‘I can see that,’ said the Chief Constable, ‘but why didn’t she just tell Alice the truth?’
‘Why indeed, sir. I suppose one must assume that for whatever reason she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Perhaps she couldn’t face hurting her daughter, or would have been embarrassed in front of her, or perhaps she was afraid of her husband finding out about her sexual shenanigans over the years. He’s unlikely to be playing the same game – he’s no Adonis – and would probably be impossibly jealous if he knew, even if it is permitted by their religion. She might also have hoped that when Joe left Eden the thing would fizzle out, as young love tends to do, and that one of them would find someone else. I reasoned that upon discovering they were engaged she’d have realised she had to do something before it was too late, and if it wasn’t she who murdered Joe, might she not have turned in desperation to her protector George Bugler? She had more or less shown she wasn’t the killer anyway by only pretending to run away; for if she really had been the guilty party and looked likely to be discovered she’d probably have put as much distance between us as she could. To my mind, Bugler was our last best bet. It seemed likely that Joe had trusted him as a fellow outsider, though we only had his word for that, and it occurred to me that he could simply have led him through Home Wood at the break of day, thus obviating the need for someone to carry him to the clifftop. I couldn’t imagine on what pretext but it wasn’t out of the question. I also had to ask myself who Mary was trying to distract us from. There were not that many possibilities.
‘The only other piece of supporting evidence was that the night before he died, Joe had slipped onto Alice’s finger an engagement ring, putting its case in his pocket for safekeeping. We found it in Bugler’s hut. Bugler had kicked it out of sight to hide it and then used the search for it to lure Joe Dutton to his death. It wasn’t much but it would certainly have pushed him into a corner. We’d have got him in the end, I think, but in the event he did the job for us.’
‘And Mary Stickland and this Preece-Wilkerson fellow are still at large?’ said the Chief Constable.
‘Yes they are. It seems to have been a spur of the moment thing. We found the car with my sergeants’ coats and wallets still in it, but Nash’s money had gone. We’ll get them soon enough and then they’ll have some questions to answer, especially Sister Mary, who may well find herself charged as an accessory to murder.’
*
‘Darling,’ said Connie, ‘I’ve had a thought, about this Clarice woman.’
‘Oh? What is that?’ said Felix, looking up from his newspaper.
‘Well, if she was an advocate of free love, who is to say that Joe was Harry Dutton’s son? He could have been anybody’s. Sauce for the gander and all that. In which case he wouldn’t have been Alice’s half brother at all, would he?’
Felix sat in contemplation for a while, sighed deeply and shook his head. ‘I’m too innocent for this job,’ he said. ‘For goodness’ sake don’t tell Teddy or we’ll never hear the last of it.’
She came and sat beside him. ‘Darling.’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘I quite like the idea actually, of free love.’
‘What!’
‘Well, yes.’ She glanced towards the bedroom. ‘It’s just that I happen to find myself free at the moment. Of course, if you’re tired . . .’
THE END
Death of a Serpent (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 8) Page 12
