Suspicious Death

by Dorothy Simpson

  Thanet nodded. ‘So then what happened?’

  ‘Mrs Carter went on sleeping for a little while longer, another twenty minutes, perhaps, and then she rang the bell. She has – had – an electric buzzer, Mrs Salden had it put in for her. Mr Salden had come downstairs and I’d made him a coffee, while he waited. I went upstairs, to make sure she was all right, and she asked if he’d come. I said yes, and she asked me to fetch him. So I did.’

  ‘How long was he with her?’

  ‘A quarter of an hour or so. When he came down he was upset, I could tell. He looked sort of … as if he was trying hard not to show what he was feeling, you know what I mean? He didn’t say anything, just grabbed his coat and went out. To be honest, I thought he might be going to cry and wanted to get out of the house quickly, so I wouldn’t see. Men don’t like crying in front of women, do they? I know that, from other jobs I’ve done.’

  Thanet remembered what Kimberley had told him. In fact, Salden must have gone straight to the pub.

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I went up to make sure Mrs Carter was all right. She was sleeping again.’

  ‘Did you expect Mr Salden to come back?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose I half thought he might. I wondered if he might go and fetch Mrs Salden, but he didn’t, apparently. When she rang at half nine she hadn’t heard from him. He told me later he’d been walking. Said he wanted to come back later to see how Mrs Carter was, and couldn’t face going home and being sociable in between.’

  ‘What did Mrs Salden say, when she rang?’

  ‘She asked to speak to her husband.’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not here, Mrs Salden.’

  ‘Not here? What time did he leave?’

  ‘About three quarters of an hour ago.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I assumed he was going home … He seemed rather upset.’

  ‘About my mother?’

  ‘Yes. She … I’m afraid she doesn’t look too good.’

  ‘Oh God. You think I ought to come down?’

  ‘It’s up to you, Mrs Salden.’

  ‘Does she look any worse than she has before, when we’ve … When she’s been OK, afterwards?’

  ‘It’s awfully difficult to judge. But I am quite worried about her.’

  ‘I’d better pop down. Just for a few minutes, to see for myself. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  ‘And was she?’ said Thanet.

  ‘No. Nearer ten or fifteen, I’d say. She had to walk. Her car wouldn’t start, she said.’

  ‘Did you tell Mr Salden that?’

  ‘No. Should I have?’

  ‘I just wondered … So she came via the footpath?’

  ‘She didn’t say. I assume so. It would have taken her much longer, if she’d walked all the way down the Manor drive and along the road.’

  ‘So she must have arrived at what time? Around a quarter to ten?’

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘How long did she stay?’

  ‘Getting on for half an hour, I should think.’

  ‘Until a quarter past ten, then?’

  ‘Must have been. Perhaps Mrs Pepper can be more precise.’

  ‘She was here?’

  ‘She popped in five minutes or so before Mrs Salden left. She stayed about half an hour till around a quarter to eleven.’

  ‘If Mrs Carter was as ill as that, why didn’t Mrs Salden stay longer?’

  ‘I think she thought it was another false alarm … We’ve had a number of them. And on the face of it there wasn’t really much point in her staying. Her mother was asleep when she got here, and didn’t wake up all the while she was here.’

  ‘And then Mr Salden got back, I gather?’

  ‘That’s right. Not long after she left.’

  ‘How long, do you think?’

  Nurse Lint put up a hand and began to massage her right temple. ‘Sorry, I’ve got a bit of a headache …’ She frowned, her mouth turning down at the corners. ‘Ten or fifteen minutes?’

  Perhaps Mrs Pepper could confirm that. And if so … Sitting close to Lineham on the small settee, arms touching, Thanet was aware of the involuntary tremor of excitement which had passed through the Sergeant’s body. He knew what Lineham was thinking. If Marcia Salden had left only ten or fifteen minutes before her husband arrived back, it was quite feasible that they could have passed each other on the bridge. Say that they quarrelled …

  ‘Bernard! Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘I went for a walk.’

  ‘A walk?’

  ‘I repeat, a walk. I was … upset.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t mind you deserting our guests to visit my mother …’

  ‘I should hope not!’

  ‘… but I think it’s a bit much to spend the rest of the evening going for a walk!’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you? May I ask where you’re going now?’

  ‘Home, of course.’

  ‘I see. Home. We mustn’t be rude to our guests, of course, even if our mother is dying. My God, if they had any sensitivity they’d have taken themselves off hours ago.’

  ‘As a matter of fact they offered to leave, but I asked them to stay on. And aren’t you being a little melodramatic? If we dropped everything, cancelled everything, every time my mother rings up, we’d have given up living our own lives a year ago, and camped on her doorstep. Anyway, you know perfectly well that after all the false alarms we’ve had we agreed to take it in turns to sit up with her. And in case you’ve forgotten, it happens to be your turn.’

  ‘No, I hadn’t forgotten. But this isn’t just another false alarm.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘It just isn’t. I know it, she knows it, Nurse Lint knows it …’

  ‘What nonsense! How can you possibly “know”.’

  ‘Please, Marcia, I’m serious. Let’s sit up with her together tonight.’

  ‘Look, I left her just a few moments ago, and she was sleeping peacefully … Let go of my arm, please.’

  ‘Marcia, I am dead serious. I want you to come with me. Please?’

  ‘No! I’m going home. I asked Josie to wait till I got back.’

  ‘Never mind Josie. You can ring her from the cottage.’

  ‘How many times have we been through this? It’s pointless both of us staying …’

  ‘Marcia …’

  ‘Let go of my arm.’

  ‘Please …’

  ‘Let go, will you?’

  ‘Marcia? Marcia? Oh, my God …’

  Thanet blinked. The whole conversation had been so convincing that it was difficult to believe he had imagined it. Words hung in the air, and both Nurse Lint and Lineham were staring at him. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I said, I told him he’d just missed his wife.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He asked me how long she’d stayed, and whether Mrs Carter had woken up while Mrs Salden was here. I said no, she hadn’t, which was why Mrs Salden only stayed half an hour or so, then decided to go home.’

  ‘Did you tell him Mrs Salden’s car wouldn’t start, and she’d had to walk down?’

  ‘No. He was already halfway up the stairs by then, and I went into the kitchen. Mrs Pepper was making a pot of tea. A minute later he came down again and made a phone call.’

  ‘You heard what was said?’

  ‘No. Mrs Pepper was clattering cups and saucers. But he came into the kitchen when he’d finished and said he’d rung home to say he was going to stay on here … He sat up with Mrs Carter until she died, you know.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Twenty-five to four. All those hours, he just sat there, holding her hand …’

  ‘When he told you he’d rung home, did he say that he’d had to leave a message for Mrs Salden because she hadn’t yet arrived back?’

  ‘No.’ Why should he? her expression said.

  Why, indeed? Nurse Lint was
his employee. He owed her no such explanations.

  And of course he wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to Marcia’s absence, if he’d known that she was already at the bottom of the river.

  SEVEN

  As they emerged from the front door of Mrs Carter’s cottage a loud backfire from across the green, followed by a throaty roar and a cloud of exhaust smoke, caused Lineham to pause and click his tongue in disapproval. Putting his hand up to shade his eyes, he squinted in that direction.

  Apart from that brief frisson of excitement a few minutes ago, when they had realised that Bernard Salden had been in the right place at the right time to have murdered his wife, this was the first spontaneous sign of animation that the Sergeant had shown all day. He had functioned efficiently, true, but his enthusiasm, one of his most endearing qualities, had been conspicuous by its absence and Thanet was beginning to find his unnatural silence unnerving. What on earth could be the matter?

  For the second time today he decided to try to find out.

  ‘Mike, are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes, fine, thanks.’ A brief, flickering glance. How much does he know?

  Come on, Luke, Thanet told himself. You’re imagining things. What could Lineham possibly have to hide? The most obvious answer was marital problems. Louise, Lineham’s wife, was anything but easy to live with. Bossy and demanding, when they married she had taken over where Lineham’s domineering mother had left off. It was a mystery to Thanet why the Sergeant should have chosen a wife so similar in nature to the mother whose rule he had found so irksome. Presumably there was something in him that needed to be dominated – or at least needed to kick against being dominated. In any case, Thanet had no intention of prying. If Lineham wanted to confide in him, well and good; if not, there was nothing he could do about it.

  The offending car was heading in their direction and now screeched to a halt by Mrs Carter’s gate, belching noxious fumes. It was, Thanet saw, an ancient Mini, painted what Ben would have called puke green, and it was driven by the Vicar.

  ‘Afternoon, Inspector, Sergeant.’ Fothergill glanced at their faces and clowned disappointment. ‘Don’t you like her?’ He stuck his arm out of the car window and patted its flank. ‘Don’t be insulted, old girl, they’re just jealous.’ Then he put his hand up to his mouth and hissed. ‘Don’t want to upset her, just got her back from the garage.’

  Thanet had been wondering how they could possibly have missed noticing this car up at the Manor this morning. All was now explained. Fothergill must have gone up on foot or by bicycle, the ‘old girl’ being out of action at the time.

  ‘Got her back!’ said Lineham.

  ‘Certainly. Have to maintain an appropriately poverty-stricken image, you know, Sergeant. Doesn’t do for the clergy to appear too affluent, people don’t like it.’

  ‘There must be a happy medium,’ said Thanet, smiling.

  ‘This is it.’ Fothergill’s expression changed. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Slowly. Nothing definite yet. Except that we think we know where she went into the river.’

  Fothergill nodded. ‘The broken parapet. It did cross my mind, this morning. But the warnings and barriers were so obvious I didn’t really consider it a serious possibility. Though the road was very icy last night … You’re satisfied that it was an accident, then?’

  ‘We still have to try and find out exactly what happened, if anyone saw her, and so on,’ said Thanet, neatly side-stepping. The manoeuvre had not been missed by Fothergill, he noticed. The Vicar was no fool.

  ‘Yes, well … I did what I could for Bernard Salden, by the way. He’d calmed down by the time I left. I got his doctor to come and take a look at him and he gave him a sedative. I gather the undertakers have been to collect Mrs Carter. We’ve postponed making the arrangements for her funeral until tomorrow or the next day.’

  ‘Very sensible.’

  ‘Well, better get on. Got a meeting in Maidstone.’

  And with a smile and a wave he was off, leaving a trail of black smoke behind him.

  Thanet and Lineham stepped back to avoid the fumes, waving their hands in front of their faces and coughing.

  ‘Ought to be in the scrapyard, if you ask me,’ said Lineham. ‘I’m sure we could get him for public nuisance.’

  ‘If we didn’t have better things to do, Mike. Come on, I want a word with Mrs Pepper.’ Thanet had high hopes of Mrs Pepper. If she and Mrs Carter had been friends for as long as Nurse Lint seemed to think, the old lady might be able to fill him in on Marcia’s background.

  This cottage, being tenanted, was not in such good structural repair as Mrs Carter’s next door, but the little front garden was ablaze with the purple spires of honesty and regimented rows of pink and scarlet tulips. A straggling bush of Kerria japonica, most of its yellow globes now faded, was tied up against the wall between door and window. There was not a weed to be seen.

  The woman who answered the door looked as though she would have no problem in buying her clothes from the children’s sections of department stores. She was well under five feet tall and although she must have been in her late sixties was wearing what Bridget would call a jumpsuit, an all-in-one sort of tracksuit in vivid green with orange trimmings at shoulders and neck. Her hair was dyed orange. To match? Thanet was relieved to see that her eyes were bright, her manner alert. Excellent. She should make a good witness.

  Formalities over, she led them into the sitting-room. It was immediately obvious that Mrs Pepper had two passions: indoor plants and crochet. The former all but obscured the light from the window, scrambled up the walls and trailed from the numerous containers suspended from the overhead beams, and the latter greeted the eye wherever it happened to fall, in gaily coloured circular woollen cushion covers crocheted in concentric rings, lacy white antimacassars on the backs of chairs and little round mats on every horizontal surface. Mrs Pepper had evidently found a solution to the problem which dogs every such hobby, that of what to do with the end product: on a table in the window were perhaps a dozen piles of crocheted squares in different colours.

  ‘Blankets,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘For Age Concern. They’re always desperate for them, come January.’

  She insisted on providing them with a cup of tea. There was one in the pot, she assured them, she’d just made some for herself. A steaming cup on the arm of the chair beside the fireplace confirmed this. Finally they were all seated, sipping.

  ‘Very welcome, Mrs Pepper,’ said Lineham.

  ‘Nothing like a nice cup of tea, I always say … I suppose you’ve come about Marcia – Mrs Salden. I’ve seen your men about all over the village.’

  ‘That’s right, yes. We understand you saw her briefly last night.’

  ‘When I went next door to see Win – Mrs Carter, that is. Yes.’ Mrs Pepper’s mouth quivered and she set down her cup, picked up a large ball of green wool with a crochet hook stuck through it and began to work. ‘You don’t mind? It helps to keep my mind off …’ She compressed her lips and shook her head fiercely as if to frighten grief away. ‘Win – Mrs Carter – and me had been friends for getting on for fifty years.’

  ‘That’s a very long time,’ said Thanet gently.

  ‘It certainly is. I can hardly imagine life without her … Yes, I did see Marcia last night.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you realise this, but in fact you must have been one of the last people to see her alive.’

  ‘Really?’ The crochet needle was temporarily stilled as she took this in.

  It didn’t take long to check that the information Nurse Lint had given them was correct: Marcia had been at the cottage when Mrs Pepper arrived, and had left about five minutes later, at a quarter past ten. Mrs Pepper was fairly sure of the time because she had watched the headlines on News at Ten before going next door. Bernard Salden had arrived about ten or fifteen minutes after his wife left. His car had been parked outside all evening, since half-past seven or so, and had stayed there un
til a quarter to four in the morning. She had looked at her clock when she heard the engine start up – she hadn’t been able to sleep because she had been worried about Win and feared that his departure in the early hours could mean that her friend had died. In the past, when Bernard had sat up with his mother-in-law, he had always stayed all night.

  ‘Really loved her, he did. Like she was his own mum. He’ll be ever so upset … And now this, with Marcia. Poor Bernard, I feel really sorry for him. He hasn’t had much luck.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to have done too badly up to now,’ put in Lineham.

  She sniffed. ‘Oh, him and Marcia have done very well in their business, I grant you that, but money isn’t everything, it don’t bring you happiness, do it?’

  Knowing the value of silence, Thanet said nothing, praying that Lineham would also keep quiet. He was well aware that if he appeared too curious Mrs Pepper might well clam up, whereas nothing encourages confidences more than a sympathetic and attentive listener.

  It worked.

  ‘No,’ she said, answering her own question. ‘It don’t. And Bernard’s had a lot of bad luck. I mean, we all have to go through it, don’t we, one way or the other, none of us can get away without losing someone we love, but Bernard … His parents were both killed when he was just a young lad, you know, and he didn’t have no brothers or sisters, neither, so he was all alone, with no one to fall back on. But he stuck to his studies and got his accountant’s exams, and got married – no, not to Marcia, he was married before, you know. But they’d only been married a couple of years and she died, having a baby. Hardly ever happens these days, of course, but this was over thirty years ago. The baby was still-born. Win told me all this later, when the other little girl died. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’

  Thanet ignored this last remark. Mrs Pepper, he knew, was now well launched, and needed only a guarantee of her audience’s interest to continue. ‘Other little girl?’

  ‘Him and Marcia’s. So you see what I mean, don’t you? He seems to lose everyone he loves, his parents, his first wife, his first baby, his second baby, his mother-in-law what he loved like a son, his second wife …’