by Anne Morice
‘I’m afraid it wasn’t mentioned, but anyone who knew anything at all about them will tell you that she doted on him. If she had a weakness, it was the boy David. He had but to ask and it was granted.’
‘Yes, that does seem to be the general opinion, but from your personal knowledge you can neither confirm nor contradict it?’
‘Perhaps in a minor way I can help you confirm it,’ I admitted reluctantly, annoyed to find myself manipulated into speaking up on David Trelawney’s behalf, which was the last thing I desired. ‘There was a photograph. You must have noticed it because it provided the one and only splash of colour in that dreary room. It was a picture of Mrs Trelawney standing between a rather good-looking girl wearing jodhpurs and a fair-haired young man, who I assumed to be her grandson; correctly, as it turns out. They were standing with arms linked and grinning like mad. I know people can put on an act like that when there’s a camera pointing at them, but I don’t believe she’d have kept it where she did, in a place of honour and the only personal, non-functional object in the room, if it hadn’t had great sentimental value for her, do you?’
Far from looking as though he agreed with me and was enjoying our little chat, the Inspector now adopted a most unexpectedly curt, official tone. ‘Just a minute, if you please, Mrs Price! Where did you say you saw this photograph?’
‘It was all by itself, on a table between the windows.’
‘I see,’ he said, humming to himself in a tuneless, slightly menacing fashion and at the same time turning over some pages in a yellow folder, which was lying open on the desk in front of him, then finding the one he was searching for and running his finger down the top ten or twelve lines, ‘On a table between the windows?’
‘That’s right. I’m not making it up, you know.’
‘Now, why should I suppose anything of the kind?’
‘Because something tells me that it was no longer there when your men arrived on the scene?’
‘Apparently not, but that’s a small point. It will turn up in due course, no doubt. Now, if you’d just be good enough to give me the full description again. . . .’
‘He was trying to shrug it off,’ I told Robin, as we drove back to Pettits Grange, ‘but I could see that he felt it must have some significance and I agree with him. Why else would it have been removed, and by the murderer, presumably? It depresses me to tell you that I have to regard it as yet another point in favour of that tiresome David Trelawney.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, as I was decent enough to point out in his defence, it was evidence of a kind that he was on rattling good terms with his grandmother, which can hardly fail to do him a bit of good. The fact that he had the best opportunity of anyone wouldn’t be enough without some sort of motive or circumstantial evidence to back it up. Isn’t that so?’
‘Yes, but after all, the murder wasn’t set up in a way to throw suspicion on him or anyone else. It was obviously intended to be seen as an ordinary, routine sort of break-in, where the poor old victim put up a stiffer resistance than the thieves had bargained for, and got clobbered for her pains. So why shouldn’t walking off with the photograph, along with the transistor and so on, have been part of that charade?’
‘Except that the transistor and so on, unlike the photograph, did have a certain value. It didn’t have a silver frame and it wasn’t worth a cent. Not even a novice burglar would have been tempted.’
‘So what’s your explanation?’
‘I haven’t one. None of it seems to make sense and there are far too many loose ends and unrelated themes. In fact, as far as I can see, only one constructive item has emerged, as yet.’
‘Well, better than nothing, I suppose. What is it?’
‘I may have found a title for Toby’s play. I can’t see it pulling them in exactly, but in view of the fact that this is the second photograph to vanish without a trace, I shall suggest that he calls it Double Negative.’
SATURDAY P.M.
Millie met us at the door. ‘Mind how you go!’ she said and started dragging us back down the drive again, ‘Ma’s in a spin.’
‘Why? What’s happened? Did the police come?’
‘Yes. Not the Inspector, another one. I think he was a sergeant, but he wore ordinary clothes.’
‘Was he nasty?’
‘Not specially, not at first, anyway. She took Robin’s advice and told all. And, incidentally, she’s now told me. All those silly lies about Marc’s car! She must be mad!’
‘How did the sergeant take it?’ I asked, wondering whether Inspector Bledlow had deliberately despatched his underling at a time when he had the best of reasons for knowing that Robin and I would be off the premises.
‘He was sort of non-committal about it, I gather. I was told to get lost, you may be sure, but Ma said he wrote everything down and then told her he’d make his report and either he or his Inspector might want to see her again at some point.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad. So what’s the panic?’
‘Oh, that was just for starters. The next thing was that he wanted to know whether it would be convenient to talk to Marc.’
‘Oh dear! And then what?’
‘Ma said she was frightfully sorry, but he was out. He’d left while she was doing the shopping and she’d no idea where he’d gone, or what time he’d be back. She told me she had the definite impression he didn’t exactly believe her, but it happened to be true.’
‘So then what?’
‘The sergeant asked if they could step outside to the garage and see if his car had gone too.’
‘And had it?’
‘Yes, but that still wasn’t the end of it. He then made her go up to Marc’s room and try to get some idea of what he’d taken with him and what he’d been wearing when he left. Like, for instance, if his London suit wasn’t there, it might indicate that that was where he’d gone. As far as anyone knows, Marc doesn’t possess a London suit, he’s certainly never been seen in one, but she thought it wouldn’t do any good to start arguing about it, so up she trotted.’
‘Any results?’
‘Well, yes, there were, as a matter of fact, but not the right kind. Like I told you, we’re in a bit of a mess. She didn’t bother to look through his clothes, or any of that, because the first thing she saw was this note propped up on his dressing table.’
‘Oh, crumbs! Saying what?’
‘She’ll read it to you, but it more or less sent her into hysterics. Anyway, she shoved it in a drawer and went downstairs again and told the sergeant she hadn’t a clue what Marc had taken. His room was in its normal state of chaos and, as far as she could tell, he was wearing the clothes he’d changed into when he arrived here yesterday evening. So then he asked her to be sure and let him know the minute Marc returned, which she promised faithfully to do and off he went. That was about ten minutes ago, which is how long it took her to fill me in with the background and she’s now gone upstairs to fetch the letter. That’s the summary, so far. New readers begin here.’
‘See what you make of it,’ Elsa said, handing it to Robin.
‘It might save time, if you were to read it aloud,’ he suggested.
‘And you think time is important? Very well, this is what he says: Dear Ma, Have decided to go away on my own for a few days, to cool off and try and work out what I’m going to do about D. Sorry to break the news so dramatically, but everyone seems to be either out or asleep, and I don’t feel like hanging about. I’ll be in touch and, for God’s sake, don’t worry. Love, Marc.
‘Don’t worry, he says,’ she remarked bitterly, folding the letter and putting it in her pocket. ‘That wretched girl! I could strangle her. How could she do this to him and at such a moment?’
‘To be fair, she wasn’t to know that it would be the moment for him to become entangled with the police.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of that so much. It seemed to me that she could at least have waited until his exams were over, but you’re right, of cour
se. Just now, there are worse things to worry about. What should I do, Robin?’
‘Let’s start, shall we, by removing some of the undergrowth? I don’t know whether you agree, but it sounds to me as though he hasn’t begun to realise that he is in any tangle. Otherwise he surely wouldn’t have been such a damn fool as to have gone hopping off, without leaving an address?’
‘I agree with you absolutely. He hasn’t a single idea in his head except this tiresome girl. I blame her entirely.’
‘So it follows,’ Robin went on, ‘that he regards the car episode as some temporary misunderstanding and assumes also that you have now supplied the necessary proof concerning the flat battery and that all is not only well, but is seen to be well?’
‘Of course, he does, and so it would be, if it weren’t for those stupid lies I told. It’s entirely my own idiotic, unforgivable lack of trust which has landed him in this absurd situation.’
‘That’s not quite true, so don’t waste time blaming yourself. You may have compounded the evil, but the fact would still remain that someone must have seen and recognised his car that afternoon. He would still have had to fight his way out of that one.’
‘But at least it would have been straightforward. He would have understood what he was up against and he wouldn’t have gone dashing off into the blue like this. The horribly ironic thing is that, whereas all of us take that as positive proof of his innocence, the people in charge of the case are bound to see it as an indication of guilt, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid they may, but we still have a little time left to us before that happens, an hour or two, anyway. I suggest we use them in the most practical way we can.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Well, I’m a bit of a washout here, but why don’t you and Millie concentrate on all the places where he might be and, if you have any luck there, the next job will be to try and persuade him to come home with the least possible delay. It’s now just after one, so he’s had four or five hours’ start.’
‘Well, obviously, not London,’ Elsa said, ‘although I suppose we can’t afford to ignore any possibility, however remote.’
‘And anyway why “obviously”?’ Robin asked.
‘Because at the moment London is associated with work and all the hard grind of study, which is the last sort of atmosphere he’d be looking for, if he wanted to resolve some emotional problem. A second objection, paradoxically enough, is that he’d expect me to try there first, which is all too clearly another reason to rule it out.’
While her mother was speaking, Millie had picked up the telephone and dialled nine digits. In the silence which followed she shook her head and a moment or two later replaced the receiver, without comment.
‘Right!’ Robin said. ‘We appear to have crossed London off the list. What’s next?’
‘How about Bexhill?’ I suggested.
‘Oh no, do you really think so, Tessa? I mean, in a small bungalow, and with her mother and aunt there too? It would be cramped, to say the least.’
‘You were the one to say we couldn’t afford to leave out any possibility.’
‘Yes, I know, but . . . oh, very well, but I don’t know the number, or even the aunt’s name. You’d better ring up Orchard House, Millie, and find out.’
‘What excuse shall I make?’
‘Oh goodness, I don’t know. Surely you can think of something?’
‘If you can’t, how the hell am I supposed to be able to?’
‘Now, Millie, don’t get rattled, please!’ Robin warned her. ‘Cool heads and long tempers are what we require now.’
Rather to my relief, she accepted the rebuke without protest and I said, ‘You dial and I’ll do the talking, if you like?’
Luckily, it was Marigold who answered and I put on a funny voice and asked whether it would be convenient to speak to Miss Diane Hearne.
‘I’m sorry, she’s not here at present.’
‘Could you tell me where I can get in touch with her? It’s rather urgent.’
‘Well, no, I’m afraid it’s a bit difficult. . . . who is it speaking?’
This is Pettits Farm estate office. I have a message for Miss Hearne from Mr David Trelawney. It’s important.’
‘What? I don’t understand . . . are you sure? Did you say David Trelawney?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But there must be some mistake . . . surely.’
‘No, no mistake, and if you’d just tell me where I can get in touch with Miss Hearne?’
‘No, I can’t. She’ll be on the train by now.’
‘On the train?’
‘To Victoria. Do you want her to ring you when she gets here?’
‘No, the office will be closed this afternoon. I’ll have to leave it till Monday. She will be there on Monday, I take it?’
‘Oh yes, but. . . .’
‘Thanks so much. Goodbye.’
‘Poor Marigold,’ I said, putting the receiver back, ‘she was knocked all of a heap.’
‘And no wonder!’
‘I’m afraid there’ll be worse to come, if they try to find out what it’s all about on Monday. Still, what matters, from our point of view, is that we’ve drawn another blank. Diane is on her way to Victoria, so if Marc ever went to Bexhill, he’s certainly left again by now. Next, please!’
‘What an extraordinary thing to do, though!’ Elsa said. ‘Whatever gave you the idea of using David Trelawney’s name?’
‘I rather regret it now. The poor creature sounded absolutely aghast and appalled. I suppose she thought the message was to say they’d got to get out of the house next week. Though why the hell she should have I don’t know. In the circumstances, it could equally well have been a reprieve. Anyway, it had to be somebody they couldn’t call back, not immediately at any rate, and I suppose it was the young man himself who gave me the idea that he would do as well as anyone.’
‘David Trelawney?’
‘Yes. If he has something urgent to communicate to you, why shouldn’t he have something equally urgent to say to Diane?’
‘Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about, Tessa?’
‘He called here this morning, asking to see you on a matter of urgency. Didn’t Millie tell you?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t get a chance, did I? What with the fuzz bursting in on us. . . .’
‘What did he want?’
‘He wasn’t telling. Only that he’d like you to ring him up and make an appointment, either before lunch or at about six this evening. You’re too late for the first and much too early for the second, so there’s nothing to be done about it, for the time being.’
‘It’s so puzzling, though. What on earth can he have to say to me which involves so much secrecy? We’ve scarcely exchanged more than a dozen words since he came here.’
‘Well, all will be revealed in due course, I daresay, and, in the meantime, shouldn’t we be pressing on with our own very urgent business? Try and think of some of the other places where Marc might be.’
Almost the whole of the next two hours was spent in putting through telephone calls to points throughout the United Kingdom, most of them being conducted, in various guises, by myself, Elsa claiming that she would feel such a fool having to ask all these friends and relatives if they knew where her son was, and at the end of it we were not one inch further forward.
‘Well, that’s it, as far as I can see,’ she said. ‘We’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel now and it’s obvious that he meant exactly what he said. He wanted to go away somewhere on his own, while he sorts things out, and he’s taken good care to choose a place where we should never dream of looking for him. Our only hope is that he’ll have come to some decision and be back at work again on Monday.’
Robin did not comment, but I guessed from his expression that he doubted whether Monday would be quite soon enough to suit Inspector Bledlow. If so, he was absolutely right, because the next time I intercepted a
call it had come from that very gentleman. He was ringing to enquire whether there had been any word from Marc, only this time, according to Elsa, in distinctly more grave and threatening terms than hitherto. This was not altogether surprising, in view of the fact that the red sports car had now been located, with no entry ticket on display, in the Municipal car park behind Dedley railway station.
‘The maddening part of it is,’ I remarked to Robin, on our way to the golf course later that afternoon, ‘every single move that boy makes, however much it may confirm his innocence to us, only adds one more nail to the coffin which Inspector Bledlow is building for him. If there is one sure way to draw attention to yourself in this world it is to get a summons for illegal parking. What can have possessed him to do such a thing?’
‘In a hurry to catch his train, no doubt.’
‘Yes, and that’s not going to look very good, is it? What construction are they going to put on that?’
‘Presumably, the car having now become a well known, not to say notorious, feature in the case, that he was anxious to put as much distance as possible between it and himself.’
‘Precisely! Although even they must realise that his chances of increasing the distance would have been a lot bigger if he had paid the parking fee.’
‘They will assume that he panicked.’
‘So what now? Will there be a warrant out for his arrest? Bloodhounds at all the airports and channel ferries and so on?’
‘I expect so.’
‘And they’re bound to catch up with him eventually, aren’t they? How long would you give it?’
‘Well, as you’ve just pointed out, he’s not being terribly bright, is he? Judging on current form, I’d say twenty-four hours, at the most.’
‘It’s a pretty formidable task,’ I remarked sadly.
