The Dead Woman Who Lived

by Endellion Palmer

  Alistair understood what he was not saying. The inspector saw Juliana as an overimaginative woman, fueling a staid life with fantasy and theatre. There was even a trace of derision there; Willett might well believe that Juliana had run off, using the fall and her illness as an excuse.

  Realising that it would pay to keep on the inspector’s good side, and that to do so meant that antagonism be kept to a minimum, he answered in a way to make them sound keen to think over Willett’s words.

  “It would not be the first time, you are correct in that, Inspector,” he replied cordially, kicking Adrien on the shin before he could start to argue. “Despite that, may I see the original file? As I said, Mr Creed has asked for my professional help. Perhaps I can set everyone’s mind at ease over the whole affair and we can all get back to business as usual.”

  He kicked Adrien again to make sure he did not interfere, as he could see from Willett’s face that the idea held some appeal. Alistair knew that despite his confidence, the inspector would know that the matter had to be played gently, given whom it concerned. An overanxious husband of Adrien’s standing could cause a lot of trouble if he had a mind to, and Alistair saw that Willett knew it as well as anyone.

  Willett sat in thought for a moment, then turned to Alistair again.

  “What about this request for an autopsy that I’ve been passed?” he demanded. Alistair had made good use of the telephone that morning, having set the wheels in motion before walking to the vicarage; he was thankful that his calls had been acted upon so promptly. Keeping Willett from thinking too much was going to be key.

  “The body that was buried in error is being moved,” said Alistair carefully. “There has already been talk in the town, and Reverend Saxby thought it best to move her. He has already arranged for another plot to be dug, in a different part of the graveyard.”

  He paused for just a moment.

  “It was a curious coincidence, don’t you think? Perhaps it would be wise to take another look at the body. In the first instance she was examined for proof that she was, in fact, Juliana Creed.”

  He sensed the shiver of distaste that ran through his friend, but continued.

  “Another look might provide information about who she actually was. There is a great deal of local curiosity about her. It would be good to be able to put a name to her, or at least show that it was attempted, and have the matter finally put to rest.”

  “It’s not regular, sir,” said Willett pompously, but Alistair could see again that the idea of the finishing the case quickly appealed to him.

  “I understand that, Inspector. But the whole of this affair is not regular. Look, I do understand that you cannot simply give me access to police documents willy-nilly, even with Mr Creed’s permission.”

  Alistair pulled another card from his wallet and passed it over to the silent policeman.

  “I’ve done a great deal of work with this man. If you like, call Scotland Yard and talk to him.”

  The thick, bristly eyebrows of Inspector Willett rose as he took the card, and then he nodded slowly.

  “Very well, Mr Carr. I’ll look into it and let you know my decision. Mr Creed, my thanks for your time.”

  Adrien saw him out and came back to the study, leaning on the door frame as he watched his friend, who was tapping a pencil against the blotter.

  “What’s he going to do?” Adrien asked.

  “He doesn’t have a lot of choice, really,” replied Alistair. “And he knows it. We’ll let him make his phone calls and think it over, but he knows that being obstinate over this is not going to work.”

  He knew Willett’s type. Sure of themselves and cautious of outside interference but, given space, also smart enough to recognise when to give in. There was nothing more to be done at the moment. They would leave Willett to work through his suspicions in his own time. At the very worst, the chief constable would override any local opposition, but he would prefer that this did not happen. Men like Willett were better to work with when they thought they were making their own decisions.

  He turned to Adrien, who sat back in his chair, tilting, and biting his thumbnail as he stared in front of him.

  “Don’t worry. I think it will work out. Now, do you have time to talk to me yourself?”

  “I’d be more than glad to,” Adrien replied. “I can’t settle to anything anyway. What do you want to know?”

  Alistair did not reassure his friend that all would be well soon. He knew better than that. Instead he took a cigarette from the ebony box on the desk and lit it before he spoke.

  “Tell me about what happened three years ago. I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

  Adrien settled back.

  “From which point?” he asked.

  “Anything you think might be useful.”

  Adrien gave a sigh that seemed to emanate from the soles of his shoes. Alistair was sympathetic, but he knew that it must be discussed.

  “The day that she disappeared had been wretched. Everyone was in a bad mood. Juliana and I were no better than anyone else, although our problems were based on more than just bad temper.”

  “She did say you had been going through a rough patch,” said Alistair.

  “Frankly, I didn’t know whether we had much of a marriage left,” replied Adrien. “We were at odds with each other all the time. It was a lot to do with me. I brought her back here without thinking through all the ramifications.”

  He flushed in embarrassment. “When I left for the Continent, it had been widely assumed that I would marry a local woman. Belinda Mayfield. We were good friends, but there had been no announcement. I met with Belinda before I left and made sure that she knew that I had doubts, and was putting her under no obligation when I left the country.”

  “How did Miss Mayfield take this?” Alistair asked. He knew many women who would not have taken such words in gentle spirit.

  “She showed no discomfort with it. If anything, she seemed relieved. She’s a very sensible person, Belinda. Always has been. A little… staid, perhaps? That is what Margaret always said. Not that she didn’t like Belinda, but she finds her a touch boring.”

  “How about you? You nearly married the woman. What did you think?”

  “I liked Belinda hugely. We’d known each other since we were children. She is very nice. Intelligent, and beautiful and… a little dull, I suppose. She would have been an eminently sensible choice for mistress of Trevennen. But my heart told me that I didn’t love her, and so I went away. When I came back with Juliana, we were spared any embarrassment, as Belinda had gone to London for the Season.”

  “But there was talk?”

  Adrien rolled his eyes.

  “There always is. Local gossip. You know how it is. It’s easier to concentrate on someone else’s problems and enjoy them vicariously than try to sort out one’s own. Strathmennan can’t be very different.”

  Alistair thought of his hometown and agreed.

  “No, I understand the problem all too well,” he said.

  At the sound of truth in his voice, Adrien managed a half-smile, which disappeared almost immediately as he continued to talk.

  “At some point, someone mentioned Belinda’s name to Juliana. I remember her asking who Belinda was. And like the idiot I am, I just said she was an old family friend. Which was technically exactly what she was, but I didn’t explain all the local expectations. When Belinda came back to Cornwall at the end of September, it didn’t occur to me that the rumours would start again. I had been married to Jules for six months. We were very happy. And then things started to go bad. Looking back, I realise now that people had been talking all along, and Juliana finally heard what they were saying. I met Belinda a couple of times in town, quite by chance. I gave her lunch, and we had tea once. We talked. I apologised for any hurt or embarrassment I had caused her and she laughed it off. Somehow Juliana heard about it, and it was twisted into something revolting.”

  “So the poison dripped.”
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br />   “It did. And I reacted badly. Instead of draining the wound, I put sticking plaster over it and let it fester. I knew that I hadn’t done anything wrong. And instead of seeing things the way that most people around here would, I stubbornly refused to accept that anyone could misconstrue it. I got angry with Jules for asking. I got defensive when I should have been honest. And in doing so I nearly drove her away.”

  He paused. “I started to suspect her too. I saw how well she and Jamie got on. I was jealous, although I realised afterwards that there was nothing for me to have been jealous of. She had just turned to others for reassurance when I pushed her away.”

  Alistair nodded. “How long have you known Jamie?” he asked.

  “Since he was born,” replied Adrien, with the beginning of a smile on his lips. “I was about five when he and Didi came along, so I didn’t have much to do with them then. I went to prep school at ten, just as they were getting more interesting. Dreadful temper he had, at that point. The two them used to have some awful fights.”

  He gave a real smile, remembering. Then he got up and started pacing. Alistair watched him.

  “I kept in touch, though. I always liked Uncle Hubert. He was a good man. It was a great shame he died when the children were so young.”

  He stood by the window and tapped his fingers on the sill. Alistair got to his feet and made a suggestion.

  “Why don’t you show me round outside? You look like you could do with some fresh air.”

  Adrien leapt at the offer, and it was only when they were out on the terrace that he started talking again. He pointed out the various gardens, then led his guest up to the cliffs. The wind seemed to revive his spirits.

  “You asked me about that night,” he said without any prodding. “Well, what I described before was where we were emotionally, when she vanished. We had argued late that afternoon, a real corker of a fight. I think everyone in the house must have heard us. I eventually left the house and took the car out. I just wanted to get away. I was sick at heart and didn’t know what to do any more. When I got back, much later, I thought she was already in bed. There was no answer when I knocked, so I slept in another room. I was dead beat, I had drunk too much, and I couldn’t stand the thought of another row.”

  “Why were you so certain that she was already in bed?”

  Adrien paused. Alistair allowed him time to think. He could understand why Juliana’s disappearance had escaped the notice of the remainder of the household until the morning, but not why Adrien had not noticed. Adrien should have seen straight away that his wife was missing.

  “I’m not sure,” Adrien said finally. “The storm was picking up all through the evening, and by the time I got back the wind was howling and the rain was lashing down.”

  He fell silent again, brows drawn in concentration. The church clock chimed the three-quarter hour. From the kitchen garden, one of Sylvia’s dogs barked. They reached the copse surrounding the Roscarrock, and Alistair noticed the shiver his companion gave as they walked through the trees. Adrien’s steps slowed.

  “I came in and locked the door behind me. Then I went through to the side hall and hung up my coat.” He faltered here, then turned, almost tripping as he did so. “That’s it! I noticed that my old tweed was wet. Juliana used to borrow it sometimes. It had dripped on the floor.”

  “And this coat was wet that night?”

  “Sopping. I was surprised at her going outside in such a gale. I tapped on the door, just in case she was still awake, but she didn’t answer. I was so tired I could barely walk straight. I passed out on the bed next door and didn’t wake up until Jane came in the next morning. She was worried that our bed had not been slept in.”

  The two men looked at each other as they left the trees and emerged onto the cliff. Alistair would have been amazed at the view, but was too interested in Adrien’s story. They sat side by side on the bench and gazed out without seeing much. Adrien looked pale, but sat stoically beside his friend.

  “This is where it happened?” asked Alistair.

  Adrien waved at the cliff edge. “I don’t come up here much. It gives me the chills.”

  Alistair saw the uneasy set of his jaw and resolved to explore more himself, later. “Can you prove where you were during that evening?”

  Adrien groaned.

  “Not the latter part. Earlier I had a drink with David Roskelly at the Lugger. He’s a good man, Roskelly. Taught me to sail when I was a boy; I was friends with his oldest son, Gerren, the one that died in France. I met him on the road down to the village and offered him a lift. He suggested a drink; I think he saw how miserable I was. He and I sat in the back bar for a while, then I started off for home.”

  A sigh escaped him.

  “When I got back to the car, I tried to light a cigarette, but I dropped it. When I bent to pick it up, I found a paper. It was a note from Juliana to Jamie, an old one. Thanking him for the new sling he had brought her, when her arm was in a cast after a riding accident. Just a thank-you letter, but she signed it ‘Julie’, and it unsettled me. Jamie nicknamed her Julie, the others used it too. Only I called her Jules. I liked it, that there was a name that only I used. I needed to know that she was really mine.”

  Alistair heard a change in Adrien’s voice.

  “I knew that Jamie liked her. They had a real connection, those two. I’m not saying anything untoward had happened, but I was jealous anyway. I was jealous of every drop of affection she gave him. There was a flask of Scotch in the glove compartment. I drove up to the moor and started drinking. I wanted to drown out the voices in my head.”

  “So, you have no alibi.” Alistair was gentle, but he had to know.

  “No, I do not.”

  Changing tack, Alistair asked about Fancy. “Why is Mrs Evans still living here?”

  Adrien looked perplexed.

  “You know, until Juliana came back, I really didn’t think about it. Fancy was here, in the house, when Juliana vanished. She was very kind to me afterwards. Took over the running of the house. Frankly, I was in a terrible state, Alistair. You met me then. I had no idea what I was doing for a while. Fancy stayed on to keep an eye on things. It made life easier for me, and I enjoyed having the company when Jamie and Damaris came home.”

  “And now?”

  Adrien sighed.

  “Well, there has already been unpleasantness, to say the least. I had determined to talk with Fancy and ask her to move back to Hendra. To enable Jules and me to start again on our own. But one of the Berkley sisters has been ill recently, and Bob advised that she not be moved for a while. And then all this happened.”

  “How is Mrs Evans situated financially?”

  “Hubert died about fifteen years ago. Per his will, Fancy has control over everything, and it will pass to Jamie and Didi when she dies. Until recently, I hadn’t realised that they might be going short. I thought they had moved away because they wanted their independence. It was short-sighted of me, not to see that the money side of things might be hard for them.”

  He stopped and looked embarrassed.

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about Fancy,” he said. “She’s just rather old-fashioned in some ways. I suppose she just doesn’t realise that the twins might need some more help.”

  Alistair supposed nothing of the sort, but was silent on the subject. The church bell rang out three times and Adrien stood up, not looking at the cliff edge. He turned to go.

  “I need to get back to the house. Can we continue another time?”

  “Of course. I’ll stay here a little longer, if I may.”

  “See you for tea.”

  Alistair walked to the edge and looked out. Adrien appeared to have been honest about his relationship with his wife. The apparent break-down of their relationship before her disappearance explained some of Adrien’s fears. Now that she could remember how alienated they had become from one another, would it affect their relationship in the present? He must be panic-stricken that she m
ight not want to remain married.

  Not only that, Adrien had no alibi for the time Juliana was pushed. Alistair did not want to believe that his oldest friend would try to murder his wife, but frankly, given what Adrien had told him, it was perhaps best that the police were not interested in pursuing the case at the moment. Adrien not only had a strong motive, but apparently no alibi either. Alistair was fairly certain that Adrien would be at the top of their list.

  As for himself, he was not so sure. He had known Adrien for a long time, and Adrien had never proved once to be anything other than honourable. And he had not shied away from admitting that he and Juliana had been in trouble. He had admitted his own fault in the affair. More to the point, why would Adrien now be digging up the whole story again. Wouldn’t it have been easier to ignore the torn slip and let the sleeping dogs continue where they lay? Why would he have called up Alistair himself and invited him down here, and urged him to look into things? If it was a double bluff, then it was a dangerous one.

  Chapter 14

  Thinking over what he had learned, Alistair decided that the most important thing for him to do see if there was any way they could put a name to the corpse. He would walk into town and go to see William Saxby again, and see how matters were progressing at the churchyard. There was nothing else he could do about the coincidence of the slip until he could see the police files, and he had no idea how long that might take.

  Walking quickly down into the town, he was passing the Lugger when he heard himself being hailed. He turned in surprise.

  “Mr Carr!”

  It was Inspector Willett, in his car. He parked by the bakery and jumped out.

  “Inspector Willett,” replied Alistair. He brightened, sensing a change in the policeman’s attitude.

  They fell into step, walked round the harbour and stopped at the overlook. Willett pulled out a pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket.

  “I’m happy for you to look through anything we have on the Creed case, Mr Carr. You will pardon my initial hesitation. I had to check you out.”