Getting Away with Murder?

by Anne Morice

  ‘No, really? What’s happened to him?’

  ‘Knocked down and killed, only a few hundred yards from his home, by one of those juggernauts. We always knew it would take a fatal accident to get something done about building a by-pass round Chissingfield and it had to be poor old Frank who’s the human sacrifice.’ From the corner of my eye I saw Robin’s right hand move down to his pocket. He withdrew it again almost immediately, but I could not tell whether this was because he did not wish to study the telephone message until he was alone, or whether, as I considered more likely, he knew it by heart and had already realised that the number on it was the same as the one listed in his files under the name of Young Mr Winthrop.

  (3)

  ‘One way and another,’ I said at dinner, which at our own request was late that evening, Robin having found it necessary to borrow Toby’s car and disappear for half an hour, ‘this has been a bad day. First Robin being frustrated over his telephone call and on top of that losing his brief case. Then poor Young Mr Winthrop and now this!’

  The last was a reference to the fact that Mr God’s party was once more in possession of the centre table, the numbers now somewhat depleted, but once again including Jimmie. Furthermore, he was seated next to Stephanie and making what I can only describe as much of her.

  ‘You seem to have got your values mixed,’ Robin said. ‘Leaving aside the brief case, which may or may not turn out to be serious, I would hardly have bracketed the sudden death of an elderly and respected man with the sight of a young one making an ass of himself.’

  ‘Particularly as I presume that you do not accept the idea that the sudden death was accidental?’ Toby suggested.

  ‘If so, it’s a strange coincidence that he should have tried to get in touch with me only a few hours earlier. And it’s not only we who know that, is it? Numerous people not a million miles from here could have known it too.’

  ‘Well, Verity for a start,’ I said, ‘and she could have passed it on to Louisa or Jake, or both. Also Irene Gayford, who was by the desk when the call came through. Who else?’

  ‘Absolutely all of them, as far as I can see, with the exception of Jimmie. Verity had stuck the message inside the Visitors’ Book. In view of all the jostling around that went on this morning and the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to leave the desk unattended whenever the whim takes her, she might just as well have pinned it up on the notice board.’

  ‘On the other hand, I suppose there is just a chance that it was an accident? Everyone knows how these lorries go hurtling through towns and villages and you told me once that Young Mr Winthrop was going deaf. I don’t suppose his hearing had improved since you last saw him.’

  ‘Maybe not, but he doesn’t appear to have gone blind as well, nor was there much hurtling this time. The driver insists that his speed was down to twenty miles an hour and, although it suits the pro by-pass brigade to discredit this, I personally do not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it was Market Day, so not only was the middle of the road thronged with people, there was also a steady stream of pedestrians crossing back and forth. If he’d been going any faster, he’d have been in danger of mowing down half the population of Chissingfield. Also the road itself was jammed with cars, so if he was moving at a dangerous speed you have to accept that all the others were too.’

  ‘How do you know all this? Did Kenneth tell you?’

  ‘No, I got it from Superintendent Wilkins, who is in charge down here. An old acquaintance, I might add.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been to Chissingfield this evening? If so, you must have broken a few speed laws yourself.’

  ‘No, only as far as the telephone kiosk, which, as you may have noticed, is beside the pillar box, almost opposite the gate. Past experience having made it imprudent to telephone him from here, it seemed the best way to let him know that his accident victim had been trying to get in touch with me.’

  ‘And did you also tell him about your missing brief case?’

  ‘Not yet. I may do so when I see him tomorrow.’

  ‘What time tomorrow?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘What about the races?’

  ‘Oh, I expect to be through by then, but in any case there’s no need for you two to hang around. I shall ask Anthony to bring my car here not later than ten thirty and he can go back with you. I tried to get hold of him just now, but of course he’s out for dinner, so I’ll have to leave it till the morning. Quite apart from the question of transport, I want to give it a more thorough going over than it probably got from him. I still think the brief case must be there somewhere, despite Toby’s colourful theory.’

  ‘And I suppose even he wouldn’t dare suggest that Anthony was responsible for Young Mr Winthrop falling under a lorry, would you, Toby? You’d find it uphill work, considering he was sitting within yards of us when it happened.’

  ‘I have never suggested that he was on his own, merely a vital cog in the machine. No doubt, one of his functions today was to equip himself with an unimpeachable alibi. That is why, when the doors of Mattingly Grange were closed to him, he hit on the idea of spending the day with Max and Bobbie. It was just as good.’

  ‘And also quite a natural thing to have done, with the whole day ahead of him and nothing to fill it.’

  ‘But why choose them? He is reputed to have dozens of friends down here, all with tastes and interests like his own. Why pick on people he hasn’t seen for over a year? Could it be that because of that, they would carry more weight as witnesses?’

  ‘More likely because he knew he could drop in on them at a moment’s notice and be sure of a welcome. You might not be able to say the same of those other friends, however many interests they have in common. I really do think you’re flogging a dead horse here.’

  ‘And for once I agree with her,’ Robin said.

  ‘Then here is something else for you both to consider. How was it, do you suppose, that when you had taken such care to avoid a whisper getting out about Robin’s job, the first question which Jake asked, when Tessa went calling on him in the summer house, was whether he had worked on the Chissingfield murder case?

  Answer: someone had put it around that Scotland Yard were sending someone down here and who more likely to have done so than Anthony?’

  Robin said: ‘No, there is a simpler answer. It is just that, although the name conveyed nothing when I made the reservations, Jake did recognise me the instant he saw me in the dining room. I thought so at the time and I still do.’

  ‘Then it was a fatuous question, was it not? If he had recognised you, it could only have been because of the murder case, so why ask?’

  ‘Perhaps because he is not the devious character you take him for and did not realise that he was giving himself away.’

  ‘And if you were to suggest that Jake had been a small cog in the machine,’ I said, ‘I should back you all the way. He was in the heart of Chissingfield at the time and ideally placed to see and hear what was going on. If he didn’t know either Pauline or Young Mr Winthrop personally, he could certainly have picked up plenty of information about them and passed it on to interested parties.’

  ‘But not directly involved?’

  ‘He could have been. For example, did your Superintendent tell you what time the accident happened this afternoon, Robin?’

  ‘Ten minutes past three.’

  ‘There you are, that’s just what I mean. For most men of his age it would be one of the most difficult times of all to be absent from their place of work, but not for Jake. In fact, the early part of the afternoon is when he is least in evidence and today was an absolute gift in that way. We were out to lunch and unlikely to return before five, the Fellowes had gone for a tramp and the Godstow party had booked seats for the theatre. He could have been asleep in his room, or patching up the summer house, or stalking a deaf old man until an opportune moment arrived to push him under a lorry.’

  ‘Curiously enough,’ Rob
in said, ‘there is some evidence to suggest something of that kind happening. Wilkins told me of one witness who had the impression that there was someone with Winthrop when he fell. He couldn’t give any description, except that he thought it was a young man.’

  ‘So what more do you want?’

  ‘Plenty. You don’t need me to tell you that you can’t charge someone with a crime simply because they’re the right sex and had the opportunity to commit it. If that were all that could be said against him, I daresay it would leave a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury.’

  ‘The point is that it may not be all.’

  ‘Your spies have told you that he was in Chissingfield this afternoon? I’m afraid it still wouldn’t be damning enough. He probably always goes on Market Day.’

  ‘No, this is something else. It is called the Tale of Two Picnics.’

  I paused to allow this announcement to sink in, until Toby said:

  ‘Well, don’t overdo the pregnant silence.’

  ‘It came to me just before we were interrupted by the Fellowes. The reason why Anthony couldn’t find the brief case in the car was because it wasn’t there and hadn’t been there when we left the hotel this morning.’

  ‘But I told you . . .’ Robin began and then thought better of it.

  ‘You told us that you had to move it to make room for the picnic baskets, but you’d got it mixed up, hadn’t you? The picture in your mind belonged to the evening before, when we went to the theatre. You didn’t open the boot at all this morning until we arrived at the cottage, because Verity had taken the keys so that Jake could see to it for you.’

  ‘She’s right, you know, Toby, I have to admit it.’

  ‘So the only question is,’ I went on, ‘whether he arranged it like that on purpose, having failed to find anything of a confidential nature in our rooms, or whether he discovered the brief case by accident, and acted on impulse.’

  ‘To be scrupulously fair, I suppose it is not quite the only question. It could have been Louisa who loaded up the car, or perhaps Verity shot off to do an investigation on her own, before handing over the keys.’

  Toby said: ‘And to be scrupulously fairer still, you would also need to ask yourselves whether whichever one it was acted on his own initiative or was merely obeying instructions.’

  ‘What would the answer be, if you were writing it?’

  ‘How can I say? Naturally, I should save it for the dénouement.’

  ‘But you’d need to have worked it out in your mind by this time?’

  ‘No, I regret to say that at this point I should probably be straightening pictures and waiting for an inspiration.’

  I sighed: ‘And it looks as though that is what we shall have to do, because we seem to be back where we started. We don’t even know what has become of Robin’s brief case.’

  ‘Never mind, let us forget it for a while and turn our attention to the sub-plot, which now seems to be unfolding,’ Toby said, looking up, as Jimmie approached our table. ‘Unless, of course, he is a Greek messenger, bearing offers of brandy and liqueurs, in which case I’m off.’

  (4)

  ‘Good evening, Price, Mrs Price and cousin Toby Crichton.’

  ‘Evening, Featherstone. How did it go this afternoon?’

  ‘Not bad for a matinée, thank you. I had my claque there, which helped things along.’

  ‘I should think it might have,’ I said, ‘seeing it probably accounted for twenty per cent of the audience. How’s your wrist? I see you still have the bandage.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s just showing off. It doesn’t hurt any more. Did Bobbie tell you I’d sprained it?’

  ‘She mentioned it in passing.’

  ‘And did she tell you how I did it?’

  ‘She may have, I don’t remember.’

  ‘Ah well, I suppose I mustn’t expect to dominate the conversation even in my absence. I came over to invite you . . .’

  ‘Excuse me, will you?’ Robin said, getting up, ‘I must leave you for a few minutes. I have a phone call to make.’

  ‘So must I,’ Toby said, with equal alacrity, ‘there is a picture in my room which badly needs straightening.’

  ‘How very intuitive!’ Jimmie said, watching them go. ‘Whoever would have thought it?’

  ‘I don’t think either of them is feeling sociable this evening. It’s been what they call a long day.’

  ‘Well, it has saved me a lot of trouble. I can now throw away my script and speak from the heart.’

  ‘What script?’

  ‘Oh, just some rot about an argument I was having with our director about my interpretation of the part and wanting your advice, ha ha. It would have sounded thin, even to them. I’m not a very brilliant liar, as you know, but since you now seem to be permanently flanked by those two gentlemen, the object was to prise you loose for half an hour and invite you to take a turn in the garden.’

  ‘I shall be delighted.’

  ‘Thank you, dear one. I rather think I do need your advice, you see, although not on the subject I had braced myself to rabbit on about.’

  ‘Then we will go and sit in the summer house. The paint should be dry by now and it is just the place for confidences, especially of the romantic kind.’

  ‘I must disillusion you, there is nothing romantic about this. Won’t you need a coat?’

  ‘I may, but I’ve left one in the car, so I can pick it up on my way out, if it’s still there.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Things have a way of disappearing in this place.’

  This proved to be an understatement because when we arrived at the front door it was to discover that the car, as well as the coat inside it, had disappeared.

  ‘Did they say where they were going?’ I asked Louisa, who, by one of the minor miracles that occasionally broke the tedium of life at Mattingly Grange, was in charge of the desk and switchboard.

  ‘No, just shot out without a word.’

  ‘Well, if you see them, will you say I’ve gone for a moonlight stroll? Back in half an hour.’

  ‘Will do. ’Fraid there’s no moon tonight, though. Sorry about that.’

  ‘Not your fault,’ I assured her, ‘and there’s still some daylight left, which will do just as well. It was only a figure of speech.’

  ‘Oh, I see! Jolly good! And, by the way, if you should happen to see Verity, you might tell her to pack it in now, will you?’

  ‘Oh, certainly. Pack what in?’

  ‘She’s taken Lupus for a run.’

  ‘Oh really? Another twilight walker?’

  ‘You can say that again. She’s been gone for hours and I could do with her here. I suppose the silly brute has run off and she can’t get him back, but if you see her, tell her not to worry. She was stuck out there till nearly ten looking for him last night and we don’t want any more of that. Next thing we know she’ll be handing in her cards. Besides, he’ll come home when he’s ready to. He always does eventually.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll keep a look out for her.’

  (5)

  ‘I wonder if it was Lupus who kept her out so late last night?’ I mused, as we strolled along past the stables.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No special reason. I was reminded of a drama I ran into soon after we arrived here. In the summer house too, curiously enough.’

  ‘You’re being very cryptic tonight, I must say. Oh, my God, is this it?’ he asked, recoiling at the sight. ‘It looks thoroughly unattractive and it’ll be pitch dark inside, won’t it? I should feel most uncomfortable listening to my own disembodied voice. Like doing a commercial from the tomb.’

  ‘No need to go inside, we can sit on the steps. We’ll be sheltered from the icy blast and screened from prying eyes by the rhododendrons.’

  ‘Beastly, vulgar things,’ he muttered gloomily, ‘I loathe the sight of them. In fact, I loathe everything about this place and I wish I knew what it was that induced you to come here.’

 
‘It’s a long story and, since I gather you have one of your own to relate, it might be better to get that over first,’ I said, seating myself on the middle step, with my feet on the bottom one.

  It seemed at first that he had changed his mind, or else become so depressed by the surroundings as to have lost whatever urge he had once had to unburden himself, for he remained standing, with his back to me and head bent forward, as though staring at the ground. Then I saw the white strip gradually lengthening, as it dropped from his hand, and realised that he was unwinding the bandage. Finally, he bunched it into his right hand, seated himself beside my feet and placed his left arm across my knees.

  ‘There you are, Miss Nightingale! Take a look at that!’

  ‘It needs stitching,’ I said, voicing the first thought that came into my head.

  Spreading up his arm from the base of his thumb there was a pink gash, about four inches long and deep enough not to have closed up.

  ‘You’re probably right, but it won’t be getting it. Bind it up again for me, will you? I have to use my teeth for the final stages.’

  ‘Oughtn’t it to have some disinfectant on first?’

  ‘I’ll see to that when I get home. Don’t worry, I’m in no danger of neglecting myself.’

  ‘You didn’t get that by wrenching the steering wheel round,’ I said, starting to re-wind the bandage.

  ‘You’re so right, my beloved.’

  ‘And even if it eventually does heal up by itself, it’ll be weeks before the scar fades. You can’t go around for ever wearing a bandage and pretending you’ve sprained it.’

  ‘Very true!’

  ‘So if you know already why do you need to be told?’

  ‘I don’t need to be told. I am here to tell you something.’

  ‘Okay, go ahead!’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not cold, Tessa?’

  ‘I may survive, so long as we don’t have to hang around all night, waiting for you to get to the point.’

  ‘Very well, here we go! After that grisly birthday party, when I’d said goodnight to you lot, I drove to my father’s house which, as you know, someone in his infinite wisdom has now seen fit to burn down.’