Stone Cold Dead

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘I’ve heard. But it could never have been how it was for us. Oh no. You’ll say I’m too old for these strange...passions. Is that the word I want?’

  ‘If it describes how you felt, yes,’ I assured him.

  ‘Felt?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know what I felt. It overwhelmed me—it completely took possession of me.’

  ‘And she?’

  ‘Can we say that she enjoyed being with me, being close to me, and...’

  ‘And making love to you?’

  He jerked a quick glance sideways. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Guessed. What else would all this passion lead to—but that?’

  He was silent. We stood still, not facing each other, but staring at the still water. I waited. In the end, he spoke in a quite empty voice, having dragged his mind rather desperately from his treasured memory.

  ‘You’re trying to denigrate it, Richard. That’s understandable, I suppose. Nobody who hasn’t felt what I did—’

  ‘I think I might qualify.’

  But I might as well not have spoken. ‘Could understand what she meant to me,’ he finished it.

  He began to walk slowly again. I paced with him. The tow-path was too narrow to allow us to walk abreast, and I was just behind his left shoulder. I felt he was waiting for my response.

  ‘I can understand your feelings completely, Gerald,’ I said. ‘And appreciate them. But you’re too transparent. Too naïve, really...’

  ‘What’re you saying?’ He came to an abrupt halt, and turned to face me. His cheeks were grey, his eyes haunted.

  ‘It was originally presented to me by Ray,’ I reminded him. ‘That first paltry court episode...it was intended as no more than a dig, because he was aware of your dislike of him. But you realized later, after Clare’s death, that it did give you some sort of a motive for having killed her. But such a paltry thing, that motive was, Gerald! Ridiculous. Nobody would have taken it seriously. And then you told me you had seen her from your window. That was also very naïve. You were only trying to suggest that if you’d been at your window, you could not be down there killing her, at the same time. And I know now that you couldn’t have seen her, not from where you were. Didn’t see her, in fact, because you mentioned seeing her cap with the checkered band, when in fact she had lost it, even before she reached the lodge. And you knew it would be considered to be feeble—as an alibi. But Gerald...’

  ‘What’re you saying?’ he demanded, aggressively for him. ‘I did see her,’ he insisted. ‘From my window. Hanging around by the bottom lock. And she was wearing her checkered cap. She was! I saw her. I could take an oath on it. I didn’t go down to her—but I saw her.’

  ‘All right,’ I conceded, ‘you saw her. But it doesn’t help. It’s neither an alibi, nor anything that adds to your ability to have gone down there to kill her. What I’m trying to tell you is in relationship to a possible motive—not an alibi. You produced a feeble motive, or rather you seized on it when Ray produced it—your first court encounter with Clare—in order to hide your other very strong motive. But now you’ve produced that motive—and very impressive it is.’

  ‘I really must protest!’

  ‘Though you’ve hidden it away in a camouflage of passion, as you call it.’

  ‘How could I—’

  ‘And now you’re going to say that you couldn’t have killed a woman that you loved so much.’

  ‘Richard! How dare you!’

  He had raised himself to his most distinguished height, his chin jutting and his cheeks flushed.

  ‘I dare, because it’s what you wanted me to say. Right. So I’ve said it. You could not have killed Clare—for whom you felt such a glorious passion. There. Does that suit you?’

  ‘You don’t—’

  ‘Don’t understand? Of course I don’t. I’m a stupid, blundering ex-copper, so how could I possibly understand? Passion—you call it. Where I come from, it’s called sex.’

  ‘I…I…’

  ‘And Gerald—you’ve offered this passion as a proof that you couldn’t have killed her. Nonsense! There’re more crimes based on sex than on anything else. Passion! It’s passion that kills, Gerald, you poor idiot.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He was gesticulating wildly. I had to watch that he didn’t forget where his feet were in relation to the edge of the tow-path.

  ‘Oh...I think I do understand,’ I assured him. ‘Only too well. You’re having to cover for yourself, before people start asking around as to whose child she’d been bearing.’

  He grabbed at my arm. ‘What?’ The colour had drained from his cheeks.

  ‘She was two months pregnant, Gerald. Didn’t she tell you? Or did you rely on the assumption that you’re too old...and that there’d be nothing to tell?’

  ‘I...I didn’t.’

  ‘But you’re not too old, Gerald, and she would have told you. Eventually.’

  Yes, she would, if she’d been sufficiently certain, out of the group she had similarly entertained, who was in fact the father. Indeed, it might have been a choice made on the question of who, amongst them, might be forced to contribute most towards her own and the child’s welfare. Gerald, as a solicitor, would clearly have been near the front in that race. Yet, equally clearly, she had not informed him of her pregnancy.

  Or so he intended me to believe!

  ‘I...I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.’ He was waving his arms around frantically, and in danger of disturbing his physical as well as his emotional balance.

  I sighed for him. ‘Gerald, I’m trying to get across to you that she’d have had you by the throat. She could have choked you for your last gasp of maintenance. If you resisted, she could have ruined your treasured reputation, and ruined your home life. So she was in a position where she simply had to be removed.’

  He was able to produce nothing now but a meaningless gabble. In court, he would not have been recognized.

  ‘But maybe this won’t reach Slater’s ears,’ I encouraged him. ‘If it’s any comfort, certainly not from me, because I know of at least one other man who could have fathered that child. At least. But...’

  I held up one hand in case he was intending to offer any comment.

  ‘But...’ I said. ‘If you’ll turn round, you’ll see the houseboat in which Clare’s sister was staying. Hiding, if you like. This was a woman who was beaten up, and couldn’t really look after herself—and you’ve seen that for yourself. And because she wanted her child with her, Clare took Dennis to her. A good and sisterly act, you would say? But Gerald—Clare left them. This was the evening of the storm, you realize. It’d just blown itself out. But Clare left them, without heat, it seems, a very nearly incapable woman, at that time, and a child too young to help. And Clare did—what? Nothing. She left them. And don’t tell me she had no chance because she was killed before she could take any action, because that’s not true. She had to pass your bar lounge, on the way back to where she’d left her car, and she did pass it, because she was clearly killed the far side of the footbridge. But did she look in? Did she ask for help, or to use the phone? No. In effect, she abandoned her sister and Dennis, calmly and coldly. She walked away from them, and by heaven, if I hadn’t happened to walk past there the next morning...damn it, Gerald, Helen would surely have died, because it was later that night that Pierce came along and gave her another beating.’

  He was holding up his palm to stop me, but I ignored that.

  ‘And what about Dennis? Think of him, damn you. As it happens, his father came along and collected him. But...what if he hadn’t taken him away? Ask yourself that. So don’t come bleating to me to get you out of your paltry little difficulties, because I shan’t be listening.’

  I had been laying it on rather heavily, and on purpose. I hadn’t seen much sign in him of grief for Clare. But if he did mourn her, maybe I’d helped to ease that a little.

  I turned without another word, and walked away from him.

  Chapter Fo
urteen

  We were sitting together, Amelia and I, at her favourite corner table in the bar lounge, discussing the situation.

  The house was strangely quiet, but outside were the splashes of tossed-in hooks, and the shouts of Ted Slater’s team. I was no longer interested in their success or otherwise, because I was convinced that there was no weapon to be found in there.

  I was still somewhat upset about Clare’s behaviour.

  ‘But she did take food to her,’ Amelia pointed out. ‘We saw that.’

  ‘Yes, yes. And perhaps Helen wasn’t in such bad shape at that time.’ I was finding myself seizing on any minor point in Clare’s favour, finding it so difficult to accept her character as being as bad as I’d drawn it for Gerald, though of course I had exaggerated it to him.

  ‘And’, said Amelia, understanding what I was reaching for, ‘you’ve got to remember that Arnold Pierce came for the lad, that same evening.’ She meant, after the pub shut.

  ‘But how would he know where to come?’ I demanded.

  ‘I don’t know that.’ She was being very patient with me. ‘What I’m trying to say is that Helen could have been very much more fit and capable before her husband came and took Dennis away.’

  ‘Than she was after?’

  I stared at my clenched fist, wishing I’d given it even more exercise than I had. It ached as I clenched it. Ached for more action?

  ‘And of course,’ I said, ‘the whole business with the abandoned car was entirely different from what I originally thought.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I rather imagined Clare, with Arnold Pierce beside her and with a knife to her ribs. I know now that he does carry a knife, but...well, I thought he was forcing her to take him to wherever Helen was hidden, so that he could take Dennis home with him. I just had it backwards, that’s all. Now I see that it was Clare and Ray who were bringing Dennis. And I mean, it all fits the timing, Ray being there, still in uniform. They’d both just come off duty, with Ray just in time for drinks before dinner, Clare delivering Dennis to his mother.’

  ‘And Clare...’

  ‘Clare was killed on her way back to where she’d left her car.’

  ‘Killed by whom?’ Amelia gets right to the core of things.

  ‘I don’t know. And it’s just about driving me crazy.’ I thumped the table with my fist. ‘I want to walk around breaking things.’

  She tried to laugh, to make a joke of it, but it was a poor thing.

  ‘Or throw things,’ I compromised.

  ‘If you want something to throw, why don’t you go outside and start throwing that rubbish back into the locks,’ she suggested.

  ‘They’d take me into custody. Slap handcuffs on me. Unlawful disposal of litter.’

  Now her laugh was a more wholesome thing.

  I was beginning to feel more relaxed, and reached for my pipe. From behind me, Ruby said, ‘What on earth have you been saying to Gerald, Richard?’

  I got to my feet and turned to face her. She seemed flushed, her eyes too bright. ‘Nothing much,’ I tried to assure her. ‘He asked for some advice and I gave it to him. I hadn’t intended to upset him.’ But oh yes, I had!

  ‘Well, he is upset. I’ve sent him out with a list of shopping, to set his mind on something else. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t catered for the old people. There was no reason why I should, but all this...this chaos...’ She flung her arms around a little. ‘I find it all most unsettling.’

  ‘Oh Ruby,’ said Amelia, ‘you should have said. We came for no more than an overnight stay. I’m sorry.’

  Ruby grimaced. ‘Now you’re being quite ridiculous, Amelia. You know very well that you’re always welcome...’ And she cut herself off abruptly, twisting round with a start as the swing doors were flung open, and Colin stood there, dramatically holding them wide, one hand to each door.

  ‘You’ll never guess!’ he cried heatedly. ‘Not in a month of Sundays. Go on. Have a guess.’ This he directed at me.

  There was only one answer to that. ‘You’ve just said it can’t be done. So come on—out with it.’

  He drew a deep breath. ‘The buggers have given it up, and driven off to wherever they hide away—and left me to get rid of all their rubbish.’

  ‘The police, you mean?’ I asked.

  At this point (the question not requiring an answer anyway) the three old dears came wandering in, and Adolphus, as their representative, spoke with chilling authority.

  ‘Colin! Poor Alexandra has just looked out of her window. What is all that ugly rubbish lying around outside? It’s a perfect eyesore. Get rid of it at once.’

  Colin stared at me in desperation. He was no doubt now regretting that he’d ever thought of the idea of welding up his three-pronged hook. He had landed what had turned out to be no more than bait, and the predators had descended to scavenge the carcass.

  ‘I...I...’ Colin gabbled.

  I got to my feet. ‘It’s all right. It’s not Colin’s fault. The police are investigating a serious and suspicious crime, Adolphus. A death. It gives them authority to search for evidence, and those unsightly piles outside consist of what they’ve found. And it was a useless waste of time, as it turned out.’

  ‘Then’, he declared severely, ‘they should have taken their rubbish with them.’

  I glanced at Amelia for support, but she had a hand clasped over her mouth, and her eyes were sparkling above it. So I had to manage myself.

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you, Adolphus, that it isn’t their rubbish—it’s yours.’

  ‘Well now...’ cried Victoria, making swinging gestures with one arm. ‘That will just have to be clarified. Legally. Gerald! Where’s Gerald?’

  ‘He’s gone shopping,’ said Ruby.

  ‘He has no right to go shopping,’ declared Alexandra. ‘Isn’t that so, my dear?’ she asked her sister.

  ‘Now...now,’ put in Adolphus. ‘I couldn’t be certain about that. We do not employ him, Alexandra. It’s Colin we employ. Colin. Colin, where are you?’

  ‘Here,’ said Colin, from behind my shoulder.

  ‘Then Colin,’ said Adolphus firmly, ‘why aren’t you outside, clearing away that unsightly pile of rubbish?’

  ‘Three piles,’ corrected Victoria, nodding.

  Colin drew a deep breath. ‘Ladies,’ he said, ‘and you, sir, I have something much more important to talk to you about than three piles of rubbish. I’d like us to go into the dining room, where there are comfortable seats and quiet, and where it’s warm. If you don’t mind.’

  They stared at him. It was possibly the first time he had given them instructions, although they had been presented in the form of a request, and so very politely.

  ‘But what is this about, my dear boy?’ asked Adolphus.

  ‘That’s what I want to tell you. If you don’t mind,’ he repeated.

  He went and stood by the door into the hall, opened it, and stood aside for them to precede him.

  They looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Adolphus gave an almost imperceptible nod, and with massive dignity Victoria and Alexandra led the way. Once again, Colin managed to reach the door first and hold it open. Then, as he looked past them and saw that Amelia and I were hovering on the verge of following, he smiled, winked, and gave a little nod.

  This I interpreted as an invitation to follow them in, and eavesdrop. Amelia was reluctant, but I urged her inside, and while the four of them were settling into the easy chairs that we—the four men—had used on the night of the engagement party, we slipped around the perimeter to a location where we faced Colin, and the three old dears had their backs to us.

  ‘Now...what is this, Colin?’ asked Victoria. ‘Do you have to be so mysterious?’

  ‘It’s the first chance I’ve had to get the three of you together, and where we can speak confidentially.’

  They looked around at each other, then Victoria spoke again for them.

  ‘Well—carry on, Colin. You can trust us, and you know t
hat, my dear boy.’

  Colin smiled. ‘Of course I can. But for once we might not see eye to eye.’

  They looked in astonishment at each other, then back to Colin, politely expectant.

  ‘It’s about Helen,’ said Colin, leaning forward with his knees apart, elbows on them, his hands up beside his face to make gestures of emphasis.

  ‘Dear child,’ murmured Alexandra. ‘So sweet.’

  ‘Yes.’ Colin grinned. ‘Isn’t she? And very sweet to me, I assure you. Now look—you must have realized that I was the one who let her use the houseboat as a hiding place from her husband. You do understand that?’

  He had to wait until the three sets of eyes traversed around their group, and in some way signalled agreement. Then: ‘We do,’ said Adolphus, nodding.

  ‘Right.’ Colin beamed at them. ‘Then you might have guessed that it wasn’t just because her sister, Clare, was a friend of mine that I had Helen here. Well...not here. Father wouldn’t have cared for that, but at the boat. No? You hadn’t realized? Well, you ought to know—you have to know—that it’s because Helen and I love each other, and we want to get married.’

  The two ladies gasped, and Adolphus pointed out, ‘But she’s already married, Colin, my dear boy.’

  ‘She wants to be rid of him, as you very well know. And...’ He smiled around. ‘And you dear people have done so much for her, just by offering her your home, and your love. She wants you to know...we want you to know how grateful we both are for the offer. But…’

  ‘But, Colin?’ asked Adolphus, lifting his head abruptly.

  ‘But it wouldn’t work, sir. Helen’s a town girl. This house here, Flight House, is the sort of country she would be happy to live in. Fields and trees and the valley all round us—and the canal. She loves all this, as I do. And the town within reach. Ladies, sir, I want to marry her, and adopt Dennis—if that’s legally necessary. I don’t know about that.’

  ‘But...Colin!’ Alexandra had her hand to her lips. A hint of distress had entered her voice. ‘The child, Colin—Dennis?’

  Colin positively grinned. ‘Naughty thoughts, Miss Alexandra? No, Dennis is not my lad. I wish he was—but no. But I want him to be. Legally. And Helen to be my wife. And...here. You do understand—it would break my heart if I had to leave here. But, if you will not agree to this, to having Helen and Dennis here until the divorce is through, and then my marrying Helen...well, then I’ll have to give you notice—’