‘Naturally, the daughter thought that her mother was being totally unreasonable. But in fact, she was misjudging her. Brenda was against the marriage for quite another reason.
‘As soon as she heard the man’s name – a fairly unusual one – she had realised to her horror that he could be the son she had abandoned long ago and there was a real possibility that brother and sister were planning to marry.’
TWENTY-THREE
With an abrupt, desperate movement Mona turned her head and buried her face in Desmond’s sleeve as if ashamed to look Thanet in the eye any longer. Desmond shot Thanet a furious, resentful glance and put his arm around her.
Thanet took a deep breath and attempting to ignore the pity that was churning his stomach said softly, ‘It would perhaps be more accurate to say, “half-brother”, and it is clear that the young people were entirely the innocent victims of tragic circumstance. Although Brenda had confided the details of that early, disastrous marriage to her husband, she had never told her daughter about it. All that, she had thought, was behind her, best forgotten. Now … Well at first, of course, she couldn’t be sure that her suspicions were justified. So she agreed to meet the young man and when she did knew at once that he was her son. He was the spitting image of his father. That, together with his name … She may have abandoned him, you see, but she’d never forgotten him, and ironically her daughter’s name had even been chosen in a rather subtle way to complement his.’
Desmond and Mona glanced at each other as they worked out what he meant and the name shivered unspoken in the air between them. Desdemona.
‘A few questions about his background convinced Brenda that she was right. Now she was in a real dilemma. If she told her daughter the truth, the girl would never forgive her for not having been frank with her from the beginning. If she didn’t, her daughter would think that she was against the marriage for far more trivial reasons. Either way she ran the risk of losing the only person she really loved. It wasn’t surprising that that night she tried to drown her sorrows in drink, but it was unfortunate that she did so in the company of one of the guests in the hotel, a man by the name of Leo Martindale. He was a confidence trickster who made a habit of preying on lonely middle-aged women and she was his favourite type, the hotel owner who was reasonably well off and might be sweet-talked into parting with some money if he played his cards right.
‘In Brenda’s case he had got as far as hinting at marriage and had managed to worm his way into her bed. On this particular evening, more than a little drunk and desperate to share her problem with someone, she confided in him and asked his advice. He did in fact tell her that he thought it would be best to tell the girl the truth but when it came down to it Brenda couldn’t bring herself to do it. Finally, just when she had screwed up sufficient courage to do so, she found it was too late. Furious at her mother’s opposition to the marriage, the daughter had decided to elope. The young people were both over age and there appeared to be nothing to prevent them marrying. For marriage in a registry office couples do not have to produce birth certificates unless they are under 23 years of age, so in all innocence they went through the ceremony and as far as the mother was concerned, just disappeared. Eventually they found work as a husband-and-wife team here, at Longford Hall.’
For the first time Thanet addressed the Byfleets directly. ‘Ironic, wasn’t it, that you chose this particular hotel, Martindale’s family home. The owner’s name, of course, was different, Hamilton, so you had no reason to connect your new employer with the man your mother hoped to marry, and it must have been a shock when he turned up as Mrs Hamilton’s brother … And even more of a shock when he told you what he had learned from your mother, Mrs Byfleet.’
Mona was staring miserably down at her lap now, twisting the cord of the dressing gown round and round one finger, releasing it, twisting it again. Still she did not speak and, meeting Byfleet’s stony stare, Thanet realised with something like despair that if they chose to remain silent there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. So where did he go from here? He had no stomach for browbeating these people into a confession, they were suffering enough as it was. And, too, there was the possibility that he was wrong and they had had nothing to do with Martindale’s death.
Lineham was watching him, aware no doubt of Thanet’s predicament. The silence in the room stretched out uncomfortably.
He had miscalculated, Thanet realised. He had thought that informing the Byfleets that he knew their unhappy secret would be such a shock to them that they would break down and confess, especially if he could do so in such a way as to convince them that he was sympathetic to their predicament. To this end he had put all his ingenuity into devising a way of breaking the news gently – too gently, perhaps. Compassion may have made his efforts self-defeating. In any case, he had not thought beyond that point.
Well, they had reached it and it had got him nowhere.
If only, he thought desperately, he could remember whatever it was that had been eluding him. It was, he was sure, highly relevant. He could feel the knowledge struggling to surface, lacking that final impetus which would bring him enlightenment. He glanced around the room seeking inspiration but seeing only an Eden that was for the Byfleets perhaps forever lost.
It was pointless to prolong the interview. He was about to rise, had actually put his hand on the arm of his chair preparatory to levering himself up when his gaze fell upon the blue-and-white ceramic bowl of odds and ends and, at last, he spotted it.
Of course! That was what his subconscious had registered, the last time he was here!
Despite the pity he felt for the couple still clinging on to the shreds of their dignity, for the second time that day he experienced the unique explosion of triumph which invariably accompanies such rare flashes of understanding – followed at once by doubt.
What if he were wrong?
He longed to put out his hand and pick the object up, his fingers actually ached with the need to do so, to open it, examine it, verify that it really was what he thought it was.
Lineham was now watching Thanet intently. After years of working together he was attuned to even the slightest shift in Thanet’s mood and he knew that something of significance had just occurred to him.
Thanet glanced at the Byfleets. They too were watching him, still warily but with the beginning of hope that the worst was over. What should he do? Should he risk making a monumental fool of himself?
His heartbeat accelerated as alternative ways of approaching the subject flashed through his mind.
He took a deep calming breath and exhaled slowly. Then he said, ‘The last time I was here I asked if either of you had driven the van the night Mr Martindale died. Now I’d like to ask you again. Did you?’
They did not look at each other but he sensed the unspoken communication which flashed between them before they shook their heads. Thanet waited a moment and then, with a complete change of tone, leaned forward and pointed. ‘Is that yours, Mr Byfleet?’
‘No. It’s my wife’s.’
Mona twisted to look up at him. She frowned. ‘No it’s not, Des. Mine’s back at the hotel, in my office. I was using it this evening and that one’s been there for a couple of days. I thought it was yours.’
Now it was Byfleet’s turn to look puzzled. He leaned forward and reached out to pick the object up, but Thanet put out a hand to prevent him from touching it. Their eyes locked and for a moment there was an unspoken battle of wills between them, Byfleet’s hand hovering uncertainly over the coffee table. Then he capitulated, leaning over and pulling towards him the jacket which was lying across the arm of the settee. He patted one of the pockets, put his hand in and took out a virtually identical small black object. Then he looked back at the one in the bowl. So whose is that? His wife was looking at it too, but Thanet guessed that she at least now knew the answer and that the question in her eyes was, How did it get there?
Now for the moment of truth. Taking a polythene bag from his
pocket Thanet slipped it over his hand and then, with care, picked up what he had first thought was a diary, flipped it open. Relief that he had been proved right mingled with regret as he saw the slip of paper tucked into the flap. Even before he carefully extracted it with a pair of tweezers he knew what would be written on it.
Delia Hamilton’s pocket calculator had turned up.
Briefly he held out the paper for the Byfleets to read the name and address on it. Their bewilderment was now mixed with apprehension. They couldn’t understand why the calculator was important but Thanet’s behaviour showed them that it was.
‘Where did you get this?’ Thanet tossed the question at them both.
They looked at each other. ‘I really have no idea,’ said Mona Byfleet. But Thanet could tell that in her husband’s mind a memory was beginning to stir.
So Byfleet was their man.
Thanet breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness that at least he would not have to charge a pregnant woman with murder. If she were completely innocent and knew nothing of what her husband had done that night this was going to be a terrible shock to her, potentially disastrous as far as the baby was concerned, and it would be better if she were to leave them now. Perhaps he should insist that she do so. But it was still possible that she was an accessory after the fact. Byfleet was not the sort of man to commit a murder and return home with no sign of distress, and given the closeness of their relationship Thanet thought it highly unlikely that Byfleet would have been able to hold back from telling her what had happened. No, she would have to stay for at least a little while longer.
‘Perhaps it would be best if I spell this out. I can see, Mr Byfleet, that you now remember just how Mrs Hamilton’s calculator got here. On the night Mr Martindale died she distinctly remembers using it just before she drove to the station to pick up her son. Later, after hunting for it everywhere – as I’m sure you know, Mrs Byfleet, she realised that she must have dropped it in the van. Mr Talion didn’t notice it when he used the van a little later but you, Mr Byfleet, I’d guess that after you put Mr Martindale in the ditch you quickly checked to see if you’d dropped anything and seeing this familiar object on the floor picked it up and put it in your pocket. I also think that you were so shaken by what had happened and in such a hurry to get back to the stable yard before anyone realised that you’d used the van that you scarcely realised what you were doing and later, when you found two calculators in your pockets, simply thought that you must have picked your wife’s up by mistake. So you put it in the bowl there and she, of course, thought it was yours, and left it there.’
During this brief speech the expression on Mona’s face had gradually changed from puzzlement to horrified realisation. Now she looked up at her husband who was staring down at his lap, chewing the inside of his lip. He shook his head in defeat and after a moment Thanet nodded at Lineham, who came forward and delivered the caution.
Mona Byfleet burst into tears.
Her husband put both arms around her and drew her close to him, smoothing her hair. ‘It’s all right, love. Hush. It’s going to be all right.’
Thanet and Lineham exchanged uncomfortable glances. Thanet longed to get up and walk out, leave the whole miserable situation behind, but duty kept him pinned to his seat. Whatever he did now, sooner or later Mona was going to have to face the consequences of what had happened that night. It wasn’t surprising that she had been looking so ill. Ever since she had learned the appalling truth from Martindale she must have been in a state of turmoil, worried sick about the health of a child born of an incestuous union and terrified of the effect of this new knowledge upon their future. And then, on top of that, to know that her husband had committed a murder … The last few days must have been a torment for her. What would become of her, he wondered – and of the child?
The ragged sobbing was beginning to abate. Byfleet was still trying to soothe her and now he took a handkerchief from his pocket, moved slightly away from her and began to mop the tears gently from her face. Finally she took the handkerchief herself, blew her nose and looked at Thanet. ‘You … You don’t understand. It wasn’t the way you think. It … It was an accident, wasn’t it, Des?’ And she gave her husband such a look of love and faith that Thanet could hardly bear to see it.
‘It was because I was so upset, you see.’ She blew her nose again, wiped her eyes and sat up straighter. ‘He … Mr Martindale … was so foul to me.’
‘When he called you into his room, you mean?’ Thanet attempted to make his tone both matter-of-fact and sympathetic. It was important to try to lower the emotional temperature.
She nodded. ‘It was an awful shock when he turned up at the hotel. I never liked him and he didn’t like me – I think he knew I saw through his smarmy ways.’ She shuddered and made a little moue of distaste. ‘I knew he’d recognised me, of course, in the foyer.’ Her voice was getting stronger now as she regained control. It was clear that she wanted to set the record straight, to state the facts in such a way as to present her husband’s behaviour in as good a light as possible.
‘At first I thought Mum had found out where we were, and had sent him to check up on me. When I left home he seemed to be pretty well dug in there and I’d often wondered if they’d got married. Then when he turned up here and someone told me he was Mrs Hamilton’s brother, I didn’t know what to think … In any case, I wasn’t too surprised when he called me into his room. I was glad of a private word, really. I wanted to find out what the situation was, and if he and Mum weren’t together I wanted to make sure he didn’t tell her where we were …
‘At first it was all right. We just chatted, and I was relieved to find he had been living in France and had lost touch with my mother soon after I left. Then it was just like I told you before, he started asking questions about the hotel and when he got on to things that I didn’t feel I ought to tell him, I said I couldn’t answer any more questions, if he wanted to know he’d have to ask Mrs Hamilton, she was the boss, after all. He just laughed.
‘That’s what you think, Mona. Things are going to change around here from now on. My dear little sister isn’t going to play at God any more.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Simply that I’ve come home to stay. And to claim, somewhat belatedly, my inheritance. So you see, I’m going to be in charge here from now on and I have every right to ask you whatever questions I choose.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I shall still have to talk to Mrs Hamilton first.’
‘Think I’m lying, do you? Well I’m not, as you’ll soon find out, perhaps to your cost.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Simply that I could find your excessive devotion to my sister rather tiresome. And if you should find it impossible to transfer your loyalty to me, it might be necessary for me to look around for another housekeeper. You’re not exactly the ideal candidate anyway, are you?’
‘Because of the baby, you mean? I’ve never let my work suffer because I’m pregnant. Ask Mrs Hamilton.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the baby, not exactly, anyway.’
‘What do you mean, not exactly? What were you talking about, then?’
‘I was thinking more on the lines of bad moral influence.’
‘Bad moral influence?’
‘Yes. My God, you still don’t know, do you?’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘Why your mother was dead against you marrying Byfleet.’
‘And then he … he told me …’ Even now, when it was out in the open, Mona couldn’t bring herself to say it. She was shaking as she relived what must have been the worst moment of her life. ‘It … Oh, it was horrible.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Ah, but it’s true, my dear. Ask your mother. She’ll give you chapter and verse all right. So unless you want the whole world to know the truth about you and your so-called husband, I suggest you remember to toe the line, as far as I’m concerned. Both of you.’
Mona was twisting and tugging at Desmond’s handkerchief and now there was a small tearing sound as the material ripped. Engrossed in her story, she didn’t even notice.
‘I ran away, then. I couldn’t bear to stay there a moment longer, to see that … triumphant look on his face. I came back here and waited for my husband.’ She looked up at Desmond. ‘It seemed such a long time before you got here, but I suppose it wasn’t, really.’ She turned back to Thanet. ‘He could see at once I was in a state and then … when I told him … He was so upset … and angry because Mr Martindale had been so foul to me … And then, when I told him what Mr Martindale had said, about the whole world knowing the truth … Suddenly he just took off …’
‘It was all such a shock,’ Byfleet broke in. ‘I hardly knew what I was doing. I couldn’t keep still, I was walking about, and while my … wife was talking I’d happened to glance out of the window and see Mr Martindale crossing the stable yard, heading towards the drive: I stood there, watching him and listening to what she was saying and, a few minutes later, when she told me what he’d said about telling everyone …’
Dead by Morning Page 22
