Murder in Outline

by Anne Morice

  “Yes, if you like. I never mind apologising to ostriches. It doesn’t carry the same sting.”

  “Just because I haven’t got your beastly, morbid, suspicious mind!”

  “It isn’t a question of that. It’s facts I’m talking about and there’s simply no way round them. Either you believe that Connie’s illness and personality change are caused by drink, or you don’t; and since you evidently do, you have to accept the fact that Billy is encouraging her. The only alternative would be that he simply hasn’t noticed, and that I refuse to believe.”

  “It still doesn’t follow that he encourages her.”

  “Yes, it does, I’ve seen him at it. There was enough wine on the table last Saturday to float a battleship. Billy was pouring it out himself and he was just as attentive to his wife as to the rest of us. I agree he might find it hard to stop her secreting bottles in the wardrobe, if she had a mind to, but he could certainly keep a tight control over her public drinking. Since he doesn’t, one is forced to conclude that the way things are going suits him down to the ground.”

  “Yes, I suppose I must admit there’s a grain of truth in that,” Tina said. She was still frowning, but more thoughtfully now than in anger and I could see that she was wavering. “I do recall that on the rare occasions when I’ve been invited to headquarters to receive a little pat on the back, he’s always very lavish with the gin and tonic, and that includes the measures he pours for Connie too; so to that extent I suppose you could call me an ostrich. I lack this facility to put two and two together, far less come up with the right answers. What is the answer, anyway?”

  “That he’s hoping she’ll kill herself, either from straightforward alcoholic poisoning, or by getting so stewed one day that she’ll fall down and break her neck.”

  “I gathered that much, but what you haven’t explained is why he should want either of those things to happen. Okay, so he’s heavily involved with Madam, but we both know that he’s had affairs with lots of women in the past and it has never affected his marriage. Goodness knows, his womanising wasn’t a particularly well-kept secret, even from us, but it always seemed that he and Connie had a perfectly good understanding, so why should all that have changed now?”

  “I can give you several reasons, one being that Madam is not only exceptionally attractive, but most likely exceptionally ambitious as well. Probably on the look-out for a husband too, and who better than Billy? There’s also the fact that she’s actually living on the premises, which must give her a lot more scope; but there’s something else more important still. Always in the past giving up Connie would have meant giving up his share in the school, which, ipso facto as the saying goes, would have meant giving up about two-thirds of his very substantial income. That doesn’t apply in this case. With her background and experience, Madam could run the show almost as efficiently as Connie and I’ve no doubt that she’s itching to get her claws on it. What’s your answer to that?”

  Tina did not reply for almost a minute. She had been peering into the drawer again and now brought out a wicked-looking paring knife and started tapping the blade on her thumbnail in a vaguely threatening manner. However, I did not believe that her venom was any longer directed at me and, indeed, when she did speak, it was in a relatively mild tone:

  “I have a nasty feeling that for once you could be right, Tessa. Not that there’s much one can do about it, is there? And I do hope you won’t try and fabricate some connection between this and Hattie’s death?”

  “As it happens, I was quite serious in saying that I regarded Hattie as powerful and potentially dangerous. I have an idea that, from her solitary vantage point, she had a very sharp view of life; not to mention a strong malicious streak. However, if it’s any consolation to you . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “If it should turn out to be murder, I’m putting my money on quite a different horse from Billy or Madam. Which reminds me: could you do a small job for me? Two, actually, if we’re to eliminate all the other possibilities and leave dear old Waterside without a stain on its reputation.”

  “Depends on what you want me to do.”

  “Just now, while I was trying to find the right words to frame my apology, I looked along your shelves for a dictionary, but you don’t seem to have one. Could you borrow the Oxford from the school library?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Something I want to look up.”

  “It’s pretty hefty, you know. Wouldn’t it be easier if I looked it up for you?”

  “No, it wouldn’t, and if you’re really keen to get your precious old Madam and Billy off the hook, you must stop this incessant quibble.”

  “Oh, all right. What was the other thing?”

  “That may be a little more difficult,” I admitted. “Not insuperable, though, and I dare say Patsy would be the one to help us here. There’s a sketch of Hattie’s which I’d like to borrow for a few hours. It’s the one she was working on the very first time I met her: a pen and ink drawing of birds, fish and animals and they all have human faces.”

  “And what do you expect to glean from that?”

  “I honestly don’t know yet, Teeny, but I have a feeling that it may contain a vital clue of some kind. There was something curious about her reaction when I came across her that afternoon, on the steps by the river. She was completely poised and sure of herself, in a sense, and yet she gave the impression of having been caught out in something rather wicked. She explained it away by saying that she ought not to be there and would get into trouble if it were found out. It sounded plausible enough at the time, but I’ve since learnt that she made a practice of wandering off on her own and that, far from its landing her in trouble, Connie herself condoned it and made everyone else do the same.”

  “Nevertheless, a fairly feeble basis for believing that this drawing had some dark significance.”

  “That’s not all it’s based on. There’s also the fact that as soon as I turned up she shoved the drawing out of sight, and later on, when I asked to see it, she was genuinely reluctant to let me. Again I was fooled and attributed it to modesty or self-consciousness, but it could hardly have been either of those. Considering her age and appearance, she was remarkably self-possessed and she certainly had no false modesty about her work. In fact, I think it was only because vanity overcame discretion that she finally consented to show it to me.”

  “Discretion about what?”

  “Well, as I’ve said, Teeny, all these animals had human faces. Some I recognised, others not, but I only had about two minutes to take it in and also that was before I had been indoors and had a chance to meet people again, and revive memories. You’ll recall that I didn’t even recognise you at first?”

  “I still haven’t grasped where all this is supposed to be leading us.”

  “And I’m not perfectly sure myself. I simply have a feeling that this drawing was a device to depict people’s personalities and it may have had a bearing on their behaviour as well. Now, if in the case of one person some intimate knowledge as Hattie had shown herself to possess could be extremely damaging . . . well, what I’m driving at is, in that case, can’t you see how that person might have reacted on seeing himself or herself portrayed in this way.”

  “Reacted by murdering her, you mean?”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, yes.”

  Tina subjected me to one of her terrifying frowns: “In that case, Tessa, isn’t all this a complete waste of time?”

  “Is it? Why?”

  “Because, if Hattie’s drawing did contain some damaging evidence of that kind, which personally I find pretty farfetched anyway, but if it did, and if she was killed for that reason, then you can be perfectly certain that the drawing has now been destroyed.”

  “That’s possible, I grant you, but not an absolute certainty. Inspecting the picture would have been one thing, getting one’s hands on it quite another. It’s extremely unlikely that Hattie would have handed it over on demand. And once s
he was dead there would have been no end of obstacles. It would have required a very inventive mind to find a plausible excuse for searching through her belongings. Besides, would it really have been necessary? It’s quite possible that the sketch would have had no significance at all to anyone who didn’t possess that special knowledge. Hattie would have been killed not to get possession of the drawing, but to prevent her passing on that knowledge in a more intelligible form.”

  “And since, as you say, it’s going to require a good deal of ingenuity to search through her belongings, perhaps you’d care to suggest how I should go about it?”

  “Yes, that is rather a problem, but I think we can overcome it. Just tell Patsy that Hattie had promised to give me a cartoon she’d done of the three competition judges. No need to add that it’s already in the hands of the police.”

  “And what if she stands over me while I’m looking for it? If I do find the one you want, it won’t in the least resemble three judges.”

  “Oh really, Teeny, haven’t you any imagination at all? Surely, after all this time, you know how to con Patsy? Pretend to be bowled over by the drawing and say you’d like to show it to me; or find yourself overtaken by a craving for walnut whips and stick it in your bag while she’s rummaging in the cupboard. I’m sure you’ll get an inspiration when the time comes.”

  She continued to grumble for a while, but eventually ran out of objections and reluctantly agreed to do as I asked.

  THIRTEEN

  Monday morning brought its full quota of ups and downs and there was some of both in Robin’s early telephone call.

  “Answer to your first question,” he said, dispensing with the preamble, “Czechoslovakia.”

  “Good! That’ll do nicely.”

  “He has also been Minister in Warsaw, First Secretary in Moscow.”

  “You’re a genius, Robin! What about the other thing?”

  “Not so positive, I’m afraid. No driving licence.”

  “Really? None at all? Not even an international one, issued abroad?”

  “So far as we can check it, none at all.”

  “That’s a blow. My theory rather hinges on getting from point A to point B.”

  “With Vera in the driving seat, presumably?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I still regard this connection between Vera and Hattie as fragile, to say the least.”

  “Getting stronger by the minute though. However, I could be wrong. I’m still waiting for confirmation.”

  “And, having got it, what next?”

  “A stroll down to the river perhaps. It’s another lovely day.”

  “Please don’t imagine you’re fooling anyone,” Robin said. “I’d recognise that innocent tone from another planet and it still sends shivers down my spine. What are you up to, really?”

  “I would tell you,” I assured him, “but I can hear my landlady returning; and bearing gifts, with any luck, so it isn’t the moment.”

  Sure enough, Tina entered the room as I spoke and when I had transmitted their love back and forth to each other I rang off and turned to her, all eagerness for the news on that front.

  In essence, it consisted of one Up and one Down. On the assumption that foul play could not be ruled out, as the saying goes, I had lined up two major candidates for the role of Hattie’s murderer and it was my plan to concentrate simultaneously on the motives and opportunity of each, until one should be positively eliminated. In other words, in my eyes, unlike those of the law, both were to be regarded as guilty until one was proved innocent.

  The nice balance between them had shifted somewhat during my conversation with Robin, his evidence having reduced Vera’s score by several marks, but it soon went soaring up again when Tina handed me the dictionary and I scurried through to the letter S. This provided not only the confirmation I needed, but also consolidated the impression that it had been Hattie’s particular amusement to convey her slightly malicious comments in visual terms.

  “How about the animal sketch?” I asked, putting the volume on one side. “Have you brought that too?”

  Tina shook her head.

  “Oh, why not?”

  “Because it wasn’t there. I did exactly as you suggested, pretending to be looking for a cartoon of three heads, while keeping my eyes peeled for fishes and birds. I must say, I hated myself too. Patsy is so trusting and when she understood it was for your sake she became wildly cooperative and brought out stacks of sketch books and portfolios. I felt such a rat.”

  “Were there many?”

  “Dozens. No, far more than that. Nearer a hundred, I should say. Apparently, Hattie made sketches of all her finished work and she rarely destroyed anything.”

  “Then how come this one was missing?”

  “Presumably, because she hadn’t left it at The Lodge.”

  “Where else could it be?”

  “Well, the fact is, Tessa, this isn’t as simple as you imagined. For one thing, she was allowed to work in the practise studio, when it wasn’t being used for dancing, and she’d left quite a lot of her stuff there. Madam is the queen bee on that territory and she’d asked one of her students to collect it all up and take it over to The Lodge. So, in theory, it was included in the lot I saw, but in practice almost anyone could have removed one or more of the drawings.”

  “Yes, that’s a complication I hadn’t bargained for.”

  “And, as I keep telling you, if Hattie had found out something terribly damaging about someone at Waterside and they had recognised themselves and their crimes in her picture, then obviously they wouldn’t have rested until that picture was destroyed. It stands to reason.”

  I sighed: “Yes, I suppose it does, and you’ve been proved right, as usual. However, It doesn’t wreck my case. It simply widens the field a little and I shall have to take that into account.”

  “I can’t understand why you bother. Why not leave all this kind of thing to the police? It’s their job, after all, and they must be far better equipped to deal with it than you are.”

  “There I can’t agree with you. Not wishing to boast, I’ll bet you a million pounds that I’ve acquired more details about Hattie’s character and background, not to mention her part in all the Waterside ramifications, than Sergeant Dexter could uncover in a month of blue moons.”

  “Oh well, if it amuses you, who am I to interfere?” Tina said in her most patronising voice. “Besides, I’ve got better, or at any rate more urgent, calls on my time.”

  “Such as?”

  “Earning my salary. I’ve got two classes on my regular schedule and an extra one has been shoved in on top of it.”

  “You don’t seem to get much time off. I thought you told me you only worked there three days a week?”

  “In theory, but I’m expected to be a little more flexible when there’s a show coming up, and these are exceptional times. We’re breaking up ten days early, don’t forget, and exams start in the first half of next term, so we’ve got to pack in as much as possible while we have the chance.”

  “What a shame! I was hoping we could hire a boat for the afternoon and do a leisurely paddle up the river.”

  “Sorry, not a hope.”

  “In that case, I’ll just have to try and manage on my own.”

  “Try not to fall in and drown yourself,” Tina said, not sounding too worried about it.

  FOURTEEN

  Not more than three minutes’ walk from the Nag’s Head, and situated midway between Gillsford bridge and the lock, there was a boatyard belonging to J. Hobbes &. Sons, an old-established family firm, who hired out river craft of every size and variety, for periods ranging from one hour to three weeks.

  Even out of season, when business was slack, the chances of finding what I sought would have been thin enough; after a fine weekend in high summer, with customers coming through at the rate of about one party per minute, they were reduced to almost nil. Nevertheless, I still felt it was wort
h a try and, to some extent at any rate, my luck was in.

  This being Monday, the rush had eased off considerably, requiring only the commanding presence of one member of the Hobbes clan to deal with the business end. This was a stout, middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a kippered complexion. She wore dirty navy blue trousers and a sagging brown cardigan and had a cigarette stuck to her mouth, which she prised off only once during the time I spent with her, and that was in order to light a fresh one. However, after a somewhat brusque reception, she became quite affable, providing me with my first stroke of luck and a fine example of the many blessings which television can bring to contemporary life, for with no help at all she recognised me.

  “Don’t tell me,” she entreated, screwing up her eyes against the smoke. “I know! Got it in one! Theresa Crichton, right?”

  After that it was plain sailing, except that she seemed to know a good deal more than I did about the intricacies of television production, for it appeared that Gillsford had become a popular locale for documentaries about wildlife and so forth, not to mention as a background for commercials, and Messrs Hobbes plied a regular and no doubt highly profitable trade with their makers.

  I fell from grace a little when I explained that I was on my own and only wished to take a punt out for an hour or two, so muttered something about tight schedules, which went down well, and decided the atmosphere was now propitious enough for the big plunge.

  “It’s a bit of a lark, really,” I explained. “You see, I was at school quite near here and we used to have punt races up to the bridge. A friend of mine, who was there at the same time, has had a bet with me. She said she could still do the distance faster than me, even though she’s married now, with two children, and I bet her a magnum of champagne that she couldn’t, so here I am to put it to the test.”

  “That right? Well, best of luck to you, say I. How about your friend, though? Hasn’t she turned up?”

  “Well no, unfortunately, she can’t get away during the week, because of the children, you see, so she came last Saturday, when her husband was at home to look after them. You may remember her? Small . . . dark, rather unsmiling, as a rule, because she had a serious nature.” I did not add that she might have been wearing a head-scarf, feeling certain, if there was any foundation at all for my theory, that this was one article which would have been left at home.