“Yes, that I’d expect. But was it single bed, twin bed, or double bed?”
“On the day she arrived the only accommodation they were able to give her was one with a double bed. She hadn’t made reservation in advance and they were almost completely booked up.”
“Did she ask them to let her know if another suite became available?”
“Not so far as I’m aware. There was no mention of it when I spoke to them … no mention at all.”
“Then a man could have spent the night very comfortably with her as often as he or she wished, couldn’t he? All he had to do was go straight upstairs at a pre-arranged time and he’d find the door unlocked. Next morning he could leave any time before the chambermaids started work — which is seldom very early — and nobody would’ve been any the wiser. Right?”
Inspector Elvin took a hand from his pocket, studied it as though he were reading his own palm, and then put it back again. He said, “Quite right. But without going into intimate details, I would suggest that two people who are so minded can make do with a single bed. The fact that she had a double bed at the hotel doesn’t prove anything … doesn’t prove anything at all.”
“I’d still like to know if Dr. Bossard spent one or two nights away from home this week,” Quinn said.
“Why need it have been Dr. Bossard? If Mrs. Parry was the over-sexed type of woman she might’ve had several men friends. Just because an inveterate scandal-monger likes to stir up dirt is no proof that the doctor’s visits to Elm Lodge weren’t perfectly proper.”
“Then that leaves us with Michael Parry, back where we started.”
“Not quite. We know a lot more than we did when we started. The hotel had a record of two phone calls made by Mrs. Parry. One was to a number in Ringwood, her sister-in-law’s number —”
“Was that the one Mrs. Ford told me she received yesterday morning?”
“Yes, it must’ve been. The other was to a London firm of solicitors in the Haymarket: Cockburn, Watling and Company. I rang them from the Cavendish and caught their senior partner, Watling, just as he was leaving the office. Another half minute and he’d have gone off for the weekend and I’d have had to wait until Monday to learn about a conversation Mrs. Parry had with him last Thursday afternoon.”
“About making a will?”
“Yes. She phoned at midday to fix an appointment and called on him late in the afternoon. As a result of that meeting he drew up a will which she arranged to sign on her return to London early next week.”
“If that’s true it pretty well rules out suicide,” Quinn said.
“Oh, it’s perfectly true. These people are old-established solicitors and —”
“I wasn’t questioning their integrity. I just wondered if she actually intended to go back to London.”
Inspector Elvin stroked his sleek silver hair while he thought. Then he put his hand back in his pocket.
He said, “I considered that possibility, too. But to make an appointment with no intention of keeping it seems rather pointless. In view of what you learned from Mrs. Ford I’d say Adele Parry would be very anxious to sign that will without delay.”
“Which means it concerned her husband more than a little,” Quinn said.
“He had everything to gain, or lose, depending on which way you look at it. She told Watling she meant to discuss her will with Michael during the week-end.”
“What was in it for him?”
“If he agreed to institute divorce proceedings on grounds that she would provide he’d be named as a beneficiary in the sum of £20,000. Furthermore, she would sign an immediate financial undertaking in return for his cooperation: £5000 when divorce proceedings commenced, £5000 on the granting of a decree absolute.”
“And if he refused to play?”
“He’d get nothing. She intended to sell this house and go abroad and leave him without a penny.”
“Had he any chance of redress if she’d gone ahead and done just that?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“So she had him by the short hairs. Any other beneficiaries?”
“Only one which might interest us. Apart from that one and the £20,000 that Parry would get if he was a good boy, all the rest of her estate — estimated at £180,000 — was to go to various children’s charities after payment of death duties.”
“What was this other bequest?”
“She left her jewellery to Miss Carole Stewart.”
“Valued at what?”
“Well, it was insured for £8,000.”
“Very nice, too,” Quinn said.
Now he no longer doubted the truth of Miss Wilkinson’s story. Adele must have been Bossard’s mistress. If she hadn’t known when their affaire began that he was married, she’d found out later that he was Carole’s husband. And this had been her idea of conscience money.
Inspector Elvin asked, “What does that mean?”
“Just what it says. I’d like someone to leave me £8,000 worth of jewellery.”
“Not if the someone was as young as Mrs. Parry. In ordinary circumstances she’d out-live you.”
“In ordinary circumstances she might well have out-lived her husband,” Quinn said.
Elvin bobbed his head in quick agreement. “At their best, the prospects for Michael were long term: he’d inherit £20,000 in thirty or forty years if he were still alive and —”
“— and if she hadn’t changed her will in the meantime,” Quinn said. “While she lived there was always that chance. So all he could be really sure of was the ten thousand pounds she’d give him for a divorce.”
“Not much when you consider that she was worth a hundred and eighty thousand — not much at all.”
“To him she was only worth ten thousand,” Quinn said. “Unless she died before she signed the will.”
Inspector Elvin used both hands to stroke his silver hair. Then he said, “Means, motive and opportunity … Let’s go upstairs and see if Mr. Michael Pary will now tell me the truth.”
11
Parry was seated at a small table under the bedroom window with a writing pad and an open box of stationery. There were several sealed and addressed envelopes propped against the box. On the pad lay a part-written letter that he turned face down when they walked in.
He said, “I didn’t hear you knock.” His pale blue eyes were more afraid than angry.
“Perhaps your mind was far away,” Elvin said.
“Or perhaps you didn’t bother to announce yourself. Whatever you want it’ll have to keep until later. I’m busy right now.”
“What I want isn’t the kind of thing that improves by keeping. Either we talk here or I’ll have to ask you to accompany me to police headquarters in Blandford. Which would you prefer?”
Without taking his eyes off Elvin’s face, Parry folded the sheet of notepaper twice and pressed down the creases. Then he said, “Neither … but my preferences don’t enter into the scheme of things, do they? I suppose you have authority for this intrusion.”
He glanced at Quinn and asked, “Whose side are you on?”
Quinn said, “Your wife’s. Wouldn’t you say it’s about time one of us started thinking of her?”
Parry folded the sheet of paper again, screwed it into a twisted roll, and then looked at it in surprise as though he had suddenly realised what he was doing. His hands were unsteady.
He said, “That’s hitting below the belt.”
His eyes turned to Inspector Elvin. “O.K. Now it’s your turn. What’s the bad news?”
Elvin said, “I have reason to believe you lied to me, Mr. Parry, when I questioned you last night. If that is so —”
“It isn’t so … it damn’ well isn’t so. I can’t explain what’s happened but I’ve told you everything I know. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”
“Being aggressive won’t help your cause, Mr. Parry, won’t help it at all. I’d advise you —”
“Never mind the advice. How did I lie?
”
“You told me your wife had gone to a place called Wood Lake when she left here last Monday afternoon.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?”
“Everything, Mr. Parry. I’ve spoken to the people there and they assure me she hasn’t been near the place this week.”
Parry shut his eyes and held them tight shut as though in sudden pain. Then he looked down at the writing pad.
With the barest movement of his lips, he said, “That’s not my fault. I only told you what she told me. When she left here I was under the impression she was going there and since then I’ve had no reason to think otherwise. If I had, why would I have gone to Blandford to meet the bus?”
Elvin nodded. In a tone that was no longer agreeable, he said, “You may think that’s a rhetorical question, Mr. Parry, but I assure you it isn’t. We’ll come back to it later. Right now I want to know if you have any idea where she went last Monday afternoon?”
“No. She phoned for a car to take her to Blandford … and I carried her bag out to the taxi. If you like you can ask the car hire people —”
“I’ve already asked them. They confirm what you say. But of course they don’t know where she went after she got out of the taxi.”
“Well, neither do I.”
“Then I can tell you,” Elvin said. “She went to London, booked in at a West End hotel, and stayed there until Friday morning. Can you explain why she should do that when she’d given you to understand she was going to Wood Lake?”
Michael Parry brushed up the ends of his moustache and stared at the screwed-up sheet of notepaper while he thought. At last, he said, “I can only suggest that she changed her mind … for some reason.”
“Can you also suggest the reason?”
“No.”
“Did she say she would be returning on the bus that arrived at eight-ten Friday evening?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And she asked you to meet the bus?” “Yes.”
“After she left that day you didn’t see her or have any communication from her?”
“No.”
Inspector Elvin said, “Very well. Let us move on. We know where she was all week and that she didn’t leave the hotel in London until yesterday morning. Between then and last night when she was found dead in this house, her movements haven’t been traced. She wasn’t on any bus from Blandford to Castle Lammering nor did she use the car hire firm: I’ve checked both. So we’re faced with our original question. How did she return home?”
“If I knew I’d tell you,” Parry said. “I’ve nothing to hide.”
“All right. Was she the type of woman who would accept a lift from a stranger in Salisbury — assuming she went there by train from London?”
“I don’t really know … but I doubt it.” He sounded like a man who was afraid that whatever he said would be the wrong thing.
“So do I,” Elvin said.
He took his hands out of his pockets and slapped them together several times very deliberately. Then he went on, “Wouldn’t it simplify matters for all of us if you were to tell me the truth?”
“I’ve already told you the truth. I had nothing — nothing at all — to do with my wife’s death.”
“Yet you are obviously being evasive. You admitted that you had a quarrel with your wife before she went away … did you not?”
“No, I didn’t admit any such thing. You asked me if we’d had a quarrel and I said it had been more a difference of opinion. That’s hardly an admission.”
“But you did quarrel … did you not?”
“No … well, not really. It was all one-sided. I spent most of the time trying to pacify her.”
“I see. Would you agree that she was angry with you?”
“No, not what I’d call angry. Impatient, yes, and also somewhat distressed.”
“Why was she distressed?”
“I don’t really know. It was all quite silly.”
Something had happened to his voice. Quinn knew he would break very soon.
Inspector Elvin asked, “What was silly?”
“Oh, she’d got herself worked up over nothing at all. Told me she had to go away and think things over.”
“By that you mean her relationship with you?”
It took a considerable effort before Parry managed to say, “Well, yes.”
“Did she tell you how long she proposed to be away?”
“Only until the end of the week.”
“Any mention of where she was going?”
“Not” — he stumbled over the words — “not at first.”
There he had to get rid of something in his throat. When he’d swallowed several times, he said, “I’d better tell you the rest of it.”
“It might be a good idea,” Elvin said.
“Well, I asked her where she intended to go and she said she didn’t care. When I insisted on her telling me because people would think it was very peculiar if I didn’t know she said I could tell them she’d gone to Wood Lake.”
“Did you believe she meant to go there?”
“Well … no.”
“But you let other people believe it. In fact, you wanted them to think so, didn’t you?”
“No, it was a matter of indifference to me. All I wanted was to avoid embarrassment.”
“Why should you be embarrassed because your wife had gone away for a few days? Was it because you suspected that she had no intention of coming back?”
Michael Parry didn’t answer. When Elvin prompted him he swallowed again and cleared his throat and mumbled, “I didn’t really think she meant it. I told her she could stay away as long as she liked but she said she’d be home on Friday and I was to meet the eight-ten bus. That’s gospel truth.”
“Had she on that day or on a previous occasion expressed any desire for a divorce?”
Michael’s right hand slid over his left and took possession of it. He stared into the distance as he said, “Yes — once or twice.”
“Why did she want to put an end to your marriage?”
“She said” — his faded blue eyes sought everywhere but found no escape — “she said there was nothing between us any more. All I wanted was my creature comforts …”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing much. I knew she didn’t really want us to break up. It was just — just a passing mood.”
“You’re saying, in effect, that you refused to consider the idea of divorce?”
“Yes. After all, we got on as well as most married couples —”
“On your wife’s money, Mr. Parry? Is that what you mean?”
Michael Parry flushed a dull colour. “You’ve no right to talk like that. I wasn’t referring to money.”
“Then perhaps it’s time we did refer to it. She provided the wherewithal for domestic and other expenses … did she not?”
“That’s the way she wanted it. She was a wealthy woman … and she always said it made no difference which one of us paid the bills … and so on.”
“By so on, you mean every penny that both of you needed for food, clothing, and shelter and also your own pocket money … don’t you?”
There was nothing that Parry could say. With a drawn look on his face he turned to stare out of the window.
Now Quinn knew part of the truth. It wasn’t pleasant to see a man like Michael stripped naked of all pretence.
… The poor devil depended on Adele to preserve his image. Life would’ve been intolerable if he’d thought people felt pity for him — pity and a measure of contempt because his wife had left him for another man. Probably he knew she was being unfaithful but he could turn a blind eye to that. What he wouldn’t tolerate was public ridicule …
Elvin clothed the thought in words. He said, “Your wife had a lover, Mr. Parry, hadn’t she?”
Parry twisted round slowly. He had a beaten look.
“That’s a lie … just a dirty lie.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t. All my inform
ation leads me to that one conclusion. And I’m of the opinion that you knew it … didn’t you?”
“No. And I’m not going to let —”
“But you weren’t meaning to do anything about it. So long as this other man kept your wife happy, you could pretend you didn’t know. You wanted things to go on as they were. From your point of view it was a convenient arrangement all round … very convenient.”
In a dry voice, Parry said, “Unless you’ve got proof of that I can make a lot of trouble for you. And don’t think I won’t.”
“But you can’t, Mr. Parry. It happens to be true. I have a witness to your wife’s association with another man. I also know she was prepared to bribe you to divorce her. I’m referring, of course, to the will she’d made recently.”
“Oh, are you? Well, that’s not true for a start. She never made any will.”
“But she did. I’ve spoken to Mr. Watling of Cockburn, Watling and Company, her solicitors. He was instructed by your wife to draw up a will and also draft an agreement in which she undertook to pay you the sum of £10,000 if you would divorce her.”
With a look of growing awareness in his eyes, Parry asked, “When was all this done?”
“Last Thursday. She told Mr. Watling she’d return on Monday to sign the documents. Meanwhile she’d discuss the terms with you over the weekend.”
“And you think” — a nerve twitched in one of Parry’s eyelids — “you think she did talk to me about it. You just refuse to believe that I never heard from her after she left here last Monday.”
Inspector Elvin said, “The facts make it difficult for me to believe anything you say. When I wish to check your movements yesterday I find no corroboration at all. Probably you can tell me the name of the barber in Poole: probably he can confirm that you went there for a haircut. But that accounts for only a short part of the morning … a very short part. How do I verify where you were between then and three-thirty in the afternoon?”
“I’ve told you over and over again. I had a few drinks in Poole, called at the Bird-in-Hand on my way home —”
“So you say. But there’s no confirmation of your story … is there?”
Parry pushed back his chair and stood up. The twitch in his eyelid was very noticeable.
A Slightly Bitter Taste Page 17