Bury Him Darkly

by Roger Ormerod

  ‘Oh lord!’ I walked over to stand beside him. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, Oliver. But I must go up to Waterford Farm again. I need to have another word with Flora.’

  ‘What time is it? This late? It can wait.’ He seemed dazed.

  ‘Now don’t you start! Bella’s been arrested. There was something the old dear said, and I can’t tie it down in my mind. I’ve got to get it straight.’

  He sat up, tried to smooth his hair with his hand, and groaned. Impatience, I thought, rather than pain. ‘Then get it straight tomorrow, Phil. It won’t hurt Bella, a night in the nick.’

  How could I explain to them my niggling feeling of urgency? An intuition. They would say it was a woman’s failing, intuition, and I’d be furious. Something that Flora had said…

  ‘If I could borrow Terry —’ I began.

  ‘Borrow him? Not on your life. If he goes, I go too. Take it or leave it.’

  On the face of it, this could be a touch of jealousy, but I was beginning to understand Oliver. If I needed Terry it meant I had something to fear, and Oliver wasn’t going to be left out when any protecting was in the offing. A damned foolish reaction, that was what I thought. But I smiled. Mustn’t upset him.

  ‘I’ll take it. Where’s his trousers, Terry?’

  ‘Terry can manage,’ said Oliver austerely.

  ‘Manage be damned. I’m in a hurry. Take it or leave it.’

  He groaned. But he wouldn’t expect me to object if he offered to dress me. We did it efficiently, Terry and I, helped by the fact that he’d been sleeping in his vest and Y-fronts. ‘There!’ I said. ‘That didn’t hurt, did it?’

  Terry said he could dress himself, thank you very much, and disappeared into the bathroom. I crouched down to tie Oliver’s laces.

  ‘What’ve you got in mind, Phil?’ he asked, solemnly now, committed.

  I told him what had happened in our room. He pursed his lips. ‘And how was Bella taking it?’

  ‘When I left, she was standing at the window. There were no hysterics, which surprised me. Just silence. It was as though all the steam had been let out of her. They’ll get the shouting later.’

  ‘You still think she didn’t do it?’

  ‘It’s just a feeling. I think it matters, Oliver, this trip. I really do.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps you’re right. There was just one thing that worried me. But I hope we’re both wrong. Lord, I hope so.’

  ‘I didn’t think,’ said Terry, marching in and using some of his dry humour, ‘that we need to be too formal, so I haven’t put on a tie.’ He was back to normal, perceptive as ever. ‘What’s been going on? Plotting behind my back, eh?’

  ‘Oliver’ll tell you. Come on. You two can sit in the back. I’ll go and get the car round.’

  But there wasn’t any chance of a quiet and secret chat on the way, because Jay was waiting out in the corridor, pacing up and down, clearly aware that I’d been up to something, otherwise I’d have stayed in my own room.

  ‘You’re going somewhere.’ It was a challenge rather than a question.

  ‘So you haven’t gone along to the station, Jay?’ I asked, walking briskly past him, only to find him matching me pace for pace.

  ‘You heard her. Bella says, and it is so. What’s happening, Phil? Where’re you going? Deserting the ship?’

  I could have stopped him in his tracks. One word to Terry, one to Oliver, and they’d have discouraged him. Seriously. But I didn’t want trouble. I could even feel that I might make use of Jay. If Kemp interfered with what I wanted to do, Jay was the obvious person to deal with him.

  ‘It’s just something I thought we might try,’ I said lightly, not stressing its importance.

  ‘For Bella?’ He was eager.

  We were walking down the stairs into a silent and dim lobby. He was too close, too intimate in his contact.

  ‘Perhaps for Bella,’ I admitted.

  ‘Then I’ll help —’

  ‘No. Really, Jay.’ One had to give it a try, but I knew he was tenacious.

  ‘It’s all right. Anything… I’d do anything. Tell me where, and I’ll dash back to the Clarendon for my auto...’

  ‘If you must come, Jay,’ I told him, ‘there’ll be room in mine.’ It was clearly better to keep him in sight, and prevent him from rushing in and ruining everything.

  This had brought us to the lobby. I had asked Terry and Oliver to wait out in the street, but now I caught Terry’s eye. He tactfully pointed Oliver in the correct direction, held the swing door for him, ushered Jay after him, then followed me quickly into the rear yard.

  ‘We can drop him, Phillie, if you like.’

  ‘No. He could be useful. Let him ride in front with me, you two in the back. All right? We may have to deal with Kemp.’

  ‘I can sort him out.’

  ‘Let Jay do it. If any shotguns are going to be discharged, let Jay stand in the way.’

  ‘I get your point.’

  That was the way we travelled to Kemp’s place. The moon was down, and low cloud obscured the stars. The headlights bit into the crisp, cold air. For some reason my driving was terrible. I seemed not to be able to judge corners, and my braking was jerky. It might have been Jay’s massive presence beside me, his unbroken stream of comment on the unsympathetic treatment of Bella, his frantic pumping of me for details of the British legal procedures, or his worry as to the lengths they might go in interrogation procedures. This was perhaps what he’d wanted from me, and why he’d been waiting in the corridor. But for some reason I had the impression it went deeper than that.

  When the buildings came in sight as slightly blacker shapes against the black night, there was now only one window showing light. Because of the winding nature of the drive, I was quite close before I was able to confirm that it was the wrong one, as far as I was concerned. A light in the big house I did not want. A light in Flora’s, which I’d hoped for, wasn’t there.

  I stopped the car well short of the cottages, switched off the engine and lights, and sat thinking about it for a moment. There was no need to disturb Kemp if we could help it. He had said Flora’s door was left unlocked, so I could most likely manage without him. Better.

  Jay unfastened his door. ‘This it?’

  I said, ‘Don’t slam it. Be as quiet as possible.’ The same applied to the other two, but they didn’t need to be told.

  We advanced, not speaking, towards the dark and silent row of cottages. We were looking at the end of the run, Flora’s end, so it was possible a light could be on at the side and we hadn’t noticed it. But I’d seen it clearly enough the last time I’d called. The last time? Damn it all, it had been this same evening. Now, surrounded by sturdy men, I ought to have felt more confident. But I did not. More nervous, in fact.

  We stood, the men behind me because they could see over my head, beneath Flora’s dark bedroom window, closed firmly against the chill October night. I spoke softly.

  ‘Better not talk too loudly. She’s supposed to be deaf, but it’s selective. I’ll try the door, and if it’s unlocked I can call up and warn her. She’d probably die of a heart attack if I walked into her bedroom.’

  ‘I would, too,’ murmured Terry.

  I was about to kick back at his shin with my heel, but a sound from my left caught me in mid-kick. Night animals? But night animals don’t carry electric torches. This one was suddenly switched on, with its beam directed at our feet.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Inspector Connaught from behind it. ‘Wasn’t that clever of me?’

  He advanced towards us, his step jaunty. At his shoulder, just behind it, there was someone else, moving in unison. For a second the edge of the torchlight glinted on metal, producing a knife-edge of reflection. It served as an introduction, and it was completely in character that it should have been in that order, the barrel of the shotgun first and Tudor Kemp following it. But it was a quiet gun, a gun carried to lend self-assurance to a man I’d have said didn’t
need any. There was nothing aggressive in the way it swung from one hand. It might almost have been that it had become so much a part of the man that he was no longer aware it was there. Like Bella and Roma.

  ‘And why would you be expecting us, Mr Connaught?’ I asked, trying to sound calm and unrattled.

  ‘You, Miss Lowe. Not your support group. Though I suppose… a woman alone...’

  ‘Why expect me?’

  ‘Because I could feel you’d detected a weakness in my argument.’

  ‘Weakness?’ I tried to sound innocent.

  ‘Oh come on, don’t play about. You know I’ve got to justify Bella’s attack on Rowley fifteen years after there was any reason for it. All I’ve got is the background — that march we had on the house — which would have provided convenient cover —’

  ‘But which could not have been Bella’s motive,’ I interrupted briskly.

  ‘Exactly. Not motive, but an opportunity. But it’s inconceivable she’d have waited fifteen years for this sort of opportunity. No. The motive’s elsewhere — something sparked it off. All there is has to be the row she had with her grandmother, which seems to have been a day or so before Rowley disappeared. All I know is that there was a row. I need to know exactly what it was, and in what way it affected Bella.’

  ‘Why not ask Mrs Porter herself?’

  ‘I didn’t get very far with her. Apparently you did better.’ Was he implying he’d been ahead of me in my thinking, and had already asked her that?

  ‘She dislikes you?’ I suggested.

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Perhaps she remembers you as one of her daughter Dulcie’s camp-followers.’

  There was a pause. I hadn’t intended to be offensive, but I couldn’t help being annoyed that he was trying to use me to tie up his case against Bella. He confirmed his uncertainty, answering quietly and persuasively.

  ‘I suppose you could put it like that.’

  ‘Then you could ask Bella herself.’

  ‘Could I? No. I want to be able to put it to her as a known fact, not plead with her, or have to bully it out of her.’

  If he was at all disturbed by our disagreement, it did not deflect his grip on the torch. It continued to illuminate our feet, only minimal light being thrown up to our faces. I expected, at this point, to get a violent objection from Jay, but the darkness around and behind me was not disturbed, not by so much as an indrawn breath. Connaught could not be aware that Jay was with us.

  ‘So we have an interesting situation here, Inspector,’ I said, still lightly, but using his formal title. ‘We wish, both of us, to hear the same thing from Flora Porter, but we expect to put to it exactly the opposite meaning.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘You trying for proof of Bella’s guilt, me looking for evidence of her innocence.’

  ‘If you care to put it that way.’

  ‘I do. So what’s to prevent me from lying to you about what she might tell me?’

  ‘Yourself. Saving Bella with a lie wouldn’t produce the truth, and it’s the truth you’re after.’

  I drew a deep breath. Flattery will soften me to putty. ‘Let me go up and see her. I’ll tell you the truth — and you could always confirm it later, anyway.’

  ‘So I could.’

  Kemp said, his tone indicating concern, ‘I don’t like this. I want it put on record that I strongly protest.’ He was the kind of man who likes things put on record.

  ‘Noted,’ I said. ‘If you’d care to help me, it would ease the situation.’

  He moved forward. I thought he was smiling. ‘She knows my voice. Come along. Let’s get it done with.’

  He moved a couple of yards away from me. I wondered why,

  then a movement of the torch revealed that he’d leaned his

  shotgun against a corner of the wall.

  ‘You won’t be long?’ he asked.

  ‘Hopefully.’

  The door was unlocked, as he’d said it always was. As before, he went inside and called from the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Flora! It’s Tudor. Are you awake?’

  Old people sleep often, but shallowly. But there was no response. Kemp pressed a switch at his shoulder and the light came on at the top of the stairs. He walked up to the small landing, quietly, still not wishing to startle her. I was close at his heels.

  ‘Flora! Somebody to see you.’

  There was a short pause, then lines of light appeared around the edges of the ill-fitting door. ‘Who is it? Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Tudor. That young lady’s come back and wants to see you again.’

  ‘Oh — fuss, fuss, fuss. She’d better come in.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ he said softly. ‘And I hope it turns out to be worth all the trouble.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Behind me his feet rattled down the bare wood staircase as I pushed open the door. I closed it quietly behind me. Her finger was still on the button switch above the bed.

  ‘Flora. It’s me again.’

  She was struggling to position a pillow behind her back. I went across and helped. ‘Can’t a body get her rest?’ she grumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry. But it’s very important.’

  I sat on the foot of her bed. Her feet barely reached half-way down it. She fiddled with her hair, mumbling to herself.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Bella,’ I told her.

  ‘Hmm!’ She nodded. ‘Did you tell her I’ve forgiven her?’

  ‘Yes, I told her that.’ I can lie quite freely when it’s necessary.

  ‘Then why doesn’t she come? Did she send you? Oh, I bet she did. Secretive girl, Bella always was. Why didn’t she come?’

  I didn’t think I could tell her it was because Bella was in the nick. ‘Well… frankly… she seemed to think it was the other way round, her forgiving you. As though you owe her an apology.’

  ‘What for? I ask you, what’ve I got to apologize for? I always did my best for all the girls. Ask Dulcie, she’ll tell you. Always. Advice and help. Even money. Tonia wanted money. Dulcie’s always been difficult, don’t you think? Have you got any children of your own, dear? No? Oh, I am sorry. Mind you, they can be a disappointment. Children can. Girls especially. My Dulcie — now there was a difficult child, if there ever was one. But Bella and Tonia ... it’s the way they’re brought up. I was much more severe with Bella and Tonia. Brought them up strict, I did.’

  ‘Flora,’ I said quietly, ‘Bella and Tonia were Dulcie’s children. Only Dulcie was yours.’

  She stared at me emptily. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said at last. ‘Dulcie was mine. Yes, mine. A lovely girl. Did I tell you? May Queen, she was the May Queen.’

  ‘Yes, you told me.’

  ‘Never a secret kept from me,’ she explained.

  ‘But Bella, she was your granddaughter, Flora. Is. Did she tell you her secrets?’

  ‘Bella? Oh yes. They all did.’ She frowned, pouting.

  ‘And they came to you for advice?’

  ‘Oh yes. Who else was there to go to?’

  ‘And Bella — did she come to tell you when she’d decided to go away?’

  ‘Oh yes. Leaving Rowley, her husband...’

  ‘No, Flora. We’re talking about Bella now.’

  ‘A lovely man, Rowley was.’

  I sighed. ‘Flora… please… can we talk about Bella? Your elder grandchild, Dulcie’s daughter. Didn’t Bella come to you and tell you she wanted to be an actress, go on the stage, but she’d have to go away to do it?’

  She brightened. She’d got it. ‘Oh yes. We had ourselves a lovely natter.’

  ‘Bella told me you had a disagreement.’

  ‘Pff!’ she said. ‘I simply told her the truth, and she wouldn’t have it. Shouted at me. Silly girl.’

  ‘You told her the truth about her father?’

  ‘Yes. If she was going away, how could I know if she’d be back again?’

  ‘In order to be told the truth?’

  She nodded, nodded. At l
ast, she saw, I was understanding.

  It was taking longer than I’d hoped. Half the time we seemed to be talking about different people.

  ‘This truth,’ I suggested, ‘being something that you thought she ought to know? To carry with her —’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she cut in eagerly. ‘To watch out for it. The signs. Don’t tell me you can’t fight against it, even if it’s in your blood. I’ve never believed that. Her father was a dangerous man, deep and tricky. Quiet with it, but it was there. Oh — he was quiet enough. Strong but quiet. But you could see it, in his eyes. Crafty, that’s the word, and cruel. No love in that man, no feeling. Oh, I hated him, I can tell you...’ She fell off to mumbling, there being so many things she could tell me, and they were falling over each other to get out. I held my breath. When it seemed she wasn’t going to continue, I had to prompt her.

  ‘But Flora, you said Rowley was a lovely man. Your own words, those are.’

  But I was losing her. The weak old eyes were closing.

  ‘Flora,’ I whispered. ‘Please.’

  The eyes opened. ‘Yes, I told her all about her father — and she didn’t like to hear it. Oh no.’

  ‘But Flora, you can’t mean Rowley.’

  ‘Rowley? Of course not. Her real father. The one who fathered her.’

  I sighed. It was as I’d guessed. Bella had assumed she’d meant Rowley, which was only natural. So she’d been confused, trying not to hate Rowley. But the mistake wasn’t going to assist Connaught when it came to motive. Nothing was changed there — Bella had thought Flora meant Rowley. But would Connaught have the imagination to accept that in fact it had drawn Bella and Rowley momentarily closer?

  ‘You’ve got the bed too close to that fire, Flora.’

  ‘What? No, it isn’t.’

  ‘I can smell scorching. It’s dangerous.’

  ‘The one who fathered her,’ she whispered, smiling to herself.

  I had to make the mental effort to seize on the lead. ‘And who was that, Flora?’

  ‘That Joey Payne, of course. You are slow.’

  ‘Dulcie told you that?’

  ‘You were talking about Bella. You do mix things up, dear.’ I glanced again at the tiny gas fire that was tucked into a narrow old fireplace, surely not originally intended for such fierce heat. I could still smell something singeing.