by Anne Morice
‘And those that are, still in bed, I wouldn’t wonder,’ I told him. ‘Is there anything we can do? I’m Theresa Price, by the way, and this is Robin, my husband. We’re staying here.’
‘David Trelawney, how do you do?’ he replied, shaking hands.
‘How do you do? Who did you want to see?’
‘Well, Mrs Carrington, actually, if she’d been able to spare me a few minutes.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, she’s gone shopping. Would you like to come in and wait, or shall we give her a message?’
‘If you’d just tell her I called? It’s a personal matter I wanted to see her about. Well, that’s to say, not exactly personal, but confidential.’
‘Oh, I see! Well, she’s sure to be back quite soon. Why not come in?’
I was hoping he would agree to this, being keen to further the acquaintance, but evidently the desire was not reciprocated because, looking rather bashful and awkward, as though fearful of giving offence, he said, ‘Well . . . er . . . most awfully kind of you . . . but perhaps not, thanks ever so much . . . everything’s rather difficult at the moment . . .’
‘Yes, we did hear. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thanks. It’s all been a fearful shock . . . and there’s a lot of official work to be dealt with, as you can understand, so if you’d just be good enough to ask Mrs Carrington to give me a ring, when she has a moment, and let me know when it might be convenient to call again?’
‘Okay. What’s the best time for her to ring you?’
‘I’ll be home for lunch, if that would suit her; otherwise any time after six o’clock. It’s quite urgent. At least, I’m not sure, but I think it might be, otherwise I wouldn’t be troubling her in this way. Thanks ever so much.’
‘How very mysterious!’ I remarked to Robin, as we went indoors. ‘What could he possibly have to say to Elsa which is so private and confidential that it can’t be said on the telephone? Still, it’s one up to him, wouldn’t you say?’
‘That he has something private and confidential to say to Elsa?’
‘No, the fact that we found him standing outside the front door.’
‘Honestly, Tessa, I can’t see why that should count in his favour.’
‘Well, look at it this way. Apart from the Carringtons and the Macadams and the Hearnes and probable various other people who were being ground into the dust by the Trelawney heel, who, apart from them, had the best motive for killing her?’
Since he evidently regarded the question as rhetorical, I supplied the answer myself. ‘Who else but this grandson? You could say that he fulfils all the necessary conditions, including opportunity and motive.’
‘What motive?’
‘Why, Pettits estate and all the money that goes with it. I bet we’ll find he was her principal, if not her sole heir, and haven’t you always told me that financial gain is invariably the incentive for these planned, premeditated murders?’
‘So what difference does his standing outside the front door make to that?’
‘It shows that he is not familiar with the customs of the house. Assuming, as we do, that the murderer and the driver of Marc’s car are the same person, then that person must have known about the spare set of keys and also that it was usually possible, even when the whole family was away from home, to open the door and walk inside. Presumably, David Trelawney does not know that, otherwise he would not have been standing there just now, with his finger on the bell.’
‘Knowing is one thing, putting the knowledge into practice quite another. He might have sneaked in when he knew for certain everyone was out and he was perfectly safe, but he’s not on particularly friendly terms with them, I gather, and he may well have thought twice before walking in uninvited, if there was any danger of being caught in the act.’
‘In normal circumstances, yes, but he made a great noise about having something urgent and confidential to say to Elsa and surely that must have been true, otherwise he’s going to be in quite a jam when she does ring up to ask what it’s all about. So when no one answered the doorbell and if he’d found himself without pen and paper to hand, wouldn’t the obvious and quite permissible thing have been to have gone inside and written a note for her, if he’d realised the door would be open?’
‘Maybe. I find it increasingly difficult to guess what anyone will do in any circumstances, specially when I know so little about them, but then, as it happens, I don’t consider you made out a particularly good case against him, in the first place.’
‘His motive, you mean? What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing much, if his grandmother had been twenty years younger, or had threatened to cut him out of her will, or was making his life intolerable. Any combination of those three might have provided a plausible motive, but just look at the reality! She’s over seventy, so he had every chance of getting the money while he’s still young enough to know how to spend it; and in the meantime life for him was far from rough. A young man who can afford to own and run a car like that can’t be kept short of money and there is not even the suggestion that he would have been required to make his home with her after he was married. On the contrary, he has only to suggest that a certain house on the estate would do quite nicely for him and his bride and the incumbent tenants are told to get out. Why the hell would he take such an enormous risk, with so much to lose and virtually nothing to gain?’
I had to acknowledge the logic of this argument, which was disappointing for one who had been secretly hoping all along that David would turn out to be the murderer. Not that I had anything against him personally, but it would have been such a very satisfactory conclusion for the Carrington family, killing two birds with one stone, as it were, and opening the way for Pettits Farm to revert to its former style, in the hands of some well brought up, country loving and congenial owners.
‘Things are not always what they seem on the surface,’ I countered feebly. ‘He might have had some fearful grudge against her that we know nothing about.’
‘And, if so, I suppose we may rely on you to ferret it out?’ Robin asked, but before I could think of an apt reply to this we were joined by Millie, looking quite clean and tidy for once and having obviously been at work with the brush and comb. I hoped it was not a sign that she considered Robin old enough to be interesting.
‘Oh, hallo!’ I said, ‘You’ve had a visitor, but he’s gone away again. Your mother’s out and Marc, I take it, is still in bed?’
‘Yes, I know we have and Marc’s not still in bed. He’s not even in his room, so he’s probably gone out too.’
‘How did you know?’
‘About David Trelawney? Because I saw him. What did he want? Not to invite us to the funeral, by any chance?’
‘Not as far as I know. If you saw him, why didn’t you let him in?’
‘I might have, eventually. I heard the car, you see, so I looked out of my window and saw him walk up to the house, and then I heard him ringing and knocking, but I’d just got out of the bath and I didn’t want to see him anyway, so I kept my fingers crossed there’d be someone else around to let him in. Then I saw you and Robin coming in and I knew you’d deal with it in your usual efficient style. What did he want?’
‘To speak to your mother. He wouldn’t say what it was about.’
‘Well, I bet she won’t want to know, whatever it is. Nasty little creep!’
‘You must bear with me, Millie,’ Robin said, ‘because I’m a comparative stranger in these parts, but what’s so creepy about him? He seemed pleasant enough and I thought it was the Grannie who made all the trouble?’
‘That’s the general view, but in my opinion he’s just as bad as she was and only pretending to be secretly on our side. I expect he’s beginning to come out in his true colours now, and wants to tell Ma that he intends to construct a main road through our meadow.’
‘I should say you were relatively safe there. Does Elsa share these harsh views?’
‘Shouldn’t think so, she’s always
being taken in by people. Besides, she’s only met him once, so far as I know.’
‘When was that?’
‘Oh, right at the beginning, when everyone was tumbling over themselves to be friendly. Ma invited him and his Gran to a party, one of those Sunday morning do’s which she occasionally goes in for. Mrs Trelawney didn’t turn up, or even answer the invitation, but David put in an appearance and was fearfully gushing and polite. Even offered Mrs Hearne a lift home, when he heard she’d have to walk otherwise, but I expect he just seized on that as an excuse to leave early. It was rather funny, really,’ Millie added in the amused and contemptuous tone she so often adopted when speaking of her arch enemy, ‘because Diane pricked up her ears at that point and said how her mother was rather nervous about driving in fast cars and might need somebody with her, thereby scrounging a lift for herself as well.’
‘And that was the one and only time he came here?’
‘Right! They never invited us back, so we more or less dropped it and, personally, I prefer it that way.’
‘I still can’t see why you’ve got such a down on him.’
‘Partly because, unlike my mother, I do listen to gossip, and I happen to know he’s not quite such a nice little boy as he pretends to be. There was one thing in particular I heard.’
‘What was that?’
‘Oh, the Hearnes again, only this time the gloves were off and he’d left his party manners at home. It was Marigold who told me. She’s fairly soppy, but not a bad kid and not a liar, like her big sister, so I expect it’s true. She told me that when they got the letter from Mrs Trelawney’s solicitor saying that the lease of Orchard House was terminated forthwith and they’d have to go, there was a terrific uproar and they were all screaming and tearing their hair and then one afternoon David called on them. He said he hoped it would be all right to take a look round, because he might want to make a few alterations when he moved in and it would be helpful to know what was needed, so that he could get some builders’ estimates and so on. As far as the Hearnes were concerned, it was just about the last straw.’
‘Yes, very callous and tactless, I agree.’
‘Well, wait, because you haven’t heard the half of it. It turned out that he hadn’t meant to be callous and tactless at all, or so he said anyway, and when it dawned on him how upset they all were he began falling over himself to apologise. He said it had all been a misunderstanding and he’d never had the slightest clue that they weren’t leaving voluntarily. He wouldn’t dream of turning them out, now he knew the true circumstances, and they were to forget the whole thing.’
‘Well, that doesn’t sound too bad! Rather creditable, in fact.’
‘If you’d just stop interrupting, Tessa, and let me finish?’
‘Okay, go on!’
‘Well, after that they all sat back and dried their tears and waited for the solicitor’s letter to arrive and tell them that there’d been a mistake and they were free to stay at Orchard House for ever and ever. And you want to know what happened?’
‘Yes, please!’
‘Nothing, absolutely blank, blank nothing. No letter, no word, complete silence!’
‘Really? How strange! Still, I suppose no news could have meant good news? Perhaps he just took it for granted, and assumed they would too, that everything had been called off?’
‘That’s what Diane thought and so did her father. They’re a right pair, those two, skipping through life and seeing silver linings all over the place, but Mrs Hearne wasn’t so confident. She’s like all muddlers, expecting everyone else to be most frightfully efficient; and when the weeks went by and they still didn’t hear anything she got frantic and started going round the bend again. Mr Hearne still went on chirping away that there was nothing to worry about, but in the end Diane decided that something had better be done, so she waylaid David in the field one afternoon and asked him what the hell was going on, except of course she made it a bit more refined than that.’
‘I can imagine! What was his refined reply?’
‘Oh, he hedged and havered a bit, but the upshot was that nothing at all had changed and his grandmother refused even to discuss it. He’d told her about a million times that he didn’t want the bloody house and there were several others which would suit him just as well; and he said he was still working on it and hoping to win through in the end, but just for now it was thumbs down. Of course, he put all the blame on Grannie, but Marigold said Diane had the impression he hadn’t really tried all that hard and didn’t mean to. So that just shows you what a rat he is! Most people take the attitude that he’s just a bit dim and soppy, but I’d say he was mad, bad and very likely dangerous to know. I’m doing Byron for A levels.’
‘I expect he’d be pleased to hear it. And that was the last any of them heard about it?’
‘Far as I know. Mrs Hearne went on wringing her hands and her husband went on with his Micawber act, beaming at everyone and saying they weren’t to worry because the Lord would provide. . . .’
Millie broke off and we all remained silent for a few moments, each no doubt struck by the same thought. It was she who put it into words.
‘Quite a joke, actually! I mean, there we all were, saying what an irresponsible old fool he was and all the time he was the only one who’d got it right. What I mean is, if it’s true that it was Mrs Trelawney and not David who was so set on turning them out, then you could say that the Lord had provided, couldn’t you?’
‘You could indeed,’ Robin agreed, ‘and in his own mysterious way, what’s more!’
‘Now may we be quite clear about this, Mrs Price? You say that you did not notice a car, or vehicle of any kind, in the vicinity of Sowerley Manor, either when you arrived there at approximately four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, or when you left, which I understand was twenty minutes to half an hour later?’
On the whole, I was relieved to find that he was still harping on the car, since this, combined with the fact that he had so far made no attempt to get in touch with Elsa, revived the hope that the red sports model had now been positively identified as belonging to someone other than Marc and therefore that a new approach was under way.
‘That’s true,’ I replied, ‘and I suppose it’s bad luck, in a sense. It might have been to my advantage to be able to tell you that there was a plain van outside the gate when I left, with two unwashed, murderous looking types skulking inside it.’
‘That would have been a little too much to hope for, wouldn’t it? Besides, I’m fairly certain that you have no need to produce evidence to exonerate yourself. In fact, the records show your previous activities in this field to have been largely on the side of the law.’
If Robin had been present at the interview, the last observation might have amused him, but he was not. Possibly in compliance with some unwritten law, he had escorted me to Inspector Bledlow’s office, exchanged a few remarks with him concerning some regrettable redevelopments in the centre of Dedley and the pestilential protest marchers, and left us alone.
‘The fact remains, though,’ the Inspector went on, ‘that, apart from the murderer, you may well have been the last person to see Mrs Trelawney alive and anything at all you can tell us would be of help. So let us go back to this Council visitor she was expecting. Did you, for instance, get any idea whether it was a man or a woman, or whether indeed there was more than one of them?’
‘I do remember that both she and the one she called Alice referred to someone from the Council, so I feel fairly sure they meant it in the singular. I can’t be certain about the first part of your question. I recall Mrs Trelawney saying she’d make short work of him, but that doesn’t necessarily prove she was expecting a man, and, in any case, since neither man nor woman existed and the spurious appointment was only a ruse to ensure that the gate was left unlocked, I can’t see how it really matters.’
‘I see! You do know a lot, don’t you?’
‘Mrs Macadam, who also employs Alice, is a great friend of the
Carringtons, where I’m staying.’
‘Yes, so she is; and you are correct, in a sense. Nevertheless, spurious or not, somebody must have telephoned to make that appointment and we are naturally anxious to find out everything we can about him or her. I say telephoned, incidentally, because it is most unlikely that there would have been anything in writing.’
‘And I’m afraid I’m not being much help to you.’
‘Never mind, you have borne out Alice Hawkins’s story, which is one bit of clutter out of the way and there are still a few further points I’d like to go over with you. For a start and from the little you knew of her, would you say that Mrs Trelawney’s mood was in any way abnormal or apprehensive, when she was talking to you?’
‘From the little I knew of her and from the great deal more that I’ve learnt about her since I arrived here, I should say it was one hundred per cent normal and in no way apprehensive. On the contrary, she was bombastic, aggressive and thoroughly delighted with herself. I don’t imagine she was ever afraid of anything or anyone in her life, and that may have been because she hadn’t much imagination. Still, that’s only an opinion.’
‘So no reservations at all regarding this impending visit?’
‘Absolutely none. One had the impression that it was the visitor who ought to be feeling nervous. And, anyway, the facts bear that out, don’t they? She would hardly have sent Alice away, leaving herself alone in that isolated place, with the gate unlocked, if she believed she had anything to fear?’ The Inspector neither concurred in this, nor disputed it. He remained silent for a moment or two, fiddling with his pen and watching me thoughtfully, before saying, ‘Did she mention her grandson at any time?’
‘No, she didn’t. Do you think he killed her?’
‘We are keeping an open mind about that, as well as a good many other questions, at this juncture, but, according to your report, she appears to have confided in you about her family and past rather more freely than was usual with her. I wondered if you had been able to pick up any hints about that particular relationship?’
