by Alan Hunter
Because he was about so early they weren’t ready for him down below, and it was half an hour before the solitary waitress began to furbish his table for breakfast. He was midway through the meal when he heard a car park: Eyke. The local Inspector came in briskly, a gleam in his usually cautious eye.
‘Sir, I think we’re on to something!’
‘Sit down, and pour yourself some coffee.’
‘Sir, this could be important ...’
Gently nodded to the waitress, who lounged at the hatch a short distance away.
‘Miss, another cup.’
Eyke sat down, but clearly he was holding himself in with difficulty. He gulped his coffee, and watched impatiently while Gently spread honey on a second piece of toast. But the waitress continued to hover, and Gently to avoid his eye. Finally, it was in the empty lounge that Gently stuck his pipe in his mouth and said:
‘Now!’
‘It’s the lab boys, sir. They were out early this morning at the scene.’
‘Looking for what?’
‘They’d got a theory, sir, which they wanted to check out. They were a bit narked because we were chasing them and they tried what you said with a lump of horse-meat. That gave them a bright idea, and they wanted to check if it was on.’
‘And what was the bright idea?’
‘That Quennell was shot with an arrow, sir, by a chummie concealed in that hollow bush.’
‘An arrow ...!’
‘Yes, sir, a sharpened arrow, probably one with a metal tip. I met them out there just now, and they’re pretty certain that’s what happened. As Quennell walked past the bush, chummie let fly into his back.’
Gently dragged hard on his pipe. An arrow ... was it credible? It would certainly answer all the queries, about both the weapon and the scene. The latter especially: it had gone on bothering him how chummie had successfully approached his victim, soundlessly emerging and stalking him until in a position to strike the blow. But waiting in the bush with a drawn bow ... that was an answer to every objection. And through the gap cut in the bush, hadn’t he seen Eyke’s back come into view when Eyke had been precisely at the spot where Quennell had fallen?
‘Is there a local archery club?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Perhaps one could forgive Eyke’s note of complacency! ‘I know the secretary, sir, Dick Barham, and I rang him before I came here. According to him the membership is mostly from Ipswich, and offhand he knew of nobody who lives in the village. But they shoot in the forest near Grimchurch. Colonel Janson, sir – he was a member.’
‘Never mind Colonel Jonson! Has Barham a list?’
‘Yes, sir. He’s checking it for me.’
‘Ring him again.’
‘I gave him this number, sir. Unfortunately, he keeps the records at his office.’
A stupid delay. Fretfully, Gently threw himself down on one of the lounge’s orange-seated chairs. In the list in that idiot’s office might be the single, the vital entry. Suddenly, they’d got a lead that could point in a definite and unequivocal direction – given half a grain of luck. In minutes they could know which way it was to go ...
‘Where is Barham’s office?’
‘In Stansgate, sir. He should be there by now.’
Probably reading his mail or chatting to his secretary: anything but getting out that list.
Chewing on the pipe, Gently stared at the paintings that crowded the lounge walls, each ticketed with a price and the name of some hopeful dauber.
‘Sir, did you speak to Paul Tallis?’
‘I didn’t think to ask him if he was an archer!’
‘Well ... no, sir. What I was wondering was how much he knew about his uncle.’
It was a fair question. Mastering his impatience, Gently gave Eyke a synopsis of his visit, of the ambivalent impression he had received, his conclusion that Paul Tallis knew more than he was saying. Eyke listened blank-faced.
‘So like that, sir, his uncle had cause to be a bit worried.’
‘That’s how it looks. Paul Tallis knows plenty, but he’s making believe to stand by his uncle.’
‘Making believe, sir?’
Gently hesitated. ‘That’s the impression I finally came away with. That young Paul was protesting a little too much and wasn’t averse to my suspecting his uncle. By his account there’s no ill-feeling. He was ready to excuse his uncle for everything. But he took care to bring out the case against him and to let me think that Miss Quennell knows some more about the yachting tragedy.’
‘That could be true, sir. Quennell may have talked about it at home.’
‘In that case Frank Quennell would know of it. And he would have been the first to throw it at us.’
‘Something she heard and he didn’t, sir.’
Gently shrugged and sieved smoke.
‘You say he saw her with the letter in her hand?’
‘Just a letter. According to him.’
‘Well, that fits in, sir ...’
‘That’s the trouble. Young Paul is bright enough to read between the lines.’
He blew smoke towards the paintings.
‘Listen. I threw him a trick question. Kick-off at Portman Road was three o’clock, and I’d like to be certain he was there to see it. I’ve a description of his car, which according to him was parked in the station yard from about half-past twelve. Also he may have had lunch in the pub opposite. See what Ipswich can turn up on that.’
‘You’re thinking, sir ...?’
‘Paul Tallis is a nice lad, but if he’s holding something back I want to know it.’
There was stationery on the table: Gently jotted down details. He was still scribbling when the waitress came to summon Eyke to the phone. Five minutes later Eyke returned with his face full of news.
‘This has to be it, sir.’
‘Get on with it!’
‘The Tallis brothers, sir. They were both members. The old man, Walter, was a founder member, and both his sons are listed.’
They stared at each other.
‘How long ago was it?’
‘Not since 1959, sir. Barham rang a senior member and got some details from him. It seems the Tallises fancied the old lance-wood bows and dropped out when the modern bows came in. But old Walter used to shoot in his garden after that, and likely his sons did too.’
Gently sucked at a dead pipe. ‘Can you get a warrant?’
‘Yes, sir. Right away.’
‘Get it.’
Eyke nodded and hurried back to the phone.
And suddenly a feeling of inevitability, of cards beginning to come off the pack. The more so when they collared Raymond Tallis just about to step into his car.
‘I’m afraid we shall need you, Mr Tallis.’
‘What—? I’m late for business already—’
‘We require your presence.’
And in his shifty eyes a quirk of helpless fear ...
‘What’s my nephew been saying?’
‘Shall we go in?’
You could almost smell the fear on him. With a sort of childish petulance he slammed the door of the Daimler and stumped before them into the house. In the hall they met Julia Tallis, still in a dressing-gown, and her eyes too were big with apprehension.
‘What’s it about now, Ray—?’
She followed them into the lounge, which smelled shut-up and stale with cigar smoke.
‘Listen, I demand to know—’
‘Please sit down, Mr Tallis.’
‘But I tell you, I’m overdue at the business.’
Nevertheless, he plumped down in a chair.
‘Now ... just one or two questions.’
There was certainly fear in that gloomy room!
‘I understand you used to be an archer. How long ago since you gave it up?’
‘I ... what?’
The creased eyes had sprung open, and the fleshy mouth dropped. He gazed helplessly at Julia Tallis, whose face looked pallid and unwashed.
‘Good God, are you
suggesting—?’
‘Just answer the question, Mr Tallis.’
‘Oh no,’ Julia Tallis wailed, and she too dropped on to a chair. ‘Well?’ Gently said.
‘This is ... fantastic.’
‘Is there archery equipment on the premises?’
‘No – yes, there may be! Arthur may have kept his gear. But I can’t believe ...’ He stared fearfully at Gently. ‘Look, you’ve got to tell me what Paul’s been saying! He’s capable of inventing any story – ask his mother, if you don’t believe me.’
It’s true,’ Julia Tallis wailed. ‘Paul has never forgiven Ray for marrying me. You mustn’t believe him. And Ray hasn’t touched a bow since he was a young man, living at home.’
‘Have you ever used a bow, Mrs Tallis?’
‘I! You can’t imagine—’
‘But have you?’
‘All right, I have! But it was only to please Arthur.’
‘So where is your archery equipment kept?’
‘Can’t you understand? This was years ago when we were first married, before Paul came. I don’t even know if we still have any.’
‘But if you had, where would it be?’
‘This – this is just unbelievable!’ Raymond Tallis broke in. ‘I was never even keen on the wretched sport. It was father and Arthur who shot in matches. They dressed up in Lincoln green, pretending they were Robin Hood or something. Then the club opted for the new bow, and father let our membership lapse.’
‘But there was shooting after that?’
‘Not by me! And father died in ’63.’
‘Do you mind if we take a look round?’
With a burst of defiance, Raymond Tallis said: ‘Just try it!’
‘A search warrant is on its way.’
Julia Tallis gave a low moan. She sat with clasped arms: she looked sluttish in the dressing-gown, which gaped to reveal an ample figure. Tallis was breathing a little fast and darting fearful looks at Gently. There was darkness under his eyes, suggesting he hadn’t slept too well.
‘If you find Arthur’s bow, do you mean to arrest me?’
Gently stared but said nothing.
‘Look, they were wooden bows, lance-wood bows. If I’d done what you’re thinking, wouldn’t I have got rid of it?’
‘Would you have got rid of it?’
‘I’m not stupid!’
‘How would you have got rid of a wooden bow?’
‘Well – broken it up, burnt it. You wouldn’t expect me to bring it back here.’
‘You’d have time for that?’
‘What? What do you mean?’
Gently didn’t tell him what he meant. Raymond Tallis stared with squinting eyes, his yellowish teeth showing.
‘I did go down to those moorings, you know. I’ve put in a written report to the club.’
‘You have a witness now?’
‘No, I don’t! But I dare say someone would have seen me. It’s up to you, that, isn’t it?’
‘Someone who can place you there for an hour?’
‘An hour, two hours, what does it matter? I say I was there, now you prove different.’ But the idea didn’t seem to console him. ‘If no one saw me, what are you going to do?’
‘Why does what your nephew might say bother you?’
At once the panic button was pressed! Raymond Tallis jerked forward in his chair, hands gripping the stuffed leather arms.
‘Is it his idea – this?’
‘Which idea, Mr Tallis?’
‘You know damned well which idea. That someone laid for Freddy with a bow.’
‘Laid for him ...?’
‘I’ve seen the place. That’s natural, isn’t it? I went to see it. And there’s a hiding-place there, in the gorse, where someone’s cut a piece away. Well, if Freddy was shot with an arrow, ten to one who did it was hiding in there. But yesterday there wasn’t any talk of an arrow, so where else would you have got the idea?’
‘I believe your nephew was resident here until Sunday.’
‘In the cottage – he doesn’t live here.’
‘Surely that amounts to the same thing?’
‘No, it doesn’t. He’s never in the house while I’m around.’
‘Yet ... he was about here?’
‘Oh my God. If he’s your witness, I’ll cut him to ribbons. He blames me for what happened to Arthur, and – and ... who’s going to believe him?’
‘On Saturday morning he visited The Uplands.’
‘You’re crazy if you think he took that letter!’
‘But, if he were ignorant of the contents ...?’
‘Ask yourself, why would he do it for me?’
‘But ... for Mrs Tallis?’
Julia Tallis flared: ‘Oh, this is stupid, stupid! How can you believe it? That I would use Paul in a – plot against Freddy?’
‘Is that your bureau over there, Mrs Tallis?’
‘What’s it to you if it’s my bureau?’
‘Shortly a search warrant will be delivered. I was wondering if you would mind if I anticipated it.’
She stared, big-eyed. ‘You leave it alone.’
Gently shrugged. ‘I’m willing to wait.’
‘But this ... this is beyond anything!’
She gazed at her husband. Both of them now were very pale.
‘Listen,’ Raymond Tallis said. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m going to get my lawyer out here. I’m not going to be bullied into taking the rap – fitted up, isn’t that what you call it?’
But he spoke it without conviction, sitting there looking ghastly in the big chair. And Julia Tallis, her blonde hair straggling, continued to stare with hunted eyes.
‘This is a nightmare ...’
‘Perhaps we can go over your movements again, Mr Tallis.’
‘You know my movements!’
‘I don’t think you told me at what time you left your house on Saturday.’
He hesitated, eyes darting. ‘All right, then. It was after two.’
‘But you left before your wife.’
‘No, that was a mistake. She thought I’d gone, but I hadn’t.’
‘So a witness who saw you pass up the street at an earlier time would have been in error.’
‘A witness?’ He gripped the chair-arms. ‘Look, you’re bullying me till I don’t know what I’m saying. The fact is I don’t know precisely. My impression is it was after two.’
‘If you were seen at one-forty-five ...’
‘I’m telling you, then I was still at the house.’
‘But you can’t remember precisely?’
He dragged on the chair-arms. ‘I’m doing my best.’
Evidently.
‘Then you drove where?’
Raymond Tallis’s pale face set in a sullen expression. ‘Listen, I won’t go on with this. You’re trying to trap me. I’m saying no more till there’s a lawyer present.’
‘You are free to call one.’
‘So then you’ll think I’m guilty, wanting a lawyer to hold my hand. I can’t win, can I? You’ve got me both ways. And all on some lies my nephew has told you.’
‘Your nephew ...’
Julia Tallis moaned: ‘Oh, my son, my son!’
Then suddenly Raymond Tallis’s eyes jumped open, staring past Gently to the window. Just as yesterday, Fiona Quennell was standing with her bicycle at the gate.
‘Get out ... clear off!’
He sprang to his feet and made violent signs from the window. But for a moment Fiona Quennell stood her ground, gazing at him with her empty eyes. Then she went.
‘That crack-brained bitch gets on my nerves – it was her who set Paul against me.’
He shambled to the cabinet and poured whisky.
Julia Tallis said: ‘For me too ...’
* * *
The warrant came, and along with it two DCs, Bayliss and Hopgood. Gently exhibited the warrant to Tallis, who glared at it helplessly.
‘So what happens now?’
‘That’s up t
o you. Where do we look for archery equipment?’
‘I tell you I don’t know if there is any—!’
Julia Tallis said tonelessly: ‘Try the attics.’
Eyke dispatched the DCs. Neither Tallis nor his wife made a move to accompany them. He was standing by the marble mantelpiece, nursing more whisky, she remained in her chair, a woebegone figure.
‘You want to look through my bureau.’
‘With your permission.’
‘Damn you, there are personal things in there! Arthur’s old letters and things like that. I don’t want your grubby fingers among them.’
‘We shall take great care.’
‘What’s that got to do with it? I can tell you there’s nothing there for you. Isn’t it enough that you’re going through the house, without prying into my personal affairs?’
‘I regret that I must insist.’
‘And if I don’t let you?’
‘I still have authority to proceed.’
She stared hate at him. Gently’s face was blank. He and Eyke approached the bureau. The flap was unlocked; it let down to reveal stuffed slots and boxed stationery. Eyke pointed to the brand: white Basildon Bond, some with printed address, some plain. Also envelopes. And in a slot, picture-postcards of La Baule, bearing Ruth Quennell’s handwriting. Then the blotter:
‘Look here, sir ...’
The top sheet was almost virgin. There was however a faint squiggle near one of the lower corners. They pored over it. The blotted hand resembled that on the postcards. With difficulty one could make it out to read: ‘namoW d’.
‘Sir ... the signature.’
In a corner of the bureau stood a bottle of blue Quink; but the only writing implements with it were a collection of ball pens. Gently turned to Julia Tallis.
‘If I may, I would like to see your handbag.’
‘But that’s beyond everything—!’
‘The Inspector will go with you to fetch it.’
‘Listen—’ Tallis began, but catching Gently’s eye shut up and hunched over his glass.
Furiously Julia Tallis stalked out, trailing behind her the embarrassed Eyke; they could hear. her angry voice from somewhere above and, when they returned, Eyke’s face was pink.
‘There.’
‘Turn it out, if you will.’
She up-ended the handbag on a table. Out streamed a collection of notes, loose change, keys, papers, cosmetics; and a Waterman pen. Gently took the latter, uncapped it and made a stroke on the blotter. The hue matched the squiggle. He recapped the pen and placed it with the other exhibits.