Doomed to Die

by Dorothy Simpson

She shrugged. ‘More or less the same.’

  ‘I should like a little more detail, please.’

  ‘Oh God, if you must have chapter and verse …’ She took a deep breath and launched into her story, rattling it off without hesitation and without once glancing at Swain. ‘I left here immediately after my husband. When we got to Melton and he turned into the Broxtons’ drive, I realised that that must be where Perdita was hiding out. I was a bit surprised, she and Vanessa have never been particularly friendly, as I told you, but I couldn’t think of any other reason why Howard should go there. So I drove past and parked at the entrance to a field just beyond the house next door. Then I walked back. When I got there Howard was still standing by the front door, ringing the bell. Eventually he gave up, got back into his car and drove off – past me, actually. I had to duck behind a hedge.’

  Thanet had been beginning to wonder if Swain and Master might actually have passed each other in the lane between the pub in Melton and the Broxtons’ house. The timing was very close. But here was the answer. When Swain left he had gone the other way.

  ‘I was worried in case he’d recognise my car, but he didn’t,’ Victoria Swain was saying. ‘I’d parked well back, of course, and turned off the lights. But by the time I’d got back to it and got it started I realised I’d probably lost him.’ She shrugged. ‘So I came home.’

  ‘And what time did you get back?’

  Another shrug. ‘Twenty, a quarter to ten?’

  ‘Why did it take you half an hour to do a ten-minute journey?’

  ‘Ah. The sleuth moves in for the kill! Sorry to disappoint you, Inspector. I wasted a little time driving around trying to see if I could pick up my husband’s tracks.’ She gave Swain a shamefaced grin. ‘I’d make a rotten detective. And it was the first and last time, I promise.’ She put her hand on his and this time although he did not respond he did not cast it off but let it rest. A spark of hope kindled in her eyes.

  She really does care about him, thought Thanet. And although one would never have guessed it, meeting them as individuals, he is the one with the power and she is the supplicant. The question is, how much does she care, and how far would she go to keep him? As far as eliminating her rival?

  One thing was certain, as he said to Lineham on the way back to the car, Victoria Swain was still high on the list. She had motive and opportunity aplenty.

  FIFTEEN

  When they reached the gate Thanet paused. Of its own volition his hand had found its way into his pocket and come out holding his pipe. He realised how much he was longing to smoke it and Lineham hated him smoking in the car. Besides, a thought had just occurred to him. ‘Let’s walk along the lane a little way, Mike.’

  He took out his pouch, fed tobacco into his pipe and lit it, hunching his shoulder and turning away from the slight breeze in order to shelter the flame.

  Lineham waited patiently. He was used to this ritual.

  ‘I was just thinking …’ Thanet paused to strike another match. ‘The way you described the murder happening … D’you realise that everything we’ve said about Mrs Swain could equally apply to Master? By the time they got back he must have been pretty angry and frustrated. He could have forced his way in when she opened the front door …’

  ‘Or gone around the back, even. No, it’s highly unlikely the back door would have been unlocked.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know …’

  ‘What, when she was out there in the country alone in the house at night with two small children?’

  ‘Not for any length of time, I agree. But say, for instance, that once she had satisfied herself that the children were all right she went straight to the kitchen as you suggested to make herself a hot drink. She puts the milk on to heat, rinses out the bottle, and opens the back door to put it out. This could all have taken the same length of time as it would have taken Master to decide he wasn’t going to let the matter rest and make his way around to the back door. So as she opens it, there he is, waiting …’

  It seemed all wrong to be discussing murder out here in the peace of the countryside. Ahead of them the lane curved to the left, flanked by brown ribbons of dead leaves and hedges glowing with autumn colour. Here and there the bright red hips of the wild rose mingled with clusters of blackberries shrivelled by the frosts.

  His pipe still wasn’t drawing very well and he took it apart, blew through the mouthpiece and put it together again. That was better. ‘For that matter, I suppose we could say exactly the same about his mother. You said yourself that if we were looking for someone who wanted Perdita dead, her mother-in-law certainly qualified.’

  ‘And you said it couldn’t have been her because there was just no reason why she should have gone to see her.’

  Thanet shrugged. ‘Say I was wrong. Say there was a reason, and we just don’t know about it yet? She’s admitted that she knew where Perdita was staying …’

  ‘I can’t imagine how we’re ever going to find out what that reason was, if there is one. She’s not exactly going to hand it to us on a plate, is she?’

  ‘Mmm. That’s a tricky one, I agree. Any bright ideas, Mike?’

  ‘Not a glimmer.’ Lineham grinned. ‘You’ll just have to play it by ear, as –’

  ‘I know – as usual.’ It was true, Thanet thought, he did play it by ear. It was all very well to plan a strategy, to know which points you wanted to cover in an interview, but it was equally important to listen to what was not being said, to try to work out what was going on beneath the surface. Call it intuition, empathy, whatever, it was a vital skill in the policeman’s repertoire and the most difficult one to acquire.

  ‘Fancy having a go yourself, Mike?’

  ‘No thanks. I think I’ll pass, on this one.’

  ‘Oh come on! You like a challenge, you know you do.’

  ‘I just think you’d be much more likely to get somewhere with her than I would. You’re good at worming things out of people.’

  ‘So are you, when you put your mind to it.’

  Lineham said nothing, just compressed his lips and shook his head.

  A battered old Mini came around the bend in the lane ahead much too fast and they both had to jump back almost into the hedge. Lineham scowled after it. ‘Idiot!’

  Thanet decided to stop teasing. He didn’t want to make Lineham feel awkward about refusing. He knew quite well why the sergeant – usually very keen to take an active part in interviewing – was so reluctant to take on Master’s mother: she reminded him too much of his own. ‘It’s OK, Mike. I was having you on. It’s just the sort of problem I like to tackle, you know that.’

  Lineham looked relieved. ‘When are you going to have a go then, sir? She’s round at Mr Master’s house now. I saw her car in the drive as we passed, earlier. It’s still there, I could just see it through the hedge.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’

  Lineham wheeled around and set off back down the lane at a brisk pace, leaning slightly forward like a tracker dog scenting its quarry. With an indulgent smile Thanet followed. Lineham’s eagerness and enthusiasm were two of his most endearing traits.

  When they reached the car Thanet stopped and looked at his watch. ‘I think I’ll just ring in and see if there’s a message from Joan.’

  He and Joan had arranged that, depending on the time at which her mother was discharged from hospital and whether or not she was transported by ambulance, Thanet would try to be at the house when they arrived in case help was needed.

  It was just as well he’d rung. The message was that no ambulance was available and Joan would appreciate it if he could manage a brief visit home between 2 and 2.30. Probably to help get his mother-in-law up the stairs, Thanet thought. He could ask Lineham to give him a hand. He checked the time. Twenty past twelve. Plenty of time.

  Lineham was standing by the gate to Master’s house, waiting, and as Thanet approached he held up his hand. ‘Listen.’

  One of the window
s in the sitting room was open and angry voices floated out across the drive.

  ‘Mr Master and his mother,’ said Lineham. ‘They’re really having a go at each other about something.’

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Mike?’

  Lineham grinned. ‘Be interesting to know what it was about, wouldn’t it?’

  Avoiding the gravelled drive they moved quietly alongside the hedge to the house and then across to the open window.

  ‘… have expected you to understand.’ Mrs Master’s voice.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Ma, why can’t you understand? How can you expect me to be interested in what’s happened to a piece of jewellery when I’ve lost my wife.’

  ‘But it was my mother’s! The loveliest thing she ever owned! I should never have let you talk me into giving it to Perdita. And now … You can’t imagine how it upsets me, to think I might never see it again.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense, Ma. I keep telling you, it can’t just have vanished into thin air. It’ll turn up.’

  ‘How? It’s not here, I’m certain of that, I’ve been through her things half a dozen times to make sure. The police assure me she wasn’t wearing it, and Vanessa Broxton swears it’s not at her house –’

  ‘Will you stop going on about it! I’m sick and tired of hearing about it. I just couldn’t care less, is that clear? I simply don’t want to know!’

  A door slammed and there was silence. Master had obviously stormed out of the room and Thanet didn’t blame him. Mrs Master senior wouldn’t win any prizes for sensitivity, that was certain.

  He raised his eyebrows at Lineham and nodded in the direction of the front door. They both crouched double to pass the open window before straightening up.

  ‘Wonder what it is that’s missing,’ said Thanet.

  ‘She said she’d asked the police …’

  ‘So it would be legitimate for us to be asking for further details.’

  They exchanged smiles. Things were looking up, thought Thanet. If Perdita had been given a piece of family jewellery to which Mrs Master senior was particularly attached, might her mother-in-law not have gone to see her on Monday night to try and get it back? It would be in character. Mrs Master struck him as being very much the sort of person to cling on to things as well as people. If Giles had told her Perdita had left him she might well have thought the piece would be lost to the family for ever if she didn’t make an attempt to retrieve it. Then if Perdita had refused to hand it over … Thanet had anticipated a difficult time trying to winkle out of Mrs Master a possible reason why she might have gone to see Perdita on Monday. Now it looked as though it might have been handed to him on a plate.

  When she opened the door it was obvious that she was still ruffled after the row with her son. Two bright spots of colour burned in her cheeks and her eyes glittered dangerously when she saw who it was.

  ‘What do you want this time? We told you everything we knew yesterday. Can’t you leave us in peace?’

  Today she was wearing a grey, black and white pleated skirt, a crisply tailored white blouse and a black silk scarf with a paisley pattern in grey, white and red. Despite her evident agitation she looked as well groomed as ever, and certainly not a day over forty. How did she do it? Thanet wondered.

  ‘I understand you were enquiring about a piece of jewellery that seems to have gone missing?’

  ‘Ah.’ Her expression changed. ‘I’m sorry, I thought …’ She stepped back. ‘Come in, won’t you?’

  She led them into the blue and cream sitting room. Today, with the sun shining in, the room looked less cold, less forbidding, but it was still Perdita’s painting which drew the eye like a magnet, the pure brilliant colours glowing, seeming almost to pulsate in their neutral setting.

  ‘I know you must all think I’m making a terrible fuss about nothing,’ she said as they sat down. ‘Especially in the circumstances. But it’s the sentimental value as much as its actual worth. It was my mother’s, you see …’

  ‘How much is it worth, exactly?’ Not wishing to betray his ignorance by direct questions Thanet was banking on the fact that sooner or later he would learn what ‘it’ was.

  ‘Around five thousand pounds, as I said when I reported its disappearance. But that’s not the point. As I say, it’s the sentimental value that’s important. It’s well insured and I could easily buy another one, but it just wouldn’t be the engagement ring my father bought for my mother.’

  So it was a ring. Thanet tried to think back. No, Perdita hadn’t been wearing one, he was certain of that. He would have noticed it, especially if it was as spectacular as it sounded.

  ‘Could you describe it for me?’

  Mrs Master looked irritated. ‘I gave a full description when I reported its loss.’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t actually read the report myself. I just … heard about it. So if you could bear with me …’

  ‘It’s a diamond cluster. Six perfectly matched diamonds. A really beautiful ring. I know you may think it terrible of me to be fussing about it at a time like this, but, well, it’s such a desirable object … It could so easily go … well, go astray.’

  ‘Are you questioning the honesty of my men?’ said Thanet calmly.

  ‘Oh no. No, of course not. It’s just that …’

  ‘Because I can assure you that Mrs Master was not wearing the ring when we examined her and that it was not in her room at Mrs Broxton’s house.’

  He glanced at Lineham for confirmation and the sergeant gave an emphatic nod.

  ‘Oh. Yes. I see. Well then, where can it be?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ Nor do I care, his tone implied. ‘She might have left it at her mother’s house. She stayed there overnight on Saturday, I believe.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Mrs Master senior, her narrow features showing the first signs of animation since they arrived. ‘How stupid of me! Why on earth didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘It’s understandable that you were worried about it,’ said Thanet. ‘It’s obviously a valuable piece. Was that why you went to see your daughter-in-law on Monday night?’

  It was the brief euphoria of relief that brought about her unguarded response, Thanet was sure.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. And stopped, trying to hide her dismay. ‘I mean … Well, not on Monday, of course.’

  So she hadn’t given up hope of concealing the truth.

  Thanet raised his eyebrows. ‘When, then?’

  ‘Sunday. It must have been Sunday.’

  ‘Really? When, on Sunday?’

  ‘Sunday evening.’ She was beginning to get the trapped, panicky look of someone who feels that he is inexorably being driven into a corner and knows that he is going to be unable to get out.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Er … somewhere around nine, I suppose.’ She reached across to the soft black leather shoulder bag which lay in the far corner of the settee, took out a wisp of handkerchief and crumpled it in her hand.

  ‘Who told you that she was at Mrs Broxton’s house?’

  ‘Why Giles did – my son. I told you that yesterday.’ Briefly she was defiant again, almost scornful. But almost immediately her expression changed. She became very still and her eyes widened in shock as she realised the trap she had dug for herself.

  Thanet allowed the silence to lengthen, gave her time to realise that there was no way to extricate herself. Then he said softly, ‘Quite. Your son didn’t know where his wife was himself until Monday morning, did he?’ Abruptly his tone changed, his eyes became steely. ‘You must realise that lying to the police during the course of a murder investigation is a serious matter. Apart from holding things up it’s bound to make us wonder what you’re trying to hide … So let’s try again. What time on Monday evening did you go to see your daughter-in-law?’

  She dabbed at her upper lip with the handkerchief. ‘I told you, somewhere around nine.’

  ‘You can’t be more precise?’

  She shrugg
ed. ‘It might have been a bit earlier than that.’

  Thanet had to admire her resilience. Already her confidence was returning. It showed in the raised angle of her chin, the way she straightened her spine. Only the thumb and forefinger plucking at a corner of the handkerchief betrayed her tension.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I rang the bell, but no one came. So I left.’

  ‘Did you hear anything, see anyone?’

  ‘Not see anyone, no.’ She hesitated.

  Was she genuinely trying to remember, Thanet wondered, or was she trying to think of something, anything, that would let her off the hook?

  ‘I remember now. I could hear a child crying – well, screaming, actually. He sounded pretty upset. Yes. That was why I didn’t wait. I thought Perdita would be trying to calm him down and it wasn’t a good time to see her. I decided I’d come back some time during the week.’

  True or not? It was possible, of course. If Henry had been disturbed by the commotion Giles had made ten or fifteen minutes earlier, he could well have worked himself up into a state of hysteria by then. In any case it was obvious that this time she was going to stick to her story and until they had some concrete evidence which disproved it they would have to accept it. He glanced at Lineham and stood up. The sergeant snapped his notebook shut and followed suit.

  ‘Very well, Mrs Master. We’ll leave it there for now. But I hope you’ve realised that there really is no point in lying to us. We always find out in the end … You won’t be going away at all, for the next few days?’

  A flash of alarm. ‘No … But why …?’

  ‘Good.’

  Outside he said, ‘No harm in frightening her a little. Well Mike, what d’you think?’

  ‘If she was telling the truth, it means she was there while Mr Master and his wife were out at the pub.’

  ‘If, yes. But if she knew they’d been out, because her son told her … Say she did in fact go there later, after the Swains had left and before Mrs Broxton arrived home … She would have realised that if ever she did have to confess to being there that night, it would be safest to say that it was during the period her son and his wife were out. Though what she said about the child crying sounded authentic enough.’