A Necessary End

by J M Gregson

  She indicated the wide sofa where they should sit and said without consulting them, ‘We’ll have that coffee now, Mrs Waterson, please.’ A woman perfectly secure in her own luxurious home and with nothing to fear from the world outside it. She sat in the chair she had positioned precisely before they came and smoothed her simple but expensive blue woollen dress over her knees. ‘I trust your enquiries are progressing as you would wish, Detective Chief Inspector Peach.’

  ‘We have made some progress, Mrs Burgess. My chief would no doubt say that is a blanket term which covers a multitude of sins.’

  ‘And I suppose he might well be right. But equally, he might be wrong: you might mean what you say quite literally. I didn’t mention the case to Mr Tucker when I saw him over the weekend. I thought he wouldn’t want to be bothered with silly questions from the public.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mrs Burgess. About Chief Superintendent Tucker, I mean. But I’m sure any questions you put would have been well-informed rather than silly. And you’re scarcely just a member of the public. You’re much closer to the centre of this case than that.’

  The verbal fencing had begun from the start, she thought. She should have known from their earlier meeting that this man wouldn’t back off. And she should have known that he wouldn’t be inhibited by her mention of that pompous twit Thomas Bulstrode Tucker, whom Frank had always disliked. She was sorry that she’d ventured that cheap shot now. She poured the coffee when it came, taking particular care over the requirements of the ominous figure of Detective Sergeant Northcott. In her narrow social circle, she had little contact with black men and was absurdly concerned that she should now show no trace of prejudice. The Crown Derby cup and saucer looked ridiculously small in those large, careful hands.

  Peach accepted his coffee eagerly and bit into one of the excellent home-made ginger cookies which accompanied it. Better the sweet snacks of the high gentry than the uncertainties of the police canteen. He nodded his approval and said, ‘We know a lot more about Alfred Norbury than when we last spoke to you.’

  Sharon nodded and sipped her coffee. ‘That’s progress, I suppose.’

  ‘We also know a lot more about the people who were closest to him on the day before he died.’

  ‘I suppose that again must represent progress. I am not experienced in these things, but I imagine that by now you must be very experienced.’ She offered the plate of cookies again and smiled as Peach took another and complimented her upon their quality. He said, ‘It took our expert some time to get into Mr Norbury’s computer. He had some very interesting files there. Including one on you, Mrs Burgess.’

  Sharon didn’t flinch at all. She nodded slowly. She’d been prepared for this; every elegant inch of her emphasized that. ‘Alfred was a waspish man. Talented, but waspish. I don’t imagine that the files he kept on me or anyone else would be notable for their generosity.’

  ‘You’re now claiming a detailed knowledge of his character. You told us on Friday that you didn’t know him well.’

  ‘You didn’t have to know Alfred well to realize that he was waspish. I think I also told you that he was articulate and stimulating. You asked me for my impressions of Norbury and I gave them to you.’ She finished her coffee and set her cup and saucer down deliberately on the tray, as if it was important to her to show them how very steady her hands were.

  Peach watched her and took his time. He held the key cards here and he would make them tell by delivering them with deliberation. People wanted things over quickly, once they realized that you had the advantage. Therefore you could only gain by deliberation. ‘What we found in the computer file Mr Norbury had compiled on you indicates that you have had much closer dealings with him in the past than you revealed to us on Friday.’

  ‘That is correct. My previous dealings with Mr Norbury were a source of embarrassment and considerable pain to me and to others. I chose to keep them private when we spoke on Friday because of that. They had nothing to do with his death.’

  ‘Do you expect me simply to accept that assurance from you?’

  She paused and gave the matter thought. She was an intelligent woman and she was vain enough to want them to see that. ‘No. I’ve never been involved in a murder enquiry before and I wasn’t aware of the rules. My natural inclination was to protect my private life from the public gaze. When you now force me to consider the issue from your point of view, I see that you cannot afford to take anything at face value. I assume that other people involved in your investigation are being examined as pitilessly as I am.’

  Peach gave her a grim smile. ‘I can assure you of that. We are not without pity, but we have to be thorough. Mr Norbury’s file on you goes back a little over twelve years and contains detailed material from that time.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve no idea where he got his information from. Like senior policemen, he didn’t reveal his sources.’

  Peach gave the slightest of nods, acknowledging her terse little joke at his expense with the tiniest movement of his lips. ‘Mr Norbury saw fit to inform you of your husband’s infidelity.’

  ‘He not only informed me. He provided detailed chapter and verse, in case I should doubt him.’

  ‘Mr Burgess’s infidelity was with Enid Frott.’

  ‘Yes. She was Frank’s PA at the time. It’s a cliché of adultery, isn’t it? Boss’s secretary flashing her elegant legs and removing her fancy knickers, whilst the stupid wife at home knows nothing of it and understands even less.’ Her face was ugly with pain and for a moment she was back in the anguish of Norbury’s revelations.

  Peach said, ‘I know this must seem an unwarranted intrusion into your private life and that of a husband who is no longer with us. I can assure you that we are interested in these events only in so far as they may have a bearing on the murder of Alfred Norbury on Monday last.’

  ‘Which they don’t. But I appreciate that you need to be convinced of that.’

  ‘Thank you. I need to have a clear picture of events which took place a decade and more ago. Had you any idea that your husband was conducting a relationship with Ms Frott before Alfred Norbury’s revelations?’

  ‘No. You may think I was very stupid, because Frank was an attractive man, even though he was much older than me. And he was the head of a successful and continually expanding firm, which meant that he had power, the ultimate aphrodisiac. But he wasn’t a serial adulterer, so I wasn’t perpetually on the lookout for infidelity, as some wives are. I suppose that with what you see of life, you would say I was naive. I was quite unprepared for what Norbury revealed to me. It was under the guise of friendship, of course – he was sad that I should have to suffer, but I had the right to know – all of that and similar rubbish.’

  Her bitterness rasped out in these last phrases. Peach waited for a moment to see if she would go further, then said, ‘Exactly how were you made aware of your husband’s affair with Enid Frott?’

  She glanced up into his face, her features hard with interest. ‘That’s what it was, an affair! Frank tried to convince me that it was something much grander, that he was going to leave home and set up house with Enid. I held firm and said that he had obligations to his family and that he would never get away from those. I and his children would remain with him, even as he aged and died in lonely luxury with his new love.’

  She was looking out of the window as she spoke, down the long garden of the house where she had lived and loved and suffered, remembering the man who had excited her passion and was now dead. Peach reminded her of his question. ‘I asked how it was that Norbury chose to make you aware of this problem in your life.’

  She smiled sourly at that anodyne phrase. ‘Have you spoken with Enid Frott about this?’

  ‘We spoke with Ms Frott yesterday, yes. Now I am asking you.’

  ‘She told you the truth, I expect. She’s an honest woman, Enid. And she’s no more a serial adulterer than Frank was. Oh, I’m not saying she’s lived like a nun; I’m sure she’s had her mom
ents. But Frank was the only serious love in her life, as he was in mine. I couldn’t have been as objective as that about her ten years ago! When I was fighting for my husband and for the rest of my life, I thought of her as a Jezebel who was maliciously destroying my marriage, but I can see her point of view ten years on. We’re not so very different from each other, really. They say men go for the same woman again when they stray, don’t they?’ She snapped herself back to the present. ‘Sorry, I’m still not answering your question, am I? What was it again?’

  ‘There are certain indications in the file Alfred Norbury kept about the way he planned to let you know about your husband’s affair. We’d like to hear how that came about from you.’

  ‘It was typical Alfred. He told the wife of the senior sales manager at Burgess Electronics about what was going on in confidence. But he knew that she was a great gossip who would never be able to keep a confidence to herself. She chatted to others and it got back to me within a couple of weeks at the most. Alfred Norbury was all contrite and concerned for me, but he’d known exactly what he was about. He liked to do things in roundabout and indirect ways. It gave him a kick and emphasized how clever he was to all and sundry.’

  ‘And how did Enid Frott react to this?’

  ‘I don’t know that, do I? I imagine she was as furious as I was at Alfred’s actions, but we weren’t in touch at the time! I’m sure she hated my guts almost as much I hated hers. I wouldn’t even have fought with her if the prize had been different. But Frank was worth fighting over.’

  Peach looked at her evenly for seconds on end, trying to decide what, if anything, she was still holding back. Then he said evenly, ‘I never knew your husband, except by reputation. He seems to me to have been a very lucky man, to have a woman like you willing to fight for him.’

  Sharon smiled wryly. ‘And Enid. She had class, Enid. I didn’t think so at the time, but I’ve come to realize that since.’

  ‘I see. The relationship between the two of you is one of the more remarkable things in this strange case.’

  ‘Time heals, they say. And I was the winner in our contest. It’s easier to be magnanimous, when you’re the winner.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it seems to me remarkable that you should be even on speaking terms, let alone initiating a book club together.’

  ‘I suppose it is. Perhaps I’ve given you the wrong impression. We’re not close friends. In fact, we hadn’t seen each other for years until Frank’s funeral a couple of months ago. I rang her up and insisted that she should come to the wake, as she was the only other woman who had been really important in Frank’s life. I think she appreciated that. We chatted at the reception afterwards and she told me about her book club notion. I thought it was a good idea, especially for me, with acres of time to fill as a new widow. I rang her up and prodded her into action. We met here and got things moving.’

  ‘Including the mutual decision to invite along Alfred Norbury. That seems to me the most remarkable thing of all.’

  ‘It was Enid who invited him. But she ran it past me and I approved.’

  ‘And why on earth did you do that?’

  Sharon knew where this was going now. But it was a question which couldn’t be avoided. ‘Female curiosity? I think we were both intrigued to see whether Alfred would come, after what he’d done to both of us in the past. Of course, he always maintained that he hadn’t wished me to find out about Frank and Enid, but all three of us knew exactly what the score was. He turned up as bold as brass, of course: that was Alfred. And he brought his latest project with him. Jamie Norris seems a pleasant young man who’s keen on books and writing, but believe me he’s well rid of Alfred Norbury, whether he realizes it or not.’

  ‘So curiosity was your only reason for including Norbury in the group? You wanted to see whether he would come?’

  ‘It wasn’t just that. I meant everything I said about Alfred being an intelligent and stimulating companion. He was very bright: too bright for his own and other people’s good at times. He was a mischief-maker, but never dull. The ideal person to get things going in a new group where everyone is shy.’

  ‘And that overrode all your reservations about him?’ Peach’s eyebrows arched impossibly high towards the bald pate.

  Sharon responded by raising her own brows coquettishly, the way she had done with Frank forty years ago. ‘What other reason could there possibly be, Detective Chief Inspector Peach?’

  Peach smiled back at her. He was in danger of developing an affection for this oldest and least likely of his suspects. He reminded himself austerely that he might be sitting in the luxurious home of a cold-blooded murderer. ‘Mr Norbury was shot through the head on the day after the first meeting of your book club, Mrs Burgess. Any investigating officer would have to consider the possibility that you or Ms Frott, or perhaps both of you in combination, invited along an old enemy so as to accord yourself opportunities for revenge. And that one of you, or both of you in concert, then took the very first opportunity that was offered, after he furnished you with the information that he always carried a pistol in his car. A pistol, incidentally, which you surprisingly failed to mention before being reminded of it when we spoke on Friday.’

  ‘It’s an intriguing scenario. It unfortunately has no basis in fact.’

  ‘So you both assure me. Policemen are suspicious creatures: they like to have something more tangible than assurances. We are in fact in possession of one very tangible item which our forensic boys have found most interesting. You were kind enough to offer our forensic officers a DNA sample on Thursday.’

  ‘Yes. I was anxious to assist the police in the pursuit of their enquiries.’ She allowed herself a smile as she produced the familiar phrase.

  ‘In common with the other five people who attended your Monday-night book club meeting with Mr Norbury. All model citizens, all willing to help.’ The ironic smile on his very different face mirrored hers exactly. ‘Forensic examination of the car has now revealed a dark blue leather glove beneath the front passenger seat. Our forensic scientists say their tests indicate that this glove was recently worn by you, Mrs Burgess.’

  She was shaken, but determined not to concede. ‘That’s impossible. I haven’t been in that car. Certainly not in the last ten years, anyway.’

  ‘Forensic science is very exact and completely reliable. Courts of law accept its findings without question.’

  ‘I haven’t been in that classic car of Alfred’s. That glove must have got there by some other means. Perhaps Alfred took it for some reason of his own. It’s the sort of mischief which entertained him.’

  ‘It’s difficult to think of a purpose for such a theft. Unless he knew that he was going to be shot, he could scarcely have perpetrated much mischief by the use of your glove.’

  ‘You may be right. But I can’t think of any other way in which that glove could have got there. I certainly haven’t been in that car.’

  ‘Then I can only advise you to give the matter further thought. I am quite sure that it is indeed your glove, if forensic analysis has established that.’

  Sharon looked at him hard for a moment, seemingly checking whether he would yield anything further. Then she said quietly, ‘If I’d shot Alfred, I’d have made pretty sure that I had an alibi.’

  He resisted the thought that this competent woman would probably have done just that. ‘Not always possible, though, is it?’ He stood up, signifying to Northcott and Sharon Burgess that the interview was almost concluded. Then he walked across to the window and looked down on the police Mondeo below it at the top of the house’s long drive. ‘You witnessed our arrival here today?’

  ‘Yes. You arrived exactly when you’d said you would. I think you saw me at the window.’

  ‘We did indeed. Can you recall the make of car we came in?’

  She looked puzzled as she tried to follow his train of thought. ‘No. I probably couldn’t have told you anything beyond the colour, even at the time. I’m pretty hopeless with
cars.’

  ‘Really? That’s rather interesting. When we last spoke, you knew not only the make but the model of the car in which Alfred Norbury was murdered. That was after you’d omitted to mention the pistol you knew he carried there.’

  There were cars parked tightly on the concrete in front of the house, with barely room for a person to pass between them to reach the front entrance. Jane Preston hesitated at the battered green door, looking at the grubby notice beside it which gave the names of the residents in the various bedsits within the terraced house.

  The pause was enough for the door to open silently before her, as if her presence alone had excited some mysterious hidden switch. Jamie Norris smiled anxiously at her from the doorway. ‘You come most carefully upon your hour,’ he said nervously. And then, because she didn’t respond, he added, ‘like the ghost in Hamlet, you see.’

  ‘I think it was the sentry actually,’ Jane said, ‘when he came to relieve his mate on the battlements in the first scene. But it scarcely matters, does it?’ She followed him up the narrow stairs with the threadbare carpet and cursed herself for correcting him. It had got her off on the wrong foot and there had been no real need for it.

  The room when she reached it was better than she had expected it to be. She had prepared herself for filth, and here all was clean. She had prepared herself for disorganization, but here all was tidy. She had prepared herself for obsolete clothes, and here was Jamie Norris in a brand-new yellow shirt and jeans in the latest fashion. She had prepared herself for lust, and here was a man full of courtly politeness. This project might be more difficult than she had anticipated.