‘You didn’t say anything!’ His eyes accused her.
‘Sister Joan is assisting with our enquiries,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said smoothly. ‘The discovery placed her in a very awkward position. Naturally she handed them over to us. She also informed his daughter.’
‘I had to tell her that her father was probably dead,’ Sister Joan said.
‘Daughter. You’ve seen Crystal? You’ve met my wife?’
Michael Peter begun to rise excitedly, then sat down again, clenching his jaw.
‘Her sister is desperately worried about her,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Neither Caroline nor her father have heard anything from her since Easter.’
‘You’ve been to London? You know where they live?’
‘Caroline came to me for advice,’ Sister Joan said. ‘She wanted to find out where her sister was. She had no idea that her father had broken his appointment at the Heart Unit and travelled here. Her main concern has been to stay out of sight. She seemed to fear that some harm had befallen Crystal at your hands. I’m sorry but that was definitely the impression I received from her.’
‘Caroline here?’ Michael Peter flexed his fingers, cracking each joint in a series of small pistol shots. ‘Caroline Hayes here?’
‘Why did you pretend there’d been a burglary, sir?’ Constable Whitney asked.
‘There was!’ Michael Peter’s sharp cheekbones flushed a dull red. ‘The night before last—’
‘That would be Sunday night, would it?’
‘Yes, Sunday night. I was tired and worried about Crystal and a little peeved because Mrs Rufus had mentioned she might go to Torquay, which meant the house would get a trifle dusty, and I neglected to turn on the alarm when I went to bed. Yesterday morning I discovered the T’ang horse and the ashlar were both missing.’
‘Then why not report the theft immediately?’
‘Because I felt a complete fool,’ Michael Peter said. ‘Just think of it! I am an antique dealer. Every day I deal with very valuable artefacts. I am responsible for their security. If they are stolen I lose profits. I don’t like to lose profits.’
‘So you waited another twenty-four hours before you reported it?’
‘I was in a quandary,’ Michael Peter said. ‘I had to open the shop and Mrs Rufus wasn’t coming in and so I waited. I thought that some idea might occur to me, and then last night I got it! If I smashed the glass and made it look like a break-in—’
‘Mr Peter, why don’t you stop playing games with us?’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘First you pretend the items were stolen last night. Then you tell us it happened two nights ago and you didn’t want to admit to the police that you’d neglected to set the alarm, so you faked the break-in this morning, but the moment we arrive you inform us that you forgot to set the alarm anyway. What really happened?’
‘I forgot to turn on the alarm on Sunday night and yesterday morning I discovered the T’ang horse and the ashlar were gone. I waited, decided to stage a break-in.’
‘Very clumsily,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Sister Joan would have managed it better.’
‘I’m not used to telling lies,’ Michael Peter said. ‘Mother detested liars. Give her a murderer or a thief rather than a liar she used to say.’
‘And are you a murderer?’ Detective Sergeant Mill enquired softly.
‘Of course not! I couldn’t kill anything,’ he said. ‘Mrs Rufus used to have a little joke with me because I cannot stand even to gut fish. You can’t seriously believe that I could smash somebody’s head in? For what reason? Mrs Rufus was an excellent housekeeper. I really don’t know how I am going to be able to manage without her!’
‘Mr Peter, can you give us any further information concerning your wife’s whereabouts?’ Detective Sergeant Mill asked.
‘No! No, no, and again no! Now that you know she’s missing why aren’t you out looking for her? Why are you asking me these fruitless questions?’
‘Mr Peter, did you try to fake a break-in because you were afraid that Crystal had sneaked in and taken the horse and the ashlar?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘She wouldn’t have meant to steal,’ he said quickly. ‘Crystal always loved the T’ang horse and the ashlar. She used to sit and stroke the polished marble of the ashlar over and over, and smile a little as if she were caressing a – someone else.’
‘So you think she may have come back and taken them?’
‘I wouldn’t want to get her into trouble,’ Michael Peter said miserably. ‘I’d be glad for her to have them, but if someone else did take them – I was in a quandary, you see. I simply didn’t know what was best to say.’
‘The truth is always helpful, sir,’ Constable Whitney observed.
‘It was very foolish of me. Naturally if my wife did take them then I won’t bring any charges against her.’
‘If we find the ashlar was used to batter Mrs Rufus then the matter will be out of your hands, sir,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.
‘You’re not suggesting that Crystal—’ Michael Peter stared at him, his mouth working.
‘I’m suggesting nothing, Mr Peter,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Until we find Mrs Peter we can’t say anything definite. Her sister is very worried for her safety.’
‘You said she was here? Her sister was here?’
‘Was here,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.
‘She’s run off again?’ Michael Peter gave a sarcastic little laugh. ‘Well, from all I’ve heard about her that’s typical! What my mother would’ve called a flibbertigibbet, Detective Sergeant Mill. Blonde you know.’
‘Caroline is blonde?’ Sister Joan said.
‘I have a photograph of the two of them together, taken a couple of years ago. I’ll get it. One moment!’
He had left the room and returned with the framed portrait before Sister Joan had had time to say a word.
‘I’ve seen this picture before,’ she said now. ‘I assumed that Crystal was the fair-haired one.’
‘Did Mr Peter indicate which was his wife?’ Detective Sergeant Mill asked.
‘No, he didn’t, but I thought—’
‘My wife is brown-haired,’ Michael Peter said.
‘But—’ Sister Joan caught the detective sergeant’s eye and was silent.
‘Mother would certainly never have tolerated a blonde around the house!’ Michael Peter said. ‘Crystal has brown hair, drawn back into a rather elegant pleat. She was one of the hostesses at a trade fair when we met. Run by one of the more elite galleries. Crystal is a lady, I assure you!’
TWELVE
‘I never felt so stupid in my entire life!’ Sister Joan said.
They sat in Detective Sergeant Mill’s office, coffee cups and the remains of a large plate of cheese sandwiches between them.
‘You weren’t to know.’ Detective Sergeant Mill sounded consoling.
‘I ought to have checked up which one in the photograph was Crystal,’ Sister Joan said. ‘When someone tells me that her name’s Caroline I don’t expect her to turn out to be her sister!’
They had all driven down to the station where Michael Peter had made a formal statement and been released pending further enquiries and had gone off to open up his shop.
‘Let’s look at the statement from the beginning.’ Detective Sergeant Mill picked up the typescript and read it slowly.
‘“My name is Michael Peter and I’m forty-five years old. I live at Pebble Heights on East Moor, and also own the antique shop called by my name in Tor Alley. I have lived in this area for over twenty years. Last year at a trade fair I met Crystal Hayes who was working as hostess at the event. We were married at Chelsea Register Office a month later and came immediately to Cornwall. Crystal told me that she and her family did not enjoy close links though she was fond of her older sister, Caroline. The marriage was happy at first but deteriorated later. Crystal was bored in the country and had no desire to share in the antique business. I blame myself for not being more attentive to her. My hou
sekeeper, Mrs Rufus, came up to the house every day but my wife had little in common with her. There was, I understand, a slight altercation between them once concerning my wife’s habit of playing popular music rather loudly. I can understand that such music would appeal to a young woman, and Mrs Rufus made no further complaints.”’
‘Mrs Rufus mentioned that she played pop music all day,’ Sister Joan recalled.
He resumed his reading. ‘“At Easter Crystal told me that she wanted to go and visit her parents and her sister and I drove her to the station and bought her ticket to London. I noticed that she took most of her clothes with her and the suspicion entered my mind that she might decide not to return. I said nothing to her but I did tell Mrs Rufus that Crystal was touring France with her family. That would save face if Crystal did stay away for a long time. After a month during which I received only one brief, hurried call I went to London myself to the apartment where the Hayes, according to my wife, lived. I was informed they had moved away leaving no forwarding address. I returned home and endeavoured to contact John Hayes, Crystal’s father, through the Florence Nightingale Heart Unit, I was informed by them that my message to him suggesting a meeting had been passed on but I heard nothing. When I did learn that Sister Joan of the Order of the Daughters of Compassion had found the body of an unidentified man in the abandoned chapel near my house I did wonder if it might have been John Hayes. May I say at this point that I had no idea that certain articles belonging to John Hayes were hidden in my shower-room.”’ Detective Sergeant Mill looked up. ‘Do you believe that?’
‘It’s feasible,’ Sister Joan said. ‘The toilet roll was in a basket filled with clean toilet rolls. I’d never have found it if I hadn’t knocked the basket over. I imagine Mrs Rufus saw to the replenishment of household goods etcetera. I don’t think Michael Peter is a domestic animal.’
‘Right, let’s see.’ He returned to the statement. ‘“On Sunday evening I went to bed and forgot to activate the alarm in the house. I was still worried about Crystal and anxious too because I had previously packed her remaining garments into an old suitcase and left them on the embankment. It was a foolish gesture, prompted by depression at her continued absence and by annoyance since, whatever my shortcomings as a partner, I had always been a generous husband. On Monday morning I discovered that a T’ang horse and a marble ashlar had been taken from the house during the night. Crystal had always admired these two ornaments and I suspected that she might have returned in order to take them. I said nothing to anybody but last night I began to fear that there had been a burglary by people unknown to me. It occurred to me that I might stage a break-in and telephone the police, giving the impression it had only just happened. It was a foolish move which I now regret.”’
‘Because he’s been made to look a fool, I suppose,’ Sister Joan said.
‘“Regarding my housekeeper, Mrs Rufus. She has worked for me for nearly twenty years and has been satisfactory in every way. She intimated recently that she intended to go to Torquay for the day and was due to go on Monday. On Monday evening I came home to find a brief message on my telephone answering machine from Mrs Rufus to inform me she was staying in Torquay for a second day. I now know that Mrs Rufus could not have left that message since she had been killed on Monday morning before setting out for the station. I do recall thinking that her voice sounded slightly indistinct but that is with hindsight and as I wiped the tape according to my usual practice then I have no proof.”’
‘It’s still feasible,’ Sister Joan said thoughtfully.
‘I’m leaving out the various dates,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘He seems pretty vague about them anyway. Shall I go on?’
‘Please.’
‘“I have been asked to supply a description of my wife Crystal. She is slim, of average height, with a pale complexion, brown eyes and light brown hair which she usually ties back. She is quiet and ladylike in manner. I am given to understand that she is in the area. I suspected that she might be when the T’ang horse and the ashlar were taken from my house. Indeed on Monday evening I walked up to the convent. I am not a Catholic and have little sympathy with papistry, but I had met Sister Joan who seemed to know, from remarks she made during a sale transaction between us, something about my wife, and I had it in mind to request an interview, but when I reached the convent everybody seemed to have retired, and after walking about for some time I walked home again without ringing the bell.”’
‘If someone had rung the bell at that particular moment I’d have had a fit,’ Sister Joan said.
‘No you wouldn’t, Sister. You’re the last woman in the world to panic,’ Detective Sergeant Mill retorted. ‘What were you doing up so late anyway? You said something about chapel.’
‘Extra praying time. That’s my main task you know. Helping the police is—’
‘An interesting hobby?’ He cocked an eyebrow.
‘Get on with Michael Peter’s statement.’ She grinned back at him.
‘“I would finally like to state that I have no knowledge about the death of Mrs Rufus and no knowledge of my wife’s present whereabouts. I shall be very relieved to hear from her so that we can meet and discuss the differences that have arisen between us. My own feelings for her are undiminished.”’
‘He said he adored her,’ Sister Joan said as Detective Sergeant Mill laid down the typescript. ‘Adoration bestowed on the wrong person can be dangerous.’
‘I can’t visualize Michael Peter carrying out a crime passionel,’ he objected.
‘Still waters run deep,’ Sister Joan said sententiously.
‘We haven’t arrested him.’ Detective Sergeant Mill rested his chin on his linked hands and frowned slightly. ‘Constable Whitney and our special constable were a mite disappointed. The search warrants are through so I’ll go along to the house and the shop and see what’s to be found. Will you come?’
‘I think you can search a couple of places without my help,’ Sister Joan said.
‘In that case let’s take a swift look at the sequence of events that involve Crystal Peter. She leaves her middle-aged husband, possibly for good, and then comes back here giving her sister’s name and looking for herself. She even goes to the local police station to make enquiries and when they don’t take her seriously she recalls a newspaper article in which your name appears and comes to the convent.’
‘Funking it a couple of times,’ Sister Joan reminded him.
‘Well, her story must’ve sounded slightly peculiar.’ He cast her a glance. ‘I take it that if I’d been around you’d have enlisted my help?’
‘Yes, of course. I would’ve told Constable Petrie if he hadn’t gone down with the measles.’
‘If your convent ever gets burgled,’ he said dryly, ‘and Petrie and I aren’t around I do hope you’ll trust whoever is manning the station with a prompt report.’
‘Yes, of course I would!’ Sister Joan said. ‘This wasn’t a simple matter. She was really scared of Michael Peter’s discovering she was in the neighbourhood. She gave me the distinct impression that she believed some harm had come to her sister at his hands and since I’d already been told that Crystal was touring France with her family and that clearly wasn’t true then I was inclined to believe her.’
‘Her real worry must’ve been that Michael Peter might see her and recognize her.’
‘But she did go to the police. If they’d taken her seriously – and now she seems to have disappeared.’
‘There’s no seems about it,’ he said. ‘She vanished and left a bloodstained sweater and skirt behind.’
‘In the boot of a car and the boot was wedged open so that anyone could’ve found the clothes.’
‘We’ve had the further forensic report on the clothes,’ he said. ‘It arrived early today. I intended to tell you about it but we got sidetracked by the involvement in the Peter house with the supposed burglary and all the rest of it. I might not have arrested Michael Peter for murder yet but I’m tempted to book
him for wasting police time!’
‘What does the report say?’
The blood on the clothes belongs to two groups. Group A which is incidentally the blood group to which Mrs Rufus belonged and Group O, which is more common. Of course, they’ll find out a great deal more once they get the DNA readings. I’ve requested a full analysis.’
‘Could Mrs Rufus have grappled with her attacker?’
‘She was struck from behind. The first blow would’ve killed her. Her blood would’ve spurted up and sprayed the murder weapon and possibly the murderer too if they were stooping low at the time.’
‘A short person?’
‘Short or tall they’d still have stooped. If the ashlar was used that’s too heavy to hold at arm’s length for more than a second or two.’
‘Then it was probably someone else’s blood on the skirt and sweater as well as that of Mrs Rufus?’
‘It means doing a lot of checking,’ he said with a trace of irritation. ‘I’m hoping that Crystal or Caroline was a blood donor or had an operation so that we find some record.’
‘What we need are identity cards with our DNA number stamped on them!’
‘Don’t mock.’ He smiled at her. ‘Big Brother is active enough already. Where are you off?’
‘I’ve a convent to go to. Mother Dorothy gave me permission to stay if I was needed, but if I stay much longer the Police Federation will start charging me rent.’
‘I’ll be in touch then.’
‘Don’t get up. I know my way out.’
She left him rereading the statement again and went out to where the van was parked. There were echoes of things not spoken nagging the edges of her mind. Constable Brown. Why should his broad, self-satisfied face jump into her thoughts? Constable Petrie. The young woman in the shabby brown clothes. Was she dead or alive? She had to be somewhere. She had to be Crystal. Then what had happened to Caroline?
Crystal murdered her sister and is trying to frame her husband for the killing? Why had Mrs Rufus been killed then? That had to have been premeditated if the murder weapon had been the ashlar. Nobody takes a stroll with a heavy marble sphere in their arms. But Mrs Rufus had apparently bought some flowers and gone to the cemetery on impulse on her way to catch the train to Torquay.
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