He said, “I don’t have to provide confirmation. It’s your job to go looking for it.”
Elvin shook his head. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Parry. That isn’t my job. But, as it happens, I did have inquiries made. So far I’ve drawn a complete blank. And I think that’s because your story is a distortion of what you actually did yesterday morning.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve told you exactly what I did from the time I left here to go to Poole. If you ask Mrs. Gregg —”
“— she’ll say you left at eleven o’clock. And the barber will say you were there about eleven-thirty and left some time around twelve o’clock. I believe all that. It’s what happened between midday and half-past two that I’m questioning.”
With a raw look on his face, Parry turned to Quinn. “How do you convince a man you’re telling the truth when he’s already decided you’re a liar?”
Quinn said, “Not by asking rhetorical questions. If I were in your position I’d try absolute frankness, no matter how much embarrassment it caused me.”
“Dammit, I have been frank! But he’s got an idea in his head and nothing I say will make him budge from it.”
“You’re wrong,” Elvin said. His voice held an underlying threat. “However, I’ll tell you my idea and we’ll see what Mr. Quinn thinks of it. All right?”
“Now, that’s a rhetorical question if ever I heard one,” Parry said. “Anybody would think I could stop you saying or doing what you like.”
“Very well. Here’s what I’ve had in mind ever since I spoke to your wife’s solicitor this morning. I suspect that you drove from Poole to Salisbury where you met her at the station. On your way home she told you the terms of the will she’d asked Mr. Watling to draft …”
Parry stood listening with his mouth open. In his eyes, Quinn saw neither admission nor denial.
“… If she was on the train that gets in at twelve fifty-five you could’ve got back here by about a quarter to two. That would have allowed you time to give your wife a glass of drugged brandy, wait for the drug to take effect, and still be at the Bird-in-Hand before two-thirty. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
In a bewildered voice, Michael Parry said, “No, I don’t. You’ve got me going round in circles. Didn’t you tell me last night that she must’ve taken the stuff about half past three?”
“Estimates of this kind are never very reliable,” Elvin said. “It’s quite possible that Dr. Bossard was inaccurate by an hour — or even more — in arriving at the approximate time of your wife’s death. If so, his estimate of the time the drug was administered would be equally wrong.”
Parry felt for the chair behind him and sat down as though he were suddenly very tired. Then he looked up at the inspector and asked, “Do you believe this … really believe it?”
“Not altogether. But after making all due allowance I think it’s a fair reconstruction of what may have taken place.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe someone did meet Adele at Salisbury and bring her home. But I wasn’t the one. I never saw her again after she left here last Monday afternoon.”
His eyes lifted wearily to Quinn’s face. “How about you? Do you agree with the official line?”
Quinn said, “No … but not because I think you’re incapable of doing it. I just don’t believe Dr. Bossard could’ve made that kind of mistake.”
“He’s only human — like the rest of us,” Elvin said.
“Or even more so. Parry’s wife got him to make a much more serious kind of mistake, didn’t she?”
“You mustn’t say things like that. If he heard you —”
“He could sue the pants off me,” Quinn said. “Nobody could ever prove now that she was his mistress because she’s dead. But all three of us know it’s true … don’t we?”
Michael Parry got half-way to his feet. Then he slumped back into his chair again.
In a mechanical voice, he said, “You expect me to pretend I didn’t know. Well, you’re wrong. I couldn’t help knowing. She made no secret of it. In fact, she went out of her way to make sure I knew.”
“Because she wanted you to divorce her,” Quinn said.
“Yes. She needed sex like other people need to eat and drink … and yet it’s funny —” He broke off with a little humourless laugh.
Inspector Elvin asked, “What’s funny?”
“The way she worried about her reputation. You didn’t know her so you can’t appreciate how absurd it was. She’d sleep with a man after knowing him for five minutes but at heart she was middle-class respectability. Fornicate three times a day with the milkman, the postman and the family doctor but don’t let the neighbours find out or they’ll talk.” He laughed again.
“A doctor has even more reason to be afraid of people finding out,” Quinn said.
Parry looked up, his eyes full of contempt. He said, “No, not Bossard. There was nothing for him to worry about. So long as a doctor isn’t named as co-respondent he has no reason to be afraid. And Bossard knew I wouldn’t divorce my wife.”
“How did he know?”
“By using his own common sense. She’s bound to have told him I was aware of what was going on … and yet I didn’t do anything about it. I let my wife behave like a whore because I didn’t want to give up the soft living she provided.”
With a sick look on his face he stared up at Inspector Elvin. “You asked me to be frank. Well, that’s the whole unabridged story of my life. If you go on asking questions I’ll know it’s because you enjoy seeing me crucify myself.”
Elvin said, “I don’t enjoy it, Mr. Parry, I don’t enjoy it one little bit. But in my job I have to take the rough with the smooth. Good day to you.”
12
Neil Ford arrived back in time for the evening meal. He seemed to be in a more affable mood and exchanged a few words with Quinn as though there had been no unpleasantness between them.
Parry didn’t join the others. He said he wanted to post his letters and so he’d take a walk down to the village. If he felt hungry he would have a bite to eat later.
Carole was subdued, Irene Ford talkative but vague. She kept harking back to the subject of Adele’s death and how terrible it was for the family and what people must be saying … on and on as though it were a compulsion neurosis.
Eventually Neil Ford rounded on her. “… For God’s sake, leave it alone, will you? We feel bad enough as it is without you making it worse. Anybody would think you got pleasure out of raking the whole thing up, over and over again.”
She put a hand to her face as though he had struck her. She said, “How can you say that … to me of all people? You seem to forget I was the one —”
With tears in her eyes she got up from the table and half ran towards the staircase. Carole called after her but she didn’t answer. As she went stumbling upstairs she was wailing “… Oh dear … oh dear … oh dear …”
Ford said, “Now I’ve done it. Each time it happens I swear I’ll know better next time but I never learn.”
He looked at Quinn. “I can guess what you’re thinking so you needn’t say it.”
“You can’t guess,” Quinn said. “So I’ll tell you. Maybe you were kind of rude, but she did go on a bit. I was getting tired of it myself.”
Carole said, “Don’t encourage him. Irene’s had a most distressing experience and she’s not the kind of person who finds it easy to adjust. I think she should’ve gone home. After what’s happened this is the last place she should be.”
“Michael insisted on her staying,” Ford said. “Asked me not to persuade her to leave. Seems he can’t bear the thought of being here alone.”
“I don’t blame him,” Quinn said.
Ford gave Carole a quick look. She asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? There’s nothing clever about it. He needs company to keep the gremlins away. It’s only natural.”
“Depends on what type of gremlins he’s scared of,” Ford said.
A withdrawn
look came into Carole’s face. She said, “This is all wrong. Whatever Michael’s faults and failings, we’ve no right to sit here and condemn him for something that’s no more than a suspicion. There’s been a lot of talk but no one can say definitely that Adele didn’t commit suicide.”
“I’m not saying it was anything else,” Ford said. “But Quinn knows the police aren’t satisfied. And I can tell you that’s really what’s upsetting Irene — not so much the fact that Michael might’ve done it, but what people are going to say if he did.”
“Oh, that’s absurd!”
“All right. Have it your own way. But I ought to know her by this time.”
He gave Quinn a nod. In the same off-hand voice, he said, “Take my advice and don’t get married. It leads to nothing but trouble … as you may have noticed ever since you got here. Now I’ll go and see if I can console my wife before she works herself into a state of hysterics.”
When he’d gone upstairs, Carole began clearing the table. Quinn said, “Can I give you a hand with the dishes?”
“No, thanks. It’s no trouble at all. I’ll put them in the dishwasher and they’ll be ready to stack away by the time I get back.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes, I thought I’d make my peace with Ariadne Wilkinson. I wasn’t very nice to her last night. Will you be all right for a little while on your own?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Quinn said. “Have fun.”
She disposed of the crockery and the cutlery. When she’d switched on the dishwasher she came out of the kitchen and asked, “Have you told anyone that Geoffrey Bossard is my husband? Neil Ford, for example?”
“Neither Neil Ford nor anyone else, for example.”
“Shouldn’t you have told the police?”
“Yes, but I didn’t.”
Her wide dark eyes studied Quinn reflectively. “Any special reason?”
“I don’t see that I need one. The police aren’t really interested in who’s married to whom.”
“You know that isn’t true. They want all the information they can get about everybody in this house.”
“Maybe so. But in my opinion it would only be confusing the issue.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I don’t think Dr. Bossard killed Adele Parry,” Quinn said. “That’s what you wanted me to tell you, isn’t it?”
She tucked her lower lip between her teeth while she stared past Quinn at the russet glow of the sunset. Then she said, “I’ve never been the least bit afraid that he had anything to do with it.”
“But you know she must’ve been the woman he entertained at your cottage that night?”
With a look of defiance, Carole said, “Yes … but I don’t believe it happened more than that once.”
“You don’t believe it because you don’t want to believe it,” Quinn said. “As I told you last night you’re still in love with him. But you’re too damn’ stubborn to admit it. Why not put your pride in your pocket and give him the chance to make a fresh start?”
Quinn saw the conflict in her eyes. It lasted only a moment.
Then she smiled. As though she had at last seen the answer that had been there all the time, she said, “I think I will … Now that Adele is dead, perhaps we can begin again.”
He watched her go outside, he heard the sound of her car starting up, he saw her drive past into the light of the dying sun. And he thought he knew where she was really going.
As he listened to the dwindling murmur of the engine, he told himself, “Well, that’s that. Playing Cupid without even a bow and arrow. The lads back home would say you were out of your tiny mind. Must be getting senile.”
Maybe he should get away from Elm Lodge and forget about Adele Parry. Maybe the truth would only do harm … unless the truth exonerated her husband … if he were innocent of her murder … if she had been murdered …
The phone rang. It was Inspector Elvin.
“… Thought you’d like to hear the results of the P.M. Analysis of the stomach contents reveals that she must’ve had a massive dose of pentobarbitone.”
“That’s what’s in Pembrium, isn’t it?”
“The same. Based on what they found, she’d swallowed anything up to forty grains. The minimum fatal dose is thirty grains … and what she got was taken in conjunction with brandy. The pathologist tells me what most of us know — that alcohol acts as a potentiator which increases the effect.”
“Was it the same stuff in the bottom of that brandy glass?”
“Yes … but no partly-dissolved gelatine in the stomach as one would expect. Somebody’s been just a little bit too clever.”
“Which rules out Dr. Bossard,” Quinn said.
“But of course. He’d know better than to leave any capsules in the glass to make it look like suicide. I’ve known all along you were barking up the wrong tree.”
“What made you so sure?”
“Well, for one thing, police surgeons aren’t in the habit of committing murder.”
“Neither are they in the habit of committing adultery — but it’s been known.”
Elvin said, “Now you’re being slick.”
“All right. Tell me the rest.”
“Not much more. Pembrium is supplied in one and a half grain yellow capsules which can be opened quite simply by pulling the two halves apart. The drug itself is a white, odourless, crystalline powder with a slightly bitter taste — a very slightly bitter taste.”
“Too slight to be noticed in brandy?”
“If mixed with a little milk and sugar it would probably not be detected by the average person. When you consider that forty grains is just about a rounded teaspoonful and that Pembrium is freely soluble in alcohol … well, it’s too easy, isn’t it?”
“As you say,” Quinn said. “Go on.”
“I found an empty bottle in the bedside cupboard with the label of a Blandford chemist. He checked the number on the label and confirmed that the bottle had contained Pembrium capsules — twenty-five of them. They’d been prescribed for Mrs. Parry by Dr. Bossard.”
Quinn said, “Good old Dr. Bossard. Wherever we go we keep falling over him.”
“Don’t start all that again. He happens to have been her doctor and —”
“— the prescription just happens to have been for twenty-five capsules. Twenty-five times one and a half is thirty-seven and a half … which is near enough the quantity that your pathologist estimated. Right?”
Inspector Elvin said, “Your arithmetic is right but not your conclusions. A doctor’s entitled to prescribe sleeping pills for one of his patients.”
“This doctor also prescribed something else for this patient — but you can’t get it on National Health.”
“You’re being slick again. No one can ever prove that their relationship wasn’t perfectly ethical.”
“Not now,” Quinn said.
He remembered the smile on Carole’s face. That could have been what she had meant.
“ … Now that Adele is dead, perhaps we can begin again.”
The phone was saying “… This is what a bachelor doctor’s always up against. He’s an easy target for gossip while there are women like Miss Wilkinson around. Bossard should get himself a wife.”
The sun went down and dusk settled in the elm trees. Quinn chain-smoked and thought about Michael Parry and wondered how long it took him to post a bundle of letters.
… Could be he’s having a booze-up at the Bird-in-Hand. Hasn’t had a drink all day so far as I’ve seen … or last night, either. Maybe he doesn’t need the stuff any more. Maybe he only drank so as to forget what she and her money had made of him. Now he doesn’t have to drink. Now that Adele is dead he’s a new man. The world’s a different place for many people now that Adele is dead …
It was growing dark when the phone rang again. As Quinn picked up the receiver he could hear music at the other end of the line.
Ariadne Wilkinson said, “Well, how about that
? The very man I want — and don’t take that the wrong way. You’re not my type. I meant that it was you I wanted to speak to.”
Her facetious gabble distracted and irritated him. He said, “About what?”
“Oh, do I detect a certain lack of warmth?” she gave a high-pitched laugh. “We’re not in a very good temper, are we?”
Quinn said, “Look, I don’t want to appear rude but I’m expecting a very important phone call … so if there’s anything you have to say would you make it as quick as you can?”
“Important … dear, dear. How do you know this phone call isn’t important?”
“I don’t. And I never will unless you get to the point.”
“For a man who doesn’t want to be rude” — now there was a touch of sarcasm in her deep, masculine voice — “you’re doing pretty well. It would serve you right if I didn’t tell you … hold on a minute while I turn the radio down. It’s making a terrible row …”
The music in the background stopped abruptly. When she came back to the phone she went running on as though there had been no interruption.
“… Have you ever wondered why they call it incidental music when it’s so loud you can hear nothing else but? You set the volumes at just the right level to hear speech comfortably and next thing you know it’s making enough noise to bounce the pictures off the walls.”
She laughed again. Then she asked, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Adele must’ve been drugged before half past three in the afternoon? I thought she’d come home much later.”
Quinn was in no mood to exchange gossip with someone like Ariadne Wilkinson. He said, “Does it make any difference what time she came home?”
“But, of course! Do you remember I asked you how you thought Michael would’ve felt if he’d found out what was going on behind his back?”
“Yes, but I don’t see —”
“Because you don’t know what I know … even though I’ve explained how I saw Dr. Bossard making his frequent visits to Elm Lodge.”
“All right. So I don’t know. But you can soon remedy that, can’t you?”
“Ah, how about that? The man’s not in such a hurry to hang up now … but he’s a devil for demanding proof.”
A Slightly Bitter Taste Page 18