him. Madden recognized his face from the painting and the snapshot he had seen in Richard Jessup’s office.

  ‘That’s Jack,’ Mrs Castleton said. ‘We used to go sailing every summer. And there’s Richard, with Sarah.’ She pointed to another photograph. ‘That was taken at their wedding.’

  The couple stood arm-in-arm, Sir Richard in morning dress and his bride in a dazzling white gown. Slender, with fair hair that was cut short, Sarah Jessup, as she must just have become, faced the camera with a serious expression that was lightened by the hint of a smile playing about her lips. Although good looking enough in a conventional way, it was more the stamp of character that Madden fancied he saw in her face that impressed him.

  ‘You’ll hear people say that Richard, too, married her for her money.’ Mrs Castleton, standing at his shoulder, had noticed the direction of his glance. ‘Jessup’s was still in a bad financial state when they met and Richard was negotiating with the financial group headed by her father, Saul Temple. The war put a temporary stop to that, but later, when it ended, they made a substantial investment in the firm. It’s what pulled Jessup’s round in the end. You would have to know both Richard and Sarah to know how stupid and wrong those stories are. Richard fell head over heels in love with her and I fancy Sarah did the same. She’s a wonderful partner for him; every bit his match.’

  Having seen him out the front door, Mrs Castleton accompanied her guest to the garden gate down a gravelled path bordered by flower-beds and shaded, now that the sun was declining, by a tall box hedge. Reaching out to open the gate, she paused with her hand on the latch. Her expression was troubled. Madden recalled her distracted look earlier.

  ‘I’m still thinking of what we were talking about a moment ago,’ she confessed. ‘I feel I can’t let you go until I’ve unburdened myself. You hinted that if Rex in fact had had an affair with that young woman it could have had something to do with her death. Did you mean that Miss Blake might have been threatening to tell Margaret about it? That flirting with him in that theatrical manner was her way of warning him?’

  ‘It was just a thought.’ Madden responded cautiously. ‘It might explain why she was dangling the pendant in front of his eyes in that way. He may have given it to her when their affair ended. But that’s only a guess.’

  ‘I see . . .’ She bit her lip. ‘So what you’re wondering is whether Rex Garner might have been sufficiently disturbed by the thought of his infidelity being revealed to his wife to take drastic action.’

  Madden hesitated. He was on delicate ground.

  ‘It’s something I’ve had to consider,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I should explain. There are two possibilities. Either Miss Blake had the bad luck to fall victim to a man who had already served time for attempted rape, and who in all likelihood was half drunk when they met by chance in that wood. In that case his conviction for murder stands and everything else falls away. But if there was a miscarriage of justice, as the two detectives who were in charge of the investigation now believe is possible, then there must be another explanation for her death, and it may well have something to do with her strange behaviour that week-end.’

  Mrs Castleton nodded, understanding.

  ‘Then what I can tell you is that Rex would certainly have been upset at that stage in their marriage to have Margaret made aware of his failings,’ she said. ‘She was very much his meal ticket, if I can put it crudely—she gave him a large allowance—and while he may well have strayed during the two years they had been married, he’d been very careful up till then to keep his philandering a secret from her.’

  She hesitated. Madden was silent. He sensed she had more to say.

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you this,’ she went on after a moment. ‘But since you’re going to find out anyway, you might as well hear it from me. Rex spent some time in Hong Kong when he was a young man. Jack sent him out there as a trainee.’

  ‘I know about that. Sir Richard told me. He said Garner came back after only a year. Apparently it didn’t work out.’

  ‘That’s true. But there was another reason.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Rex was caught up in a scandal. Actually it was worse than that—he beat up a woman: quite savagely, I was told. She was Chinese, possibly a prostitute. The story was he was drunk. I never knew the details—Jack didn’t want to talk about it—and I don’t know what happened to the woman, whether she ever recovered from the beating. But what I do know is that it was Stanley Wing who got him out of trouble. Somehow matters were smoothed over and Rex was put on the next boat back to England.’

  ‘Did Sir Richard know that?’ Madden asked.

  ‘Of course, but he wouldn’t have told you about it. He’s like Jack was. He has old-fashioned notions of loyalty. He and Rex have known each other since boyhood. And although Richard finds their friendship a burden now—I think I can say that—he would still try to protect him if he could.’

  She held his gaze.

  ‘I feel no such loyalty to Rex,’ she said. ‘He’s a selfish, calculating man who has always managed to live off others, mainly women. He’s a sponger at heart. I don’t wish him ill, but if he did have anything to do with that poor girl’s death, he ought to answer for it.’

  10

  ‘SO YOU THINK IT’S a toss-up at best, do you, John? But surely there’s still a chance the Yard might go for it?’

  Angus Sinclair shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had been immobile for some time sitting under the apple tree in his garden listening to Madden, and although his gout-ridden foot no longer rested on a cushioned stool as before, it was still encased in its padded felt slipper; still tender.

  ‘They might.’ Madden scowled. ‘There’s enough doubt now to make Charlie Chubb think again. I’m not so sure about Cradock, though. He’s the one who’ll make the final decision and he’ll probably need more convincing.’

  ‘But he can’t deny that Garner’s a possible suspect.’

  ‘Possible being the operative word.’

  Madden rose to stretch his legs and to move the hose pipe that had been playing on one end of the rose bed behind where he was sitting. It was the day following his meeting with Adele Castleton and he had stopped at the chief inspector’s cottage on his
way back from the farm to give him an account of their conversation. Not surprisingly, it was Mrs Castleton’s opinion of Rex Garner’s character and how he might have reacted to any threat to his marriage that had aroused Sinclair’s suspicion.

  ‘If the case were to be re-opened, he could certainly be questioned about how well he knew Portia Blake.’

  Madden returned to his chair and sat down.

  ‘But whether that’s enough in itself to prod the Yard into action I can’t say. There’s nothing you could point to as evidence as yet. Garner’s disappearance on the day following that dinner and the fact that he didn’t show his face at the house again until after Portia Blake’s body was discovered are open to question. But he told Mrs Castleton he was going into Canterbury to meet a friend, and if he can back that up—if the friend, whoever it was, can give him an alibi—then presumably he’s off the hook.’

  The chief inspector growled.

  ‘There’s no avoiding the mistakes we made in the original investigation,’ he admitted. ‘We should have checked his alibi at the time; and we would have if Norris hadn’t been arrested with Miss Blake’s jewellery in his possession and if he hadn’t confessed to the murder so soon afterwards.’

  He shot a glance at Madden.

  ‘Still, never mind—even if it was eleven years ago it’s not too late. Garner can still be asked to name the friend he went to see.’

  ‘But not by me.’

  Madden had assumed they would get to this point and was ready with his response.

  ‘I can’t do that, Angus: checking alibis is a matter for the police; as would be tracking down the other members of the household—I’m thinking of the staff—which would probably be necessary if this turned into a full-blown investigation.’

  ‘Oh, I can see that.’ The chief inspector grunted. ‘And as I think I mentioned before, you’ve already done enough. I’m more than grateful. But I’m sorry to see you so pessimistic. Surely even Cradock will be forced to recognize that there was a lot more going on among Jessup’s guests that week-end than met the eye.’

  ‘Yes, but does that add up to one of them having a guilty secret? We’ve still no evidence of that. And if you’re thinking of Garner as the possible killer, there could be a problem with that. Once you put the actual murder under a microscope it becomes difficult to imagine how Portia Blake could have been killed by anyone other than the man who was sent to the gallows for it.’

  ‘Explain, would you?’ Sinclair frowned.

  ‘It’s a question of opportunity. How much time would someone other than Norris have had, first to kill her and then make his escape? Not long is the answer. Since Norris himself was already entering the wood and the young boys who found the body were coming up the hill from the other side, the murderer would have had at best only minutes to do what he did.’

  ‘But it was still possible.’ The chief inspector was insistent.

  ‘I agree—though only barely. But that’s not really the issue. The question is, could Rex Garner have done it?’

  ‘I’m not sure I follow you.’ Sinclair’s frown deepened.

  ‘I’m quite willing to believe he’s a bad lot; grasping and dishonest, and quite possibly violent when drunk or angry. But his assault on that woman in Hong Kong sounds to me more like the act of a brutal bully than a cool-headed killer. I mean the kind of man who could have strangled Portia in the few minutes he had available to him and then quietly made his escape without being seen. However, I haven’t met Garner, so all this is theorising. He doesn’t sound the type, that’s all. But he might be.’

  ‘And if not, then there was someone else staying at Foxley Hall that week-end who would fit the bill even better.’

  ‘You’re thinking of Stanley Wing.’

  Sinclair shrugged.

  ‘Well, whether or not he murdered Portia Blake, he’s certainly someone I’d look at carefully,’ Madden agreed. ‘If there was some plan afoot—some idea of blackmailing Garner—then it’s likely he was involved in it. From what Jessup told me about him, there doesn’t seem much he would have stopped at. But whether that can be proved against him is another question. Assuming he’s still in prison, he can certainly be interrogated; but how willing he’d be to cooperate with a British police inquiry into a murder he might have been involved in remains to be seen.’ He glanced at the chief inspector. ‘You’re right, Angus. I’m not very optimistic.’

  Sinclair’s growl suggested he was none too sanguine himself.

  ‘And there’s something else we’ve lost sight of,’ Madden went on. ‘The note that was sent to Derry: the one that started this off. We’ve still no idea who was behind it, whether he or she actually discovered Miss Blake’s pendant still lying in the wood, or came across it in some other way: whether in fact they really know something about the murder or are simply making mischief. I can’t claim to have made any progress in that direction. It’s still a mystery.’

  Madden studied his old friend’s face.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is I think I’ve done all I can.’

  • • •

  ‘Poor old Angus. He was doing his best to put on a brave face, thanking me for the help I’ve given him. But I think he was secretly hoping I’d keep going; keep asking questions.’

  Madden lowered himself into an armchair. He had a glass of whisky in his hand and he took a sip of it before sitting back with a sigh. Hamish, who was lying on the hearth-rug, lifted his heavy head at the sound and surveyed his master for a long moment as though estimating his chances of being taken out for a walk before lowering his head again and shutting his pouched eyes.

  ‘I had to tell him I’d reached the end of the road.’

  ‘But you haven’t spoken to Rex Garner yet. Couldn’t you go and see him?’

  Lucy looked up from the dress she was working on, her darting needle still for a moment. She was sitting on the sofa beside Helen, who was occupied with going through her weekly accounts, running her pencil up and down the columns, frowning. Recently she had taken to wearing spectacles for reading and it was a source of wonder to Madden to see how a pair of simple horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose somehow added a new dimension to a face that had never ceased to hold him in thrall.

  ‘I’ve thought about that and decided against it. If the Yard does move to re-open the investigation they’ll want to tackle him cold. If I went to see him—and if he was involved in Portia Blake’s murder—it would put him on his guard, and he’d have time to cook up a story.’

  ‘Aren’t you afraid that Sir Richard Jessup might warn him?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I don’t believe for a moment that he’d deliberately try to undermine a police investigation if one got under way.’

  ‘But you don’t think it will, do you?’

  ‘Not as things stand.’

  ‘Well, then . . .’ Lucy’s disappointment was plain. ‘It’s all been rather a waste of time, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ Madden sipped his whisky. ‘I’ve met some very interesting people, two of whom I really liked, which reminds me . . .’ He glanced at Helen, who looked up at that moment. ‘Have you written to Mrs Castleton?’

  ‘I posted the letter today. I’ve asked her to come and stay with us for a week-end next month. I left it up to her to choose the dates.’

  ‘Was she like Violet said she was?’ Lucy asked. She bit through the thread of cotton she was using and laid her sewing down. ‘Doomed looking?’

  ‘Not that I noticed.’ Madden chuckled. ‘But I could see how fascinating she must have been to men. There’s a quality of mystery about her.’ He paused. ‘No, that’s the wrong word: it’s a sense of depth, rather. She’s someone you almost immediately want to know better.’

  ‘But you escaped from your encounter unscathed?’

  Madden eyed his daughter. She giggled.

>   ‘According to Violet she used to leave all the men she cast a spell on . . . How did Violet put it, Mummy?’

  ‘Alone and palely loitering.’ Helen’s gaze remained fixed on her columns of figures.

  ‘You don’t look pale, Daddy.’ Lucy peered at her father. ‘But I shall be keeping a close watch on you.’

  ‘Watch all you want.’ Madden downed the last of his whisky and stood up. ‘I’m going to take Hamish for a walk before supper and see which trees in the orchard need pruning.’

  ‘But are you really going to give up on Angus’s case?’ Lucy made a final appeal. ‘It doesn’t seem right just to drop it this way. What if something comes up . . . something new and unexpected?’

  ‘Then Charlie Chubb will be ideally placed to spring into action. I’m going to see him when I go up to London next week. I’ll tell him what I’ve learned about Garner and Wing and everything that went on during that week-end. After that it will be up to him and Cradock to decide what to do. I wash my hands of it.’

  Whistling to Hamish he made for the door to the terrace, but paused when he heard his daughter mutter something.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, Daddy.’ She offered him one of her brilliant smiles.

  ‘What did she say?’ he asked Helen.

  She glanced up over her glasses.

  ‘Like Pontius Pilate.’

  • • •

  Sundays began slowly in the Madden household. Early risers on every other day of the week, Madden and his wife seldom went downstairs for breakfast before nine o’clock, while Lucy, when she was staying with them, was capable of spending the entire morning in bed (to recover, she said, from the rigors of her London life). Thereafter the day was devoted to the enjoyable pursuits of leisure: to reading under the trellised vine that gave shade to part of the terrace or attending to small and undemanding tasks in the house and garden. Although strictly speaking on call as the village’s only doctor, Helen rarely stirred from the house except in an emergency, while Madden went to the farm only when he felt his presence there was necessary, as it seldom seemed to be these days.