Neil Ford shrugged. He said, “Nothing that everybody else hasn’t already thought of … including Dr. Bossard and that police inspector. Adele must’ve been in the house all the time … and yet you didn’t know.”
With a slight narrowing of his faded blue eyes, Parry asked, “Are you suggesting that I did know?”
Ford said, “Now who’s being foolish? Of course I’m not! I just mentioned that it was rather strange. If you’d only thought of looking in the nursery —”
“Well, I didn’t. I went straight up to my room for a lie down and I was asleep when Carole and Mr. Quinn arrived. Adele wasn’t supposed to be coming home until this evening, anyway, so why should I have gone and looked in the nursery … of all places? You’re as bad as that damn’ policeman with some of the things —”
“O.K. O.K. Don’t get excited. I was only trying to help.”
In a voice that matched the sour look in his eyes. Parry said, “You’d do a lot better if you went and looked after your wife.”
Neil Ford drew in a quick breath. As though the words were fighting to get out, he said, “And you’d have done a lot better if you’d looked after yours …”
There he faltered, his plump face pale and scared. Then he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I had no right to say a thing like that. Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s been a trying time for all of us and …”
His voice tailed off again. Then he said, “Maybe I should go and see how Irene’s getting on.”
Carole said, “Ask her if she’d like something to eat. I’ll make her whatever she wants. And tell Dr. Bossard there’s some coffee waiting for him.”
Ford hurried upstairs as though afraid that Parry would stop him. When he had gone, Carole looked at Michael and said, “You deserve a medal for restraint. How you controlled yourself I’ll never know.”
He brushed up the ends of his moustache and gave her a weak smile. He said, “I was tempted to punch him in the nose but it wouldn’t have done any good. This is neither the time nor the place for that sort of thing. Let’s have a friendly cup of coffee and a sandwich and forget Adele’s” — he stumbled over the next word and took a moment to recover himself — “Adele’s relations.”
To Quinn it was all unreal. Michael Parry might as well have said that they should forget Adele herself. She had died … her body had been removed … and now the gap had closed. It was as though she had never been.
Through his thoughts he heard Parry saying “… haven’t eaten since lunch time and that was before one o’clock. You’ve no idea how appetising those sandwiches look.”
Then he turned to Quinn and asked, “How about you?”
Quinn said, “I’d like a cup of coffee but that’s all. I had a pretty good meal when we got here.”
Perhaps Michael Parry guessed what he was thinking. In an uncomfortable voice, Parry said, “There’s something I want you to know. Maybe it’s not really any of your business —”
“Then don’t tell me,” Quinn said.
“I must … for my own sake I must. You see, whatever my faults and failings, I’ve never been a hypocrite. And I’m not going to start now. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Quinn nodded. At the back of his mind he was asking himself why a man who had lived on his wife’s money, who had been little better than a parasite, should object to being thought a hypocrite.
… Now he’s going to tell me the old story. Why does a husband always use the excuse that his wife doesn’t understand him? He might be a lot worse off if she did …
Michael Parry said, “I can’t pretend I’m overwhelmed with grief. It’s a terrible thing to have happened … of course it is … and I’m sorry … but that’s all. In my position I should be heartbroken but I’m not. I just don’t feel anything. All I want is to get the whole business over and done with so that I can get away — as far away as possible from this damned house. Whatever I’ve been, she made me. Nobody realises —”
“Don’t say that,” Carole said. “If you hadn’t been drinking you’d know how dreadful it sounds. Anyone hearing you would imagine all sorts of things.”
Quinn said, “He isn’t drunk. Let him talk. Nothing he says can make the situation any worse.”
Parry looked at Carole and said, “I told you, didn’t I? They think I killed Adele. Just because I didn’t know she’d come home they think I got rid of her.”
Carole said, “That’s a load of nonsense.”
Then she turned and stared at Quinn and asked, “Isn’t it?”
He wondered why Michael was so anxious to talk about his relationship with Adele … why he seemed to have forgotten that he was hungry … and why Carole wanted to protect him. Nobody at Elm Lodge behaved true to type.
Quinn said, “All I can tell you is that Inspector Elvin isn’t satisfied with Mr. Parry’s account of what happened this afternoon. There’s not much doubt that Mrs. Parry lay down on the bed in her own room when she came home. The fact that she was found in the nursery makes Elvin think she was put there by someone who didn’t want her to be discovered before she was dead.”
Michael Parry picked up a sandwich, looked at it, and tossed it back on the tray. Then he rubbed a hand across his eyes.
He said, “See how they’ve got it all worked out? I was the only one in the house from half-past three until the time you and Quinn arrived … so it must’ve been me. Either I deliberately killed Adele or I let her die. Take your choice.”
Carole shivered. With no emotion in her face, she said, “It’s horrible … just too horrible.”
She doesn’t believe it, Quinn told himself. But somehow I think she wants to. And there can be only one reason for that.
… Wish I could find a reason for Michael’s behaviour. Publicising all this isn’t in his own interests. Why should he invite the lightning? Or did he know he’d be suspected and is this his method of making people think that a guilty man wouldn’t go out of his way to attract suspicion? …
It was tempting to lay the blame on Parry. If he were responsible for his wife’s death — directly or indirectly — then there would be no questions left unanswered.
… Maybe he’s using me now as a contact between himself and Inspector Elvin and that’s why he asked me to stay in the room while Elvin was questioning him … and also why he put out the red carpet for me soon’s I got here …
It seemed far-fetched. And yet …
Carole was looking at him, her wide, dark eyes like the eyes of a stranger. She asked, “Is all this true?”
Quinn said, “In substance — yes. The police are thinking along those lines.”
“Did the inspector say he thought Michael was responsible for Adele’s death?”
“Not in so many words. It was just mentioned — along with several other things — as a possibility. Elvin has a lot of inquiries to make before he’ll be able to say exactly what happened here this afternoon.”
“Never mind Inspector Elvin. You know pretty well as much about the affair as he does. What do you think?”
It was an awkward question. And Carole wasn’t the type to be fobbed off with half an answer.
… From Basingstoke to Castle Lammering must be approximately sixty-five miles … and from her cottage it’ll be a little less since it’s this side of Basingstoke. If she averaged forty miles an hour she could’ve done the return journey in roughly three hours …
That didn’t allow for what had to be done at Elm Lodge. But there would still have been plenty of time.
… I slept like a pig from the early hours until about a quarter past five in the afternoon. If she’d known that Adele would be arriving home some time after the daily woman left at one o’clock … if she got to Elm Lodge, had a drink with Adele, and doped her brandy … if she escaped from the house before Michael returned at three-thirty or thereabouts she’d have had ample time to get back to the cottage by five-fifteen and waken me with a cup of coffee …
Quinn said, “I’d say it was too
early to draw conclusions. I’m willing to believe that Mr. Parry didn’t know his wife was in the nursery when he returned home.”
Some of the bitterness left Michael Parry’s face. He said, “That might not be much but it’s better than the way Inspector Elvin talked to me. If it were left to him I’d be locked up right now.”
Carole said, “I’m sure you’re wrong. You just feel depressed because you’ve had a very trying day.”
As she began pouring out a cup of coffee, she added, “Drink this and have a bite to eat and then go to bed. Things will look better to-morrow.”
Michael said, “Thanks. I’m glad you two are here … and I hope you’ll stick around until everything’s cleared up …”
The opening of a door on the floor above stopped him. There was the sound of subdued voices … someone saying “… I’ll look in again in the morning.” Then Quinn saw Dr. Bossard coming downstairs.
With a peculiar look on his face Michael Parry turned his back, piled three or four sandwiches on a plate, and carried them along with his cup of coffee to a bench seat near the central hearth. When he sat down he kept his back towards Bossard.
All Quinn’s attention was on Carole. He hated himself for what he was thinking but he couldn’t get it out of his mind.
… She used you as her alibi. When she went to Charlie Hinchcliffe’s party she must’ve been on the lookout for some mug who’d fancy going home with her. If necessary she’d have been prepared to sleep with him … after he’d drunk a nightcap fortified with a few Pembrium capsules which would’ve kept him safely in dreamland all next day …
Dr. Bossard was smiling at Carole and asking, “Do you think I might have a cup of coffee before I go?”
Carole said, “Of course. It’s not very hot, I’m afraid. If you like I’ll make some more.”
“Oh, no. This’ll do nicely. I’ve got to get back, anyway, in case there are some late calls for me.”
They went on talking small talk while Bossard drank his coffee … and Michael Parry sat alone beside the hearth … and Quinn thought bitter thoughts about the cute little girl with dark eyes and dark hair and the kind of smile that melted his cynicism. The pity was that it always left him wide open to be fooled.
… She was lucky in picking you up. Since you were stinking drunk she didn’t have to undergo a fate worse than death …
Bossard was saying good night. Carole said she would see him to the door … Michael Parry mumbled something … Quinn answered mechanically.
… All that smooth explanation about going out to buy a razor for you was just a load of malarkey. She wanted a cover-up in case you’d roused and found she wasn’t there. Not that there was much chance of you waking up too soon when you had a bellyfull of sleeping pills …
By then Carole and Bossard were walking to the door. Quinn told himself this was his opportunity to catch her unawares.
He said, “Before you go, Doctor, do you mind if I ask you something?”
Dr. Bossard turned without haste and looked at him with raised eyebrows. In his usual mellow, courteous voice, Bossard said, “Not at all … providing it won’t keep me too long. I really must be off.”
Quinn said, “This’ll only take a moment. Are you now able to say what time, approximately, Mrs. Parry died?”
Carole looked startled. Dr. Bossard was obviously taken aback. Only Michael Parry remained unmoved.
In a slightly pompous tone, Bossard said, “I don’t think that’s the sort of thing we should discuss — at this juncture.”
“Why not? Inspector Elvin didn’t put an embargo on the information, did he?”
“No. I just think this is hardly the place to go into details of a nature that might cause — distress.”
“Distress to whom, Doctor? I never knew the lady: Miss Stewart” — Quinn glanced at her briefly — “won’t require smelling salts … whatever you choose to disclose: and Mr. Parry, I’m quite sure, actually wants the answer to my question.”
Bossaid said, “Perhaps so. But there will be plenty of opportunity later for him to be told.”
Michael Parry put down his half-eaten sandwich and swung round. He said, “Later won’t do. I want to be told now. I’m entitled to be told. What you and Inspector Elvin and a few other people seem to have forgotten is that Adele was my wife.”
Quinn liked that. It was much more than he had expected.
… Fine stirring speech. Wonder what made him change his tune all of a sudden? Could be he thinks I’m pally with the law and he wants to have a Mend at court … if that’s not an unfortunate way of putting it. I’d say that either he already knows the time his wife died or he doesn’t care a damn. If the latter, then he must feel pretty safe …
Dr. Bossard put his hands behind his back and rocked to and fro while he thought. It didn’t take him very long to make up his mind.
Eventually, he said, “Very well. I didn’t imagine it would be all that important, but if you really wish to know … In my opinion, when I examined Mrs. Parry she had been dead approximately five hours. That is to say, death took place around four o’clock. Of course, it might have been as late as four-thirty. These things can’t be calculated to within half an hour.”
He stopped bobbing up and down and shared a well-groomed smile between Parry and Quinn. He said, “That’s about all I can tell you.”
His smile meant nothing. It was merely a cover behind which he tried to conceal his dislike of being questioned.
Quinn said, “There’s one thing more. How long does it take for an overdose of barbiturate to cause death?”
Dr. Bossard moved impatiently. He said, “That’s something I can’t really answer. It would depend on a number of factors, the most important one being which of the barbiturates —”
“Assuming it was this stuff Pembrium, and also assuming the minimum fatal dose, how long do you think it would have taken?”
“Until we have the results of a post-mortem” — Bossard looked at his watch — “I’ve got just no idea. It’s far too early to make positive statements.”
Michael Parry stood up. He said, “It wasn’t too early for Inspector Elvin to question me in detail about where I went this morning and what I did and when I returned home and why I didn’t know my wife was in the house when I got back. He seemed pretty sure that she must’ve been here at half past three … which can only mean you told him she couldn’t have taken the Pembrium after that time.”
Bossard waved a hand in mild protest. He said, “Don’t blame me because the inspector arrives at his own conclusions. All I did was to express the opinion that fatal results of an overdose would not ensue in less than an hour … might’ve been as much as two hours but unlikely to be less than one.”
“That’s the same thing expressed in a different way,” Parry said. “If my wife died at about four-thirty and those sleeping pills needed at least an hour to take effect —”
He faltered. Then he went on, “I mean she wouldn’t have died for at least an hour after taking them … and so she must’ve been in the house before half-past three … and yet I didn’t know.”
“By that time she would be in a state of narcosis,” Bossard said.
With neither regret nor sympathy in his face, he added, “Now I must go. Good night.”
At the door he murmured a few words to Carole and Quinn heard her say “… It won’t do any good … but I’ll think about it.”
Parry turned away and sat down. Quinn stood listening to the quiet voices talking in the doorway.
… Something damn’ funny about the life and death of Adele Parry. She isn’t yet cold but her husband doesn’t care two hoots and neither does her doctor. You’d think she’d done them a favour by dying. Michael’s attitude I can understand — he probably inherits her money. But what does the handsome Dr. Bossard get out of it? Maybe Carole knows. If she does, I’ll lay any odds she won’t tell me …
Then Bossard got into his car and drove off. Carole came back inside and clos
ed the door and said, “It’s raining again. I think we’ll have a wet day to-morrow.”
Michael Parry said, “Wet or fine, the morning can’t come too soon. This has been the longest day of my life.”
He stretched and yawned and then got stiffly to his feet. He said, “If nobody objects I think I will go to bed. Show Mr. Quinn his room, Carole, there’s a good girl …”
At the foot of the stairs he glanced over his shoulder at Quinn and added, “Sorry about all this carry-on. You picked the wrong week-end.”
Quinn said, “I didn’t pick it. Until this afternoon I’d never even heard of Castle Lammering. It was all Carole’s idea.”
“Doesn’t matter. Good to have you.” He climbed a couple of steps and looked back again. “I don’t expect you to be on my side … but I’m glad you’re here, all the same …”
Carole waited until his bedroom door closed and then she said, “I’ll never understand that man. One time I feel sorry for him and the next I think he needs kicking.”
“Lends a touch of variety,” Quinn said. “What are your feelings about him right now?”
With her lower lip held between her teeth she looked at Quinn thoughtfully, her eyes troubled. At last, she said, “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m afraid.”
“Because you think he poisoned his wife? Or are your fears for somebody else?”
A spot of colour came into her cheeks. She said, “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I don’t believe anyone would’ve wanted to harm Adele. If she died from an overdose of sleeping pills, then she must’ve taken them herself.”
“Try telling that to Inspector Elvin. He’s got a notion that this is a case of murder … and he’ll take a lot of convincing that it isn’t. From what I’ve seen and heard since I entered this house I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“What have you heard?”
“Enough to tell me that no one loved Adele Parry. Like the song, she was a poor little rich girl. Everybody’s going to be better off now she’s dead — or so they like to think.”
A Slightly Bitter Taste Page 12