by Alan Hunter
‘What is it that she’s outside of?’
‘That letter, for a start. I can guess what Paul said about it, and it wasn’t that he had it from her.’
‘Are you saying you gave it to him?’
‘I’m saying nothing! But that’d be closer to the mark. I know Paul and his little games, and my neck is the one that’s sticking out. And I don’t care, do you understand? I’m past it now, past caring. You can put a noose round my neck and welcome, only don’t think I’m going to help you do it.’
‘Oh Ray, no,’ Julia Tallis wailed. ‘If Paul says that it’s both of us.’
‘Paul didn’t say that.’
‘Ray, you mustn’t!’
‘Keep your head, girl,’ Raymond Tallis muttered.
Julia Tallis brushed away tears. ‘Perhaps I haven’t been the best of mothers for Paul,’ she groaned. ‘It was losing my daughter, I don’t know, for a time I couldn’t seem to give him attention.’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Julie.’
‘Somehow I just wanted to make up for it, not to be a mother or even a wife, only to have a good time.’ She sniffed. ‘I neglected Paul. That’s why he clung to me so hard. He doesn’t love me, not really. It may even be better if I’m taken away.’
‘Julie, Julie.’
‘I’m not a good woman. I probably deserve all that’s coming. I wasn’t faithful to Arthur. Arthur knew it. He despised me, but he didn’t punish me.’
‘Julie, shut up!’
‘And now my own son points a finger at his mother. I should never have married you, Ray. We could just have gone on, but I shouldn’t have married you.’
Raymond Tallis sent a desperate glance at Gently. One felt he was near to shaking his wife. She grumbled and moaned on his shoulder, fingers digging into his arm. He pushed her away. She covered her face and sobbed and wailed without let.
‘Look – I’ll do a deal with you. Take me in, but leave her.’
‘I need statements from you both.’
‘Do it my way, and I’ll make it easy for you.’
‘No!’ Julia Tallis gasped.
Raymond Tallis’s face was flushing with anger. ‘You’ll just keep quiet, Julie, and let me handle this how I see fit.’
‘But it’s no use, Ray, no use.’
‘Do as I say, woman. Hold your tongue.’
‘I won’t let you, Ray.’
He paused, then fetched her a ringing smack across the cheek.
‘Ohhh!’
She sat still with shock; and Raymond Tallis was looking shocked too. After a moment he felt for her hand, and, hesitantly, she gave it to him. And again in the gloom they were gazing at each other: Julia Tallis swallowing a sob.
‘There’s a case against me – I know that. And there may be things you haven’t told me yet. Look at it one way, and I had a motive for getting rid of old Freddy. He knew the answers to a lot of questions that people ask themselves about me – slanderous questions I don’t deserve, and nobody now to give them the lie. So it’s my word and that’s not good enough. And all the circumstances are against me. I could have set it up, I had opportunity, for all I know the weapon was around here: I’m right in the middle. And my character won’t save me – I married the wife of the brother I may have drowned.’
‘Oh no, Ray, no,’ Julia Tallis cried.
Raymond Tallis stroked her hand, then squeezed it tight.
‘So that’s how you see it, how you’re right to see it, because Freddy’s killer must be put away. So what I’m saying is, let’s get on with it – charge me, and put it to the test. I’m ready for it. I’m going to fight. I don’t want it swept under the carpet. But leave Julia out. She’s an innocent woman, take my word for that if for nothing else.’ He stared fiercely at Gently. ‘What do you say?’
Blank-faced, Gently said: ‘I can’t do that.’
‘But why?’
‘Either Mrs Tallis wrote that letter or she was instrumental in securing its delivery.’
‘But I’m telling you she wasn’t!’
‘Then tell me the alternative.’
‘The alternative ...’ Raymond Tallis rocked his bowed shoulders. ‘Fiona. Fiona could have done it. Look at the way she keeps hanging round me.’
‘Not Fiona.’
‘So you tell me.’
‘I think we both know an obvious author, Mr Tallis.’
‘Me, you’re saying!’
Gently shrugged: Julia Tallis set up a wail.
‘All right, then – me, if you want it that way. I’m willing to shoulder it with the rest! So say I wrote it and gave it to Paul – he’ll certainly be ready to back me up.’
‘You wish to implicate Paul?’
Raymond Tallis squirmed. ‘He wouldn’t know what it was about – a bit of a lark, that’s all. He’d swallow a tale like that.’
‘Only not from you.’
‘Why not from me?’
Gently simply shook his head. Julia Tallis moaned and laid her head on her husband’s arm.
Between his teeth Raymond Tallis said: ‘I wrote that letter. I wrote it there at Julia’s bureau. I gave it to Fiona myself. When her memory comes back that’s what she’ll tell you.’
‘Oh Ray ... no.’
He stroked her head. ‘This is the way it’s got to be.’
‘Ray, I won’t have it.’
To Gently, Raymond Tallis said: ‘I’m ready to go now.’
‘No – no!’ Julia Tallis jumped up. ‘He’s telling you lies, and you shan’t believe them. We know. We know who killed Freddy. It’s for me he’s telling all these lies.’
‘Julia – shut up!’
‘I won’t, Ray – I’m not going to stand by and see you do it. I thought I could, but I can’t.’ She burst into a storm of tears. ‘Listen to me – listen! What was Freddy wearing when he was killed? I’ll tell you – I’ll show you what he was wearing. The clothes are right here in the hall.’
‘Julie, stop this—!’
But she’d grabbed Gently’s arm and was dragging him towards the hall. There stood a carved chest, the lid of which she flung back.
‘Look – look!’
She rummaged in the chest and pulled out a pair of waterproof trousers. Then a red sailing jacket, at the sight of which Eyke caught his breath.
‘He was wearing these – all the members wear them. They’re a special line stocked by the club. And look at this photograph – see, see? They’re the same height, the same build. As far as anyone knew, Ray was going sailing, this is what they’d expect him to wear.’ Tears almost stifled her. ‘And the letter – the letter ... that was intended for him! Ray always had an eye for Ruth ... and if Fiona had brought him the letter ...’ She was fighting to stay coherent. ‘It was Freddy who turned up. The right clothes ... right figure ... Oh God, can’t you see now? And we knew ... after Paul came here. Ray ...’ She broke down in helpless sobbing.
Beside them, Raymond Tallis stood stony-eyed, mouth jammed in a tight line.
Gently said to Eyke: ‘You can confirm the jacket?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Eyke said. ‘I’d say it’s identical.’
‘Fetch Paul Tallis.’
Eyke went out. Raymond Tallis put his arm round the blubbering Julia.
Gently said: ‘I could charge you with obstruction.’
‘Do your worst,’ Raymond Tallis said.
‘If I don’t, it’s because of Mrs Tallis.’
Raymond Tallis kept his mouth shut.
They waited, it seemed, for a long time, with Julia Tallis sobbing continually. When Eyke returned he was breathing rather fast and he motioned Gently aside.
‘Sir ... young Tallis has hopped it. He isn’t in the cottage or the grounds.’
They exchanged stares.
‘Which way would he go?’
‘Don’t reckon he’d come past the gate, sir.’
‘Then the ferry ...’
Eyke nodded. ‘And that’s the town, sir. Where there are buses.’
Eyke ducked out again. Gently returned to the loving couple. Raymond Tallis stared over his wife’s dishevelled hair, a glint of malice in his eyes.
‘So he’s given you the slip, has he?’
Gently said: ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘I’m coming where?’
‘To The Uplands. Mrs Tallis may stay here.’
Raymond Tallis’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh no. I’m not going there.’
‘You’re coming,’ Gently said, ‘if I have to put you in handcuffs. And when we get there you will follow instructions.’
‘But listen, young Quennell will be at my throat—’
‘Make your mind up how you want it to be.’
Raymond Tallis made his mind up. In the car outside Eyke was just finishing a call on RT. Seeing Tallis, he reached for a pad, scribbled a note and passed it to Gently. It read:
‘Ipswich. Car described parked at station about 15.15.’
Shrugging, Gently passed the pad back.
‘So that’s how he missed Brazil’s goal.’
TWELVE
THEY RAN THE gauntlet, Tallis with his head ducked and his face concealed in his hands. At once the press cavalcade was on the move at their heels. At the cones cameramen hustled up and flashes fizzed at the car windows, but by now Tallis was lying flat, his hands clasped over his head. Finally they drove clear into the refuge of the private road.
‘That was ... disgraceful! Why didn’t you stop it?’
His face was white, his eyes stunned.
‘We’ll give them a proper statement later, sir,’ Eyke said soothingly. ‘Don’t you worry about them.’
‘But what good is that? Tomorrow morning I’ll be on the front page of every cheap rag ...’
At The Uplands Reymerston was just leaving; he stared curiously at Tallis, who scowled back furiously. To Gently Reymerston said:
‘Ruth is upstairs with Fiona. They’ve got her to take something and lie down.’
‘She’s not drugged?’
‘Just a shot of brandy. But she’s scarcely compos mentis. Grey has been and left a prescription. I’m going to get it made up.’ He hesitated. ‘What’s on?’
‘We want to lay hands on Paul Tallis.’
‘Paul ...?’
If you see him, get in touch with us at once.’
Reluctantly, Reymerston left. In the porch of The Uplands, Frank Quennell waited belligerently. He and Tallis eyed each other like a pair of bristling mastiffs.
‘That man isn’t coming in here.’
‘Step aside, Mr Quennell.’
‘No, I won’t. His presence is an insult. I wonder he dare show his face.’
‘Mr Tallis is here at my request.’
‘He’ll never come into this house again.
‘It was you who put him on to me,’ Tallis snarled. ‘You stupid young fool. Now look at all the trouble you’ve made.’
‘I told him the truth—’
‘A fairy-tale!’
‘I tell you, you’re not coming into the house ...’
Gently grabbed each by an arm. ‘Listen, you two! When I like I can make myself very unpleasant. So you’ll just shut up and do as I tell you, or maybe you’ll both spend a night in the cells.’
‘But you’ve no right to bring him here—’
‘Get inside!’
Frank Quennell retreated and let them into the house.
The lounge was on the left; opposite, across the hall, was the door of Quennell’s study. Gently ushered them into it: a room full of books with a roll-top desk occupying one corner.
‘Now! You’ll wait here, Mr Tallis, along with the Inspector. You’re to keep quiet till I call for you, and then you’re to come through into the lounge. Understood?’
Tallis nodded sullenly.
‘Mr Quennell will fetch his mother and sister.’
‘No, I won’t—!’
Gently’s hand fell on his arm: he propelled him outside and towards the stairs.
‘I tell you she’s asleep. The doctor—’
‘Request their presence in the lounge.’
‘But ... it’s sheer cruelty!’
‘You will not mention Mr Tallis.’
He gave Frank Quennell a helping shove to send him stumbling up the stairs. Then he half-closed the study door and crossed into the lounge. Voices sounded above: Frank Quennell’s subdued bass and the enquiring murmur of Ruth Quennell. From the study, no sound. At last, footsteps on the stairs. Ruth Quennell entered first.
‘I don’t understand, Superintendent ...’
Behind her, Fiona Quennell hovered warily in the doorway. Her eyes looked dazed; she was gazing at Gently as though she couldn’t properly make him out; yet she was ready for flight. Over her shoulder, Frank Quennell’s face scowled anxiously.
‘Please come in and sit down. Mr Quennell, leave the door ajar.’
‘But I thought you’d finished with Oona,’ Ruth Quennell said. ‘Please! I don’t think we should question her again.’
‘This shouldn’t take long. If you will be kind enough to sit with your daughter on the settee.’
‘Oona’s been asleep ...’
‘A simple question. Only the answer is important.’
Ruth Quennell shook her head, but beckoned Fiona Quennell into the room. After a long pause, Fiona Quennell entered and crept across to the settee. Ruth Quennell sat with her; Frank Quennell remained by the door. Fiona Quennell’s eyes still looked bemused; she was frowning as she gazed at Gently.
‘Do I know this man, mummy?’
‘Hush, darling! He has something to say to you.’
‘I feel I ought to know him ... and yet—’ She shuddered. ‘Have I done something foolish lately?’
‘Nothing, darling.’
‘My mind is so funny. It’s as though I’m still in a dream. But I think I know him.’ She smiled suddenly at Gently. ‘How do you do!’
‘Hush, darling.’
‘But I’m sure I know him.’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘He was here before.’ The smile vanished and her mouth quivered. ‘It’s about daddy ... isn’t it?’
‘Yes, dear. About daddy.’
Fiona Quennell began to sob.
Gently said: ‘Miss Quennell.’
She stared at him dazedly, through tears.
‘Miss Quennell, when I was here before you told me what you did with a letter.’
‘A letter ...’
‘Yes, a letter. Somebody gave you a letter. You threw the letter away, but really you should have taken it somewhere.’
Her eyes were getting fierce behind the tears. ‘Mummy knows all about that.’
‘About what ...?’
‘I’m never going to get married. But I shall write letters when I go away.’
‘Somebody else gave you this letter.’
‘Never – never. Do you hear?’
‘You had to take the letter to someone.’
‘I never will – I never will!’
‘Mr Tallis!’ Gently called.
Tallis’s heavy step crossed the hall. Sulkily he came through the door, stood defiantly staring from one to other of them.
‘Miss Quennell, isn’t this the man to whom you were asked to take the letter?’
Fiona Quennell’s eyes sprang wide open and she jerked up from the settee. Gurgling, making strange noises, saliva dribbling down her chin, she stood glaring at Raymond Tallis, her fingers hooking at air. Then she screamed piercingly, her eyes rolled and she collapsed.
‘See to her!’
Frank Quennell rushed forward to help his mother pick her up. They got her on the settee, and Frank Quennell stuffed a cushion under her head. She lay trembling, eyes closed, breath coming in ragged snatches. Whimpering, Ruth Quennell found a handkerchief and wiped the saliva from her daughter’s face.
‘You’ll pay for this – it’s beyond everything!’
>
‘If there are smelling salts, you’d better fetch them.’
‘But you’ll pay—!’ Frank Quennell dashed away, and one heard his feet clamour on the stairs.
Gently said to Tallis: ‘That’s it. You can wait in the car.’
‘But this ... this is terrible!’
‘Do as I say.’
Looking stricken, Tallis shambled away.
* * *
‘My sister is asking to talk to you.’
For twenty minutes, Gently had smoked his pipe in the study: not an uninteresting room, since Quennell had been something of a collector. Among books representing the history of printing Gently had found a couple of incunabula, both English, one an almanac printed by Wynkyn de Worde.
Eyke meanwhile had sat in the car, staying in touch with the RT. But as yet no word had come through of any sighting of Paul Tallis.
‘Your sister is calm again?’
‘No thanks to you.’ Frank Quennell was maintaining his pose of outrage. ‘If it rested with me, you could go to hell. But mother thinks you should come.’
Gently put away his pipe and followed Frank Quennell. Fiona Quennell was sitting up and drinking something from a tumbler. Though pale she appeared to be quite collected, and her eyes had lost their fixed stare. Ruth Quennell sat with an arm round her daughter. She gave Gently a look of appeal; she took the tumbler. Fiona Quennell said in a low voice:
‘You know ... don’t you?’
‘Yes, I know.’
Gently pulled up a chair. Fiona Quennell sat with downcast eyes for a while, then she asked:
‘Have you ... found him?’
‘We’re looking for him.’
‘Where is he?’
‘A short time ago he was at the cottage. Then he went off towards the ferry.’
‘I see.’
Her mouth trembled a little but she made it firm again.
‘He’s a child really.’
‘I know.’
‘You won’t hurt him.’
‘We won’t hurt him.’
‘It’s me who’s to blame. I told him something that he could never get out of his mind.’
‘We know about that.’
‘No you don’t. It was something I heard in the summer-house. It was the day after Uncle Arthur ... daddy and Uncle Ray were in the garden, talking about it.’
‘Do you wish to tell me?’