“I’m not sure you’re right. It all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether Mrs. Parry was worth more dead than alive. She controlled the purse-strings … and she was a very wealthy woman. Her will would make interesting reading.”
“Hasn’t he got any money of his own?”
“Not according to my information.”
“From a reliable source?”
It was an awkward question. For the first time Quinn realised that he might have been taking far too much for granted.
He said, “On our way here, Miss Stewart gave me the background to the Parry family. From what she says, Michael Parry’s financial dependence on his wife has been common knowledge.”
“Does that mean he hasn’t got a job of any kind?”
“Ostensibly he’s a writer, but I imagine that’s merely a front to hide the fact that he’s —”
“— been living on his wife’s money,” Elvin said.
“Well, yes, that’s the impression I got.”
“M-m-m … Interesting situation … full of possibilities.”
“As I see it there’s one that sticks out a mile,” Quinn said. “Some time this morning before the daily help arrived, Mrs. Parry phoned her husband and told him she was returning home earlier than arranged. My guess is that she also made it clear they’d reached the parting of the ways. Maybe she’d found someone else: or maybe she’d decided that there was no future in their marriage and she didn’t want to go on living with him. The effect of all this on Michael Parry was —”
“— to make him decide that if she wouldn’t go on living with him he’d see she wouldn’t go on living without him,” Elvin said.
Quinn remembered the look on Parry’s face when he’d opened the door — a befuddled look compounded of drink and sleep. He’d hardly seemed like a man who had just murdered his wife. And yet he must’ve been in the house around the time when she’d died. And that posed a different problem.
“It might not have been quite as it looks,” Quinn said. “Supposing she came home and found him in a drunken stupor? If she’d reached the stage where she couldn’t take that sort of thing any more she might — I say she just might — have yielded to a sudden impulse and committed suicide. If so, where does that put Michael Parry?”
Inspector Elvin looked dubious. He said, “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Then let’s take it step by step. Michael wakes up with a head like a bucket and the first thing he sees with his little bleary eyes is his wife. She’s lying on the other bed and he discovers soon enough that she’s not just sleeping. This gives him quite a shock … not because he’ll go into mourning for a year if she dies but chiefly because it might be suspected that he had something to do with her death.”
“As has indeed happened,” Elvin said.
“Exactly. Now let’s take it from there. While Michael’s racking his inebriated wits for a way out, the door-bell rings. In case it’s just a chance caller he lies low and does nothing. But it rings again … and again … and he hears voices outside. One of them is the familiar voice of somebody he knows very well — Miss Carole Stewart. By this time he’s scared stiff … and I don’t blame him. What would you have done if you’d been in his shoes?”
“The situation isn’t likely to arise,” Elvin said. He seemed faintly amused.
Quinn asked, “Why not? Aren’t his shoes big enough?”
Inspector Elvin shook his head disapprovingly. He said, “Dear me … the old joke about the size of a policeman’s feet. I’d hoped for better things from you. What I meant was that I could never land in Parry’s situation because my wife isn’t a wealthy woman. But please go on.”
“There’s not much more. Either Michael Parry hadn’t expected weekend guests or we’d arrived earlier than anticipated. The way he was placed it didn’t make any odds. He needed time to think and he wouldn’t get it if visitors walked in and found Adele dying from an overdose of sleeping pills. He had to put her some place where she wouldn’t be found before he’d thought of a way to dispose of her.”
“What you’re saying is that he let her die,” Elvin said. “That makes him out to be a ghoul.”
“Well, he’s either a ghoul or a loving husband. You can take your pick. I know which I’d choose. He didn’t need her — just her money. But everybody knew that so he had to play it clever … or he might take the blame for something he hadn’t done.”
“Letting his wife die when there was a chance of saving her life is tantamount to murder,” Elvin said.
“We don’t know that there was a chance. She might’ve been too far gone. But supposing she could have been saved? What would he be charged with? How could you ever prove that either she wasn’t already dead when he found her or that she wouldn’t inevitably have died no matter what he had done?”
Inspector Elvin said, “The answer to the last question encompasses all the others — I couldn’t.”
With a morbid look on his face he went back to the table between the twin beds and studied the glass top from various angles. As though talking to himself, he repeated, “I couldn’t …”
He bent over the top and examined it more closely. Then he said, “A wet glass has been standing here. There’s a ring” — he stooped lower and touched it with the top of his finger — “a ring that’s still damp. It feels sticky — so it can hardly have been made by water.”
Quinn said, “There’s your confirmation. She drank her doped brandy, put the glass on the table, and then lay down to sleep. By the time Michael woke up she was either dead or in a state of advanced coma. So he carts her into the nursery where no one ever goes, gets rid of the brandy glass, ditto her travelling case, and hopes she won’t be found until he’s thought of a way out of his quandary. It all fits, doesn’t it?”
Inspector Elvin went on looking at the wet ring on the bedside table. At last, he said, “You could be right … but I’m not happy with your explanation. Parry couldn’t keep his wife’s body hidden indefinitely. Concealing her death was only going to make things worse for him in the long run.”
“Not if he were able to dispose of her body outside the house,” Quinn said. “She’d gone off to Wood Lake and she hadn’t come back. That would be his story. You couldn’t prove he was lying unless you found the person who brought her home.”
Elvin nodded. He said, “That might be well-nigh impossible … if it had been Parry himself who met the train or bus or whatever it was. Which brings us back to square one.”
“Suicide or murder,” Quinn said.
“And the circumstances fit both equally well. Only two things remain that I don’t really understand. One is Mrs. Parry’s shoes.”
“What about them?”
“Well, she probably took them off before she lay down on the bed in this room … if she committed suicide. If she didn’t, then her husband removed them before he dragged her into the nursery to avoid leaving scratches from her heels on the parquet floor of the landing.”
“So?”
“Just this: either way, he put her shoes in the nursery. But why should he have bothered to be so tidy? Did you notice how carefully they’d been placed under the foot of the bed?”
Quinn said, “Yes, I did notice. But I didn’t think it was all that important.”
“Maybe it isn’t … and yet maybe it is. The other point has to do with Mrs. Ford. How did she come to find her sister-in-law’s body? I understood that no one ever went into the nursery.”
“Could be that she saw the door was open and took a look inside out of curiosity.”
“Why should the door be open if the room’s never used?”
“That’s something you’ll have to ask her.”
“I will,” Elvin said.
He stood listening to the sound of a vehicle droning its way up the slope from the village before he went on, “Rest assured I will … That must be the ambulance. Go and get your drink, Mr. Quinn. I’ll have another word with you s
oon’s I’m free. You’ll be stopping here overnight, I presume?”
“That’s up to my host,” Quinn said. “After what’s happened he’ll hardly be in the mood to entertain company.”
Elvin said, “If I’m any judge, he’ll be even less inclined to stay alone in the house. So don’t suggest that you’d like to leave.”
“Why not? This isn’t the kind of place I’d choose for a riotous weekend.”
“Neither would I. But you could be of considerable help to me if you stayed.”
“How?”
“By keeping your eyes and ears open.”
“In other words you want me to act as an informer.”
“If you wish to put it that way, yes. I need hardly remind a man like you that it’s your duty to assist the police.”
“It isn’t my duty to abuse the laws of hospitality,” Quinn said.
Inspector Elvin stroked his silver hair in an affected gesture. He said, “You’re jumping to conclusions, Mr. Quinn. There’s nothing definite to connect Parry with the death of his wife … or even with concealment of her death. By staying on at Elm Lodge you may be doing him a very great service. And, of course, at the same time …”
“Yes?”
“You’d enjoy my confidence,” Elvin said.
He seemed to think there was nothing more to say. As he went out he didn’t even look back.
From the bedroom window Quinn watched a white-painted ambulance roll to a halt outside the front door. Then there were voices down below … footsteps on the stairs … the irregular tramp of feet going past … more voices from the direction of the nursery.
He stayed at the window and listened and thought about Adele Parry. He didn’t want to see what they were doing.
It wasn’t long before the same footsteps passed the bedroom door again and went slowly and carefully down the stairs. He heard someone saying “… easy … hold your end up … O.K. I’ve got it …”
Two men came out of the porch bearing a stretcher covered from head to foot by a blanket tucked in all round. With the ease of long practice they loaded the stretcher on rails and slid it into the ambulance like delivery men returning a tray of bread to a baker’s van.
In the failing light, Quinn saw them slam the doors … and walk briskly round to the front of the ambulance … and climb in. He turned away as they drove off.
Down below the phone bell tinkled. Then Inspector Elvin came back into the bedroom.
With a quizzical look, he asked, “Haven’t you had your drink yet?”
“I don’t need one. I’ve changed my mind,” Quinn said.
“You may change it again when you’ve heard the latest news. I’ve just been on the phone to Wood Lake.”
“And?”
“Mrs. Parry hasn’t been there this week. They haven’t seen anything of her since” — Inspector Elvin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise — “since the last time she visited the place … which was about two months ago. Be interesting to know where she has been — very interesting.”
7
When Quinn went downstairs he found Parry and Neil Ford talking quietly together near the central hearth. Carole was in the kitchen making sandwiches.
He stayed in the doorway and stood watching her. She seemed older — older and more serious and very different from the girl with the cheeky smile whom he’d met at Charlie Hinchcliffe’s party.
It felt like a lifetime since he’d yielded to a crazy impulse and kissed her. That had been a stupid thing to do. If he’d known about the man who’d lived with her at the cottage he’d never have done it. For all he knew there might have been more than one man.
… Don’t believe she’s like that. Whatever else, she isn’t a tart. As I see it she invited me here for the week-end because she didn’t want to be available for Bossard while she was at Elm Lodge. I was her excuse for keeping him at arm’s length. So he must mean a lot to her and she doesn’t want to show it …
Out of nowhere came a thought that took shape, piece by piece, like an irregular structure built with a child’s set of bricks. It wasn’t very solid but it stood up long enough to give Quinn a new awareness of many things that had perplexed him since he’d arrived at Castle Lammering.
… Adele didn’t really mean anything to anybody. Bossard’s behaviour when he saw her lying there seemed peculiar at the time … the look on his face wasn’t right… but now I understand. That look was one of relief — as though her death had taken a load off his mind …
Ariadne Wilkinson hadn’t shown any grief, either. Neil Ford didn’t even pretend to be sorry. Carole was thoughtful and withdrawn, but not sad. Her friend — a kind, hospitable friend — had died suddenly and tragically, but Carole shed no tears.
And Michael Parry … He didn’t act like a man who had lost his wife. The only emotion he betrayed was fear — an underlying fear that could have been caused by any one of a dozen reasons. Neither in his voice nor his eyes was there any hint of sorrow.
That left Irene Ford. She’d been shocked into a state of hysterics, but with a woman like Irene that could have been expected.
… She’s a twitching neurotic. It needn’t have been affection for her sister-in-law that made her hysterical. She’d probably have reacted the same way if she’d discovered the body of a complete stranger. Not that I blame her for being upset. Finding a corpse in the next room is enough to make any woman jump out of her roll-on. But not every woman would scream the house down …
Carole looked up and gave him a little forced smile. She said, “Hallo … You’ve been upstairs a long time. Has that inspector finished asking questions?”
“I’d say he’s only just started,” Quinn said. “We’ve a long way to go before we see the end of this business. How’s Mrs. Ford?”
“Dr. Bossard’s with her now. He’s given her a sedative and he says she should be all right after a good night’s rest … but it’ll take a little time for her to get over the shock.”
“That’s only to be expected. How do you feel?”
“Oh, I’m all right.” She brushed some crumbs together with the edge of her palm and gathered them into a mound. Without looking at Quinn, she added, “A lot better than I’d have felt if I’d been the one who found Adele.”
Quinn said, “That’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Did Mrs. Ford tell you what made her go into the nursery? I understood that no one ever went in there.”
“The light was on. She noticed it when she was leaving her own room to come downstairs. From what she says the nursery door wasn’t quite shut. Naturally, that made her curious …”
“If it hadn’t got suddenly dark she wouldn’t have seen the light in the nursery,” Quinn said.
“No, I don’t suppose she would. What I don’t understand is why Adele should have needed to use the light on a day like to-day.”
“Me, neither. And I’ve no doubt Inspector Elvin will make three.”
Carole went on toying with the mound of crumbs. Then she said, “Maybe Michael could suggest a reason. He might know if Adele had recently been in the nursery after dark.”
“If he doesn’t, no one else will,” Quinn said. “I’ll ask him.”
Parry didn’t know. He didn’t seem very interested, either.
It was Neil Ford who made an issue of the question. He said, “I heard my wife saying something about the light being on in the nursery … but I don’t see why that should concern you.” Once again he had an offensive look in his eyes.
Quinn said, “I thought the war was over. So you don’t get the wrong idea let me tell you I’m merely quoting Inspector Elvin. It’s he who wants —”
“Then let Inspector Elvin ask for himself. In the circumstances, don’t you think your presence here is rather unnecessary?”
Carole came out of the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and crockery and a pot of coffee. She said, “I’ll tell you something, Neil. That old adage isn’t true: it doesn’t take two to make a quarrel. You do very well all b
y yourself.”
Ford said, “I didn’t mean anything more than that this was hardly the time to have strangers around.”
“That’s merely your opinion. Besides, Mr. Quinn isn’t a stranger. He’s a guest of the house. I invited him to spend the week-end at Elm Lodge and it isn’t his fault that this has happened.”
In a restless voice, Michael Parry said, “I don’t want to take sides … but it’s for me to say who stays here and who doesn’t.”
“If that means what I think it means” — Ford’s womanish mouth tightened and his face lost some of its colour — “you won’t need to say it twice. If Irene’s all right we’ll leave in the morning.”
Michael threw up his hands. He said, “Oh, don’t be a bloody fool! I don’t want you or anyone to leave. Now can’t we drop this whole silly business and behave like civilised people?”
Quinn said, “If nobody minds me butting in I’d like to mention that Inspector Elvin wants me to stay on … either here or somewhere nearby. I think he’s got an idea I might be needed at the inquest.”
It was a weak excuse but they seemed to accept it. Michael said, “Then that’s that. You’ll all stay … at least until after the inquest. Since the week-end is bound to delay arrangements, I don’t suppose it’ll take place before Monday at the earliest.”
“I have to get back to Ringwood first thing Monday morning,” Ford said. “I’ve got my business to look after. In any case they won’t need me. Irene’s the one who found” — he gave Parry a long look — “who found Adele. Strange affair altogether when you come to think of it.”
Michael asked, “What’s strange? Why shouldn’t it have been Irene?”
“No reason at all. She just happened to be the first to go upstairs. If it had been any one of us we’d have wondered why the light was on in the nursery … same as she did. That’s not what I meant when I said it was a strange affair.”
“Then what did you mean?” Carole said, “I wish you’d leave all this talk until later. The coffee’s getting cold.”
“No.” Michael turned his back on her and folded his arms and stared at Ford belligerently. “If you’ve got something on your mind, let’s hear it. Let’s bring it out into the open. What did you mean?”
A Slightly Bitter Taste Page 11