She, Malcolm and Brian set off for Otterswell soon after breakfast, while I went round the house, doing the usual things like stacking the dishwasher, making beds, running the vacuum cleaner over the sitting room carpet and wandering round doing a little half-hearted dusting. The dogs followed me closely wherever I went, which was not entirely a help. There were some tulips in a bowl in the sitting room which it seemed to me were looking a little tired and I threw them out into the dustbin and went into the garden to pick some more, and it was while I was in the garden that the telephone rang.
I hurried indoors and picked it up.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Frances?’ said the voice of Jane Kerwood, which I recognized without her having to tell me who was speaking. ‘Am I right that Avril's staying with you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We couldn't leave her to sleep by herself in that house next door. But how did you know?’
‘I guessed it more or less when Hugh rang up about the rehearsal being cancelled and told me why. He needn't have done it, because I shouldn't have been at the rehearsal anyway, but I think he wanted to talk. And he said that Avril was with you at the time. Frances, what is she going to do? I mean, is she going to go on staying with you, or go back to that house, or what?’
‘We haven't got around to discussing it,’ I said. ‘She's in a state of shock, I think. I doubt if one could get her to think reasonably about it.’
‘But she can't stay with you indefinitely, can she?’
‘She's welcome to stay as long as she needs to.’
‘Of course. I know you mean that. But I've had an idea. It's just that I've been thinking for some time of taking a lodger. This bungalow is really too big for me, and I've been mulling over the possibility of letting a couple of rooms. Would it help now, do you think, if I were to offer them to her. By the way, is she there with you?’
‘No, she's gone to the police station in Otterswell with Malcolm and Brian.’
‘Well, would it be a good thing to offer the room to her? She'd be quite independent there, with her own key and all, and she could stay as long as she liked without the feeling that she was imposing on anybody. She could cook for herself and pay me whatever we agreed on. Is it a good idea?’
‘It sounds to me a splendid idea,’ I said, ‘but you'll have to get hold of her and discuss it with her. I'd sooner not say anything about it myself, because it might give her the feeling that I want to get her out of the house and have persuaded you to make the offer. If you like, when she gets back, I'll tell her you rang and wanted to speak to her, but I'd better leave the rest to you.’
‘Very well; do that. And Frances
‘Yes?’
‘Is it true that you saw the murderer?’
News travels very fast in a village.
‘Who told you that?’ I asked.
‘Hugh again. And he'd got it from one of the policemen, I gathered. But is it true?’
‘I can't possibly tell, Jane,’ I answered. ‘I saw someone, and I thought I recognized him, but I'm not even sure of that now. And later I heard a shot, but it may not have been the shot that killed poor Peter.’
‘Poor Peter?’
‘Yes, well, certainly poor Peter. Aren't you sorry for him?’
‘If someone would do to me what they did to him, I'd be very satisfied.’
‘Ah, because of that broken heart of yours.’
‘Of course.’
‘The trouble is, you know, you don't look like a case of a broken heart.’
‘You think it ought to show?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Well, I must give that some thought. I'm not sure if I want everyone noticing it. You're the only person I've told about it. Poor Peter. Yes, I agree, poor Peter, but not for the reason you meant. He was a very unhappy man, did you know that? He couldn't have the one thing he wanted. Goodbye now. You'll tell Avril to call me, won't you?’
She rang off.
As happened only too often after a talk with Jane, I was left irritatingly puzzled. I felt that she wanted to confide in me, that she was trying to tell me something important, but that she always drew back just before she had actually done so. I wondered about the relationship between her and Peter. Whatever it had been, she seemed to be trying to turn it into a wry kind of joke. Anyway, it could not have soured her feelings for Avril, since she was ready to help her now.
I went into the kitchen and started to peel some potatoes.
But I did not get very far with them because before I was half done there was a ring at the doorbell and it was Hugh. His strong-featured face which was normally grave, was even more melancholy than usual. The lines in it seemed more marked.
Coming in, he said, ‘I met the others in Otterswell and Malcolm told me I'd find you at home. Aren't you going to Otterswell yourself?’
‘Yes, when they get back,’ I answered. ‘Avril was worried about leaving the dogs alone, so I stayed behind for the present. Have you had to sign a statement for the police?’
I took him into the sitting room.
‘Yes, among a dozen or so other people,’ he said. ‘It seemed to me half the village was there. I saw Avril. She appeared to be in a daze. How is she, Frances? Is there anything one can do for her?’
‘Well, she can stay here as long as she likes, and Jane rang up this morning to say she'll let her a room in her bungalow if that would help,’ I said. ‘I think it might. Did the police just get you to sign a statement, or were there a lot more questions you had to answer?’
‘Oh, a lot,’ he said, ‘though mainly it was simply a repetition of what they asked me yesterday. I suppose to see if I'd slip up in some way and tell them a different story. As it was, there was really only one thing of interest I had to tell them and that was that Peter once showed me the gun that apparently killed him. The one they found beside him. It was his all right. I don't know where or when he got it, but he showed it to me some weeks ago. He was rather proud of it. But he didn't say if he'd any ammunition for it.’
I had sat down and gestured to him to do so too, but he remained standing on the hearth-rug.
‘But if the gun was his …’ I began uncertainly.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It could be that it was he who tried to shoot whoever it was who'd come in, and that the person grabbed it and there was a struggle and it was Peter who got killed. But the inspector said there were no signs of a struggle.’
‘It could have happened like that though, couldn't it?’
‘Oh yes, I understood they haven't ruled it out.’
‘But it would change the motive they have to look for. If someone came there, perhaps assuming Peter would be in London with Avril and meaning to steal what he could, then got caught by Peter who threatened him with a gun, we needn't look for someone with any real relationship with Peter. For instance, it could be …’ I paused. I had nearly said it could be Fred Dyer, only I no longer felt at all sure that the man I had seen at the gate had been Fred.
‘I like your theory,’ Hugh said with a grim sort of smile. ‘It lets me off the hook. I had a quite close relationship with Peter, and, as it happens, with Avril too. Some kind neighbour had been telling the police about that.’
‘About you and Avril?’ I said with embarrassment.
‘Yes, the inspector put it to me — was I in love with Avril? He almost stated it as a fact that I was. And so I disguised myself as Dyer and went into the house and somehow got hold of Peter's gun and shot him.’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘I don't think he actually believed it for a minute. He was trying it out to see if he could get me to talk.’
‘And did it?’
‘No, it didn't! But tell me something, Frances. Have you come across a lot of people in the neighbourhood who believe that?’
I could feel my cheeks flushing. I knew that they had turned red, and I could see that Hugh had noticed it.
‘So that's what you really came in for this morning,’ I said. ‘To ask me that.’
I shrank from doing so, but said, ‘I'll try to tell you the truth, Hugh. I've come across a few people in the neighbourhood who, so far as I know, believe it. And I've been inclined to believe it myself, and I've talked about it to Malcolm. That's all.’
‘I see.’
I was not sure what he saw, so I said nothing.
He gave another harsh little laugh. ‘I may as well tell you the truth too, I suppose. You're quite right. If Avril hadn't been married, I'd have done my best to get her to marry me. But that doesn't mean I was ready to murder her husband to get her. I don't even know if she'd have wanted me. I've never tried to talk to her about it. And now I don't know what to do. It can't be the right time to speak of such a thing to her, and yet you never know, it might be consoling for her to know that there's someone who wants her.’
‘Don't you think she knows that already?’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Well, if a mere observer like me stumbled on the truth, don't you think it's probable that she's known it from the first?’
‘Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. All the same, I think it would be a mistake to bring it into the open now.’
‘Oh, if you're thinking what the police would make of it, it would certainly be a mistake.’
‘You don't mean to tell them about it yourself then?’
‘Hugh, what do you take me for?’
‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'll be off home now. Thank you for listening to me. I hope the police don't give you a bad time. You and Mrs Henderson are the only witnesses who have anything significant to tell them. Goodbye, my dear.’
He stooped and gave me a light kiss on my forehead, then went out of the room.
I left him to let himself out of the house, then went back to peeling the potatoes.
When Malcolm, Brian and Avril returned, I set off for Otterswell myself. But before I left, I heard Brian take possession of the telephone and from the odd bits of what he was saying that I overheard, I knew that he was talking to Judy, telling her all that had been happening to him in the place to which he had come for peace and quiet. He was still talking as I left the house, and I reflected that it was going to be a very expensive call.
I thought about Hugh as I drove; thinking it was probable that whatever his intention might be at the moment, he would be pouring his heart out to Avril by the evening. I also thought about the fact that although I had told him the literal truth that I had heard no one actually discussing his feelings for Avril, I had heard hints dropped, had noticed glances and raised eyebrows and the occasional smile which had shown that a number of people had thought as I had about their relationship. In fact, it had been these things that had made me think about the situation myself. What I knew nothing about were Aval's feelings for Hugh. I had been fairly sure that the Loxleys’ marriage was not a happy one, but I had had no reason to believe that Hugh was the cause of it.
In Otterswell I drove to the police station, parked the car, went inside and introduced myself and asked for Detective Inspector Holroyd. I was taken into a small, depressingly bare, virtually unfurnished room and the inspector, together with the sergeant who had been with him the day before, followed me into it almost immediately. Once the inspector was there, the room no longer seemed empty. His bulk seemed to fill the place all by itself. We sat down facing one another across a table and the sergeant squeezed himself into the little space that was left at one end of it, produced papers which I assumed were the statement I would have to sign, and another notebook. The inspector offered me a cigarette and when I refused gave a sigh, as if the increasing number of witnesses and suspects who would not smoke somehow diminished his sense of authority.
‘Well now, Mrs Chance, this needn't take us long,’ he said. ‘But I'd like to go over one or two of the things you told us yesterday. This man, Fred Dyer, whom you saw at the Loxleys’ gate-’
‘I'm not at all sure it was Fred Dyer,’ I interrupted, then had a feeling that I had done exactly what he wanted. ‘Didn't I say that yesterday? The more I think of it, the more I feel it was someone who'd made himself up to look like Fred.’
‘Would you go so far as to say you're sure of that?’
‘Almost,’ I said. ‘His hair was wrong. It was longer than Fred wears his, and it wasn't the right colour — well, I think it wasn't. But still, I can't say I'm absolutely certain. When I passed him in the lane it never occurred to me it was anyone but Fred. I only thought there was something wrong about the way he acted, keeping turned away from me and not chatting at all. That did strike me as unlike him.’
‘You'd say then that Fred Dyer is normally a friendly man,’ the inspector said.
‘No, I don't think I would. I think he's pretty standoffish. But he isn't discourteous. He'd sooner say he thought it was probably going to rain presently, or something like that, than intentionally cut one dead.’ ‘And there were the gloves, of course.’ ‘Yes, the gloves. I'm sure he was wearing them.’ ‘You don't believe it was Dyer you saw, do you?’ We gave each other a long look without saying anything. The fact that he was putting pressure on me to say that it had not been Fred Dyer at the gate made me determined not to commit myself. Yet the trouble was that he was right about my feelings.
‘I'm sorry I can't really help you,’ I said. ‘I liked Peter Loxley, you know. I'd like you to catch his murderer.’
‘Well now, suppose you take a look at this statement that Sergeant Miles has here,’ he said, apparently giving up the attempt to get a really definite answer out of me, ‘and if you're satisfied that it's an accurate version of what you told us yesterday, sign it for us.’ He handed me a couple of sheets of paper.
The statement was admirably accurate and I signed it, then was told that that was all that was wanted of me. I went out to the car and drove home. I tried to think of other things besides the murder, for instance of Hugh being in love with Avril and never telling her so, and of Jane Kerwood's broken heart and who had managed to break it. But these things did not really seem dissociated from the murder. For one thing, I did not know whether or not to believe what either of them had told me, and though each might have a reason for invention that had nothing to do with the murder, but only with private troubles and heartache of their own, it somehow seemed likely that lies were being told at the moment which were somehow connected with the mystery of Peter Loxley's death. I reached home and put the car in the garage, then started up the path to the front door.
But I had taken only a step or two when I saw a very extraordinary thing. Someone was sitting on our doorstep. A woman. A woman whom for a moment I took to be Avril. She had Avril's fair hair drawn back austerely from her oval face, her wide-spaced blue eyes and delicate features. And there was a look of casual grace about the way she sprawled on the doorstep of which Avril might have been capable if it had ever occurred to her to sit there. But she was not Avril, though I knew her face almost as well as Avril's. It was her cousin, Lynne Denison.
CHAPTER 5
She got to her feet as I came up the path. Standing, she looked a little less like Avril. She was not as tall and she was even slimmer and there was something more alive, more expressive about her face.
‘So it was worth waiting,’ she observed as I joined her by the door. ‘I thought someone would turn up sooner or later.’
Her voice was quite different from Avril's. It was richer and warmer.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ I asked.
‘No, only a few minutes,’ she said. ‘I came by taxi from Otterswell, and I let it go before I was sure there was anyone at home. By the way, I'm Avril Loxley's cousin, Lynne Denison.’
I smiled. ‘I knew that. And I'm Frances Chance and I live here. Is there really no one at home?’
‘Well, I've tried ringing and knocking and I've been round to the back to see if I could get in there; in fact, I've tried everything but shouting, but there's been no response.’
; I took my key out of my handbag. ‘Let's go in then, and see if we can find out what's happened to everybody.’
I unlocked the door and pushed it open and led the way inside. Picking up a small suitcase that she had with her, Lynne followed me. I did not know what I expected to find, but I had a frightened sort of feeling that there might be some sort of horror waiting for us. That was what the events of the last twenty-four hours had done to me. I did not fear anything in particular, but the mere emptiness of the house when I was expecting several people to be there gave me a feeling of tingling apprehension.
In fact, the house was empty. Nothing was out of place. The potatoes that I had peeled were still in their bowl in the kitchen sink. The copy of The Times that Brian had been reading when I left for Otterswell was in a fairly crumpled state on the sofa where he had been sitting. There was a slight warmth in the room, as if the electric fire on the hearth had only recently been switched off.
‘Just wait a minute,’ I said to Lynne. ‘I don't know where everyone's got to, but I'll take a look upstairs.’
But there was no one upstairs.
Coming down, I said, ‘No, they've all gone out. I expect Avril had to take the dogs for a walk, and my husband and a friend who's staying with us have also gone for a walk. Of course, it was Avril you came to see. You know — do you? About Peter?’
She was standing in the middle of the sitting room, looking round her, taking in her surroundings. I had a feeling that that was something that she would always do. The scene in which she found herself would always be a matter of importance to her.
‘One could hardly help it if one watched the television news last night,’ she said.
‘Ah yes, of course,’ I said. ‘We didn't watch it.’
‘I expect you had too much else to think about. But I saw it and I thought I'd come down to see if I could help Avril. Things must be terrible for her. Not that there's anything special I can think of that I can do for her, though I might take her back to London with me. I suppose she'll have to stay here till after the inquest, but then perhaps she'd like to come. And I thought she might even come back to Hollywood with me. What do you think?’
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