A Fatal Night

by Faith Martin

  ‘So, where do you want to go next?’ she asked determinedly. She was not going to allow setback after setback to get the better of her.

  ‘You have that party list of Millicent Vander’s?’ Clement asked after a moment’s thought.

  Trudy nodded and brought it out. ‘Plus telephone numbers and addresses. At least she was thorough,’ Trudy said, unfolding the piece of paper from her satchel.

  ‘Any of them live close by?’ Clement asked, looking out at the dull, leaden white sky that was clearly threatening yet more snow. ‘I don’t want to have to criss-cross the city if I can help it. I’m not sure where the ploughs have been – and haven’t.’

  Trudy saw the sense in that, and checked the list, running her eye down the neat handwriting. ‘Oh, here’s someone I haven’t got around to yet.’ She had, whenever she’d had the time, been systematically going through the list and talking to people she’d been able to make contact with on the telephone. ‘He lives just around the corner and down the next turning on the left.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Clement grinned.

  *

  It was when they were walking up the recently shovelled path to the door of No. 11 Cleeves Road, that it happened.

  Clement felt his left leg drag, pitching him forward slightly. Before he could stop himself, he took a tumble, falling full-length onto the ground. Luckily, his heavy overcoat saved him from serious injury, and his thick gloves protected his hands when he thrust them out instinctively in front of him to take the worst of his fall.

  ‘Dr Ryder!’ Trudy, who was in front of him, rushed back. ‘Are you all right? It’s so icy everywhere!’

  Clement, who knew the weather conditions had nothing to do with it, forced himself to his knees, and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I never was any good at ice skating,’ he said gruffly.

  He gingerly got to his feet, feeling embarrassed to have to lean – even for a second or two – on the helping arm that Trudy had hooked underneath one armpit.

  He took a tentative step forward, relieved to feel his legs hold him. ‘No harm done – except to my pride,’ he said cheerfully, brushing the ice and snow off the front of his coat, and from the knees of his trousers.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Trudy asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course. My bones aren’t that brittle yet, young lady,’ he said, giving her a flat stare, and hoping that she’d take the hint. Like most men, he didn’t like to make a fuss.

  He was still feeling shaken though, as he stood behind her after she’d rung the doorbell. Not because of the fall – which probably hadn’t even caused him more than a few bruises. But because of the reason for it.

  For there was no longer any getting around it.

  He was becoming unsteady on his feet.

  He was so lost in anxiety over this thought, that it wasn’t until he heard the sound of voices that he realised the doorbell’s summons had been answered, and he forced himself to concentrate on the matter in hand.

  But at some point in the not too distant future, he knew there would have to be a reckoning, and that hard choices awaited him.

  Chapter 16

  David O’Connor looked surprised but not displeased to see a policewoman and an attractive if unknown man on his doorstep, and invited them in out of the cold immediately. He began to look really animated, however, when it became clear that they wanted to discuss the New Year’s Eve party he’d attended, and the fatal car accident that had subsequently followed it.

  In his mid-fifties, plump, balding, with deep-set dark-blue eyes, he was meticulously dressed in trousers and silk waistcoat, with a dark-red smoking jacket unbuttoned over the ensemble. He happily admitted to being a perennial bachelor, and thus was often invited to many parties to ‘make up’ the male numbers.

  He showed them into a very warm, very cosy snug in his small, but very well decorated home, and bustled about settling them down in chairs and offering them mulled wine and mince pies that he promised them earnestly he’d baked himself.

  It took Trudy a little while to break through all the bonhomie and chatter, and steer the flow of talk onto more lucrative topics.

  ‘So you and Mrs Vander are old friends?’ she offered as an opening gambit.

  ‘Oh my, yes! Well, I was friends first with her late husband, of course, but Millie is such a dear too. Such a shame George went so suddenly like he did. He was a real gentleman. Not too many of us around nowadays, let me tell you. Would you like some brandy butter with the pies? I have some in the pantry.’

  ‘No thank you, these are delicious just as they are,’ Trudy assured him, and took another obliging bite out of the pastry offering, which was, in fact, very nice indeed. Clement, seated by the fire, was already absently munching on his second pie, and looked, to Trudy’s eye, just a little distracted.

  Although he sometimes took charge if their witness was a man around his own age – since they often responded more fully to him than to herself – this time he seemed happy enough for her to take the lead in the questioning. Perhaps he just didn’t care for their witness’s over-effusive ways?

  ‘What time would you say you arrived at the party?’ she pressed on somewhat indistinctly around a mouthful of mincemeat. It flashed into her mind that her mother would scold her for talking with her mouth full, then she instantly dismissed it. Building a rapport with a witness was far more important than good manners.

  ‘Oh, not too early, naturally,’ David O’Connor assured her coyly. ‘Guests should know when to arrive and when to leave, don’t you think? So, it must have been around nine or so. I was in time to see the golden boy arrive anyway – the dear departed Terrence. Poor dear Millie thinks she has a poker face, but, my dear, let me tell you, that woman should never be allowed anywhere near a pack of cards!’

  Trudy rapidly interpreted this and nodded. ‘Yes, I thought I detected a fondness in Mrs Vander’s voice when she mentioned Mr Parker,’ she said, rather more discreetly.

  ‘Fondness? My dear girl, it’s the talk of the town! Well of our circle anyway,’ he felt impelled to modify, before rushing on, ‘that she was absolutely smitten with him.’ The cherubic-faced bachelor nodded solemnly. ‘One could see why, of course. He was rather a fine-looking specimen. But, oh dear, one just couldn’t overlook the age gap, could one? Really, I think it most remiss of her friends not to, well, steer her clear of such an impending disaster, don’t you?’

  ‘Disaster?’ Trudy repeated. ‘Was it that serious then, between them?’

  ‘Oh my, yes!’ David gave a small theatrical grasp. ‘It was no mere harmless flirtation, believe me. Everyone was expecting an announcement any day. We were all positively agog waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

  ‘Wait, you’re saying that Mrs Vander and Mr Parker were actually engaged to be married?’ Trudy asked, wanting to make sure she’d got that clear.

  She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Clement perk up a bit and start taking proper notice.

  ‘Well, as good as,’ David said, hedging now. ‘Everyone knew that the gentleman in question was just waiting for the right signal to get down on one knee. And Millie, the little minx, had been humming and hawing, but showed certain signs to those of us in the know that she was working up her courage to give him the nod, as it were. In fact, I rather thought things might have ended with an announcement that night.’ David nodded emphatically once more, his plump cheeks all but aquiver with glee. ‘Millie did seem to be buzzing with excitement at the beginning of the night. You know, like you do when you’re hugging a secret to yourself? I took it to mean she was going to finally throw caution to the winds and say “be damned to you all” and make it official.’ He paused to smile and take a sip from his mug of mulled wine. ‘And I wasn’t the only one who thought something was in the air either, you mark my words! Those ghastly children of hers were going around with faces like something out of a Shakespearean tragedy.’

  He gave a gleeful little titter of remembrance, then tried to look contrite.

 
; He failed.

  ‘I see,’ Trudy said, taking it all in. She couldn’t help but wonder how reliable their voluble witness was, and glanced at Clement. He too was frowning slightly in concentration as he considered the possible ramifications of this latest information. Did it, in fact, get them any further forward?

  Trudy could, she supposed, understand why Millicent Vander had been in no great hurry to mention the fact that she was rather closer to the victim than she’d implied. Worry, grief, shock, the need to save face or a combination of any of these things might have contributed to her silence. She was too intelligent – and socially sensitive – not to have been aware that her so-called friends were probably gossiping and laughing about her behind her back. Challenging the social mores of her peers wouldn’t have been easy for a woman like her. Was this gossipy, fussy little man really reliable in what he was saying?

  ‘She must have been very fond of him to consider marrying a man quite a number of years younger than herself,’ she mused delicately. ‘And if she was in love with him, his death will have been a real tragedy for her.’

  David O’Connor looked, to his credit, genuinely upset now. ‘Oh yes, I think she did love him, poor thing. And you’re right – it’s so sad. Terry too, dying so young! Such a good-looking man. What a shame. Mind you …’ The sympathy seemed to vanish with astonishing quickness and a much more sly, thoughtful, perhaps even slightly spiteful look came to his eyes. ‘I got the feeling there might have been a serpent in paradise, for all that.’

  ‘Oh? What makes you think that?’ It was Clement, finished with the excellent mince pies, who prodded their witness into further disclosures.

  ‘Well,’ the other man eagerly turned his attention to the coroner, his eyes twinkling in excitement. ‘I do believe there was a bit of a contretemps at the party involving a rather nice-looking young woman – who, incidentally, didn’t seem to know anyone else at the party apart from the young Lochinvar – and our hostess.’

  Trudy again had to take a moment to decipher this. ‘Sorry, are you saying he was flirting with someone else? At Mrs Vander’s own party?’ She tried not to sound shocked, but couldn’t help but feeling indignant on the hostess’s behalf.

  ‘Oh no, quite the reverse,’ David said hastily, turning avidly in his chair towards her now, the intensely white daylight streaming through the windows and gleaming off his silk-lined smoking jacket collar as he did so. ‘Far from Terry and the mystery woman being all cosy, I do believe a nasty little spat was taking place between them, behind all the fake smiles and lowered voices.’

  ‘You’re saying Mr Parker was seen arguing at the party with another guest?’ Again it was Clement who asked the deliberately straightforward question. He, like Trudy, was finding all the gushing rather trying.

  ‘Well, it certainly looked like it to me,’ David, pressed to be exact, again hedged a little. ‘I was too far away to really be able to hear anything, mind,’ he said, with such obvious regret and chagrin that Trudy had to stop herself from smiling. ‘But I thought their body language was positively screaming hostility. On both their parts – his and hers,’ he added unnecessarily, nodding his head emphatically, his eyes wide and solemn.

  ‘So who was she? The woman, I mean?’ Trudy asked.

  ‘My dear, I told you, I don’t know!’ David spread his pink, well-manicured hands about in a helpless gesture. ‘I don’t think any of us did! I certainly didn’t know her from Adam – or I suppose I should say Eve! And that in itself was odd, since dear Millie does tend to play it rather safe when it comes to her little soirees, and invites the same old people over and over again. Mind you, this time she played a bit of a blinder, snagging our local celebrity,’ he added, eyes beaming in approbation.

  ‘Who? Sorry, who are you talking about?’ Trudy asked patiently.

  ‘Oh my dear, our divine Katherine Morton, our “Lady of the Easel” no less. Exhibits at the Royal Academy with monotonous regularity and all that,’ David gushed with just a hint of sarcasm.

  Trudy nodded, suddenly remembering that someone else had mentioned her before. But she was far more interested in less high-flying partygoers right now.

  ‘To get back to the woman you saw Mr Parker having words with,’ she said firmly. ‘Presumably Mrs Vander must have known who she was? If she’d invited her?’

  ‘Not on your Nellie she didn’t then!’ David said robustly. ‘I know dear Millie very well, and although she was very polite and the perfect hostess, I could tell she had no idea who she was either!’

  ‘Oh, she was a gate-crasher?’ Trudy asked, not sure why she was so surprised by this turn of events.

  ‘I don’t see what else she could have been.’ David nodded happily. ‘I had a discreet word here and there, and none of the regular gang were in any hurry to claim her! Of course, Millie refused to be flustered, and simply acted as if everything was fine. But I could tell she wasn’t happy. Especially when the mystery lady monopolised the golden boy.’

  ‘I know you said they later argued, but at first, did Mr Parker seem pleased to see her – this mystery woman?’ Clement asked next.

  ‘Not he!’ David bubbled gleefully. ‘He had a face like thunder right from the off! She didn’t stay very long, I’ll give her that. Her brass neck didn’t extend that far. She just had a bit of a drinkie and a few nibbles. Then they sort of circled around each other for a bit, and eventually she approached him, and, like I said, they had this whispery sort of spat and then took it out into the hall for some privacy. I really wish I could have heard what it was they were talking about!’ he added gloomily. Then he suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘Mind you, you might ask our Lady of the Easel – she had a much better vantage point than yours truly. She was sitting quaffing champagne like there was no tomorrow on the sofa, and they were arguing right behind her. If anyone managed to catch anything they said, then Katherine did.’

  Trudy nodded, making a note of that. ‘So what happened after the, er, spat?’

  ‘Oh, they parted again and circulated a bit, pretending nothing had happened, but I noticed them slip off into the hall together not long after, like I said before. I then got a bit distracted by this rather fetching young man who’s up at Wadham, reading English, and when I looked around again, she seemed to have left altogether. He was still there though. Terry didn’t leave until after we’d chanted in the new year and sung dear old Robbie Burns’ little piece.’

  Trudy frowned, not getting the reference, and Clement made a mental note to tell her about the origins of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ some time.

  ‘Did you see Mr Parker actually leave?’ Trudy asked next, without much hope, and was therefore delighted when this seemingly endless font of knowledge once again came up trumps.

  ‘Actually, I did then!’ David O’Connor said triumphantly. ‘I was just having one last little drinkie on the sofa by the window and saw him walking down the drive towards the cars.’

  ‘Did he seem intoxicated?’ Trudy asked quickly.

  Her witness looked at her, eyeing her uniform, and then gave a pixie-like smile of pure impish mischief. ‘Oh no, officer, I can’t say that he did. Oh, he’d had one or two drinkies I’m sure, but he was hardly staggering! Scout’s honour. He was perfectly fit to drive, as I was myself,’ he swore piously.

  ‘And you didn’t notice anything unusual about him then?’

  ‘No. Oh, wait a minute … But that might be nothing. I wasn’t sure …’ Clearly he wanted her to tease the titbit out of him, and Trudy, smothering a slightly irritated sigh, obliged him.

  ‘I really would be happy to hear anything you may have noticed, sir. We are dealing with a fatality,’ she reminded him, further massaging his ego and sense of self-importance by adding solemnly, ‘and you may have been the last person to actually see Mr Parker alive.’

  David O’Connor’s plump lips formed a perfect ‘O’ at this, and he nodded, going perhaps just a little pale. ‘Oh my! Yes … Well, like I said, I may have been mistaken. It was dark, you
must remember, and I only caught a flash, as he backed the car out and swept it around in readiness to go through the Vanders’ double gates … But I thought I saw a flash of brightness in the car with him.’

  Whatever either Trudy or Clement had thought he might say, it certainly hadn’t been that.

  ‘A brightness?’ Trudy echoed flatly. ‘Do you mean … someone had a torch on inside?’

  ‘Oh no, sorry, I’m not being clear, am I? Dear me! No, I meant that I thought I saw, for a moment or two, a paler, brighter colour in the car with him, where there shouldn’t have been any such thing. As if someone with light hair was sitting beside him – perhaps a blonde, or an older woman with white hair, maybe. The young Lochinvar had dark hair, you see,’ he said helpfully, looking from one to the other of them, delighted with himself and the stir this latest revelation was having on his visitors.

  ‘He had a passenger with him?’ Trudy gasped.

  ‘As I said, I couldn’t be sure,’ David hedged carefully once again. ‘But if I were a betting man, I’d have said he wasn’t alone when he drove away that night.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘What sort of things does she paint?’ Trudy asked warily some twenty minutes later, as they pulled up outside the home of the feted artist Katherine Amy Morton. She didn’t understand ‘art’ but she knew that the coroner did, and often purchased new canvases for his home.

  They’d discussed the garrulous David’s testimony on the (thankfully) incident-free drive to the famous artist’s Oxford residence, and had come to no set opinions on his reliability. But they had both agreed that if Terrence Parker had left the party with a passenger, then that passenger needed to be found and asked to account for their actions that night. As Clement had pointed out, it was perfectly possible that Terry had given someone a lift home and then gone on and had the accident when he was alone. But if so, why had no one answered the newspaper’s appeal for information?