A Slightly Bitter Taste

by Harry Carmichael

  “You mean financially?”

  “Sure. She’ll have left some nice bequests to her family and friends, won’t she?”

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. She never made a will.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me. A few weeks ago, apropos of something else, she mentioned that she’d always hated the idea of making a will but one of these days she’d have to do so. Apparently her lawyers had been urging her not to be superstitious. For the sake of all concerned it was her duty to make a will.”

  “And now all concerned are devoutly hoping that she wasted no time in following her lawyers’ advice,” Quinn said.

  Carole gave him a barbed look. She said, “You’ve changed since last night. You’re a completely different person. I don’t like you in this mood.”

  “It’s the only one I’ve got. I’m like a chameleon: my disposition changes according to my surroundings. And this environment is hostile … or haven’t you noticed?”

  She smiled at him without showing her teeth. It wasn’t the kind of smile that had attracted him to her in the beginning.

  She said, “You’re good with words … so I’m not going to get involved in an argument. Let’s leave it like that. Now I’ll take you up to your room.”

  He followed her upstairs … past the first two bedrooms … and the bathroom … and the nursery. A couple of doors farther on, she said, “You’ll be quite comfortable in here. Sleep well.”

  “And the same to you,” Quinn said. “Say good night for me to Neil Ford … if you should happen to see him.”

  Carole stopped. She said, “For some reason best known to yourself you’re trying to make me lose my temper. You know perfectly well there’s nothing between Neil and me.”

  “How about Michael Parry?”

  “That’s even more ridiculous. Why do you want to annoy me? Didn’t you say you hoped we’d be friends?”

  “Friends are honest with each other,” Quinn said. “That lets you out.”

  With her dark eyes narrowed in a frown she studied him carefully. Then she asked, “Just what do you mean?”

  “Well, to start with, you might’ve told me I was only invited to spend the week-end at Castle Lammering because it served your purpose.”

  Her mouth opened in swift denial but she left it unspoken. He saw the conflict in her eyes before at last she said, “What difference would it have made if I had? You were on holiday and had nowhere to go. It served your purpose, too, or you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation.”

  “That’s not the same thing. I didn’t pretend.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “You led me to believe you wanted my company. And that wasn’t true, was it?”

  “Oh, yes, it was. I thought someone like you would be —” She broke off with a shrug.

  “Useful is the word you’re looking for,” Quinn said.

  She tightened her lips and he thought she was going to walk off and leave him. After a little struggle, she said, “I see you’re determined to pick a quarrel … although I still don’t know why you should want to row with me.”

  “There’s only one thing I want right now,” Quinn said. “I’m sick and tired of being led by the nose. Why not tell me the truth for a change?”

  “About what?”

  “The part you play in all the funny business that’s been going on here. You invited me to spend the week-end at Elm Lodge because you thought I’d act as a fence between you and somebody else. If the man isn’t Neil Ford or Michael then it must be Dr. Bossard. Am I right?”

  She opened the door of Quinn’s room, switched on the light, and glanced here and there. When she looked at Quinn again, she asked, “Supposing you are right? What’s it got to do with you?”

  “Quite a lot … if he’s the man who went off without his laundry.”

  “I can assure you” — her eyes were hard and bright — “he isn’t bothered about a few odds and ends like that.”

  “No, but I am,” Quinn said. “I don’t fancy walking around in your former lover’s shirt.”

  Carole smiled the wrong kind of smile. She said, “He wasn’t my lover … but it’s true that I hoped you’d keep him away from me. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Adele didn’t really ask him to come here this evening. He invited himself because he wanted to see me again. That’s all.”

  Quinn said, “If he wasn’t your lover how did he come to be staying at the cottage? Don’t tell me he merely used it as a dressing-room.”

  She shook her head. In a tone of mock pity, she said, “You’re not very clever, are you? A man and a woman are entitled to live together if they’re legally married.”

  “Do you mean he’s your husband?”

  “Not any more. We’re separated.”

  Conflicting thoughts tumbled over each other in Quinn’s mind. He asked, “Do the others know about this?”

  “No, they were never told. My marriage broke up before Geoffrey took over his practice in Blandford. Adele knew that he and I were friendly — but nothing more than that. I think recently she must’ve guessed there was something between us because she kept trying to bring us together … or so I imagined. Of course, Geoffrey might’ve had a lot to do with that. He wants me to go back to him.”

  “And will you?”

  “I don’t know if I dare take the chance. He swears it’ll never happen again … but I’m afraid to take the risk that I’ll be hurt like I was hurt the last time.”

  Her voice tailed off and there was a glint of tears in her eyes. Quinn told himself she hardly looked the type to trick anyone into providing an alibi so that she could commit murder.

  … She’d need to have a motive — and I don’t know of any. The prospect of being left a fair sum of money wouldn’t be a strong enough urge to kill somebody who was her Mend. It takes more than that… money isn’t Carole’s problem … she has bigger troubles … easy to see she’s still in love with Bossard … he must earn a comfortable income … and she’s got a good job … if she went back to him they wouldn’t go short of anything …

  Lack of motive was the stumbling block. Inspector Elvin thought he had found one — the only one worth pursuing. But Elvin might well be wrong.

  Quinn said, “Forget all the nasty cracks I’ve made. If you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on, try mine. Sometimes it helps to talk this sort of thing out of your system. So come on in and tell me all about it.”

  Her eyes searched his face and he gave her an encouraging smile. When she still hesitated, he asked, “Are you afraid you’ll be compromised?”

  She went on looking at him as though his question merited a serious answer. Then she shook her head.

  In a solemn little voice, she said, “No, that’s not what I was thinking of.”

  She walked past him into the bedroom. With both arms hugging herself she waited until he had shut the door before she said, “There isn’t much to tell. Maybe you’ll say I did the wrong thing. I sometimes feel that way myself. Maybe I should’ve tried to understand, to see it from a man’s point of view, but at the time I couldn’t. Now it’s probably too late.”

  “While you’re alive, nothing’s ever too late,” Quinn said. “When I’ve heard the story I’ll give you this man’s point of view — if you want it.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. “That’s exactly what I do want …”

  It was a disjointed account of a marriage between two people who met and fell in love and married without knowing very much about each other. As Quinn listened, the impression grew on him that Carole had needed Geoffrey Bossard more than he had needed her.

  “… He was a ship’s doctor. That’s how I first met him … on a trip to the United States. I went over there to do a programme on race relations in New York. Instead of flying I went by sea because I’d been working hard and I thought a few days’ rest would do me good …”

  Bossard came to see her the next time h
e was on leave. In the following months they saw each other frequently, but always in snatches. She learned very little about him except that he was tired of life aboard ship and wanted to settle down somewhere permanently.

  “… A country practice was what he kept talking about … Dorset or Somerset or even farther west in Devon. I happened to mention it to Adele one week-end when Geoffrey was away and she said her own doctor in Blandford had been looking for a partner because his health wasn’t good and he couldn’t run the practice on his own much longer. Of course, Adele didn’t know that Geoffrey and I were more than just friends …”

  So Bossard had gone to see the man in Blandford … and they had agreed on a three-month trial period, to commence when Bossard completed his contract with the shipping company … and then he had asked Carole to marry him.

  “… We decided to live at my cottage until Geoffrey was free to take up the partnership offer. He had only a few days’ leave … we got married … and on the Monday he went away. Some people from the studios attended the wedding … but I didn’t get the opportunity to tell anyone at Castle Lammering because I never saw Adele for some weeks …”

  They had been married about two months — during which time Bossard was at home every couple of weeks — when Carole was given another assignment in the United States. She went away on first October and didn’t return until the middle of November.

  “… Perhaps I shouldn’t have left him so long … but we’d agreed that I should carry on working until such time as he settled down in practice at Blandford. Anyway, I hadn’t been home more than a couple of hours when I discovered that he’d had another woman at the cottage. Whether he’d got himself a mistress or she was just some bird he’d picked up, I never bothered to find out. I didn’t know which was worse and I didn’t care …”

  That was the end of their marriage. Bossard didn’t deny he’d been unfaithful: he merely asked her to believe it had only happened once. He was sorry — he’d always be sorry. For the rest of his life he’d regret having yielded to a crazy impulse. If she would try to forgive him he would do his best to make up for what he’d done.

  But Carole couldn’t forgive. So they’d separated.

  With her hands resting limply on her lap, Carole said, “That’s the whole story. He finished his contract with the shipping line and went into practice in Blandford. I heard that not long afterwards his partner had died … so as things turned out, Geoffrey did quite well for himself.”

  “Except that he’s neither married nor single,” Quinn said. “It’s not a very comfortable situation for either party. Have you ever discussed the subject of divorce?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I can understand that he’s not keen on the idea because he still hopes you’ll go back to him, but don’t you want your freedom?”

  She shrugged and said, “I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “What’s kept you from thinking about it?”

  “I don’t know.” She turned her hands over and studied them as though admiring her long slim fingers.

  Quinn said, “You do know … and so do I. You’re still in love with him. All that stands between you and your lawful husband is wounded pride.”

  She looked up slowly and sat nibbling her lower lip. Then in a dry voice, she said, “That’s not true. I could never live with him again.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “Yes … yes, I do.”

  “And you’ve no intention of remarrying?”

  “Not at present. If and when the right man comes along …” She shrugged again.

  “Until that time you’re content to go on living the life of a celibate spinster?”

  “Yes … of course.” She seemed vaguely surprised.

  Quinn said, “I see. How long is it since you and your husband separated?”

  “About — twelve months.”

  “And all this time you’ve been keeping yourself pure and unsullied for some good man whom fate may bring your way before you’re too old to get any fun out of it?”

  Her air of surprise changed to annoyance. She said, “I don’t know what you think I am —”

  “Then I’ll tell you,” Quinn said. “I think you’re as human as any other girl who’s once had a husband. Sleeping with a man is an acquired taste. Once you’ve acquired it, you don’t readily break the habit. Now, in your case —”

  “That’s enough,” Carole said.

  “— you can do as you like. You don’t owe your ex-husband either loyalty or anything else. So there’s no reason why you shouldn’t satisfy a perfectly natural desire … is there?”

  “I’m not” — she stood up — “I’m not going to listen to any more.”

  “You don’t have to. That’s the lot … except for the man’s opinion that I promised to give you.”

  “Don’t bother. I can do without it.”

  “How do you know until you’ve heard what it is? I think there’s only one way you can get Geoffrey Bossard out of your system … and that’s by sleeping with another man. So” — Quinn pointed to the bed — “why not hop in and give both of us a treat?”

  As he came towards her she backed away, a look of open disbelief on her face. She said, “Don’t you dare. If you touch me —”

  “You’ll scream,” Quinn said. “How quaintly Victorian … You invited me here for the week-end hoping, or anticipating, that I’d try to make love to you — not because of my good looks or charm or sex-appeal but merely because I was a man. You wanted to compare somebody else with dear Geoffrey.”

  “That’s nonsense!”

  “Oh, no, it isn’t. So let’s make a proper comparison. Let’s do the job completely. I’ll have a bit of fun … and you’ll resolve the problem of your relationship with Geoffrey Bossard. Yes?”

  She drew in a long breath and then she let it out again very slowly. She said, “You can’t really be serious. This is your idea of a joke.”

  “Why should I be joking? I’d like to sleep with you … and you can’t find me altogether repulsive or you wouldn’t have taken me home to your cottage and then asked me to spend the weekend with you at Castle Lammering.”

  “I —” She shook her head and began again. “I explained all that and I thought you understood.”

  Quinn said, “What you explained was only what you wanted me to believe. It wasn’t necessarily the truth. But now I’ve discovered the truth for myself.”

  She watched him half-fearfully as he went to the door and opened it. He said, “You’re a one-man woman, Carole. When you became Mrs. Bossard it was for keeps. Whatever your husband did made no difference. He’s still your husband … and he always will be. Now get out before you ruin my reputation.”

  Her eyes were still afraid as she passed him. She said, “To you this is still some kind of game. If I’d known I wouldn’t have confided in you.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference whether you had or not. The fact that you and Dr. Bossard were married was bound to come out pretty soon. By this time to-morrow, Inspector Elvin will have a complete history of everyone in this house.”

  “You make it sound as if” — with both arms wrapped round herself again she looked back at him — “as if I had something to hide.”

  Quinn told himself she was asking a question. She wanted to know how much he knew.

  He said, “Maybe you have. But you won’t be able to keep it hidden for very long. And when the time comes …”

  “Yes?” She was still standing at the half-open door looking back at him.

  “Don’t rely on me,” Quinn said. “I owe you nothing — neither you nor anyone else connected with Adele Parry. Whatever I learn while I’m here I’ll tell the police.”

  8

  He slept well and awoke just after seven. By the time he had washed, shaved and dressed it wasn’t yet eight o’clock.

  The house was quiet. So far as he could tell the others were still asleep. There was no sound from any of the bedrooms
as he went downstairs.

  It had stopped raining and the sun was high. Among the elm trees that crowned the road to Castle Lammering the birds were singing. Except for a sprinkling of petals around some bedraggled rose bushes and a few broken twigs on the drive there was little trace of the storm.

  If everything hadn’t gone wrong within an hour and a half of his arrival, to-day would’ve been the start of an enjoyable week-end. He had looked forward to it so much: a luxury house in the country, hospitable people, lovely June weather. A man could ask for nothing more.

  But Adele had spoiled it all. Adele had gone and died.

  … Why couldn’t she have picked next week-end? Might not have happened like this if she’d gone away a week later. Wonder where she went when she was supposed to be going to Wood Lake? If Michael knew, then he lied to everybody. If he didn’t, then Adele lied to him. Must’ve had a reason. Wish I knew what it was …

  He hadn’t wanted to become involved but now he was part of a nasty tangled affair. Elvin would think it funny if he packed his bag and left.

  … Suppose he’d think it even funnier if he knew it wasn’t your bag and the things in it weren’t yours, either. Could’ve blackmailed Carole into sleeping with me if I’d threatened to tell Bossard I was wearing his shirt and how I came to get it … with a few embellishments that she’d never convince him were all in my imagination. She’d hate him to think she was as bad as he’d been. To keep that sort of thing from him she’d share my bed any time I liked …

  The thought fanned into life a dark flame of desire. He’d only be taking what she’d been willing to give on the night she took him home to her cottage.

  … You could be wrong about her — wrong from beginning to end. And, even if you’re not, since when did you crawl into the gutter for your pleasures? No matter what she may, or may not, have done, she’s another man’s woman. If you made her sleep with you, you wouldn’t sleep too well with yourself for as long as you lived. So forget it. If you can’t, go and take a cold bath …

  The flame shrank low and then snuffed out. He told himself that a cup of hot coffee would make sure it didn’t flare up again. Nobody would mind if he fixed some breakfast. They were all in bed. When he’d had something to eat he’d go for a walk.