‘So that’s it,’ cried Maggie. ‘And I think I’ve really known it all the time. Haven’t you, Alan?’
‘No, I haven’t. I’ve been divided between thinking there was nothing at all in this Noreen Wilks thing or that she was his girl friend. I discussed it last night with Jill, though, and she was dead against the girl-friend theory.’
‘And she’s really my half-sister,’ said Maggie, remembering how she had resented this Noreen Wilks character that Dr Salt had kept dragging in all the time. Now she looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. Go on.’
‘When your father settled in Hemton after the War, Mrs Wilks came to Birkden and finally got a job at United Fabrics, which was then beginning to expand. I don’t know if this was his idea or hers. I don’t know if the affair went on or whether he simply felt responsible for her and the child. My guess is he’d still feel responsible for her even if he knew – or guessed – she was having affairs with other men. And I’d say she was. He couldn’t spend much time with her. She must have been quite attractive up to her last few years. And I’d say she was one of those rather vain, shallow but good-natured women who enjoy men’s attention and then don’t like to refuse them anything. Probably your father lost all interest in her – they can’t have had much in common – but, of course, he felt deeply responsible for Noreen. He gave Mrs Wilks a regular allowance, of course – and that can’t have been easy—’
‘Alan, that’s why we’ve always thought he was so ridiculously cautious and careful about money – almost mean—’
‘I know, I know,’ Alan told her gruffly. ‘You’re not the only one who’s working it out—’
‘Then when Mrs Wilks died and Noreen was on her own, he felt even more responsible and worried harder than ever. I know that because I’ve read several letters he wrote to her that arrived after she was missing. I called on Mrs Pearson, her landlady, this morning, and she handed them over to me, along with some notes from her boy friend that Noreen had kept.’
‘Well, I don’t see why you should have read those letters my father wrote to her. Does he know?’ Alan’s tone seemed to Maggie unpleasantly hostile, and she felt fearful of what might happen next.
‘No, he doesn’t know, Alan. And I don’t propose to tell him.’ Once again Maggie marvelled at the way in which Dr Salt, unlike almost everybody she had ever known, was able to avoid returning hostility with hostility, for he spoke quite mildly.
‘Then, if you ask me, I think you’ve been nosy and officious.’ And Alan gave him a hard, challenging look.
‘Alan – no!’
‘It’s all right, Maggie. I’m sorry you think that, Alan. But I want you to remember this. I’m not interested in your father’s private life, except that, for the moment, I consider him my patient. What I really am concerned about – and if it’s boring to hear this again, just put up with me for a moment – and what keeps me here in Birkden when I want to get out of the place – is simply the answer to one question – what really happened to Noreen Wilks? That’s what I want to know, and it’s what I’m going to find out, even if it means reading other people’s letters and taking a few assorted risks—’
‘Were those three horrible young men part of it?’ Maggie demanded.
‘Of course. It was Russ’s second attempt to frighten me out of Birkden. Look, Alan, there’s more in this than you seem to understand—’
‘He doesn’t want to, that’s why,’ Maggie cried. ‘That girl, Jill—’
‘Shut up, Mag. Jill doesn’t come into this.’
‘She does. Of course she does. She’s one of that lot—’
‘Let it ride, Maggie,’ said Dr Salt. He regarded Alan gravely. ‘I’m sure that Noreen Wilks is dead. And I’m almost sure now that she was murdered. But let’s get back to your father. When she didn’t reply to his letters, he wrote to Peggy Pearson. She rang him at the shop on Monday morning, telling him she thought Noreen didn’t come back from the Fabrics Club party on September 12th because she’d gone to the South of France with her boy friend. Peggy didn’t know who this boy friend was, but your father did – Noreen must have told him. He was young Derek Donnington, who shot himself early in the morning of September 13th. So what had happened to Noreen, missing for three weeks? Your father couldn’t find Peggy or her mother, so finally he went to the Fabrics Club. He got no sense out of them, as you can imagine, so then he decided to search the big empty house, the Worsley place, which shares the same grounds as the Club. It was dark by that time. Before he got to the house he ran into the man who was looking after it – and was also half drunk, your father thinks. They exchanged some angry remarks. Your father tried to push past the man, who coshed him. I doubt if it was a heavy blow, but your father wasn’t wearing a hat, he hasn’t a thick skull and, anyhow, he isn’t a robust type. He went out like a light and stayed out. We can guess the rest. He was taken into the Club; Dews sent for Dr Lemmert, who afterwards spoke to Aricson, who in turn – though I can’t prove this – told Sir Arnold Donnington what had happened. Then your father was rushed off to a nursing home, with the firm or Donnington himself ready to pay all expenses. And if you want to know why, I’ll tell you. This man – your father – wasn’t just a casual trespasser. He was somebody who was asking questions about Noreen Wilks. Therefore – no hospital, no police, no public fuss.’ He stopped to light his pipe.
Alan looked dubious. ‘What you’re really asking us to believe is that Noreen Wilks may have been killed, and that somebody high up in United Fabrics may be involved. And I must say, I can’t wear it. I’ll agree there’s something queer and fishy about this Noreen Wilks thing – Jill knows that, and what happened at the Club last night was very suspicious – but it seems to me you’re jumping wildly to conclusions, Dr Salt.’
‘I agree there doesn’t seem much real proof yet,’ said Maggie, glancing apologetically at Dr Salt before she looked at Alan again. ‘But I’ve seen a lot more of this mysterious business than you have, Alan, and so far Dr Salt’s been right every time. Last night – and this morning – we hadn’t the ghost of an idea where Father was, but Dr Salt found him. It may be some kind of intuition—’
‘No, it isn’t, Maggie,’ he told her. ‘It’s just that I’m used to watching people very carefully and listening intently to them, and then drawing my own conclusions. And I’ve also spent years dealing with people who aren’t so obvious as we are. That’s all.’ Now he looked at Alan. ‘But there isn’t as much wild jumping to conclusions as you think. I’ve collected plenty of my own kind of evidence, though so far it wouldn’t be worth tuppence as legal proof. If I haven’t given it all to you two, that’s because I’m waiting to give it to Superintendent Hurst when he comes back.’
‘Do you want us out of the way, then?’ asked Maggie, hoping hard that he didn’t.
‘No, I want you here. I need witnesses. And if Hurst objects – and he easily might – I’ll make a fuss. But I propose to keep your father out of it—’
‘Oh – thank goodness!’
‘That’s what I say, Mag.’ Alan wagged a finger at her. ‘So don’t forget – and then drag him in yourself. Better just keep quiet.’
‘And I think it’s about time you kept quiet,’ she told him indignantly. ‘Ever since you came you’ve behaved as if Dr Salt had gone and lost Daddy and not found him for us. You don’t know half of what’s happened, where Dr Salt has been and what he’s done since you saw him last, and then you stalk in here and say you don’t believe this and you doubt that – as if you were some pompous silly old judge. And that’s all you have done so far.’ And she nearly added something about his precious Jill, but checked herself in time.
She was instantly rewarded. Alan gave her one of his rare sweet smiles. ‘You’re quite right, Mag. I’ve been a bit much. Would you like an apology, Dr Salt?’
‘No, thanks, Alan. Apologies don’t work. By the time people have made ’em, they’re beginning to resent you all over again. Hello – this must be Hurst. Could one of you clear another chair for him?’<
br />
3
Maggie knew at once that Superintendent Hurst was feeling very pleased with himself. As soon as he had been introduced to Alan and given a chair large enough for him, he looked as if he might be about to start purring. ‘Now, Dr Salt, before I tell you what we’ve done, I wish you’d repeat, word for word, what you said about Noreen Wilks when I called earlier. D’you mind?’
‘Not at all. I told you I’m certain now that Noreen Wilks never left Birkden, that she’s dead and that her death was no accident.’
‘Thank you, Doctor. That’s what I thought you said. You’ve been making your inquiries, I suppose, and they’ve brought you to that conclusion – eh? And a very serious conclusion, I think you’d agree – eh?’
‘Of course. And I hope you’d like me to explain how I arrived at it.’
‘Not till you’ve heard the result of our inquiries. Because we haven’t been idle, you know, Dr Salt. You’ll remember I promised on Tuesday morning we’d start making inquiries. These included informing all the police in our area, borough and county, that the girl was missing. Now – do you happen to know Comdon Bridge?’
‘I know roughly where it is, that’s all.’
‘Quite so. Between here and Birmingham – and nearer Birmingham. Oldish town but all industrial – dozens of small metal works. By the way, do you want Miss Culworth and her brother to hear all this?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind, Superintendent. They’re related to Noreen Wilks.’
‘Oh – well – they’ll be glad to hear what I have to say.’ He twinkled round at Maggie and Alan. ‘You must have been down in the dumps listening to what Dr Salt had to tell you. And I did warn him against trying any amateur detective work. He probably reads too many of these detective storybooks. Eh – Dr Salt?’
‘I read very few.’ Dr Salt looked at him steadily. ‘But what’s happened at Comdon Bridge – to make you feel so delighted with yourself?’
‘Well,’ Hurst began, pulling out and opening a notebook. ‘It’s where Noreen Wilks went on the morning of September 13th. She stayed there a couple of weeks and then left for London. And it’s just about what I told you she’d do, when we were talking on Tuesday morning. Another of these little fly-by-nights, I said to you. Remember?’
‘Certainly. And I said you were wrong. I still think you’re wrong.’
‘And I don’t think, I know you’re wrong, Doctor. She did leave Birkden and she isn’t dead. And we’re not guessing. We have evidence.’ He looked at his notebook. ‘She stayed about ten days with a Mrs Duffy at 86 Gladstone Street, Comdon Bridge. And then she went to London. Mrs Duffy says so. Her daughter, Rose, says so. And her brother, Michael Corrigan, says so. And I’ve had all this, over the phone, from a Sergeant Driver, who’s interviewed all three of ’em. So there you are, Dr Salt.’
Maggie noticed Alan giving her an I-told-you-so look, making her feel almost sorry that the wretched Noreen Wilks, though now apparently her stepsister, was still alive. But though Dr Salt ought to have been feeling crushed – and the superintendent’s manner was meant to be crushing – quite clearly he wasn’t.
‘I’m sorry, Superintendent, but I don’t believe it—’
‘Calling me a liar?’
‘No, of course not. Neither you nor the Comdon Bridge sergeant. It’s those three in Gladstone Street I don’t believe. How did they come to volunteer this information? The Comdon Bridge police can’t have been advertising Noreen’s disappearance. They can’t have been calling at every house asking about her. So – what happened?’
‘That’s a fair enough doubt, coming from a member of the public, Doctor. But, you see, as soon as we’ve put out an inquiry of this sort – especially if it concerns a young girl – it soon gets around. You don’t need any advertising or house-to-house calls. The men on their beats say something, perhaps ask a question or two, and then all the nosey parkers and gossips know about it. I’ve known it happen dozens of times. So don’t think there’s anything suspicious about this lot coming up with their information.’
‘Well, I’ll believe them after I’ve talked to them – and not before.’
‘My word – but you’re obstinate, Dr Salt. If you think she’s dead, nobody can tell you she’s alive—’
‘Something in that,’ Alan murmured.
Dr Salt ignored him. ‘Now look, Superintendent. I’ve not set myself up as an investigator, and I’m not enjoying this Noreen Wilks business. I want to end it and go away.’ He waited for a moment but still looked at Hurst, large and complacent, half smiling. ‘Do me a favour, Superintendent. No – two favours. For your own sake as well as mine. I want to talk to those people now – as soon as I can – so will you please ring up Comdon Bridge, see if this Sergeant Driver is still on duty, and ask him to take me to call on those three? Next – I don’t know what you’re doing tonight—’
‘One doubtful case of receiving – and a breaking-and-entering. Why?’
‘Because when I come back from Comdon Bridge, I’d like to ring you and ask you to come round here for a talk. But of course I’ll only do that if I’m sure those people have been lying. Because that will mean I’ve something very serious to say to you. But if they’ve been telling the truth – and Noreen Wilks really was there – I’ll let you know at once, over the phone, that I’ve been wrong all the time. If I haven’t been, then you come here as soon as you can – and listen to me. Two favours, please.’
Hurst hesitated a moment, then nodded and lumbered across to the telephone. ‘Comdon Bridge? Superintendent Hurst here, Birkden Police. Is Sergeant Driver there?’ There was a wait. ‘Sergeant Driver? There’s a Dr Salt here. That Noreen Wilks was his patient, so he wants to ask your three witnesses a few questions about her. I’d be obliged if you’d take him to see them. Good! He’ll be with you as soon as he can. Take him – what? – about forty minutes? Right you are, then.’ He left the telephone to move towards the door, but he turned before he opened it. ‘I think you’re wasting your time, Dr Salt. But I’ll be hearing from you later. ’Night – all!’
Alan was on his feet by the time the superintendent had left. ‘Jill insisted on giving me dinner tonight,’ he began.
‘Oh – cooking for you already, is she?’ said Maggie. ‘That usually comes a bit later, but of course you two are exceptionally fast workers—’
‘Shut up, Mag.’ He looked at Dr Salt. ‘If my father’s asleep, there’s no point in my disturbing him. He’s all right, isn’t he? You’re not worried about him?’
‘Not now – no. He can probably go home tomorrow. But he’ll have to take care of himself. Off you go, Alan.’
‘Well, I may be looking in later—’
‘Won’t you be too busy?’ Maggie inquired with mock sweetness.
‘Drop it – for God’s sake! I’m off, then.’ But he hesitated, ignoring Maggie now. ‘Doesn’t it look as if all this fuss about Noreen Wilks—’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Dr Salt cut in sharply. ‘Not yet. I’ll tell you later, if and when you come back.’ After Alan had mumbled something on his way out, Dr Salt went closer to Maggie, who wondered what he was going to do. But he merely put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Maggie, I want you to come with me. I need a witness. I’m afraid it means no dinner for a long time—’
‘I don’t care about that,’ Maggie told him rather breathlessly. ‘But what about my father?’
‘We’ll make sure he’s asleep. And he’ll be all right. After all, he’s a grown man. Too old to need a baby-sitter. Too young to want a night nurse.’
‘Very witty, Dr Salt. But suppose that man Russ and his horrible chums came back?’
‘Even if they did, they’re not interested in your father. And this time I’ll lock the door. And anyhow, they won’t come back. You go and take a peep at your father while I telephone our friend Buzzy.’
Maggie found that Dr Salt had already drawn the curtains in the room where her father was sleeping, and had switched on a heavily shaded standard lamp, well awa
y from the bed. He must have done this, she realized, when the room was still in broad daylight, so that her father ran less risk of being disturbed. She crept to the bedside and stayed there several minutes, staring down at her father, who was sleeping peacefully. After telling herself that already he was looking much better, though in fact she could not see him very clearly, she began to wonder about him and that little secret life he had had, but more in compassion than in curiosity, and in the end she began to feel sad about him, about herself, about everybody. Was the best part of us – without doing anything wrong – for ever sentenced to solitary confinement? She longed to talk about this to Dr Salt, but could see little chance of doing so; he hated talking when he was driving, and, anyhow, he would be working away at this Noreen Wilks puzzle. But even if he were making a fool of himself about Noreen Wilks, being too clever and elaborate while the police were simply being sensible and realistic, he had found her father, and her father had immediately trusted him.
When she rejoined Dr Salt, he had just finished telephoning. ‘Buzzy says that his boys have just seen off Russ. This sounds more sinister than it is. They haven’t done anything to him – except to describe what they would do if he refused to go. We shan’t see Russ again. Buzzy says he was being paid, to frighten me out of Birkden, by Aricson. Buzzy also sends his respects to you. I believe he thinks you’re living here.’
‘And did you tell him I wasn’t?’
‘There wasn’t time. I let it ride. Let’s go, Maggie.’
4
‘No talk, I suppose?’ said Maggie when they were in the car.
‘Not much, if you don’t mind, Maggie,’ he told her. ‘I want to get to Comdon Bridge as soon as I can, and there may still be a lot of heavy traffic on the road. Why – something on your mind?’
‘Just a kind of large, vague sadness hanging over me.’
‘Your father’s secret – his loneliness – your loneliness – all our lonelinesses – the human condition – um? Fair enough, but don’t bother with it, not now. Ask yourself if I’m such a chump as Superintendent Hurst and your brother are telling themselves I am. But don’t give me the answer. No more talk, I’m afraid.’
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