‘Ah! Poor girl. That explains why she didn’t turn up.’ He seemed relieved to have the explanation, as though it’d been worrying him. ‘Whatever game she was playing, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She sounded so young. Well, I suppose she would have to be, to claim Olivia as her mother. But all the same, it’s saddening.’ He looked searchingly from Amelia’s face to mine, then back again. ‘We get so many drownings in the holiday season. It’s not to be wondered at, Midlanders not used to the water. A girl from Birmingham might easily venture where it isn’t safe.’
‘She might,’ I agreed. ‘She could very well have done that.’
I paid the bill, and we walked back to the bridge to pick up his car. I thought that he’d completely forgotten our original reason for being in Norfolk, but I didn’t prompt him. He actually had his key in the door lock before it came to his mind. Though it might have been carefully timed. He turned.
‘But Richard, you said over the phone that this related to our break-in. And all we’ve spoken about is this unpleasant episode...’ He left it hanging.
‘It seems they could be linked,’ I told him gravely.
‘Linked? Surely not. In what way?’
‘By the robbery itself.’ My choice of words was careful. The word ‘robbery’ suggests something taken.
He didn’t miss it. ‘But nothing relative to what I’ve been saying was stolen.’
‘Can you be so sure of that?’
‘Since you came, I’ve checked again. I’m certain there’s nothing missing, other than those two Meissen figurines I mentioned. If you have any news of those...’
I smiled at him, trying to be enigmatic. ‘If there’s really nothing else, then that could be the important point. Probably even vital.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ He was uneasy, his bafflement overdone.
‘I’m not sure myself. When I know, I’ll be in touch.’
This, as I’d intended, he took as a dismissal. For having given so much, he’d obtained very little. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove away with a casual wave.
We walked over the bridge to where we’d left the Granada. We belted ourselves in, but I did not at once start the engine. At last Amelia broke the silence.
‘Did you believe him, Richard?’
‘Not entirely, though I’m not certain in what respect. We know from Larry that Nancy made an appointment, but I got the impression she thought she was going to meet her mother.’
‘That could well be true,’ she put in. ‘It’s just that p. p. isn’t always understood. It’s short for per pro, and it’s then often confused. It can mean “By the agency of” or “on behalf of”. You can read it either way.’
‘There you are, then. She could have thought she was going to meet Olivia.’ I would, too, I thought. Oh, the advantages of a decent education! ‘Whether Nancy turned up or not is another matter entirely. Philip’s a clever man. What he does in the background of Olivia’s work must require extensive knowledge, a financial ability, and I’d guess at quite extraordinary patience and tact. He would shield Olivia from the normal trials of life. Their livelihood depends on her. His livelihood. He knows that. He would lie for Olivia as smoothly as he’d lie for himself.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Total commitment to her. Devotion, even. Did I tell you, he rather fancied me, all those years ago?’
‘You did tell me.’
‘Well...there’s no hint of that now...and a woman can tell. I’m just not there, with Olivia in his life. I wonder,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘whether she knows what she’s got. Or maybe she’s too involved with her spurious love.’
It surprised me that she’d allow herself even a suggestion of criticism of her friend, but it’d been there. ‘D’you think he’d kill for her?’ I asked quietly.
She turned to face me. I couldn’t understand the look in her eyes. Were they close to tears for the long-lost love, or for the dead Nancy, who could well have been threatening his present one?
‘You’re painting him as a villain, Richard.’
‘He was evasive. I got the impression his story was prepared. But if he was evading the truth, it could be nothing more serious than the fact that he did meet her, and isn’t proud of what happened then.’
Her face was pinched, her eyes dark. ‘You’ve got something in mind, I take it?’
‘Suppose he met her, and dismissed her so curtly and coldly that he shocked her. Suppose he does read the local papers, and has been afraid that he’s the cause of her suicide. That would explain his attitude.’
‘You don’t think it’s suicide, though!’
‘As you said, it would be self-destruction. No. I don’t think that, my dear. But he might. And he was certain he’d caused it.’
‘Yes.’ She thought about that. ‘But somehow, even if he was, I don’t think Philip would blame himself. No. He’d simply be glad it was over and done with.’ She nodded, her lips a very thin line.
‘Do you think he’d kill for his Olivia?’ I repeated gently.
She surprised me. ‘He could do it efficiently and unemotionally.’
‘And lie for her?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. You’ve been saying...’
‘Suggesting. Now let’s consider Olivia. If she had killed Nancy, would he lie for her?’
‘Most certainly. He’d believe implicitly in his own lies. What particular lie had you in mind?’
I shook my head, wondering how to put it. ‘He’s saying he knows nothing about what was stolen. One of them must know. If he’s not lying about that, then he’s as good as accusing Olivia.’
‘Are you suggesting we ought to see her next?’ she asked flatly.
‘Would you fancy that? Anyway, she’s in Norwich.’
Her lips twitched. ‘If that wasn’t one of his lies.’
‘We could test that out by driving to the house right now.’
‘No,’ she said sharply.
I looked out of the side window. There it was again. Any mention of the possible involvement of Olivia, and Amelia became cool and unresponsive. Her support for her must have rested on a nostalgic memory of the Oxford days, as I’d seen nothing in Olivia, so far, to justify any strong support.
‘I’d rather tackle Mark first,’ I admitted.
‘All right. Mark it is. But I warn you, I’m not going to stand for any fisticuffs.’
I laughed, reaching forward for the starter switch. She’d been reading Christobel Barnes on the sly.
11
We had to cross the bridge in order to reach the road to the Ruston’s yard. I took it slowly, my eyes on the old dear who was leaning over the downriver parapet and staring at the water, and who seemed as though she might step back under my wheels. She turned. The bulky imitation fur coat, the baggy combat khakis, the yachting cap, all these had misled me. It was Inspector Melanie Poole.
I stopped. Amelia wound down her window. Melanie bent, and spoke past her. ‘You can’t stop here.’
‘I didn’t wish to. You on duty, Inspector?’
‘No. I was waiting for a word with you.’
‘Get in the back, then,’ I offered, and Amelia reached behind her for the locking button.
‘The slot he drove out of is still free. Why don’t you use that and walk back?’
It was a polite invitation, but she’d made it clear that I had no alternative. She had seen us talking to Philip. There was now no need for her even to enquire his name; she would’ve recorded his car’s registration number in her copious brain. She was almost telling me she had had us under observation. Not on duty! Didn’t she ever relax?
We nipped into the slot under the nose of a Ford Fiesta driver, who remonstrated with his horn. I was not in a mood to respond. We got out and we walked back.
She was still staring at the river, her forearms resting on the parapet. We were granted no more than a glance as we lined ourselves up each side of her.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing. �
��That piece of branch. I threw that in...’ She glanced at her watch. ‘...a full half hour ago, and it’s moved no more than ten yards.’
A half hour ago, I thought. If that were true, she had not followed us to Potter Heigham. ‘And so?’
‘The fall of the river,’ she went on, ‘is no more than four inches to the mile. Did you know that, Mr Patton?’
‘I didn’t know that. What’re you trying to work out?’ As though I didn’t understand.
‘I’m conducting an experiment. My conclusions are that Nancy’s body could not have found its way from here to where it eventually fetched up in the time involved. Any thoughts on that?’
‘It’s not a likely place for a drowning — for one that went unnoticed, anyway.’
‘Hmm!’ She thrust up the peak of her yachting cap. ‘There’s a boatyard further down. Just along a spur leading to Womack Water. What did you make of it?’
So she’d observed us going there. The woman was every-where. ‘An ideal place for a drowning. I can’t advise you on the current flow along there, I’m afraid.’
‘I don’t expect too much from you, Mr Patton.’ In that tone of voice it meant she expected nothing.
I had to remind myself that she had no official inquiry to pursue, no official manpower she could deploy. She had an accidental death, and a possible burglary, which had not been reported. She had no right to expect anything from me, except a courtesy exchange of ideas, in response to having put me in touch with Harvey Cole. But now, shortly, she would have Philip and Olivia’s address — could have it even now if she’d used her car radio. Would she dare to intrude there? I felt reasonably confident that she would not. Then what could she expect from me? I didn’t offer anything.
‘Where’s Tony?’ I asked.
She shrugged and grimaced. ‘Sulking in the car. I had to be rather severe with him. Was he always like this — these ridiculous scruples?’
From her other side, Amelia touched her arm to attract attention. ‘You shouldn’t underrate him, Melanie. Tony means what he says, so he’s careful how far he commits himself.’
‘Hmff!’ She was scornful. ‘If anything, I’ve overrated him. I’m talking about scruples. He refused to go along with me.’
‘This would be when you followed us?’ I asked.
‘Followed? Indeed I did not. It’s open ground. You can see, if you lift your eyes. With a good pair of binoculars it’s possible to see the junction with Womack Water. I watched you from here.’
‘If we’d known, we would have waved,’ I told her, aware that Tony would consider this to be spying, when a friend was involved. ‘And where are these binoculars now?’
‘Tony has them in the car.’ She said this while looking away.
Quietly.
I tried to keep any smile out of my voice. ‘He took them from you?’
She turned on me quickly, just in time to catch the grin I’d been unable to control. It annoyed her.
‘He did it sneakily. Took them out of my hands. He said he wanted a look. Then he walked away with them.’
‘So he’s not really sulking.’
‘What?’
‘Smiling, perhaps.’
I was trying to smooth this over, but my flippant tone did nothing to help. There was a dangerous light in her eye.
‘For your information,’ I went on, ‘our walk along the river was quite innocent. We found the yacht basin by chance. We came back. All we were doing was filling in time before lunching with a friend. He showed us the church. Fascinating.’
‘I’m sure it was.’
‘We didn’t get to see the font.’
She raised her chin. I was still being facetious. ‘You lied to me, Mr Patton. I don’t fancy that, not after the help I’ve given you. And you made me a promise.’
‘To do what?’
‘To show me what you got from Harvey Cole.’ She was now speaking with a definite crispness in her voice. ‘You didn’t do that.’
‘I showed it to you.’
‘But not all of it,’ she snapped.
Had she got this from Tony? Or deduced it, or guessed it?
‘I didn’t promise to show you all.’
‘You’re playing with words. You’re not being sincere with me. I don’t like that. We could co-operate —’
‘On what?’ I demanded, getting a little heated myself. ‘You haven’t got an official case. And nothing I’ve come across indicates one. Tony knows what I’ve got, and he’ll have told you —’
‘Has he? Has he really?’
‘Ask him. Here he is now.’
Sure enough, he was ambling across the bridge, his smile tentative, a pair of binoculars hanging from one shoulder. I was aware that I’d been pressured into that remark, and prayed desperately that I hadn’t landed him in an impossible situation.
‘Have you?’ she demanded, facing him.
He lifted his eyebrows, shrugging at me. I plunged in, trying to rescue something. ‘She means - have you told her what I’ve dug up, so far?’
She darted me an angry glance, then swung back to Tony. ‘Have you?’ she insisted.
He hesitated, I thought in order to control his voice. He was not used to such a peremptory tone from anybody below the rank of Superintendent. His voice, when he’d decided on it, emerged bland and unemotional.
‘Seeing that our talk on this has been on an unofficial basis — a friendly one I thought, Melanie — I’ve told you all I thought you’d need to know. Like a story, to whet your appetite, sort of. You know damn well that if it ceased to be an appetite and became a meal you’d got to swallow — became official, in other words — then it wouldn’t be friendly any more. And I wouldn’t like that. All right?’ He raised his eyebrows again at me. He knows it gives him an appearance of innocence. ‘All right, Richard?’
I thought so. He’d placed his standing in this with great precision. For a moment it seemed she would turn from him and walk away. Then she said: ‘Give me those damned binoculars. There’s a couple walking off along the towpath, and it’ll be dark soon, the young fools.’
Tony handed her the binoculars. He didn’t say that it was perhaps the darkness they were looking for. He looked past her and winked at me. I nodded. All was not lost.
‘We don’t want another drowning,’ I agreed, and we walked away, leaving them to it.
Amelia didn’t say anything until we were well clear. Then she took my arm possessively, as though to make sure that my anger, which she knew had been stronger than I’d revealed, had not spilled over on to her.
‘You were sailing a bit close to the wind, Richard.’
‘I was.’
‘You landed him in trouble once before, you know.’
‘I did. But that was for you, my dear.’
‘But this time there was no excuse.’
‘Tony’s now got all his self-confidence on tap. He can handle it. But she irritated me. She never lets go. Always on duty, twenty-four hours a day. There’re police officers like that, you know. They get just a sniff of something, and can’t leave it alone. Like a dog sitting outside a butcher’s shop.’
She laughed, tugging at my arm. ‘You’ve just described your-self. Exactly.’
‘Was I like that?’
‘You know very well you were.’
‘Then I forgive her.’
‘But will she forgive you?’
I didn’t reply. I was uncomfortably aware of a growing respect for Inspector Poole, and suddenly it mattered whether or not she forgave me.
We got in the car and headed out of the yachting area, north, intending to turn left at the Folgate Inn. I was now, having studied the map so often, becoming more knowledgeable about the district.
A calm, green twilight now lay over the land. The sky was clear and the wind had dropped. The temperature was falling rapidly, and there was a distinct possibility of frosty road surfaces before long. Already, I thought I could just detect a sparkle of our own reflected headlights in the trees,
and as we progressed further inland, where the marshes and fens were open and the trees scarce, the stretches of water lay still and waiting, already feeling the approaching touch of ice.
I wondered whether they would still be working at the boatyard. It was only a little after four, and they’d surely carry on with their artificial light in the sheds. Did it matter to me? I decided it might. I would rather talk to Mark in one of the sheds than with his parents present. There was an uneasy feeling that he would not wish them to hear what I expected he would have to say. Or rather, what I intended he should say. This time I was after the truth, and I was recalling that I’d promised Amelia it would finish that night. Promised myself, too.
I took the road from Hickling as Ruston had advised, negotiated the tricky side roads, and eventually spotted the sign for Ruston and Sons. But I didn’t want the house, and drove past, locating the muddy yard entrance. The tyres crackled crisply on the hardening surface. Well short of the gate, I left the car. If necessary I would back all the way out. I cut the lights and opened the door.
‘Are you going to wait here?’ Which would be thoroughly miserable for her.
‘I’m staying with you,’ she said firmly.
The gates were nearly closed, but had sagged so much on their weary posts that they wouldn’t shut entirely. There was a gap of two feet. I stood and listened. The water to our left seemed to sigh and rustle with movement. I wondered whether the wildfowl had to keep moving in order to maintain an ice-free surface, then decided they probably came ashore. Or did they migrate south, looking for food? Nancy would have known.
I became aware of the faint sound of pop music. It seemed to come from one of the sheds further along. We approached it, until we could see the bar of light around the edges of the wicket door.
We went inside. The door creaked. Larry Carter didn’t hear it. He had his portable radio on the deck of a motor cruiser, which looked to me to be worth a few thousand. It had a wooden hull, and whatever had happened to it had required the replacement of wooden staves, and eventually a few coats of marine paint. This was what Larry was doing. Painting. He was doing it with a brush and a fine and tender regard for detail, producing a beautiful surface that was destined for heedless scratching and bumping in the summer.
Death of an Innocent (Richard and Amelia Patton) Page 14
