by Alan Hunter
Round his pipe Gently said: ‘But not to Paul Tallis?’
One could hear the sharp hiss of her breath. She slanted herself a little away from him, leering from the corners of her eyes.
‘Listen – there’s daddy’s car!’
But it was only the soughing of the beech.
‘When daddy comes he’ll turn that man out. He won’t let him sit there watching me. I knew him from the first, he’s a wicked person. He’s come here to do evil things. But I know him, it’s no good him watching me. Mummy, why don’t you send him away?’
Gently said: ‘I can’t be sent away.’
The posture of her body was becoming a crouch. She made a hissing noise at Gently; her leer was full of a naïve malevolence.
‘Oh, stop it, stop it!’ Frank Quennell cried.
Fiona Quennell had a little foam at her mouth. Very slowly, Gently reached into his pocket and took out the envelope from Julia Tallis’s bureau. He held it towards Fiona Quennell.
‘This is the letter Paul Tallis gave you.’
She was groaning and spitting at him, her flinching eyes darting hatred.
‘So what did you do with it?’
She mowed and chattered and threatened him with hooked fingers. Then, in a flash, she sprang from the chair, seized the envelope and rushed to the door.
‘Follow her – see what she does with it.’
Frank Quennell pelted after his sister. Their steps hammered down the hall and entered the kitchen; there was a scuffle, a clapping sound, the slam of a door. Frank Quennell returned; he had the envelope.
‘Well?’
‘She dumped it – in the swing-bin.’
‘The swing-bin!’ Ruth Quennell’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Freddy went to the swing-bin – he went to it after lunch on Saturday.’ She rounded on Gently. ‘You remember – I told you! He went to the bin to scrape out his pipe. And he stayed there in the kitchen ... oh lord, he must have seen the letter ...’
‘So she didn’t pass it on,’ Frank Quennell burst out. ‘They tried to use Oona, but she wouldn’t have it.’
‘Oh, she’s innocent,’ Ruth Quennell cried. ‘Oona is innocent, I knew she was innocent.’
‘Mother – it must have been Paul.’
‘Oh my daughter, my daughter,’ Ruth Quennell sobbed.
‘Yes, Paul,’ Frank Quennell said. ‘But why? Why?’
Reymerston said to Gently: ‘He’ll never peach on his mother.’
Gently went on chewing his pipe.
ELEVEN
‘SO NOW WE know, sir,’ Eyke said.
Gently grunted and adjusted his seat-strap. Outside, yesterday’s bright day had definitely vanished and a smeary wrack was passing over the sun. Every so often a stronger puff was rattling leaves and setting sprays swinging, yet the atmosphere was hot and sticky. One felt that a brisk shower would be a relief.
Gently said: ‘See what Ipswich have got.’
Eyke activated the RT.
‘Nothing yet, sir.’ He glanced sideways at Gently. ‘Do you reckon young Paul is in it up to his neck?’
Gently sat sullenly watching the tossing leaves, his empty pipe still in his mouth. Finally he shoved the pipe away, felt for his key and started the engine.
At the junction they had to pause while the cones were shifted to let them through; at once reporters clustered to the window and the eyes of cameras winked.
‘No comment yet.’
‘Listen, Chiefie, we’ve been having a word with young Tallis—’
‘Lay off young Tallis—’
‘He says the weapon was a bow and arrow, and that his uncle—’
If you print that I’ll have you.’
‘Chiefie, Tallis is an ex-member—’
Gently slammed up his window and drove on, leaving the reporters diving for their cars.
‘The bloody young fool.’
There was no doubt now where the centre of interest lay in Walderness. Cars were parked all along the green and people were hastening down towards the house. There a TV van had parked and a camera was panning round the scene: a thrusting young man with a microphone almost committed suicide in front of the car.
‘Chief Superintendent Gently, sir, a comment on the progress of the case!’
Behind him the camera settled and a man wearing earphones twiddled the controls.
‘Very well, then. This morning we have made certain progress with the assistance of local people. We now have a clearer picture of important aspects of the case.’
‘There is talk of you finding the weapon, sir.’
‘I can make no comment at this stage.’
‘Sir, would it be correct to say that you anticipate an arrest?’
‘A fuller statement will be issued later.’
He conjured up a half-smile, then jammed the car through the gate. There were no faces at any windows now, and a uniform man stood guarding the steps. Gently rattled to a halt. Across at the cottage, the figure of Paul Tallis hastily withdrew from the porch.
‘Let’s talk to him.’
They strode over. Paul Tallis waited fearfully in the hall. He shrank from them as they entered, his blue eyes big with fright.
‘I couldn’t help it ...!’
‘I thought I told you not to talk to the reporters.’
‘Two of them got over the wall. I didn’t want to talk to them. They seemed to know it all, anyway.’
‘And you fell for that?’
‘I thought you must have told them – they kept saying it was a matter of record. Honestly I didn’t tell them much, just that you’d taken away bits of an arrow.’
‘And that your uncle was an archer!’
‘They seemed to know about that ...’
‘What else did you tell them?’
‘Nothing, I swear. Some policemen arrived and they went off ...’
Gently stared at the shrinking figure. Paul Tallis attempted a ghastly smile. But he was trembling. He hadn’t even dared to stick his hands in the blazer pockets.
‘You’ve been to see Fiona ...’
‘Sit down.’
Paul Tallis half-collapsed on a dining-room chair. Gently took a seat on the refectory table, looking down at the young man.
‘Now. Have you seen your mother?’
‘Mother has nothing to do with this!’
‘But have you seen her?’
He gazed about helplessly. ‘Look ... you’ve got it all wrong about mother. She’s in a terrible state, crying, wailing ... you might think she’s tough, but she isn’t really. She’s trying to think of all the people who’ve been here and who might have made use of her bureau – accusing them right, left and centre. It’s dreadful, what you’ve done to mother.’
‘What sort of people?’
‘I don’t know! Friends of hers who pop in and out. Mother has lots of friends. She’s been on the phone, ringing some of them. And it isn’t fair, you know. You’re trying to make her crack and come out with something. But she wouldn’t, even if she knew it, and you’ve got to stop badgering her.’
‘The letter was written at her bureau.’
‘All right – if you say so. She’s ready to admit it. But not by her. She wouldn’t do it to Aunty Ruth – what sort of person do you think she is?’
‘Then if she didn’t write it, who did?’
‘She isn’t the only person who lives here.’
‘Are we talking about your uncle?’
Paul Tallis evaded his eye. ‘She’ll never give him away, don’t you think it.’
‘And of course ... you won’t.’
‘No, I won’t! After all, he is mother’s husband. I know we don’t get on and all that, but you have to draw a line somewhere.’
‘Even to put your mother in the clear.’
Paul Tallis rolled his shoulders in frustration. ‘You’ve got to believe me. She didn’t do it. She doesn’t know anything about this at all.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
In a small voice he said: ‘All right, then ... I know it for a fact.’
‘That’s progress, at least.’
Gently paused, surveying Paul Tallis’s scowling face. The young man wasn’t trembling now, but the blue eyes were staring hopelessly at nothing. Again you were looking at the schoolboy who had bitten off more than he could chew.
‘Fiona ... did you see her?’
‘Yes, I saw Miss Quennell.’
‘She’s ... all right?’
‘She’s in good hands.’
‘Did she ... was there any message for me?’
‘No message.’
He made a fluttery gesture. ‘You know what I mean!’
‘I think I know what you mean.’
It’s terrible, her being like this. Really, Fiona is the only person ...’
‘... who understands you?’
‘Yes, if you like! Till now it has always been her and me. I could depend on her. And now ... suddenly ... it’s as though I were quite alone.’
‘You’re forgetting your mother.’
‘Never mind mother! Perhaps she has never understood me anyway. Not that I blame her, don’t think that, but she’s never let me come close to her. Mother likes people of her own age ... men. Fiona’s the only one I’ve been close to.’
‘No doubt your father seemed very remote.’
‘He was a man, that’s different. When I was young he used to play with me and take an interest in what I did. Later on he was wrapped up in the business but he mostly took me on the yacht. He was a real man. I wanted to grow up like him. But that’s not the same, of course.’
‘Fiona too ...’
‘She loved father. I tell you, father was a different breed.’ He bit his lip. ‘When Uncle Ray took over it was rather like bad money driving out good.’
‘That’s hard on your uncle.’
‘I know, I know. And perhaps I understand it ... now.’
He stared away through the open door to where the uniform man stood guarding the house; then he gave a little shudder. From the direction of the gate one could hear the murmuring of the crowd.
‘I despise him for taking father’s place. But I don’t want him to go to prison.’
Gently said: ‘I am now convinced that you took the letter to Fiona Quennell.’
‘Does she ... say that?’
Gently was silent. Paul Tallis’s beseeching eyes were fixed on his.
If I did, would I be an accessary?’
‘Only if you knew what the letter was about.’
‘As though I would have done it, knowing that! I would have stuffed the letter down his throat first.’ He hesitated. ‘What did she do with it?’
‘Fiona Quennell tried to get rid of it. But Mr Quennell found it and apparently convinced himself it was genuine.’
‘Oh lord – poor Uncle Freddy. He must have been fated to get it somehow.’ His mouth quivered. It’s ironic, really. And then he walked straight into the trap ...’
‘Why did you take it?’
‘I haven’t admitted—’ He broke off. ‘But it’s no good, is it? If Fiona told you, you’re bound to believe her. And I’m not going to call Fiona a liar.’
‘So?’
‘Well ... I took it, then. Uncle Ray said it was a joke on Uncle Freddy. It was supposed to be a letter from his girl-friend to Aunty Ruth, saying it was time they had a talk. He wanted me to leave it where Uncle Freddy would find it, but Uncle Freddy was down the garden, so I left it with Fiona. Neither of us thought it was very funny.’
To the ceiling Gently said: ‘You’re lying.’
‘But that’s exactly what happened!’
Gently shook his head. ‘Suddenly, you’re willing to assist your uncle in a dubious joke?’
‘Yes – he was always playing practical jokes! I mean, you just have to ask anyone—’
‘With you giving him a hand?’
‘Well – yes. That is ... sometimes.’
‘Only this wasn’t a joke.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘And it wasn’t your uncle who gave you the letter.’
Paul Tallis trembled on the chair. He opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Like a child caught out in a fib, he could only stare with appalled eyes.
‘Then it was your mother.’
‘No. No!’
‘The alternative is that you wrote it yourself.’
‘Oh lord, lord.’
‘Which way do you want it?’
‘You’ve got it wrong – all wrong.’
‘Not your mother and not you.’
‘You just lead me on into a trap. It isn’t fair, I’m not a lawyer, you can twist me round your little finger.’
‘But after all that, it was your mother?’
‘I didn’t say so and I’m not saying anything! I’m taking it all back, everything I’ve said, and I’m not making any wretched statement.’
Gently shrugged. ‘You’ll have to make one in court.’
‘Why should I? This is nothing to do with me.’
‘That’s the statement you’ll have to make in court if I decide to put you up as accessary.’
‘I won’t tell lies about mother ...’
‘Just once you could try the truth.’
The blue eyes sparked fire, but Paul Tallis’s mouth set tight and small. Emotionally, without doubt, he was a good deal younger than his age. Because of a mother like Julia Tallis ...? The neat features might almost have been those of a girl. An admired father, many leagues above him, and, for comrade, an unstable girl ...
‘I’ve done what you wanted, haven’t I?’
His voice was choked with bitterness.
‘What have you done?’
‘Given mother away. Now you can go and hammer at her, too.’
‘So your mother did give you the letter.’
His hands dithered in front of him. ‘Oh – what’s the use! Look, suppose it was me who wrote the letter ... couldn’t you go along with that?’
‘Why would you write it?’
‘I don’t know – to kid Fiona, anything you like. Not to upset Uncle Freddy, Uncle Freddy got hold of it by accident. Look, it’s quite plausible ...’
Gently stared long at him, then shook his head.
‘But it’s quite possible.’
‘Not unless it was you at the gorse circle.’
Paul Tallis’s mouth crumpled like a small boy’s. ‘Then you’re going ahead ... with mother too.’
Gently said nothing. Paul Tallis crouched, holding himself in.
‘What will happen to them?’
Then he was sobbing.
‘You can’t do it – you can’t do it!’
Eyke stirred uncomfortably and looked away: at the gate now there was a regular jamboree. An ice-cream van had pulled up with tinkling chimes, and the reporters were rushing to be first in the queue.
Gently said:
‘I want you to stay here. And you will make no more statements to reporters.’
‘But I’ve got lectures—’
‘Give me your car keys.’
Sniffling, Paul Tallis handed them over.
‘Mayn’t I see mother ...’
‘Later.’
‘Now – please, just once!’
‘You will stay here.’
His tear-glazed eyes implored Gently, but he said no more. They went from the cottage.
A scared-eyed woman wearing a pinafore opened the door of the house to them. In the lounge, Raymond Tallis and his wife sat together on the settee, holding hands. Curtains had been drawn at the principal windows, leaving only one to provide light. The couple didn’t stir when Gently and Eyke entered but remained gazing into each other’s eyes.
Gently said:
‘It is in order for you to have a lawyer present.’
They took no notice. In the dim light, it was difficult to see their expressions.
‘I may as well warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used in evide
nce.’
Still their hands stayed clasped, their eyes fixed each on each. Finally Raymond Tallis said thickly:
‘What does it matter? I’m done for, anyway.’
‘Is that a confession?’
‘Look out there. I can’t live on here after this.’
‘Oh, it’s wicked!’ Julia Tallis whimpered. ‘We’re being crucified, that’s what. And why? On some pretended evidence. As though we would do such a thing to Freddy.’
‘The evidence is being evaluated. What I require from you now are statements.’
‘Only so you can tie us in tighter. You’ve made up your mind that we did it.’
‘I believe you forged that letter, Mrs Tallis.’
‘I didn’t – I didn’t! It might have been anyone.’
‘I believe you gave it to your son with certain instructions, and that he passed it on to Fiona Quennell.’
Her eyes were horrified in the shadow. ‘Is that what he says? Paul says that?’
‘I have questioned your son and Miss Quennell.’
‘But ... if he says that, then he’s protecting Fiona.’
‘I think that unlikely.’
‘But yes – can’t you see? It has to be her who wrote the letter. I don’t know why – she isn’t normal! – but that’s the only explanation. And Paul would know, and he’s protecting her.’ She sobbed. ‘If he had to choose between us, he’d choose her.’
‘He’d choose me for the chop,’ Raymond Tallis said. ‘Not you, Julie. Me. That’s who he’s aiming at. He’d try to keep you out of it. Don’t believe all this man is telling you.’
‘But if Paul said that—’
‘He’ll take it back.’
‘Oh Ray, I’m so frightened.’
‘Just keep your head.’
She moaned. Raymond Tallis put his arm round her, hugging her. He looked at Gently.
‘Are you taking me in?’
‘I require the presence of both of you at the police station.’
‘Oh no,’ Raymond Tallis said. ‘Not her. You’re not taking her through that mob.’
‘I regret I must insist.’
‘You’re not having her. Julie’s been through too much already. And she’s nothing to do with it, do you hear me? Julie is outside what happened here.’
He was sitting up straight, suddenly belligerent, as though he’d taken on Gently single-handed. Julia Tallis moaned and clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder.