‘He wouldn’t dare…the Chief Constable…’
‘Knows where he stands and which direction to look.’
‘Then what…’ He slapped a thigh angrily. ‘What d’you want me to do?’
‘Do nothing. Say what you’re expected to say, and nothing more.’
‘And go on doing it,’ he cut in angrily. ‘Till I retire? If it’s going to be like that they can stick it…’
‘Now hold on.’
‘And you’re as bad as the rest.’
I poked his chest with my pipe stem. ‘Don’t get worked up, laddie.’
‘Your friend gets killed…’
‘Watch it!’
He stopped, staring at me with his mouth slightly open. I admit my tone had been brisk. I went on more placidly.
‘Let me take the risks, eh? You lie low—and behave. I can look after myself, but you’re vulnerable.’
He stood very straight and very stiff. ‘And your wife, sir, isn’t she vulnerable?’ He was having the nerve to reprimand me for forgetting! ‘With your permission—without it, if you like—I’ll continue to watch out.’
Shaking my head at him I said: ‘As long as they let you—all right. And I’ll be grateful. I’m already in your debt.’
His easy smile was almost in gratitude. I slapped his shoulder. ‘See you around.’
I drove up to the mill. Though I was disturbed, I did my best, in the short distance, to assume a cheerful aspect.
She was standing outside, waiting for me. ‘I saw you coming.’
Grinning, I got out of the car. ‘Had a nice day?’
‘Too short. Cindy and I…’ She was jumping up at my legs. ‘…have walked miles.’
‘And eaten all the sandwiches, I bet.’
‘Haven’t you had any lunch?’
‘Things at the house got a bit hectic. I’ll tell you later.’
‘I think there’s a sandwich and a whole flask of coffee.’
We went inside. She had her meal laid out on the huge millstone, looking puny on its vast surface. As I ate, the thermos top in my left hand, I stood at the window looking out over the bridge. Amelia chattered away happily behind me, and I must admit I recorded barely a word of it. The rush of the stream outside was strangely comforting.
I gathered that they’d walked upstream to discover its source. They had walked down to the bridge and over it, and down the wider tributary for a mile. Amelia had enquired at the farm, and discovered that it would be possible to obtain fresh milk and free-range eggs, and even fresh pork, though, having been introduced to the piglets, she’d rather gone off pork.
‘And you’ll never guess who I met,’ she said. ‘That pleasant Constable Davies…isn’t that his name?’
I turned. ‘Life seems to be full of coincidences.’
‘He’d apparently called at the farm on a case. Sheep rustling, he told me. Do they rustle sheep, Richard?’ she asked innocently.
‘I’d say he was pulling your leg, my dear.’
‘Whatever it was, it’s taken him a long while. He’s only just leaving. Look.’
I turned back. She was correct. He was driving off in his van. From her eyes, I’d seen that she knew why Davies was there. But she didn’t pursue it.
The love affair, Amelia and the mill, had progressed. She had roamed it throughout, up the staircase that was close to being a ladder, to examine the bedrooms. ‘Only two, Richard, but a lovely bathroom—all modern fittings. And the kitchen, Richard, you haven’t seen the kitchen.’
I went to see the kitchen, probably the old grain store and now a long, narrow room, well fitted out, cork-tiled floor, beams festooned with hooks and hangers.
But, because Grayson had taken away the petrol can, the inquest was going to bring in accidental death.
She had spent a few hours with it, working her mind into a mood of sympathy with the mill and its surroundings. I have to admit that the mood eluded me. Yes, I liked it. Yes, I’d be perfectly happy to commit myself to buying it, but my mind wasn’t on it.
Amelia knew. I could never hide anything from her. We got our stuff together, and fitted ourselves into the car.
She gave me time to work my way back to a main road, then she said lightly: ‘Aren’t you going to tell me, Richard?’
I told her what had happened at the house, trying for all the nuances of feeling, so that she’d know what I’d been after and how I’d tried to reach it.
‘You’re quite convinced it was Rosemary who bought the drinks?’ she asked, when I was finally talked dry.
‘Who else could it have been? Anybody could have bought stuff for the party, and probably did. From all over the country. But that particular batch of drinks would have to be very close at hand. I mean, a murderer wouldn’t want to be seen running across the lawn with a crate of beer. And that batch was handy, as though it’d been intended to be handy. Duncan saw it in the boot of Rosemary’s car. There’s every reason to believe it was bought in the area where Rosemary is known to have been, when she drove over to collect Duncan. How could it possibly have been anyone but Rosemary who bought it, and therefore knew it was available? The murderer had to know…oh hell!’
She was silent for a few moments as I crashed the gears going from third to second. Then she said: ‘You like her, don’t you?’
I have a tendency to like people I admire. ‘I admire her,’ I said.
She gave a small chuckle. ‘You’re a gullible fool.’ And then, because I glanced sideways in protest: ‘It must have been most unpleasant for you.’
I had to speak in extenuation. ‘I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless I could get her to admit it. With Duncan looking for something to repay him for his missing ten years, I thought I only had to let him put on some pressure. Quite frankly, I was relieved when we discovered he’d legally owned the rights to those plays all the time. As she put it herself: he’s going to be too busy to worry about pardons.’
‘You say you’re relieved, but it seems you’ve reached a dead end.’
‘Greenslade’s coming to see me tomorrow.’
‘You think he’ll be any help?’
‘No.’
‘Then you can’t go on.’
‘It’s beginning to look like that.’
We said no more about it on the journey. It seemed strange to be arriving back at the hotel so early. We would have plenty of time to prepare for dinner, time for my appetite to develop. This I helped along by pacing the room for a few minutes, until Amelia began to seem restless with my failure to relax. I was faced by a gap, with no pointers beckoning me beyond it.
I took Cindy out for a walk. My mind ran over and over what I had uncovered, and the only pattern into which the facts would fit made no sense. A niggling thought at the back of my mind persisted in reminding me that there was something I had intended to check. I was the far side of town when I remembered what it was.
Cindy’s little legs were twinkling away as I paced rapidly back to the hotel. From time to time she glanced up, as much as to say: ‘What’s the hurry, mate?’
‘Richard.’
‘Where did I put that manila envelope?’
‘It’s over there. But Richard, Mr Davies phoned.’ At my blank expression she explained. ‘Constable Davies. Twice,’ she said.
As though I wasn’t already feeling uneasy! I glanced at the phone. It remained silent.
Sitting on the bed, I up-ended the envelope and sorted out the contents. I’d been a bit of a fool, assuming that Llew Hughes had spotted no more than the single point of the drinks. He’d been very disturbed. There had been, surely, more. I guessed where to start, and remembered there had been such a thing as a list. And there it was:
Contents of pockets of deceased: Edwin Carter.
1. Penknife—one blade broken.
2. Handkerchief (trouser pocket) white.
3. Handkerchief (breast pocket) blue.
4. Ball-point pen, blue.
5. Comb.
6. Fort
y-three pence in coins.
7. Set of ignition keys (to own car).
8. Wallet containing £14 in notes, a photograph of himself, driving licence, four
postage stamps.
9. Rotor arm.
10. Spectacle case containing reading glasses.
The phone rang. I pounced on it, but my mind was shouting: Rotor arm?
‘Patton,’ I said.
‘I’m glad you’re back, sir,’ Davies said. ‘You ought to know…’
‘What’s happened?’ I’d detected the agitation in his voice.
‘I’m at the station house, my place. I’ve had a break-in.’
I had to get hold of that fact and examine it. ‘You don’t mean break, do you Constable?’
‘Nothing broken, no. I’ve checked. No locks forced, no windows broken. But somebody’s been here.’
He didn’t have to explain to me. There would be duplicate keys to every station house, held at headquarters.
‘And taken what?’ I asked, guessing the answer.
‘My camera had been opened and the cassette taken out. It was the film, Mr Patton.’
‘The film was taken away? Not simply exposed to light?’
‘Taken.’
His waiting seemed breathless, but I had to give it considered thought. Neither of us had to say who’d been responsible, it was just a matter of how it left the situation.
‘There’s a whole day,’ I said at last. ‘Wednesday tomorrow, and the inquest on Thursday. There’s not much we can do about it now, but it’s obvious that your superior is set on an accidental death verdict. I don’t think we’re now in a position to oppose that, so my suggestion is that we let things happen…’
I had deliberately taken that line, speaking as evenly as I could so that Davies would be calmed, and perhaps act sensibly. Some hope!
‘You’re not going to let him get away with it!’ he interrupted angrily.
‘I know you’ve lost a film. Treat it as experience. Now you’ll know how people feel when they’ve been burgled. Next time you go out on a case…’
‘Well—I never expected to hear…He’s pushing us around—all right, don’t say it, he’s got a right to push me around. But don’t you care? That was your friend who was killed…’
‘I wish you wouldn’t keep reminding me of that.’
‘By God, but you’re the limit.’
I sensed what was about to happen. ‘Don’t hang up!’ I snapped. Waited a second. ‘Are you still there, Davies?’
‘I’m still here.’
‘Then think about it. What does the inquest verdict matter, anyway? It doesn’t stop me from going ahead. The one it affects is Grayson, worrying whether a murder verdict might reveal that Mr Hughes wasn’t happy with the Edwin Carter investigation. I don’t care how much he worries. Do you?’ I demanded.
‘Of course I damn well care.’
‘Ah yes, but what you were looking forward to was doing a grand act at the inquest with your evidence, and getting your name in the papers.’
‘That’s a lie!’
‘Then prove it. Go to that inquest and give your evidence—how you arrived on the scene. And nothing more.’
‘You tricked me into that.’
‘Put it down to my vast experience.’
‘But you’ll go on with it?’
Anything to cool him off and prevent him from doing something stupid. ‘Of course I shall.’
He hung up, still ruffled, but, I felt, tamed.
‘You weren’t very kind to him,’ Amelia said reprovingly.
‘He’s going to get hurt. That damned Grayson! And Davies had to phone just as I was annoyed with myself!’ I rubbed my hands over my face. ‘I should have trusted Llew,’ I explained. ‘There had to be more than just the drinks not being local, but I didn’t look, damn it. Do you know what Edwin Carter had in his pocket? A rotor arm! And I missed it.’
‘Does it matter, though?’
‘Matter! D’you know what a rotor arm is? It’s a thing that goes round when the engine’s running and distributes the sparks to the plugs. Without it, the engine won’t start.’
‘Oh!’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth.
‘Exactly. Now link that with Edwin’s behaviour that evening. He was due to talk money business, but he was agitating to get out. When Drew Pierson tried to restrain him there was nearly a fight. Then what did he do? He made a fuss about using Rosemary’s car, because his own car wouldn’t start. Of course it wouldn’t—he’d taken the rotor arm out. But why should he do that? Because it meant he had to use her car. Why that? Because he was the person who knew the drinks were in the boot, and knew he could use them to pretend he’d driven into England to get them. And why should he do that? Only because he intended to drive a similar distance in another direction. You see what that has to mean?’
Her lips were clamped firmly shut. She shook her head. Politeness, I’m sure, just to encourage me.
‘He was going through all the actions of a man about to set off and create an alibi. And because he was so tense and worked up about it, it had to be an alibi for something pretty drastic. You know what I think? Edwin Carter was setting out to commit a murder.’
‘But he didn’t even get started.’
‘Exactly. Now d’you see why I couldn’t handle Davies gently. I’m mad at myself. It’s all backwards, and I didn’t see it. It was Edwin who was killed, and I can’t understand it.’
I thumped the table in emphasis. Cindy ran and hid under the bed. Amelia tilted her head, smiling gently. ‘You’d better put a tie on, I think, and then you can give it some food.’
After a minute I managed a grin. We went down to dinner.
15
We spent part of the following morning trying to persuade the estate agent to reduce the asking price by £1000, and left it that he’d contact his client and mention our offer, and in the meantime, if we’d care to give it further consideration, and perhaps drive round there again…
Apart from meeting Clyde Greenslade that afternoon, I had little to do. I suggested that Amelia should tag along and watch some more rehearsals, but she seemed to have lost interest in activities involving Rosemary, so there was nothing for it but for her to stay at the hotel or spend another afternoon at the mill.
‘The mill,’ she decided.
‘The weather’s not very promising.’
‘You said I ought to see it at its worst.’
So that was what we decided to do after lunch. I would leave her at the mill and drive on to Plas Ceiriog, returning in time to get back to the hotel for dinner.
When we drove away the clouds were massing over the mountains ahead. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea,’ I said. But she said she could change her mind when we arrived there. The first rain pattered on the windscreen. I drove a little faster, not wishing either of us to get wet when we were driving away from dry clothes. The light was becoming poor, and I put on dipped heads.
‘It’s going to be dreadful for you,’ I said.
‘Don’t keep saying that, Richard,’ she protested. ‘You’re trying to put me off.’
‘As though I would.’
‘Then please don’t keep telling me how miserable I’m going to be.’
We had left the folding chair at the mill, so she’d have that. She would also, I was grateful to see, have Davies. I’d spotted him when he, too, had had to put on his lights. To him, probably, this would seem like a pleasant day. Wales has a tendency to be like that, especially the region we were now in. The west winds drive in from the Atlantic, sucking up moisture as they go, and when they reach the Welsh mountains they rise, cool in the higher atmosphere, and dump it all in the valleys behind.
When I drove up to the mill the rain was already hammering on to the hood. We ran for it, and burst into the mill, to find that it was so dark we could barely see. The two windows to that large and high living room were far too small, but Amelia took it in her stride.
‘If ther
e’s a thunderstorm,’ she said, ‘it’ll look wonderful from here.’
‘I don’t think you’ll be that lucky.’
There being no services connected, I cast around in my mind and remembered the battery lamp in the Stag’s boot. ‘Hold on a sec,’ I said, and dashed out. There it was, though whether the batteries would be dead I didn’t know. ‘Here…look…’
I set it on one of the beams across the corner of the room. The batteries were all right, but, with the vast and lumbersome shadows absorbing it, the circle of light was paltry. Even, it seemed, it was deceptive, shadows that had been innocent taking on movement and personality.
‘I think I’d prefer it off.’ Amelia laughed, but shakily.
Cindy remained close to her ankles.
‘That blasted Greenslade,’ I said. ‘I’ve a good mind not to go.’
‘If he’s driving all the way from London, it would hardly be polite not to meet him.’
‘Then come along with me.’
‘No, Richard.’ She was sternly dismissive, looking tiny in front of the darkened window. ‘I’ll stay here. You shouldn’t be long, anyway.’
I spread my hands in defeat, went across and kissed her, and promised to hurry.
It’s all very well to promise, but even before I reached the bridge the wipers were struggling to clear the screen, and the visibility was terrible. I stopped the car for a moment, and looked back. The mill loomed against the dark hills, looking forlorn without lighting, empty and dead. Then a curtain of rain cut it off, and I drove on, even at that moment hesitating whether to turn back for her. And face her scorn? No—I drove on.
In the farm there were lighted windows. As I passed the farmyard Davies flashed his lights and I flicked on my main beams in acknowledgement. She was not alone, I told myself. I left the main beams on. Only in their confines did the world seem alive. It was daylight, but the valleys and the mountains leaned their dark weight towards me. There was no movement except the steady slash of the rain.
At Plas Ceiriog it seemed to be easing. I drove round to the front, and parked as close to the porch as possible before making a dive to the front door. I was parked behind a white Rolls, complete with matching chauffeur. So Greenslade had arrived.
An Alibi Too Soon Page 18