Collier considered this question for a moment or two without answering. As his reply did not seem to be immediately forthcoming, Masters added: “You said he answered your call very quickly. That suggests that what you said to him caused him some concern. Would you say that concern was for himself, or for Miss Sanders?”
“I don’t understand your question.”
“Something you said on the phone caused him to react promptly instead of—as you say you had expected—his telling you that you were worrying too much and that a second visit from him, so soon after the first, was not necessary.”
Collier nodded to show he had understood so far.
“Do you think Dr. Denyer hurried round here because he was concerned about Miss Sanders’ condition, or because the signs and symptoms you described to him caused him to think that her illness was more severe than he had first imagined and that he felt there was a distinct possibility that his diagnosis of flu was incorrect? In other words, did he hurry round here to correct his own mistake?”
Collier scratched one ear, thoughtfully. “You expect me to be able to separate out his emotions?”
“It would be helpful if you could try.”
“Christmas bloody night! You don’t want much, do you? Have you any idea of the state I was in at that time?”
“I can imagine your state, Mr. Collier. And I believe that at such a time a person like yourself would be very aware of what went on around you. You are a man trained—if I can put it this way—to be aware of and react to nuances and even to create impressions by slight inflections of the voice, small gestures, registration of emotions … the art of good acting, in fact. How did you react to Dr. Denyer’s vocal inflections and so forth when he paid his second visit?”
“He was different, certainly,” said Collier. “But whether I can put my finger on it … look, he did his stuff. He was a bit het up, but he was thoughtful, kindly and … oh, yes!”
“What?”
“I remember now. He said he wanted to take a blood sample.”
“And did he?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you think that taking a blood sample was unusual in a bout of flu?”
“He explained it.”
“Can you remember what he said?”
“I think so. More or less. He said that the local hospitals and all the doctors round about were cooperating because they were interested in the … is there a word epidemiology?”
Masters nodded.
“They were interested in the epidemiology of flu in the district. Were studying it, in fact. To get the true information he wanted to take a blood sample so that the lab could categorise the particular virus.”
“But he hadn’t taken a sample when he first diagnosed flu?”
“Now you come to mention it, he hadn’t, and that sounds bloody funny to me. He had a long spiel about flu in summer not being unknown, but that severe cases were so comparatively rare that if he took the blood for testing it would be valuable and he might even get some useful hints on the best medication for Carla.”
Tip had come into the room with a tray of cups of coffee. She handed the first to Collier. As Masters accepted his, he said: “Thank you, Mr. Collier. We now know how and why a sample of Miss Sanders’ blood found its way to the path lab. Did the doctor change the treatment at that time?”
“He gave her an injection of penicillin.”
“Did he say why?”
“I seem to remember he murmured something about it being some sort of safety measure in case there should be meningitis.”
“And that was everything?”
Collier nodded and sipped his coffee. Masters looked across at Green, inviting his colleague to put any questions he might have, but Green shrugged to indicate there was nothing he wished to ask.
Masters frowned in thought for a moment or two.
“Did the doctor come again on the Sunday?”
“At about eight o’clock in the evening as near as I can remember. Yes. That would be it. Annette Dent had offered to stay to help look after Carla overnight. She’d made the offer after we’d had a cup of tea about half-past four.” He thought for a moment or two. “Yes. That was it. Annette had spent the afternoon putting the dirty bed linen through the washing machine and generally tidying up Carla’s wet clothes from the night before. It was teatime before she finished. When we sat down she said she and Rex would stay the night. So, after tea, she went to make up the spare room bed for herself and Rex. I was to kip on the sofa in here. Annette sent Rex back to their flat to collect washing gear and night-clothes and so on, while I got a meal together. Rex had got back and we were just about to eat, at eight as near as dammit, when Denyer came to see Carla. I reckon he was a bit concerned about her, still. At any rate he gave her another big jab of penicillin. After he had gone, we left Carla, who seemed to be quite settled.”
“You didn’t give her food.”
“No. She was too snoozy to rouse for something I knew she wouldn’t want. And all remained quiet while we had supper. After that we talked a bit. There was no sound from Carla, but Annette and I looked in several times. It was about midnight when she began to get a bit restless. I heard her from here and went in. Annette must have been listening out for her, because she joined me. We stayed with Carla, just watching her, except that Annette sponged her face from time to time. At about half past two there was a flurry … ”
“Flurry?” queried Masters.
“Carla got more restless and started to moan. A sort of general movement of distress, if you like.”
“I understand. Please go on.”
“I said I would call Denyer, and Annette agreed with me.”
“Immediately you noticed the change?”
“No … o. I think we thought it was just a phase which would pass. Probably quite quickly. But when it didn’t stop, after about a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I got on to Denyer. He took no more than twenty minutes to get here, but during that time Carla went quiet. Completely quiet, and by the time Denyer got here she was dead.”
“You and Mrs. Dent knew that? Recognised she was dead before Denyer arrived?”
“Yes. I’d never seen death before. Certainly I’d never been present when it happened.” He looked round in bewilderment. “It seemed so trivial, somehow. A girl as lovely and … well, full of life, as Carla, going out so almost unnoticed that I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t expect her to die, but had I done so I’d at least have expected some significant sign.”
“It’s not always like it is in your plays, lad,” grunted Green. “And even if the trumpets sound on the other side, it doesn’t mean there’s a fanfare laid on on this side.”
Collier sat slumped on his camel saddle. “I know that now,” he said quietly.
“What was Denyer’s reaction?” asked Masters.
Collier looked up. “I got the impression he wasn’t all that surprised, but he made a bit of a fuss. Saying he couldn’t write a death certificate and how he must warn the Coroner. He told Annette and me that we shouldn’t touch anything. So we turned out the light, locked the door and came in here. Denyer went on his way, Rex gave us a stiff whisky, then he and Annette went back to their bedroom. I stayed here. We were all pretty dazed.”
“The Coroner actually came here, I understand.”
“Pretty early. About half past eight, I think, then an ambulance came for Carla and a policeman—Coroner’s Officer, would it be?—came and looked round. He didn’t say anything except that there’d be an inquest.”
Masters sat silent for a moment or two and then got to his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Collier. I think we should leave it there for today.”
“You mean you’ll be coming back? I can’t think of anything else I can tell you.”
“We shall return only if there are any specific points we should like to clear up with you. We shall talk to Mr. and Mrs. Dent, of course, so if you would give Sergeant Tippen their address … ”
“Checking up
on me, are you?”
“Certainly. Or rather, confirming their part in this sad business.”
Collier, standing small beside Masters, smiled despairingly. “It’s all going to last a long time, isn’t it?”
“I hope we shall clear it up as quickly as possible, but I know what you mean. At the moment it is a wearying experience for you, and I’ve no doubt the memories will linger for some time.” Masters moved towards the door.
“Before you go, Chief Superintendent … ”
“Yes, Mr. Collier?”
“Do you really believe somebody killed Carla? Actually set out to kill her and succeeded, I mean?”
Green grunted: “I wondered when you were going to ask that, chum.”
“I’ve held off because it seems too ridiculous even to think about. I still believe what I thought before you came to see me. That she caught some damned bug in the same way as anybody catches bugs. The trouble is that this one did for her because the quack didn’t recognise it for what it was.”
“You could well be right, lad.”
“But don’t blame the doctor too much,” counselled Masters. “He’d probably never encountered the disease before, and the symptoms masked its true nature.”
“In fact, sir,” said Tip, “it is because the illness is so rare and, in this case, so virulent that we are investigating Carla’s death. And I think you and your friends did all you could for her and acted splendidly.”
“Acted?”
“Behaved, if you like. What I mean is, you should have no feeling of guilt about her death.”
“You were a bit premature, weren’t you, petal?” asked Green, as Berger drove them towards the Yard. “Telling that chap he need have no guilty feelings about that bit of capurtle’s death?”
Tip turned in the front seat to look at him. “I thought that was a tactically correct thing for me to say.”
“Oh yeah? Go on, love, expand.”
“As you keep on telling me I should, I thought.”
“Good. What?”
“That we don’t want to give Collier the idea Carla Sanders was murdered when we have no proof that she was. That, after telling him we would question him very closely, there was no good reason for letting him suppose we suspected him of criminal behaviour. That it was the humane thing to tell him not to feel guilty lest he had overlooked anything he could have done to save her life.”
“Ah!”
“What’s the significance of that grunt?”
“It wasn’t a grunt, it was an exclamation with a splash after it.”
“I know,” said Berger. “I felt it on the back of my neck.”
Green ignored him. “There’s one big question young Collier is asking himself, sugar.”
“What’s that?”
“Whether he should have stopped his lady-love going to the party on the Saturday night.”
Tip was indignant. “How could he have possibly done that? Carla Sanders was a person in her own right and free to come and go as she pleased. She wanted to go to the party and she went.”
“That’s jumping to conclusions, love.”
“It’s what?”
“Hasn’t it occurred to you, honeybun, that Sanders might not have wanted to go, especially as the party was so far away? That she might have been feeling groggy and wanted to cry off?”
“But that’s preposterous. She was a free agent and if she’d wanted to cry off she would have done.”
Green grinned. “Even in the face of her Mr. Collier dinning it into her that she couldn’t afford not to go? That she must on no account disappoint the important Mr. Carlyle? That her career depended on her staying in the public eye, particularly the eye of a chap who had grown so important in the business of backing plays that he could make a career by keeping an actor in mind, or break it by neglect?”
Tip stared at him for a moment. “You mean you disbelieve Collier’s account?”
“Not disbelieve, petal. But we have to look for possible different interpretations. You said Sanders would go to the party of her own free will. All I’m saying is that, if she was havering, a few well-chosen words of encouragement from her bedmate could have swayed the balance. And as it seems fairly clear that Saturday evening was the crucial time in this little guessing game we must ask ourselves whether the young lady jumped at going to the party or was pushed into going there.”
“I see your point,” agreed Tip. “I never seem to get things right, do I?”
Green shrugged. “None of us does that, love. If you did, the rest of us would be redundant by now. In fact, I’d say you were doing pretty well.”
“I think so, too,” said Masters. “You are still a little short on scepticism, Tip. The DCI has given you another good lesson. What do you think the corollary to it is?”
“To be sceptical of what he’s just said, Chief.”
“Go on.”
“If Carla Sanders was persuaded to go to the party, even though she may not have been all that keen, was it Collier who persuaded her? Couldn’t it have been somebody else? A new boyfriend she’d got her eye on? Not necessarily one to replace Howard Collier, but one to have a bit of extra fun with. Was it Carlyle who rang her, unbeknown to Collier, and gave her a story about real troupers always appearing, so he’d expect her to be there no matter what? Or a woman perhaps? One who was jealous for some reason? For having a man pinched from her, or a coveted role, perhaps?”
Masters smiled. “You’ll do, Tip. Keep it up and the DCI won’t be able to try to teach you anything.”
“That’ll be the day,” said Berger, turning the big Rover in at the Yard gates.
“Nearly one o’clock,” said Masters as they all followed him into his office. “I think we’ll call a halt until Monday morning.”
Berger was astounded. “In the middle of a case, Chief? A free weekend? Or half a weekend at any rate. Not that I’m complaining, but I’ve never known you let up before.”
“We haven’t a case,” growled Green. “We’re investigating to see if there is one. And you won’t get the weekend off. You’ll have to go to that theatre to ask about the rats in their flies or wherever it is they keep them.”
Tip exploded with mirth. Berger turned to Masters. “The questions at the theatre will not take long, Chief. Do you want me to ring you with the answers?”
“Just a moment.” Masters picked up the phone and pressed the single button that would put him through direct to his own home. Wanda answered. There followed a conversation which the other three tried not to listen to by starting an inconsequential conversation among themselves. Even had they not done so they would have heard little except a few laconic replies from Masters. When he put the handset down he turned to them.
“We’ll stop now, as I said. Berger, you can ring me at home this afternoon if you think it’s necessary. But not tomorrow.” He turned to Green. “Wanda has ear-marked tomorrow for taking me down into Kent, Bill. If the weather is like this she proposes to picnic near a spot called Housmans.”
“Housmans?” said Berger. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it some little village, Chief?”
“Just a picnic spot, lad,” grunted Green.
“The point is, Bill, Wanda wondered whether you and Doris would like to join us. If so, would you like her to pack a sandwich or would Doris provide?”
“If young Michael’s going to be there … ”
“Which he will be, of course.”
“Then wild horses wouldn’t stop Doris joining you, and if Doris is there, I’ll have to be, I suppose.”
“Good. I’ll come and pick you up at ten, unless … ” He looked round at the two sergeants. “Unless you two would like to join us?”
“I don’t know, Chief,” began Berger.
Tip looked from face to face until her gaze finally rested on Green. “Would one of your lessons suggest the advisability or otherwise of accepting such an invitation?”
“The advisability,” said Green with a straight face.
/> “Close to Housmans, the Chief said.”
“That’s right.”
“And Housmans is a picnic spot.”
“Yes.”
“Not Mr. Hugh Carlyle’s residence by any chance?”
“No.”
“But in the vicinity of it.”
“Very adjacent as the cricket commentators say, but don’t take that as gospel because I don’t know where Carlyle lives, but knowing His Nibs and his devious mind, a trip to Kent at this juncture must be relevant, particularly when he worms his way round to inviting the three of us to join him.”
“Good thinking, that man,” said Berger. He looked across at Tip. “What do you reckon? Beer and sandwiches at Housmans tomorrow?”
Tip nodded. “Mrs. Masters gets some lovely ideas. Let’s take advantage of her kind offer, then you and I can pick up the DCI and Mrs. Green and join the Chief at his house.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, sugar,” said Green. “I’ll be ready from half past nine onwards.”
5
After the sergeants had left them, Green asked: “How much are we going to tell those two, George?”
“Everything, Bill. I don’t want them playing guessing games and coming to the wrong conclusions. Besides, I trust them. My belief is that they’d support the two of us through thick and thin.”
“You don’t think it will come to that, do you?”
“At the moment, I don’t. We’ll see what tomorrow gives us, if anything, and then we can decide whether I should go to Anderson on Monday.”
“That’s what I’d have advised,” said Green, getting to his feet. “Now I think I’ll be off, George. Doris always cooks sausages for Saturday lunch and I feel I could do a lot of damage to four or five of them.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow then, Bill. Love to Doris. Tell her I’d like her to travel in our car with Wanda and Michael. We others will use the Yard car so that we can brief the sergeants as we go.”
“Good idea. See you, George.”
So it was with things arranged in this way that the two cars left the little house behind the Westminster Hospital in the comparatively light traffic of Sunday morning. Wanda led the way in the Jaguar as she was the only one who knew exactly where Housmans was.
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