Shades of Murder Page 24

  Meredith reflected. 'Alan said much the same. He thought Jan was lying about his job, but had done it to impress me, the idiot!' She tucked a loose swathe of brown hair behind one ear. 'But it ties in with what you were saying. You're suggesting Jan felt under-valued. He thought he ought to be more important, ought to be doing something more distinguished than clean up after horses. When he found out about the English branch of the family, he thought his chance had come.'

  'Perhaps it had,' said Minchin. 'Perhaps it had come. Opportunity knocks only once. It had knocked for our boy Jan.'

  Meredith didn't quite know how to respond. She was getting the impression that Minchin had formed some theory and wondered if he was about to divulge it. But was Minchin really taking her into his confidence? Or simply, by a show of doing so. inviting confidences from

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  her? She decided on the latter. He was a skilled interviewer and had been neatly leading her along the road he wanted to travel. Not so easily, Superintendent Minchin!

  'We don't know what Jan thought and we'll never know,' she said firmly.

  She suspected Minchin knew she'd guessed his purpose and had headed him off. He said nothing for a moment, then leaned back and laced his thick fingers. 'You don't like me and Mickey Hayes being here.'

  He'd caught her off-guard. She felt her face burn. 'Alan could have run this show perfectly well.'

  'Of course he could. But no officer, no matter how senior or how reliable, should ever be put in a position where personal involvement can cause a conflict of interests - not if it can be avoided. There was a time, you know, when the police force used to move coppers out of their home areas, just to avoid that sort of thing.'

  There was a prolonged ring on the doorbell. Meredith leapt up. 'Excuse me a minute!' She hurried out of the room, grateful for the diversion.

  She wasn't prepared, however, to find Juliet Painter on the doorstep.

  'Meredith!' declared Juliet, hurtling past her uninvited. T telephoned Fourways early to see how Damaris and Florence were this morning and do you know? That dreadful Minchin and the unspeakable Hayes have already been out there sneaking round the grounds and prying in the outbuildings—'

  'Mr Minchin,' said Meredith loudly, 'is here at the moment.' She pointed in the direction of the sitting room.

  They stared at one another. 'Damn!' said Juliet. Both knew there was no way Minchin hadn't overheard. Juliet grasped the nettle. She walked into the sitting room spine ramrod straight, long braid of hair swinging, eyes sparkling behind her spectacle lenses.

  'Good morning, Miss Painter,' said Minchin, stony-faced. T was hoping to call on you today sometime. Your sister-in-law, too.'

  'Why were you creeping around Fourways' garden without telling the owners you were there?' demanded Juliet, standing over him, arms akimbo. 'You should have called at the house first. You frightened Damaris. Ron had gone home and she didn't know who was in the stables.'

  It seemed to Meredith she caught the merest flash of amusement in Minchin's eyes. She hoped Juliet hadn't seen it. Then, looking at the man again, she decided she must have been mistaken. Minchin took

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  himself seriously. He was probably one of the last of the old-style male chauvinists still lurking in the police force. He wouldn't find it entertaining to be harangued by Juliet.

  'I think Miss Oakley coped pretty well.* he said. Til be calling on her again, too. and her sister."

  Juliet sat down in Meredith's vacated chair. 'Look.' she said to Minchin. ignoring Meredith's telegraphed warnings, 'they're very frail. I don't want them badgered. Even before this happened it was a stressful time for them. I mean, selling up their family home and having to move into a flat. I wish I could get you to understand that!' she concluded in exasperation.

  'Now then,' said Minchin. jabbing a finger in her direction. 'As it happens, Miss Painter, I do understand that. I had the selfsame problem with my old mother.'

  'Oh?' Juliet was momentarily taken aback. 'Well, then, you should know that they need to be treated with every consideration.'

  'You leave that to me,' said Minchin disagreeably. 'You stick to being their estate agent.'

  'I am not an estate agent!' Juliet's combative manner returned. 'I've told you, I'm a property consultant.'

  'Fancy name for it, I suppose.' said Minchin. 'They'll be having university degrees in it next.'

  'As it happens.' snapped Juliet. 'I do have a degree and it's in Law.'

  'Well, well.' returned Minchin with heavy humour. 'I shall have to watch my ps and qs!' He lumbered to his feet. 'I'll leave you girls for the time being. Thank you for giving me your time, Miss Mitchell."

  'It's all right if I go back to work tomorrow? You won't want to see me again?' she asked.

  'Oh, I know where to find you." said Minchin. He turned to Juliet. Til pop over and see you and Mrs Pamela Painter this afternoon, if that's all right. Miss Painter 0 1 understand you're staying at your brother's home? I'd like a chance to talk to him, as well, seeing as he's the poisons expert. But I can catch him at his place of work.* Minchin glanced at his wristwatch. 'Might nip over there now.'

  'He is an infuriating man.' declared Juliet, when Minchin had left. She sighed and added more soberlv. T didn't handle that verv well, did I?'

  'Shouldn't let it worn you.' advised Meredith.

  "Poor Alan, fancy having that man foisted on him. Was he unpleasant when vou were here with him alone?'

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  'Unpleasant? No, but it was a bit nerve-wracking. You'll need your wits about you when he comes to talk to you and Pam.'

  'It must be bad enough to have to sit and look at that shirt,' said Juliet unkindly. 'It was awful. He must be colour-blind. Do you think he's got a wife? Look, if you're free now, can you come with me to see Damaris and Florence? They need support.'

  'You just missed Inspector Hayes,' said Damaris to Meredith and Juliet. 'What a pity. Still, I can't say Florence and I weren't heartily glad to see him leave.'

  'Hayes was here?' Meredith exclaimed. 'Minchin didn't say anything about that when he was at my place.' She frowned. 'I wonder why Minchin took me and sent Hayes to tackle you.'

  'I imagine,' said Damaris, 'because he thought Inspector Hayes would unsettle us.'

  Juliet asked indignantly, 'Did he try and bully you? If he did, I'm taking this to the police complaints' committee.'

  'Oh, no, my dear. To be fair to the man, he was polite enough in an off-hand sort of way,' Damaris told her. 'When I said unsettle us, I mean that Mr Minchin rightly divined that we'd never dealt with anyone like Inspector Hayes. I suppose it was quite shrewd of him to send him, really.' Damaris reflected. T think he must be a heavy smoker, his fingers are badly stained, but he didn't ask if he might smoke in here.'

  'He lit a cigarette as soon as he got outside,' said Florence. T saw him through the window. Ron Gladstone said he left cigarette ends all over the floor of the old tackroom. Ron was very annoyed.'

  It was chilly in this room. Meredith glanced at the unlit gasfire. Damaris noticed and asked, 'Would you like it on?'

  Meredith shook her head and assured her it wasn't necessary on her account.

  Juliet, slumped back in her chair, arms folded and a frown on her face, was unaware of physical circumstances. She was lost in her thoughts. She roused herself enough to ask, 'Sorry? Missed that.'

  T asked, Juliet dear, whether you were cold. Meredith says she's all right but I can light the fire. Florence and I don't notice it. We're used to it. I mean, we're accustomed to a low level of heating. The house has always been cold. When we were children, the water used to freeze in the basin in the nursery. We had to crack the ice on the surface before we could wash.'

  This fragment from a spartan childhood passed by Juliet unheeded.

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  She sat up with a start. 'We're got to get rid of Minchin and Hayes!'

  'We can't." said Meredith. 'I'd like to, just as you woul
d. But they're here and we've got to watch out for them.'

  Juliet leaned forward, her long braid of hair hanging over one shoulder. She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose with a forefinger. They all waited.

  'They're here,' said Juliet, 'until this is solved. Then they'll go. So we'll solve it and it'll be goodbye, Doug Minchin!"

  'You have a way of simplifying things," Meredith told her crossly, 'when they aren't simple.'

  'It seems perfectly straightforward to me.' Juliet's attention was now fully on Meredith. 'Oh, come on, Meredith. You're the one with the experience in these matters.'

  'All right, all right!' Now they were all three looking at her expectantly. Meredith drew a deep breath. 'We know where the arsenic came from. What we need to know is how Jan came to swallow it.'

  'And who slipped it to him,' said Juliet.

  'If we know how he came to take it, we maybe able to work out who gave it to him.' Meredith looked across the room to Damaris. 'Could you bear to go through the events of that Saturday again?'

  Damaris glanced at her sister. 'If it would help, I could. But I don't know—'

  Florence said quietly, 'It's all right. If you must, you must.'

  'Well,' began Damaris, 'Jan was perfectly all right in the morning. He was all right at lunchtime. In the afternoon he went to see you, Meredith. He came back very pleased with himself.'

  'He did?' asked Meredith, startled. T threw him out. He - um -misbehaved.'

  T'm not surprised to hear it. Behaving badly was Jan's special gift,' Damaris told her with asperity. 'He broke into my grandfather's desk in the study and went through the papers we keep in there. Ron saw him through the window and told Alan about it. As far as we can make out. he read the copies of our wills - not that we'd ever have changed them in his favour! But Jan being Jan, he'd probably persuaded himself that he could talk us round. He had sort of - faith - in himself.'

  Damaris considered the matter. T really think he lived in a world of his own, you know. This business of the will and his right to a share in the house ... You may have asked him to leave, Meredith, but I dare say, in his own mind, he'd decided the visit was a roaring success. Ron Gladstone keeps saying he thought Jan mentally unstable. "Potty" is

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  Ron's word for it. I have to say I wonder if Ron isn't right.'

  'If it helps,' Meredith told her, 'Superintendent Minchin thinks much the same way. Anyway, he was all right during the day, and I agree, he was perfectly all right when he was visiting me. He certainly wasn't ill. So we need to concentrate on the late afternoon and evening. I understand you both went shopping in the afternoon?'

  'Yes, that's our usual occupation on a Saturday afternoon. Kenny Joss brought us back in his taxi. Jan was here—' Damaris paused and frowned. 'We didn't see him at first. We didn't see him until Kenny had left. We were in the kitchen and he came in. We told him we were going to make our evening meal and he went off to watch the early evening news on the television, in here.' Damaris pointed at the television set in the corner. 'Later he went out, to The Feathers to get himself something to eat. That was the arrangement. Florence and I sat in here until he came back and then we went to bed. He was still in here when we went upstairs.'

  They were coming to the difficult bit. Meredith and Juliet could see Damaris bracing herself. Florence sat very still, her eyes fixed on her thin hands, clasped in her lap.

  'I don't know exactly what woke me. It must have been a noise made by Jan. There was a crash, something falling. I came downstairs and found him in the hall. He'd knocked over the telephone table. I realise now he was dying. I think I knew it then. I called the ambulance, but I knew it was no good. Chiefly I was worried that Florence might hear and come down. I was more worried about her than about Jan. That sounds unkind but it's true.'

  T wonder,' Meredith ventured, 'if we might walk it through.'

  'Walk?' Damaris looked puzzled but then grasped her meaning. 'Oh, yes, stage a reconstruction . . . Well, through here in the hall, then.'

  'I'll stay here, if you don't mind.' Florence's voice was barely audible. T wasn't there. I didn't see. I can't help.'

  In the gloomy hall Damaris stood by the telephone table and pointed to the floor. 'He was lying here. His head was here and his feet about there. I was halfway down the stairs at least before I saw him.'

  'His feet were pointing towards the kitchen door?' Meredith looked down the long narrow hallway to the door at the far end.

  'Yes. The kitchen door was open. There was a broken tumbler and spilled water near it. He must have fetched himself a drink but he dropped it.' Damaris waved a hand vaguely. T suppose he wanted to telephone for help.'

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  Meredith frowned. 'Telephone himself? He didn't call out to you to help him?'

  Damans shook her head in a bewildered way. T suppose he thought I mightn't hear him. ltd be quicker to call for help directly himself. The ambulance came quite quickly and took him away. I went upstairs to tell Florence he'd been taken ill.'

  'What about the broken tumbler?'

  'Oh, that. I picked that up, of course. I couldn't leave broken glass lying around. I'm not sure now when I picked it up. Whether it was while I was waiting for the ambulance or afterwards, when I went to the kitchen to make us a cup of tea, for the shock.'

  Juliet asked, 'When you came downstairs, how many lights were on?'

  Damaris said promptly, 'The hall light, the sitting-room light and the kitchen.'

  'So he'd been in all three places.' Meredith fell silent. 'He was watching television in the sitting room. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water

  Damaris began, 'There was . . .' and broke off.

  Juliet reached out and touched her arm. 'What is it? What have you remembered?'

  'It isn't important.' Damaris looked a little embarrassed. 'But you're right, I had forgotten. When I went to fill the kettle to make tea, there was a knife lying in the sink. I was surprised because Florence and I had washed up our supper things and we don't usually miss anything.'

  'You are sure,' Juliet asked her, 'that it was left over from your supper?'

  'Oh, I think so. It had savoury spread on the blade. We had some on toast.'

  'The savoury spread?' Meredith asked quickly.

  Damaris sighed and shook her head. 'It was one of the things the police took away. It must have been all right or they'd have said so. Anyway, Florrie and I ate it and we were all right.' She looked anxiously from one to the other of them. 'Do you think I should have told the police? It's such a small detail.'

  'It might be worth mentioning the next time you see either Minchin or Hayes,' Meredith told her. 'Best to tell them everything, just to keep on the right side of them.'

  'Well, it doesn't help us,' said Juliet crossly. 'If he didn't take the arsenic in some way here, he didn't take it at The Feathers and he didn't take it at your place, Meredith, where on earth did he take it?'

  Meredith said thoughtfully, 'Where - and how?'

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  Without warning, Damans chanted in a soft sing-song, Their names are What and Why and When, and How and Where and Who?'

  Meredith felt a prickle run up her spine, it sounded so eerie. Damaris looked from one to the other of them and seeing their startled faces, flushed. 'Kipling,' she explained awkwardly.

  'He's not going to help us, either.' muttered Juliet.

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  person, a curate for example, could be lodged. Unfortunately, there was no curate and in any case, the cost of transforming the rooms was held to be too high.

  'Right,' said Markby. 'I'll go and find him.'

  'He gets covered in oil and stuff.' Mrs Harmer's pinafored figure bristled with righteous resentment and it wasn't all directed at the vicar. She didn't like being brought from work to answer the door, not even for a senior police officer.

  'He comes in my kitchen to wash his hands and makes the soap all dirty and the towel. I've
said to him I don't know how many times, it's not right, a man of God riding round on the devil's machine.'

  'Devil's machine?' queried Markby.

  'Motorbike!' snapped Mrs Harmer as if he were being deliberately awkward. 'No good ever came of motorbikes. He needs to get himself a little car. I keep telling him.'

  'Everyone needs a hobby,' said Markby in a misjudged attempt to calm her.

  'Hobby?' Mrs Harmer took a yellow duster from her apron pocket and shook it so violently it snapped like a whiplash. Dust flew out of it. 'Hobbies are for people who have nothing else to do. I never had time for no hobbies.'

  'Oh? Someone told me you make homemade wines,' Markby remarked innocently.

  She turned turkey-red and stuffed the duster back in her apron. 'Oh, did they, indeed? Well, sometimes I make a few bottles but only when I've got the soft fruit to spare ... so as it doesn't go to waste. That's no more a hobby than bottling fruit or making chutney with it, or freezing it like everyone does these days. I thought,' said Mrs Harmer fiercely, 'you came to see the vicar? Not take up my time chatting about hobbies.' She pointed majestically to the corner of the building. 'You can go round the back and then straight down the path to the garage.'

  The door was slammed in his face.

  Markby made his way down the path through the overgrown vicarage garden. Here the parallel with Fourways was even more obvious and poignant. The grounds were extensive but there was no Ron Gladstone here to tend them, even in part. Where once there would have been lawns and flowerbeds there was now only rough grass. Behind a brick wall had lain a vegetable garden, but that was now a wasteland of broken glasshouses, collapsed cucumber frames and rampant weeds. There was even the remains of a tennis court. Its asphalt surface was pitted and

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  cracked, allowing thistles to take root.

  He found James Holland busy, as he'd been warned, with his motorcycle. It had been wheeled out of the prefabricated garage, which leaned precariously to one side, and stood propped up in a patch of sunlight. The vicar's burly figure bent over it as he ministered to its needs as tenderly as a mother over the crib of a newborn babe.