‘So you saw Clara on Saturday night?’ Masters asked.
‘Yes. I wondered what she was doing near the Dents. It’s well over a year since I’ve seen her.’
‘About seven o’clock?’
‘A bit after. Perhaps ten past.’
‘She was visiting an aunt in Gloucester last Saturday. Perhaps the aunt lives near the Dents,’ Masters suggested.
‘She has an aunt near there, has she? Oh, then that explains it. She was walking towards us, you know, as we were going.’
‘That means she was walking away from the Dents’ house?’
‘Towards the city.’
‘Well, that’s one little coming and going. Any more?’
Cordelia shook her head. Kenneth said, ‘I don’t see where Clara Breese comes into this. Just because she was visiting relatives in Gloucester.’
‘There’s no suggestion that she is implicated in any way, sir,’ replied Masters. ‘But she happens to have been one of Miss Bowker’s partners and a one-time friend of her fiancé. It will do her no harm to be eliminated as a possible suspect, will it?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘By the way, perhaps you could tell me. What’s the pub Mr Dent goes to for his Sunday lunchtime drink? I was told that he and Brian went out for a lunchtime drink, but I was too busy at the time to make a mental note of the place.’
Bancroft got hastily to his feet. ‘I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my duties. Let me get you a drink.’
‘No. Please, no. That wasn’t a hint. I’m due for a pint afterwards …’
‘With Harry Dent? Well, it’s not a pub he goes to.’
‘No? I could have sworn …’
‘Club. The Tontine.’
‘Not a name you hear every day,’ Cordelia said. ‘And quite silly really. So easy to forget. And quite meaningless in this case. The last survivor takes all, indeed! They sign up new members every year.’
‘You’ve got it wrong, Coddy,’ her husband said. ‘When the club was started, the people who put up the money agreed to receive no dividends nor expect the return of their money for a fixed period of—I think—about five years. And that’s a form of tontine, too. That’s where the name came from.’
‘Really? And I’d always imagined them waiting for each other to die.’
‘Well, I’ll be getting along,’ Masters said. ‘Thank you for the talk and the information.’
‘Are you going to the Tontine?’ Bancroft asked.
‘Not straight away. There are four of us. I’ve got to pick up the other two.’
‘I see. I was going to say I’d take you.’
‘Thank you, but there’s no need to drag you out.’
‘I’m a member.’
‘But you weren’t going today, were you?’
‘No.’
‘That’s what I thought. Thanks all the same. We’ll find our way there quite easily.’
When they were in the car, Hill said, ‘You definitely gave him the impression Dent had invited you to this club.’
‘I was careful not to say that Dent had invited me.’
‘Then how did you know about it?’
‘Brian Dent told me he and his father went out for their usual drink at Saturday lunchtime. It seemed likely that what was “usual” might include Sunday as well as Saturday. And men in their position usually have either a favourite pub or a club they get into the habit of going to at certain times.’
‘So we’re going to this Tontine place?’
‘Not yet. We could have gone straight there if it had been a pub. But a club’s for members only—and their guests.’
‘So we’ve got to find somebody to take us?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then why didn’t you accept Bancroft’s offer?’
‘Because I didn’t want him bowling up to Dent and saying, “I’ve brought your guests.” Dent hasn’t invited us. I want it to appear a casual meeting, otherwise I could call on Dent in his office tomorrow.’
Hill thought about this for a moment. Then: ‘What now?’
‘Stop at the first phone box. I want to call the Chief Super.’
‘The Tontine?’ Hook said. ‘I’m a member myself, but I don’t often go. Not at lunchtimes. I never drink in the middle of the day because I never know when I might be called out to …’
‘Break your rules today. In honour of your guests from Scotland Yard. It’s important, sir.’
After a few moments, Hook agreed. When they got back into the car, Masters said, ‘I want a specimen envelope.’
Hill took from his pocket one of the plain white envelopes he carried for holding small material clues. Masters thanked him, took out his tin of Warlock Flake and carefully emptied the unrubbed tobacco into the envelope. He put the envelope into the glove compartment of the car, and the empty tin into his pocket. Hill watched with amazement which grew into incredulity when Masters tapped out a perfectly good fill, only half smoked, from his pipe. Masters looked up and grinned. ‘Stage props,’ he said. ‘Right, Sergeant, drive on. The Chief Super’s house. He’s expecting us.’
An hour and a half later, Masters and Hill returned to the Bristol. Green and Brant had almost finished lunch. ‘We waited long enough for you,’ Green said.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ answered Masters. ‘We’ve been tanking up.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
Masters said no more. Hill took his cue from Masters and didn’t mention the visit to the Tontine. ‘How’s the alderman?’ Green asked.
‘Blooming. He’s got a nice wife. The sort I think you would like.’
‘Just my luck. We’re bashing around here without a clue and when the only decent woman in the case is interviewed I’m not among those present.’
‘What about Clara Breese? You told me she was all right.’
‘Quite a nice bit of frippet. But too young for me. I like a mature woman.’
‘Well, I don’t know whether you’ll get to meet Cordelia Bancroft, but you’ll definitely have to see young Clara again—tonight, after she’s finished the day’s window-dressing.’
Green brushed biscuit crumbs from the table with his right hand, caught them in his left, and trickled them on to his plate. ‘That’s the worst of cream crackers. They fluther about so much.’ He looked across at Masters who was tackling tongue and Russian salad. ‘Beetroot’s another think I don’t like. It makes everything too bloody. What’s this about Clara Breese?’
‘She was seen by the Bancrofts at ten past seven last Saturday night quite near the Dents’ place,’ Hill said.
Green flung his napkin on to the table. ‘Hell. So she bamboozled me.’
‘Told you only half the truth, I suspect,’ Masters commented.
‘I’d like to dust her transparent pantie linings for her.’
‘Who wouldn’t?’ Brant asked.
‘Where does Breese’s aunt live?’ Masters inquired.
‘Cambridge Road.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘In the same direction from here as the Dents’. Remember when I took you out there we stopped at lights before turning left?’
‘Yes.’
‘If we’d gone straight on for a hundred yards and then turned left we’d have come to Cambridge Road. I’d say at a guess that aunty’s house is a quarter of a mile from the Dents’.’
‘It doesn’t mean Breese was actually at the Dents’,’ Green said.
‘Perhaps she didn’t actually call there—or even go near,’ replied Masters. ‘But let’s suggest to her that she did.’
‘Why? What good will that do?’
‘You said she’s moping over Brian Dent.’
‘So?’
‘She came all the way from Cheltenham to see an aunt who isn’t in, but who lives practically next door. Wouldn’t a girl in her state—just for old times’ sake—be tempted to walk that way?’
‘I can’t see it.’
‘I can,’ Hill broke in. ‘If she’s as
natty a bit of stuff as you say she is, I can’t see her being alone on a lovely Saturday afternoon and evening for nothing. So she wanted to see her aunt. O.K. But the aunt was out. I’d expect a girl like her to hop the next bus home and date some boy friend for the rest of the day. But what does Clara do? She moons about. Going to the cathedral and pictures alone? No!’
‘You don’t believe her?’ Green asked.
‘She lied, didn’t she?’
Green snorted in disgust.
Masters said, ‘I believe she went where she said. But a girl who finds herself at a loose end practically on the doorstep of the man she’s still got a yen for would find her feet taking her that way willy-nilly.’
‘To do what?’
‘Nothing, I expect. Just look. And that would put her in the mood to take herself off to the pictures alone instead of rushing home to arrange an alternative late date.’
Green was unconvinced. ‘Where does it get us if she did walk past the house?’
‘It helps to keep the pot boiling,’ Masters said. ‘Makes us appear omniscient …’
‘Om what?’
‘Makes us look as if we knew more than we do.’ Masters helped himself to Brie and breakfast biscuits.
‘Now I know we’re out of our depth,’ Green said. ‘We’re having to start something to see what happens.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ asked Brant. ‘It’s a recognized technique.’
‘It’s a policy of despair.’
‘I’m not despairing,’ Masters answered. ‘As I told you, I’m confident. Now, what about Heatherington-Blowers? Any word from him?’
‘Nothing.’ Green said. ‘I reckon he’s another of ’em.’
‘What?’
‘Bum steers.’
‘Why?’
‘He hasn’t sparked yet, has he? Probably gone home for lunch and fallen asleep after it. And that’s what we’d do if we had any nous.’
To Green’s surprise Masters said, ‘Good idea. We’re at a standstill until we hear from Heatherington-Blowers, and until we can call on Breese. We’ll meet for tea about a quarter past four unless something crops up in the meanwhile.’
‘What are you going to do, Chief?’ asked Hill.
‘I’m going for a walk.’
‘In this heat?’
‘You’re not going for a walk with no object in mind,’ Green accused him.
‘No. I want to take a look at the windows Sally Bowker dressed. The ones the Chief Super mentioned. And I might also visit the cathedral.’
Hill asked, ‘Do you mind if I come with you?’
7 |
When they met at teatime, Green asked, ‘Well? Any more bright ideas? Has Heatherington-Blowers called?’
‘Don’t get impatient,’ said Masters. ‘Have a crab sandwich instead.’
Green took two, lifted the top layer off one of them to examine the contents, saying, ‘I never trust paste sandwiches.’
The lounge at the Bristol was fairly full. Masters had no desire to discuss his case within earshot of fellow guests, so he devoted himself to having tea. Green misread his intentions and regarded his avoidance of any mention of the case as another indication that the investigation was not progressing. Masters guessed this. Got a certain amount of pleasure out of the situation. He’d not tried to mislead Green. Had done the opposite, in fact, by stressing that he had gone a long way towards solving the problem. But Green, mistrustful by nature, had not believed him. Masters decided to let him stew in his own juice. Certainly it was an unusual case. As odd as Dick’s hatband. But that was no reason for Green to be vociferously disbelieving.
Green, for his part, was mentally accusing Masters of being little short of a mountebank. Pretending the case was all over bar the shouting when as far as he could see there was no shred of proof to indicate the guilt of anybody concerned with Sally Bowker.
He felt the usual dislike of Masters rise in his gorge. Noted the slim hands as Masters stirred a cup of tea. Decorative but useless in Green’s opinion. An anomaly. Almost a deformity in so big a man. Now, it appeared, he was looking at Clara Breese to help him out of the corner his boasting had forced him into. Green reflected that it would be just Masters’ luck for something to turn up from that direction. Just as it was his own luck that he, when interviewing Clara Breese, had failed to ferret out anything useful. On the whole, Green felt slightly fed up with life in general, and with Chief bloody Inspector Masters in particular.
Hill was officiating at the tea pot. Green said sourly, ‘Teem me a cup more bellywash.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘It’s a matter of opinion. They’re using tea bags, not the proper stuff.’
‘It’s the same tea whether it’s in bags or loose,’ Brant said.
‘You mind your own barrow. If you can’t push it, shove it. I was talking to Sarn’t Hill.’
‘Sorry.’
Masters eased his chair away from the table. ‘I’ll be back, so don’t squeeze the pot. I think I’d better call Heatherington-Blowers.’
Green hoped Masters would get a flea in his ear. He was disappointed. Inside five minutes Masters was back. ‘They’re being thorough. They’re still at it,’ he said.
‘Doing what?’
‘Bruce, the bacteriologist, is evidently a methodical man. He’s going through the table of elements one by one, from A to Z, testing for traces.’
‘How far’s he got?’ asked Green.
‘About two-thirds of the way.’
‘How many’s that?’
‘About seventy-five, I think. I believe there are something like a hundred elements these days. The list has grown a bit these last few years.’
‘I thought there were only four—earth, water, air and fire,’ Green said.
‘Quite right. I was talking about chemical elements.’
Green grunted and lit a Kensitas.
‘We won’t get an answer before nine tonight. At least that’s Bruce’s estimate. So I suggest we go to Cheltenham to see Clara Breese, and hope that by the time we get there she’ll have finished her day’s work.’
She was wearing jeans. Cherry-picker red ones that clung round her seat and upper thighs and hugged her calves like jodhpurs. Above them she had a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up above the elbow, showing brown arms and strong wrists. Privately Masters thought she looked like a proud, young goddess. The appearance of Green and himself at the door didn’t appear to disconcert her. ‘The second instalment of the inquisition?’ she asked. ‘Come up. We might as well be comfortable.’
Masters could see the muscles of her buttocks and thighs rippling under the tight, thin material as she went up the stairs before him. He was reminded of an athlete—strength, power and co-ordination.
When they reached the sitting-room, Green said, ‘Miss Bracegirdle not home yet?’
‘She’s been and gone. A date with a long-haired musician,’ Clara said off-handedly.
Masters accepted her offer of a chair and then said, ‘Miss Breese, you didn’t tell Inspector Green the whole truth about your activities last Saturday. Why?’
‘You mean I lied? I didn’t, you know.’
‘I said the whole truth. Why didn’t you tell him you had been out a second time to your aunt’s house, and had been wandering round the area in the early evening?’
‘Because I didn’t think he’d be interested in the name of every street I went down, nor in the number of the bus I caught, or the colour of the conductor’s eyes.’
‘Quite right, Miss Breese. But your wanderings took you pretty close to the Dent house. And we are interested in that, as you well know.’
‘What the hell!’ It was a listless retort. ‘I didn’t know I was going that way. You won’t believe me, I dare say, but I just walked.’
‘I’ll believe you, Miss Breese—if you tell me exactly what you did, who you saw and so forth, to make it a convincing tale.’
‘That’s just the point. I can’t. I called
a second time at my aunt’s house. After all, that’s what I went to Gloucester for. She still wasn’t at home. Then I literally wandered away. I didn’t even know I was going towards the Dents’. I didn’t notice anybody or anything. I was in a dream. My feet just took me there.’
‘So you saw nobody?’
‘No.’
‘You got right up to the Dents’ front gate?’
Clara sat up. ‘No. I didn’t. I didn’t go that far.’
‘How d’you know, if you were in a dream?’
She sank back again. ‘I came to, just in time.’
‘What woke you up?’
‘A woman, coming out of the gate.’
‘Dents’ gate?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were close enough to see her?’
She nodded. ‘I was on the other side of the road, and this woman came out. I noticed her and suddenly realized where I was.’
‘Did you know the woman?’
‘No.’
‘A friend of Mrs Dent, perhaps?’
‘I should think not. This one looked like a new maid—I mean one taken on since I was last there.’
‘They had a maid in those days?’
‘No. A gaggle of chars in the mornings, I think.’
‘What did this woman look like?’
‘Nothing on earth. Gingery. You know, that pale ginger hair that has no body to it and goes all wispy. With a thin pale face, freckles, and no eyebrows to be seen. She looked damn bad-tempered, I can tell you that.’
‘She appeared to be in a bad mood at the time?’
‘Oh, no. I meant generally. She looked as if she’d got a slice of lemon in her mouth.’
‘What was her figure like? Her size?’
‘She was a neat sort of body, I suppose. Not very big. Taller than Win, but not gargantuan like me.’
‘You do yourself an injustice, Miss Breese.’
She smiled for the first time. ‘That’s because you’re no stumpy yourself. We belong to the same club.’
‘No. Ask Inspector Green.’
‘I shouldn’t lose any sleep over my figure if I were you, Miss,’ Green said. ‘I know what men like, and you’ve got it all right—but a bit more than most, that’s all.’
Sick to Death Page 12
