Furious Old Women

by Bruce, Leo

  “I thought you saw no one and heard nothing that night?”

  “Nor we didn’t because as soon as this motor-bike rider had thrown his lights down the lane and seen us, I suppose, he was Off as fast as he could go. Never came into the lane at all so that to this day I never knew who it was. I didn’t mind but it quite upset Fred. You might not think it but he’s very shy. Not in what he says but over anything like that. I said to him at the time, ‘What’s it matter?’ I said. I could hardly speak for laughing. But he took it serious. ‘I don’t like anyone to come prying and peeping like that’, he said.”

  “You’re sure it was a motor-bike, not one of these other contrivances on the roads?”

  “Quite sure. You could hear the engine and there was only the one light.”

  “What time did it appear?”

  “It was only just dark. Can’t have been much more than five. Perhaps a quarter past.”

  “I see.”

  “Tell you the truth I’d almost forgotten about it till you brought it up. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been caught when I shouldn’t. Good thing it was old Fred Mugger and no one else.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, everyone knows Fred. Always been the same ever since he was at school. No one takes any notice. But it might have been someone who’d have caused Talk. There’s quite enough of that already.”

  “Someone like Commander Fyfe, for instance?” suggested Carolus.

  The jolly loud laugh of Flo filled the room.

  “What a thing to say!” she said. “I don’t know what put such an idea into your head! ‘Pon my word, you have got a wicked mind! I haven’t seen him for a week, anyway. He never comes in here. Says he can’t leave his wife at night. Oh well, I shall have many a laugh thinking of what you said. I knew there was more than meets the eye about you. I knew that as soon as ever I saw you. Another Milk Stout? Yes, I don’t mind.”

  “You said just now you didn’t like Millicent Griggs. I wonder why.”

  “Because she had a nasty, dirty mind,” said Flo with sudden feeling. “I know it if no else did. There was nothing she liked better than getting me to herself and asking questions.”

  “What sort of questions?”

  “Nasty. It would turn you up if I was to tell you. What this man had done and what that one had said. Quite creepy it used to make me feel. I mean, I’m not one for the straight and narrow, but I do bar talking about it in that horrible way. And she was the same with any woman she thought could tell her anything.”

  11

  THERE remained for Carolus only two more interviews in Gladhurst which he regarded, on such facts as he now had, as being of first-rate importance. By a happy chance he was able to kill the two birds with one stone for when he arrived at Crossways to see Miss Flora Griggs he found that Grey was working there that week.

  Mrs Bobbin received him in a small sitting-room off the hall, and it seemed that her ire was in no way assuaged by news of the recovery of her sister’s jewellery.

  “All the jewels on which we could have claimed insurance in any case, and none of the money, on which we can claim nothing. I haven’t an idea how much Millicent had with her but it was, as I’ve told you, usually a large sum. It really is infuriating. I suppose you are no nearer to finding out who was responsible?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I’m beginning to form a vague idea of how and when and where it may have happened.”

  “You sound very guarded. I hear you got round that wife of Rumble’s. That was an achievement. She’s a termagant.”

  “I found her most obliging. By the way, were your sister’s galoshes a brown pair, nearly new, size eight, made by Skilley and Harman?”

  “That’s right. Have you recovered them, too?”

  “The police have them, I think.”

  “Oh. You’ve also seen Grazia Vaillant. How did you get on with her?”

  “She told me a great deal about her religious views, and other things.”

  “I suppose butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth?”

  “She was certainly quite amicably disposed.”

  “I’m glad. She can be a virago when she’s angry.”

  “That seems to be a common quality among the ladies of Gladhurst.”

  “And why not? When a woman reaches my age, Mr Deene, she is entitled to her wrath.”

  “Oh certainly. I’m very anxious to meet Miss Flora Griggs, if it is possible.”

  “I don’t see how she can help you. As I told you she left on the 2.40 bus for Burley. It has come to our knowledge that the police have obtained confirmation of that from the conductor and passengers. Also of the hour of her return. But if you want to meet yet another irate old lady I will introduce you. I ought perhaps to say that Flora has never been intellectually very strong and that the shock of Millicent’s death has unsettled her even more. I’ll leave you alone with her.”

  Flora Griggs, when she came into the room, certainly looked wrathful. She was a large woman and had none of Mrs Bobbin’s distinguished appearance, but a large-featured face which was lit only by fierce little eyes. She wore unfashionable heavy clothes.

  She greeted Carolus civilly enough however, and said she was prepared to tell him anything she could to help him.

  “For the murderer must be punished, Mr Deene. ‘Whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold’. Genesis IV, 15,” she added in an oracular voice.

  “Cain? Why Cain? “Carolus could not resist asking.

  “He was Under Protection,” explained Flora Griggs.

  “You have no suspicion of your own as to who it might be?”

  “I am convinced that it can only be one person. Now that we know it was not for ‘riches and precious jewels’, Second Chronicles XX, 25, we can see the motive as one of hatred. There was only one person who hated Millicent ‘with a cruel hatred’, Psalm XXV, 19, that is one who, we know too well, is ‘wholly given to idolatry’, Acts XVII, 16, and plots with papists and conspirators.”

  “You surely don’t mean Miss Vaillant?”

  “I mean no other.”

  “But really, Miss Griggs, I understand that there had been some ill-feeling between these two elderly ladies and that they represented different extremes in a religious controversy. I cannot see how you can suppose that one of them battered the other to death.”

  “If not with her own hand then by the hand of another.”

  “But there had been a reconciliation between them.”

  “I am not deceived by that. ‘Grievous words stir up anger’, Proverbs XV, 1, and there had been too many such words in the past years for their anger to abate in a few days.”

  “Then why do you think your sister went twice to see Miss Vaillant?”

  “She did not confide in me but she told me on her return from her visit that we should not for ever suffer, that we should ‘be able to stand against the wiles of the devil’, Ephesians VI, 11. It did not seem that she had yet forgiven and I do not believe she had.”

  Carolus decided to discourage this rather fruitless rhetoric and turn to more practical matters.

  “You don’t mind if I ask you a few questions about the day of your sister’s death, Miss Griggs?”

  “I will answer them gladly if it will help you.”

  “You left the house about half-past two?”

  “A little before. I had to catch the 2.40 bus from the village.”

  “When you left, your sister was resting?”

  “Yes. In this room.”

  “On that very settee, perhaps?”

  “Yes. But she did not stay there.”

  “You mean?”

  “She must have gone up to her room to lie down later.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because when I returned and she was missing I looked into that room. The bed had been slept in, or at least laid on.”

  “Really? Perhaps Naomi had forgotten to make it up that day.”

  “No. I always help her
with the beds. We did my sister’s room together.”

  “Yet when you came back?”

  “It was turned back. And something else. I haven’t mentioned this to my married sister because I knew it would anger her and there was quite enough to be upset about as it was. But one of the sheets was missing.”

  “Are you quite sure?”

  “Oh quite. It had been pulled from the bed. My sister Mrs Bobbin, as perhaps you’ve noticed, is somewhat fidgety about details of housekeeping, expenditure and so on. I think she resented my sister Millicent’s larger income. She would have been very upset by a missing sheet so I have said nothing about it.”

  “Did Naomi know of this?”

  “I think not. I put the bed cover back as though nothing had happened.”

  “Thank you, Miss Griggs. That is most valuable information.”

  “I am glad to tell you anything which will bring the murderer to justice. His ‘hands are defiled with blood’, Isaiah LIX, 3.”

  “Now when you left the house that afternoon what was the girl Naomi Chester doing?”

  “She was just finishing the washing-up from lunch.”

  “Did you happen to notice whether she had cleaned the hall that day?”

  Flora Griggs made an effort to remember.

  “I suppose so. She always does it first. I cannot actually remember seeing her but I think I should have noticed if she had not.”

  “You made some purchases in Burley?”

  “I did. I have given a list of them to the police. They went so far as to question the shopkeepers. Does that mean that they can possibly suppose I had something to do with my sister’s death?”

  “They have to make these routine enquiries. Then, I understand, you went to the cinema?”

  Flora Griggs looked a little confused.

  “My sister Millicent disapproved of all places of entertainment,” she said, “so I have felt sorry that at the very time of the tragedy I was in a cinema. But I allowed myself an occasional visit. Especially to historical films. That day I saw one called William the Conqueror with a most realistic reproduction of the Battle of Hastings.”

  “I see. And you knew of nothing amiss till you reached home and heard from Mrs Bobbin that Miss Griggs was missing?”

  “That’s so.”

  “There is nothing else I want to ask you, Miss Griggs.”

  “You must succeed!” said Flora Griggs passionately. “‘Woe unto the wicked! it shall be ill with him: for the doing of his hands shall be done unto him’, Isaiah III, 11.”

  When Mrs Bobbin returned she found Carolus alone in the little sitting-room.

  “Have you learned anything from my sister?”

  “I have. Yes. Something most interesting. Now I want to talk to Grey who is working for you.”

  “Yes. He has just left the firm he worked for and is starting on his own. This is his first job, I believe. We were pleased to help him. He is a very nice young man.”

  “So I believe.”

  “It was Naomi Chester who spoke for him, of course. Such a tragedy that. They would be very happily married. I think she persuaded Laddie Grey to give up his job and start on his own, for he has not much initiative.”

  “And you’re helping them?” said Carolus, amused at finding a soft spot in the irascible old lady.

  “Actually, there wasn’t much that needed doing but Naomi suggested the hall, which can always do with it, and Laddie’s apparently a very good painter. He has started on the staircase, which takes a lot of work. Would you like to see him in here?”

  “Yes, if I may.”

  When young Grey came into the room Carolus could see at once why he was so popular. He had that quiet modest charm which is almost bashfulness and appears often in Englishmen who have always worked with their hands. He was not tall but gave an impression of strength behind his gentle eyes and soft speaking voice. There was nothing in the least ingratiating about him but he smiled at Carolus as though he trusted him.

  “I won’t sit down while I’ve got these overalls on,” he said in reply to a gesture from Carolus.

  “You’ve lived here all your life, Grey?”

  “Except for my army service, yes. Dad and Mum are both dead now but Dad had a little shop when he was alive.”

  “Your wife was from here, too?”

  “From over at Breadley—that’s about four miles away.”

  Carolus waited to see if Laddie Grey would say more and after a moment he continued.

  “I suppose we were too young,” he said. “Everyone said so, anyway. But I was twenty and she was eighteen so I can’t really see it. You know about her? I can’t understand it. Nothing wrong with her parents as far back as you could go. She was just an ordinary girl, just like other girls, until this happened. Suddenly one day she didn’t want to get up, couldn’t seem able to do anything for herself or the baby and started thinking she was ill and her brains were all shrivelled up. Then she tried to commit suicide and I sent for the doctor. She’s in the Institute over at Wilstone and I go and see her from time to time but she never knows me. The doctors say there’s no hope and even if she gets better for a time it will come back.”

  “Brutal thing, Grey. I’m very, very sorry.”

  “Thanks. There’s nothing to be done about it and I honestly try not to think about it any more. I want to start again with Naomi. We’re still young enough, after all. Of course, I shall always feel responsible for the other but her parents are very good about it and they’re comfortably off and can see she has what little she needs. I want to marry Naomi if it can be done and I’ve been to see a lawyer about it.”

  “I quite understand.”

  “There’s the little girl to think of, too. Naomi thinks the world of her. I don’t know what you’ll think but I’ll tell you what Naomi and I have decided. If these lawyers can’t fix it so that we can get married we shall just start as though we were married. I’ve still got my cottage I had before my wife was taken away and we shall just live there and ——— them, whatever they say. Do you blame us? I mean, what’s a church service when they can’t give it you and there are three lives to think of? That’s what we shall do.”

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions about the afternoon of the murder?”

  Laddie Grey looked rather crestfallen. He had clearly enjoyed expressing his defiance.

  “All right. If you think it’s any good. I don’t see how I can help,” he said.

  “You were working at Commander Fyfe’s that afternoon?”

  “S’right. The dining-room.”

  “Not much before four o’clock someone asked for you on the telephone?”

  “So Mrs Fyfe said. When I got to the phone there was no one, so I supposed they’d been cut off. I thought it was the woman who looks after my baby girl.”

  “You never thought it might be Naomi Chester?”

  “No. What would she want to ring me for? I was sure it was Mrs Buxton who looks after Estelle. I thought something might be wrong with the little girl so I left my work a bit early and went on round there.”

  “And was it Mrs Buxton who had phoned?”

  “No. I saw her and Estelle in the street as I was going there so I knew it was all right.”

  “You didn’t ask if she had phoned?”

  “Not then, I didn’t. Next day or the day after I did and she said certainly she hadn’t. So we don’t know who it was. I think Mrs Fyfe may have imagined it. She’s an invalid and doesn’t go out much. She might have got it all wrong.”

  “What time did you see Naomi Chester?”

  “I must have got to her place round about four. But I didn’t stay long. We were going to the pictures over at Burley. So I went home, got changed and came back for Naomi. That would have been about five. Then off we went to the pictures.”

  “Yours is one of several motor-bikes in Gladhurst?”

  “Yes. Must be more than a dozen.”

  “Have any trouble with it?”

 
; “No. Not extra. Now’n again.”

  “Lights all right?”

  “Yes. Certainly. I shouldn’t take it out at night without.”

  “On the bike and on the sidecar?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you meet anyone before you left for Burley?”

  “No. Naomi’s mother doesn’t get back till late and we didn’t see anyone in the village.”

  “What about in Burley?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “You went straight to the pictures?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not even a drink?”

  “Yes. I expect we had a drink. Usually do.”

  “Which pub?”

  “The Station.”

  “That’s the very large pub that’s nearly always crowded?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Rather out of your way for the pictures, wasn’t it?”

  “Bit. We like it.”

  “Which cinema did you go to?”

  “The Gaudeon.”

  “What was showing?”

  “William the Conqueror.”

  That reply seemed to come very slickly, Carolus thought.

  “Look here, Grey. I’ve told Naomi and I’ll tell you. There’s something you’re both keeping back. Something one of you has seen or heard. It may not be serious but you should realize how foolish it is in a murder case to hold back even details. Are you trying to protect someone?”

  “No.” The reply was low and sullen. “I’ve told you all I know.”

  “Do you know Dundas Griggs by sight? The old ladies nephew?”

  “No.”

  “Does Naomi Chester?”

  “I expect she does. I’ve never asked her.”

  “You make it very difficult for me. I’m going to find out the truth about this, Grey.”

  “Hope you do. I never wished old Miss Griggs any harm. Nor did Naomi.”

  “All right,” said Carolus. “Have it your own way. I shan’t ask you any more.”