When the phone rang, Boulter picked it up. “Oh yes, Miss Elsted, I’ll take it down.” He scribbled. “And the phone number, if you have it.” He jotted that down, too. “Thanks.”
“How far is it, Tim?”
“We’re in luck, guv. Arliss lives at Marlow, less than fifty miles at a guess.” Still holding the phone, the sergeant punched out a sequence of digits, waited, then said, “Sorry, wrong number.” Slamming down the phone, he announced triumphantly, “He’s at home as of this minute, guv.”
“You can’t be certain it was Arliss himself who answered.”
“Want to bet? I was listening for it, and he obliged. The guy said ‘Four, three, one, nine, thith, theven.’”
* * * *
The phone rang again just as they were about to leave ten minutes later. Boulter answered.
“It’s Dr. Meddowes for you, guv. Can’t be a post-mortem result yet, surely?”
Kate held out her hand for the phone. “Good morning, Dr. Meddowes. Does this mean you’ve completed your p.m.?”
“Certainly not. You should know that a post-mortem cannot be hurried.”
She waited while he huffed and puffed a bit. “I’m never happy about giving out my findings piecemeal, Chief Inspector. But there is a matter about which I thought you should be informed at this early stage.”
Kate made an uh-huh sound that was meant to convey interest and gratitude.
“You’ll be getting my full report in due course, but I think this piece of evidence might make a difference to your line of enquiry. So I have decided to put you in the picture without delay, even though my examination of the deceased is not yet complete.”
For crying out loud. Patience, Kate.
“Good of you, Doctor,” she murmured.
He paused dramatically. “This woman, Corinne Saxon, was not raped.”
“What? Or do you just mean that penetration wasn’t achieved?”
“I mean precisely what I said. She was not raped, and I would further hazard a guess that rape was never his intention. The man meant it to appear so, which accounts for the torn clothing and exposure of naked flesh. And you, my dear Chief Inspector, fell straight into his trap. I suppose, to be fair, it is always difficult for a woman to be properly objective about rape. Even,” he added heavily, “when that woman is a senior police officer.”
“I’d be grateful, Dr. Meddowes,” she said between, clenched teeth, “if you’d tell me what led you to this conclusion.”
“My findings will be presented in detail in my report. But to summarize, there is no sign of bruising in the region of the vulva, no blood staining, no trace of seminal fluid. And no foreign pubic hairs. There is no sign whatever of very recent sexual activity. In short, Mrs. Maddox, no man could commit rape, nor attempt rape, without leaving a trail of evidence to that effect. There is a total absence of any such evidence in this case.”
Chapter Five
A few stray wisps of white cloud only highlighted the intense blue of the sky. The September sun, lower now than in full summer, laid a coat of shimmering gilt across the English countryside. But Kate and her sergeant were too preoccupied to appreciate the beauty of it.
They’d had to delay setting out for Marlow in order to brief the squad on the new development. Now, as Kate’s Montego ate up the miles under Boulter’s fast, capable driving, they tried to reassess each of their potential suspects against the discovery that Corinne Saxon had not in fact been raped.
“What I still don’t get, guv, is why the hell it was made to look like rape.”
“Presumably to mislead us into thinking that she was attacked by a total stranger. But we’d already discounted the likelihood of that, hadn’t we?”
“Our chummy, whoever he is, must have felt confident we’d never dream that he might have raped her.”
“Right, Tim. He ... or she.”
The sergeant shot her a startled glance. “You reckon it could have been a woman?”
“That does become a possibility now, doesn’t it? A strong woman could have strangled her.”
“A jealous wife, you think? Mrs. Arliss, rather than Mr.?”
“We’ll need to check out her alibi, certainly. Or it could equally have been the angry wife of an ex-husband,”
Boulter accelerated past a slow-moving truck. “That Elizabeth Kenway is pretty hefty. Pregnant, of course.”
“But only three months.”
* * * *
The Marlow police, with whom Kate and Boulter cleared this intrusion into their territory, gave them directions to the house called Oakleigh, the home of Mr. and Mrs. James Arliss. It was of recent vintage, probably built for its present owners. Like its neighbours it stood well back from the road, and was nicely separated from the next-door houses by spacious gardens. Kate noted a garage wide enough for three large cars.
“They’re not short of a bob or two,” Boulter observed, as they swung in between the white-painted gateposts. “But then they wouldn’t be, if they could afford to stay at a ritzy place like Streatfield Park.”
A man in jeans and a green sweatshirt was clipping a tall box hedge with electric shears. Noticing the car, he switched off and laid the tool down on the grass, then came towards them.
“We’re here to see Mr. Arliss,” said Kate, getting out of the car.
“That ith me. How can I help you?” The standard English voice was close to Eton and Oxford; but not, Kate judged, quite the genuine article. James Arliss was six-foot-one or-two and well built, with good muscle tone for a man of middle years. His hair, still plentiful, was professionally styled and discreetly tinted, with the temples left grey to add distinction.
Kate introduced herself and Boulter. “We’d like a few words with you, sir. Perhaps we could go inside.”
Arliss didn’t move. “What ith thith about, Chief Inspector?”
“It’s in connection with Miss Corinne Saxon, sir, of the Streatfield Park Hotel. You were a friend of hers?”
“A friend of herth? Oh, hardly ...” He broke off, and began again. “I heard about the death of Mith Thackthon on the radio thith morning. A dreadful buthinith. But what makth you think I can help you?” Then he added, as if suddenly aware that they might be overheard in the open air, “You had better come inthide.”
He led the way into the house through a side door. Kate neither heard nor saw anything to suggest that his wife was around. They passed through a spacious hall and finished up in a smallish room clearly used as a study. He gestured them into chairs, but himself remained standing.
“Now, Chief Inthpector, why have you come to thee me?”
“We are interviewing everyone who had any connection with Miss Saxon recently, sir. You qualify, as a one-time guest at the hotel.”
“Oh yeth, I thee.”
“I understand, Mr. Arliss, that you and Miss Saxon were rather interested in one another.”
“Who told you that?” he jerked out.
“It doesn’t matter who told me, sir. Are you denying it?”
“Good heaveth, it didn’t amount to anything.” He made a weak attempt at a smile. “Mith Thackthon was motht agreeable company ... thhe was very friendly toward all the hotel geuthth.”
“Did you ever spend time with Miss Saxon without your wife being present?”
“Now really! I rethenth that.”
“Please answer the chief inspector’s question, sir,” said Boulter.
He pinked around the gills. “Well ... I thuppothe I did. Actually, I do theem to recall a time when we had a couple of drinkth in the bar while Dawn wath upthtairth drething for dinner.”
“Hmm. Why did you telephone Miss Saxon the other day?” Kate asked.
His mouth opened, but quickly closed again.
“Have you nothing to say, Mr. Arliss? You telephoned Streatfield Park asking for Miss Saxon on Wednesday evening, and again on Thursday. Please tell me why you did so.”
“Oh ... that,” he said, with an exaggerated miming of recall.
“I was just phoning to, er ... to athk about making another booking at the hotel.”
“For you and your wife?”
“As a little thurprithe for Dawn.” He paused before adding, “For her birthday … the week after netht.”
“But you wouldn’t speak to anyone but Miss Saxon about it. Why was that?”
“Thhe thaid ... Mith Thakthon thaid that whenever we wanted to book again, to ring her perthonally and thee’d arrange things. Tho we were given a good thuite and tho on.”
Time to chance your arm, Kate. “But Miss Saxon was supposed to be in Paris at the times you phoned, Mr. Arliss. In Paris with you, Mr. Arliss.”
He gaped at her for long moments. “That,” he said at last, his voice strained to near the point of cracking, “ith prepothterouth.”
You’re on a winning streak, Kate. Ride it.
“Are you denying that you made arrangements with Miss Saxon for a trip to Paris? Just the two of you.”
He didn’t answer, looking cornered. Kate continued, “What was the real purpose of those two phone calls to the hotel? Was it because you were anxious to ascertain whether Corinne Saxon’s body had yet been discovered?”
He jumped to his feet, and his bellowed protest reverberated around the small room. “No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong. Good God, what thort of a monthter do you think I am?”
“Please sit down, Mr. Arliss. I just want you to tell me the truth.”
Sinking back into the chair, he shot her an imploring look.
“Can we keep thith ... private, Chief Inthpector? I mean, I wouldn’t want my wife to ... to ...”
“Where is your wife, sir? I shall need to speak to her, also.” Kate raised a hand to stem Arliss’s horrified objection. “It’s not our intention to make trouble for you, and we shan’t reveal any more than is strictly necessary. But that’s the best promise I can give you.”
He nodded wretchedly. “My wife ith away. Vithiting her mother in Tharborough.”
“Give me the address, please, sir,” said Boulter, and wrote it down in his notebook.
“How long has your wife been in Scarborough?” Kate enquired.
“Thhe went there latht Thaturday. Her mother had an operation, and Dawn went up to be with her.”
“When will she be returning?”
“Not for another week at leatht, I imagine.”
If this checked out, it would be one suspect eliminated from the enquiry. Kate said next, “Tell me about your relationship with Miss Saxon, please, sir.”
He gestured with his hands to signify helplessness. “I thuppose it was that girl at the retheption who told you? I knew she might be a problem, but Corinne laughed and thaid thhe’d put the fear of God into her.”
Kate waited, her face expressing nothing beyond a calm determination to get at the truth.
“Corinne wath a very extraordinary kind of woman, Chief Inthpector. Damned attractive, of courthe, but more than that.”
“You and she embarked on a sexual relationship while you and your wife were staying at the hotel? Is that correct, sir?”
“Well ... I thuppose you could thay ...”
“Yes or no, sir?”
“Well, we did, but only the one time.”
“How did this projected trip to Paris come about?”
He looked down at his hands. His fingers were twisting restlessly. “Corinne told me thhe had thome time-off due to her, and we left it that I’d let her know when... when an opportunity occurred. Then when Dawn had to vithit her mother, I thought ...”
“How exactly did you make the arrangements?”
“I, er ... I phoned Corinne. The week before, on the Thurthday. We arranged it then.”
Kate nodded. “Go on.”
“I told her I’d make all the bookingth, and we agreed that we’d each drive to Heathrow theparately. That seemed the betht way. When Corinne didn’t turn up at the coffee thop where we’d arranged to meet, I became concerned.” He paused and made a face. “The truth ith, I was afraid thhe’d thtood me up. After I’d been waiting for over an hour I phoned Threatfield Park, and they told me that Mith Thackthon had gone away for a while. I didn’t know what to make of it. I hung around hoping that Corinne would thtill turn up and we could take a later flight. Finally, I gave up and came back home. The following day I phoned the hotel again from here, in cathe thhe’d returned there by then ... that there’d been thome kind of mitht-up and we’d mithed each other.”
“And what have you been doing since?”
“Well, I’ve thayed at home. I had told my offith that I would be away for a little while, tho it themed bethd not to go in. Anyway, I wanted to be here in cathe Corinne phoned.”
“Where is your office, sir?” asked Boulter.
“In Reading. I’m a partner in a firm of chartered accountanth.” He gave the name and address for the sergeant to note down.
Kate said, “Miss Saxon was killed some time between her leaving the hotel at about two-fifteen on Wednesday, and six o’clock that same day. I must ask you to account for your movements between those times, Mr. Arliss.”
“For God’th thake,” he exploded, “you can’t imagine that I had anything to do with her death.”
“At this stage of our enquiries,” Kate said soothingly, “my aim is to eliminate possibilities. We are asking every man who was in any way connected with Miss Saxon to account for his movements during the relevant times. But I must advise you, sir, that considering the special nature of your relationship with the deceased, your full cooperation in telling us what we need to know would be very much to your advantage.”
Arliss glared at her resentfully for a moment, then nodded his acquiescence. “I left from here at about two-thirty.”
“Was anyone at home when you left?”
“No, my wife ith away. I told you.”
“Perhaps a domestic help? A gardener?”
“No, our cleaning woman only cometh in the morningth, and we don’t have a regular gardener. Dawn and I like to do much of the garden work ourthelveth.”
“Would a neighbour have seen you leave? Anyone?”
“I doubt it. We have a good deal of room between theth houtheth, ath you will have theen, and on a weekday afternoon it ith very quiet.”
“Did you drive directly to Heathrow? Or did you stop anywhere on the way?”
“No, I didn’t. It would have taken me about forty minuth, and then I parked the car and went to the terminal building.”
“Did you check-in your luggage?”
“No, I only had hand luggage.” Before Kate could speak again, he rushed on eagerly, “I thtill have the airline ticketh. I can fetch them now. That will prove to you that I wath there.”
Kate shook her head. “Possession of tickets isn’t proof that you were ever at the airport. You must see that.”
Arliss pressed his lips together in a grimace. “I thuppothe not.”
“What did you do once you reached the terminal building? What precisely?”
“Let me thee ... firth I went to the menth room, then I went directly to the coffee thop where Corinne and I had arranged to meet. After a while, though, I began to grow worried and I walked over to the check-inth to thee if by chance thhe’d not underthtood where I’d arranged to meet her. Then I hurried back to the coffee thop in cathe thhe’d arrived in the meantime.”
“You remained at the coffee shop for how long?”
“About an hour and a half, all told, though often I made a quick reconnoitre of the check-inth, and thwithe I enquired at the information dethk if there wath a methage for me. I waited around until long after our flight had left, hoping … hoping that thhe’d just been delayed by traffic or thomething. We could have taken a later flight.”
“All the time you were at the airport, did you speak to anyone who might rem
ember you? Apart from the information desk.”
“I thuppose the thtaff at the coffee thop might remember me. I wath waiting there a long time, and I bought theveral cupth of coffee.”
Some hope he’d be remembered, considering the number of people they served each day.
“If your story is to be substantiated, Mr. Arliss, you must try to give us something to go on. Think hard, did you get into conversation with anyone we might be able to trace?”
He nodded, looking unhappy. “Ath a matter of fact, while I wath waiting there an acquaintanthe of mine came over to join me. We chatted for a few minuth, then his gate number came up and he left.”
“What time was this?”
“I really can’t thay. His flight wath to Bruthelth”
“This gentleman’s name, please, sir,” said Boulter.
“Pollock … Ian Pollock.” Arliss looked at the sergeant in dismay. Then at Kate. “Do you really have to talk to him about thith?”
“Yes, but it won’t be necessary to tell him what it’s in connection with. Give the sergeant his address, please.”
He did so reluctantly. “That’th hith offith. He’th a lawyer. I’d rather you didn’t go to hith home. Hith wife and mine play bridge together.”
Kate regarded him thoughtfully across the desk. “Mr. Arliss, if you’re telling me the truth and you weren’t involved in Miss Saxon’s death, then someone else was. In view of your special relationship, you must be particularly anxious to assist the police in tracking down her killer.”
“I only with I could help.” He breathed deeply as rage seemed to build up in him. “A wicked thex-maniac like that hath to be caught.”
“We now know that Miss Saxon was not in fact raped,” Kate told him. “Nor was she in any way sexually assaulted. It was made to appear so by the killer after her death.”
Arliss stared at her incredulously. “Why on earth ...”
“To put the police off the scent, presumably. So now we are looking for someone who knew Miss Saxon, and who had some motive for killing her that was quite unconnected with rape.”
“It wathn’t me,” Arliss said earnestly. “For crying out loud, Chief Inthpector, why would I want to kill Corinne?”
Model Murder Page 7
