by Alan Hunter
‘She wasn’t physically exceptional.’
‘Not a bit. She didn’t have a figure a man would look twice at. But the way she held herself . . . moved. As though she was living it all the time.’
‘A fascinating woman.’
His ears reddened again. ‘In my opinion she was a whore, sir. And for what she did to those innocent young girls I would have had her flogged and put in a bridewell.’
‘What did she do with them?’
He pulled up, staring. ‘I don’t think I have to tell you, sir.’
‘But you knew?’
‘Yes sir, I knew.’ He grabbed at his monocle, twisting it deeper. ‘No mystery about that. I began to suspect something. Way our girl was looking, behaving. So I asked her straight out what was going on. Do you think I’d hesitate to get to the bottom of it?’
‘You asked her – and she told you?’
‘Yes sir – she told me.’
‘When did this interview take place?’
‘It is enough, sir, that it did.’
‘I’m afraid I must insist on knowing when.’
The flush had extended from the Major’s ears and now he was gazing at me with watery eyes. The monocle dropped: he jammed it back again. Selly, in the distance, was following each move.
‘Very well, sir. It took place recently.’
‘As recently, say, as Monday?’
‘It may have been Monday.’
‘Was it Monday?’
The Major grunted and lowered his gaze.
‘So on Monday you knew, you took some action.’
‘The action I took, sir, was to forbid it.’
‘Warning your niece, no doubt, that if she continued to see Mrs Selly, she would have to face unpleasant consequences.’
The Major jiffled. ‘That was between us, sir. The details do not concern you. I did, I said what the occasion required for the proper protection of my niece.’
‘On the Monday.’
‘As you say.’
‘Yet on the Tuesday her visits continued as usual.’
‘I – well! I imagine she went, sir, to inform Mrs Selly that the business was over.’
‘That is not what she says, Major Rede.’
‘I assure you, the visit would not have been repeated.’
‘Then I am to assume you took some subsequent action?’
The Major broke off. He’d begun sweating, like Selly.
I poured myself some more of the now lukewarm coffee and drank a couple of unhurried sips. Selly wasn’t the only observer of this encounter. Reymerston remained at his table next to the wall. He wasn’t watching us directly, but sat smoking a cigarette – a Russian blend: I could smell it – yet his table was near enough to the settee for him to catch a few words of what was passing. Otherwise there was only a waiter, who was collecting crockery down the room; though interestingly enough, he was the witness who had remembered Vivienne’s visits to the bar. But he was paying us no attention, simply going about his business. I lowered my cup. The Major had stayed silent. He was staring at a point somewhat below my chin.
‘I’m sure you will understand I need to ask you a few questions.’
He gazed at me wretchedly, then away. The flush had gone a little from his florid cheeks, on which appeared a few broken veins. But sweat still stood over his eyes.
‘Which is your house?’
‘Number one, Heathside.’ He spoke in a lower, duller tone.
‘That’s the house on the corner of the larger green.’
‘Yes, sir. Facing the Common and the green.’
‘Were you at home on Tuesday?’
He made a little head-motion. ‘Drove the lady wife into Eastwich that morning. Afternoon, in the house. I was writing a letter to Brother Frederick.’
‘And in the evening?’
‘Went for constitutional.’ He eyed me defiantly. ‘On the Common. Every evening for six years. Out at seven, back by eight.’
‘Exactly where on the Common?’
‘Golf Club. Stopped for a word with the greensman. Then round the gorse and home by the water-tower. Watched the goggle-box. Went to bed.’
I nodded. ‘Did your wife watch the television?’
He gave me a sharp look. ‘She wasn’t in, sir. The lady wife has her own affairs. She takes a meeting on the first Tuesday.’
‘However, there would be your niece?’
The tell-tale red had returned to his ears. ‘My niece was out too.’
‘Your niece was out . . .’
He stared at me angrily, his cheek twitching. ‘There had been a row, sir. Something was said to which my niece took exception. The girl cleared out. Took her car. Didn’t see her any more till bedtime.’
‘What was the row about?’
‘A private matter.’
I grunted. ‘Let me do some thinking aloud. In the afternoon you wrote a letter and you may have gone into the town to post it. At about that time your niece and her friends would be leaving Mrs Selly to drive back to the school. You could have seen them leave, and so you would have known that your niece had disobeyed you – flagrantly and openly, the day after your alleged prohibition.’ I paused. ‘Or was it the day after? Was the matter not raised between you till Tuesday?’
The Major’s monocle fell. ‘Sir, this is impertinent.’
‘In fact, was it raised by you at all? Wasn’t it rather your niece who brought it up, following some suspicion she had formed on Tuesday?’
‘I shall not answer that!’
‘Then we’ll suppose it’s the case. There was no talk, no admissions, no ban on the Monday. Yet you did take the action which your niece suspected, from which it follows you knew what was happening at Mrs Selly’s. And the question is, how did you know? Who could have been your informant?’
‘I have given you my account, sir!’
‘And I’m not convinced by it. I don’t believe in a confession by your niece.’
‘It is true. My niece did confess.’
‘But prior to the row on Tuesday?’
The Major jammed his monocle home, staring, saying nothing.
‘You have nothing to volunteer?’
‘No sir.’
‘I would be sorry to draw the wrong inference.’
‘That is your affair, sir.’
I nodded. ‘We’ll leave it, then. Tell me now, in detail, about Tuesday evening.’
He drew back, his eyes emptying, his bluish lips beginning to quiver; but before he could speak the swing doors parted and his wife entered the lounge. She saw us, paused, then came forward. The Major grunted his relief and rose. I rose also, though reluctantly. Mrs Rede gave each of us a tight smile.
‘Please don’t let me interrupt you. I came to tell Herbert I’d finished my phone call.’
She was a sturdy woman with a stubborn chin and analytic hazel eyes.
‘Not interrupting, my dear. We’d finished.’ The Major shot me a pleading look.
‘Introduce us, Herbert.’
The Major complied. Mrs Rede presented a firm, ringed hand.
‘You are welcome to Wolmering, Superintendent. Though I wish your business had been different.’
‘Been discussing it, my dear,’ the Major said quickly. ‘Thought I should have a few words with the Super.’
Mrs Rede made a face. ‘Nasty. Unpleasant. That amoral woman should never have come here. End it quickly and quietly, Superintendent, and tell the reporters absolutely nothing.’
‘Man must do what he’s come for, my dear.’
‘Naturally Herbert. He’ll do his duty. But there are cases best swept under the carpet, and this ugly affair is surely one of them.’
The Major screwed at his monocle.
‘I’m sure the Superintendent agrees,’ Mrs Rede said.
I shrugged. ‘We try to protect the innocent.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean, you dear man.’ She opened her handbag and took out a card. ‘There. We’d love to see you on a fre
e evening. But just now Herbert is taking me to the dentist’s, and we must really try to be on time. Are you ready, Herbert?’
‘Ready, my dear.’
He didn’t look at me again. Mrs Rede steered him by the elbow. They passed Selly; went out.
I stood in the window, watching: a red 3500 Rover emerged from the yard. The Major, who drove it, was staring ahead expressionlessly; his wife’s face was turned towards him, her lips busy. Was I on the mark? The Major fitted my diagram. I had little doubt now that he had written that letter. He had known; and not from Pamela, nor from the other young culprits. His information had come from Vivienne, because it could have come from no one else. And Pamela, she had guessed immediately that he was the author of the letter, implying she knew or suspected an acquaintance between her uncle and Vivienne; she had come home on Tuesday in a flaming temper to accuse and perhaps threaten him (I’ll tell Auntie, I’ll tell everyone, if you try to stop me seeing Viv). What then? Had Vivienne rung him, adding her threats to Pamela’s? Had her desperate measure been a plan to confront him in his own home, before his wife? Then she would have found him alone, with a desperation matching hers, and what did happen could have happened, during the long empty evening. A little proof, and we had a better candidate than the man seated down the room . . .
I smelled exotic tobacco. Reymerston had joined me at the window. His eye met mine with a faint twinkle, though his expression was rather forlorn. A handsome man. He wore his hair in a careless lick, coming below his ears; but this suited him and made a frame for his large, spare features. He was tall and rangily-built. His age, around fifty, seemed a sort of prime in him.
‘I overheard some of that, you know.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll keep it to yourself.’
He grinned. ‘The Major isn’t my style, but I wouldn’t want to spread scandal about him. On top of which . . .’ He made a rueful mouth. ‘I think his character rules him out.’
‘You are an acquaintance of his?’
He drew smoke and let it trickle from his large nose. ‘Nothing like that. I’ve chatted to him once or twice, in here, on the links. He’s a bit of a blimp, but I think he’s genuine. Perhaps he does have an eye for the women. But he lives by his code, that’s my feeling. It would probably chuff him to have to take some medicine.’
I was startled. ‘That’s an acute observation.’
Reymerston grinned again. ‘I’m a bloody painter. Full of secret, subversive judgements. If you need a spy, come to me.’
He stubbed his cigarette, nodded and turned to go.
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘About last night. What made you jump in after the dog?’
‘Oh – that.’ He laughed. ‘It seemed a pleasant night for a swim. The dog was there as an excuse, so I just took it and jumped.’
‘Didn’t the danger bother you?’
‘There was no danger. I’d been on that swim before. You pick up the coastal current half a mile out. It fetches you ashore at Mindersley beach.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me that at the time?’
‘It would have spoiled the moment,’ he laughed. ‘But thanks for sending out the boat – it saved me a tramp in wet clothes.’
He went, ignoring Selly’s scowl; and I thoughtfully filled and lit my pipe. In a way his judgement confirmed mine: I too felt a twinge of uncertainty about the Major’s character. If he were faced with disgrace, would his reaction be violence? I couldn’t persuade myself of that. Or perhaps what I could see was his stocky figure depending from a rope or collapsed beside a gun. The violence would be turned against himself if it ever came to violence; but what was more likely was what Reymerston suggested, that disgrace would offer him a secret thrill. Shame to some is an erotic emotion, and the Major could well be one of these.
I puffed, watching Reymerston pass by the window. Twice this intriguing man had surprised me. He was an unpredictable element in this fairly predictable town. Now he’d gone I rather wished I’d held on to him: I sensed in him a key to some of my uncertainties. Plainly his spectrum of Wolmering was a wide one, stretching from the harbour-office to the dining-room of the Pelican. I had met him at the harbour: he could have been the man seen by Mrs Lake on Tuesday; and he had perhaps known Selly, however little sign he’d given of that a moment ago.
I glanced behind me, looking for Selly: but this time Selly’s table was empty. Very silently, it must have been, he had slipped out; by accident or design, following Reymerston.
CHAPTER SIX
BY ACCIDENT.
When I saw Selly next he was in the street which led to Town Green, whereas Reymerston had continued left, towards the promenade (I learned later that he rented a beach hut near the Fishermen’s Rest Room). Nevertheless, Selly had raised my interest by his stealthy exit from the lounge, and now I saw him glance back furtively at the hotel as he hastened along the pavement. Who was he trying to avoid – myself, or Mrs Bacon? I lingered briefly at the lounge window. Selly turned right, in the direction of the Common, but nobody left the hotel to hurry after him. Still watching, I knocked out my pipe; then I left the hotel myself.
I didn’t follow Selly, but crossed the High Street and took a narrow lane opposite. This brought me out at the top end of the Common car park, with the smaller half-square of terraces to my right. I was alert, and I needed to be. Selly came into sight at the bottom of the lane. I faded behind a parked car and watched through its screens as he glanced up the lane, hesitated, continued. He was following the road beside the Common, just as I had done earlier, and I gave him plenty of time to get clear before I ventured to the end of the lane.
I came out of the lane warily, because here there was no cover; but Selly had kept going ahead and had vanished round the horn of the half-square. I moved up rapidly. At the turn in the road two benches had been sited on the clipped verge, and on one of them sat an elderly couple, sunning themselves, the lady with a book open on her lap. I chose the other bench, and sat; at the end nearest to the couple. If Selly glanced back now he would see this small group, but would scarcely be able to distinguish me from the others. In any case, he wasn’t glancing back. His gaze was fixed forwards, at the houses in the terrace. At one particular house in the terrace: that belonging to Major Rede.
I sprawled a little on the bench so that I had a view past the lady’s straw hat. Selly’s businesslike strut slackened: he came to a stand before the house. He stood staring. The house looked lifeless. Strip-blinds were lowered in the downstair windows. A striped curtain hung in the rococo porch to protect the door from the sun. A slight darkness on the asphalt before the gate suggested the parking-place of Pamela Rede’s Mini, but Pamela was at school, and Selly must certainly have heard Mrs Rede claim her husband to take her to the dentist’s. Nobody at home, and Selly knew it. Why then his intent appraisal of the house? Was the fellow thinking (was it possible he knew?) that in this house his wife had died? His eyes moved over it, searching each detail of the ornamental bays and the squat dormers; the square downpipes, which a slim man could climb; the sashes, which a penknife blade could open. But housebreaking was scarcely in his thoughts either: there was nothing shifty in his scrutiny. Simply, he was taking it in, feature by feature, as though wanting to print it indelibly in his mind.
There were benches at the other angle of the half-square, also, and now Selly broke off his scrutiny to flop on one of them. I ducked a little lower behind the straw hat, but it was needless caution: his gaze was in front of him. His head was inclined forward: a man thinking. I could see a foot restlessly scuffing the grass. It was not so much the attitude of a person frustrated as of a person engaged in some complex problem. Selly was under pressure. His alibi was thin, and his story could be shot to pieces in court. What he needed urgently was – at least – a red herring that smelled enough to divide the suspicion with him. Though he couldn’t have heard much of what passed in the lounge he could have read plenty from the Major’s reactions, while if he knew the Major was related to one of the g
irls then he would surely have been putting two and two together. Certainly he knew where the Major lived, which inferred some previous knowledge of him. All in all, I decided Selly knew more than he had seen fit to admit to at the police station.
And now . . . what was his game? He had pulled out a cigar: was lighting it with quick, nervous puffs. He glanced aside at the house, at the Common, at us, making me sink my head forward. The time was two forty-five. There was little probability of the Redes returning for an hour or so, and when they did, what could Selly do? Having it out with the Major wouldn’t get him very far. I paused in my thinking. Was I on the wrong tack – did Selly really see in the Major a heaven-sent red herring? I could think of another possibility: a relationship between them which the present crisis would enable Selly to develop. Yes: blackmail. All the elements were there, may even have been in train at an earlier date. Selly could have played the badger game with the Major, have been taking payments from him for some while past. It might be even that the Major had been coerced into maintaining Vivienne – a cheap way of settling a cast-off wife! – in which case Selly had now an irresistible persuader with which to confirm and extend his extortions. If the Major thought he had solved his problems by getting rid of Vivienne, Selly would very promptly disillusion him. One word from Selly to me and the Major would be booked for the assizes.
Yet – if this were the case – would Selly be hanging about here, waiting to make his approach in broad daylight? Staring at the house as though he meant to burgle it – irritable, puzzling, seemingly at a loss? Now he was drooped forward again broodingly, his cigar steaming from an angle: not a picture of a man who held all the cards and could play them when and how he felt fit. No, the pressure was there all right. Selly was in a mess and wanted a way out.
The lady had closed her book and was telling her husband she meant to pick up some cakes in the town: at any moment I would lose my cover and run the risk of Selly spotting me. I slipped out of my jacket, a grey light-weight, to expose the cream shirt I was wearing, then removed my tie and unbuttoned the shirt-front to give a casual, visitor-like effect. At the distance it would probably have been enough, but it wasn’t immediately put to proof. Before my elderly friends could gather themselves together, Selly jerked away his cigar and got to his feet. He seemed suddenly to have arrived at a determination: he strode purposefully forward on to the Common. Very roughly, he was taking a line which would bring him to the holm oaks beneath which his wife’s body had been found.