by Nicola Upson
He greeted her and sat down. ‘Mrs Beresford, I’d like to run through your movements again for yesterday morning.’
‘They haven’t changed, Chief Inspector,’ she said, more out of weariness than defiance.
‘Even so, if you could bear with me. A BBC car collected you and your husband from your home in Kensington at half past seven – is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And after that?’
‘Billy drove us both to Broadcasting House and dropped us at the front entrance. That must have been between eight and quarter past.’
‘And what did you do then?’
‘Anthony had to go straight upstairs for a briefing, so we arranged to meet back in the entrance hall at ten o’clock, ready to go to Constitution Hill. I went through to my office for a while to check on the progress of the next issue. I hadn’t been at work the day before, so I wanted to catch up on any copy that had come in and any changes that were due to be made.’
‘But you didn’t stay there?’
‘No, as I told you yesterday, I took my assistant a small present to thank her for everything she’s done over the last few weeks. It’s been a very busy time and I don’t know how I’d have managed without her.’
Penrose looked down at his notes. ‘A Miss Daniels, in Great Titchfield Street.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But she was out when you arrived.’
‘Yes. I got distracted by the magazine, as I often do, and by the time I got there, Danny had already set out for the Coronation. I left the present on the step and went away.’
‘We’ve spoken to Miss Daniels and there was nothing on her doorstep when she got home.’
‘Then someone else must have taken it. I’d buy her a replacement, but that’s a little difficult at the moment.’
The small show of spirit pleased Penrose. ‘Did anyone else see you there?’ he asked.
‘I have no idea. You’d have to ask them.’
‘And you didn’t go anywhere else?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ There was a wariness in her voice now, as she sensed a new purpose to Penrose’s questioning. ‘By then it was getting late, and I knew I couldn’t keep Anthony waiting.’
‘So if someone claimed to have seen you in the Wigmore Street area at around half past nine, they’d be mistaken?’
‘Quite mistaken.’ She recovered quickly, but there had been a flicker of concern in her eyes and Penrose knew that she was lying. He left the next stage of the questioning to his sergeant, and sat back to watch her reactions.
‘Do you recognise this, Mrs Beresford?’ Fallowfield asked, placing the white silk murder weapon in front of her.
She hesitated, but more out of surprise at the change of tack, Penrose thought, than guilt. ‘My husband has several like it,’ she said, ‘but so do most men. I couldn’t say for sure if it was his. Why do you want to know?’
‘Because it was used to kill Millicent Gray in her flat off Wigmore Street yesterday morning.’
Penrose watched Vivienne Beresford’s face, and if it was a performance put on for their benefit, it was one of the finest he had ever seen. Shock and confusion at the news were swiftly followed by outrage and horror as she realised what they were suggesting. ‘My God, you think I did that as well, don’t you?’
‘Mrs Beresford, you readily admit to killing your husband—’ Penrose began, but he was soon interrupted.
‘That’s different. I had a whole lifetime of reasons to hate Anthony. Millicent Gray was just the latest in a long line of irritations. Why would I risk my life to take hers?’
‘Because he was going to leave you. Millicent Gray was more than an irritation, wasn’t she? She was the woman who had finally succeeded in destroying your marriage.’
‘We were perfectly capable of doing that ourselves, Chief Inspector. We didn’t need any help from her.’
‘But you must have known you wouldn’t get away with killing your husband. You have made no effort whatsoever to lie about it, or to evade arrest. Given those circumstances, perhaps you thought you might as well destroy Millicent Gray’s life as well. I can easily understand why you would want to punish them both.’
‘No,’ she said firmly, but she was growing increasingly agitated. ‘Just listen to yourself, Chief Inspector. Do you honestly think I took the decision to kill my husband lightly? Years of pain and rejection led to what I did yesterday, so the idea that I would kill a woman quite simply because I “might as well” is absurd and repellent.’
‘I believe you went to see Miss Gray yesterday morning, not Miss Daniels, and once you were there you confronted her about her affair with your husband. Perhaps she taunted you with her happiness and things got out of hand, or perhaps it was always your intention to kill her, but either way you strangled her with your husband’s scarf—’
‘Why would I go to the effort of strangling her when I had a gun in my bag all day?’
‘You’re an intelligent woman, Mrs Beresford. You know that it’s one thing to fire a shot in a soundproof cubicle among cheering crowds, and quite another to shoot someone in a quiet residential area when you have no idea who might be at home to hear.’
‘You’ve obviously thought of everything, so what is the point of my even being here?’
She shook her head cynically, but Penrose could see how frightened she was, and he knew he would have to exploit that fear to get at the truth. ‘Perhaps Miss Gray bought the scarf for your husband, so you decided to teach her a lesson with it. You wanted her to pay for all those years of pain and rejection, didn’t you? All those years of knowing you were never quite good enough, of looking at her when she came into the BBC and wondering what it was that made Anthony choose her. Was it her youth or her looks or her independence? Was it the novelty of being with her when your life together was so predictable?’ She was crying now and he loathed himself for taunting her with her own darkness when she had done nothing but be honest about it; he criticised the BBC for its lack of sympathy, but was he really any better? Feeling as though he were holding a woman under water long after she had drowned, he hammered home his advantage. ‘Or was it simply because she embarrassed you at work? It was the one place where you thought you had some respect, but Millicent Gray walked in there and stripped you of that illusion. She humiliated you in front of your colleagues, so you . . .’
‘No.’
‘ . . . so you went round to show her who really had the power. Perhaps you even told her you were going to kill Anthony. Is that it? If you couldn’t have him, she certainly wasn’t going to?’
‘No, that’s not true,’ she shouted, standing up and slamming her hand down on the table.
‘So you waited for the right moment and you choked the life out of her.’
‘I didn’t kill her.’ From nowhere, she slapped him hard across the face, sobbing uncontrollably now. Fallowfield and the WPC stood as one to restrain her, but Penrose held up his hand and waited for her to calm down. ‘I will happily hang for what I did to Anthony,’ she said eventually, ‘but I will not go to the gallows for his fucking mistress.’
‘You were there, though, weren’t you, Mrs Beresford?’ Penrose said softly. ‘We have a witness who saw a woman fitting your description on the steps to Miss Gray’s flat at around the time she died.’
‘Yes, I was there, but I didn’t go inside. I didn’t even see her.’
‘Why did you go?’
‘Because she asked me to. She sent me a note, asking me to go and see her on Wednesday morning at nine. She said it would be worth my while and there was something I should know.’
‘Do you still have the note?’
‘No, I destroyed it. I had no intention of going at first. I wasn’t about to jump to her call, and anyway, I knew what she was going to tell me because I found the travel tickets shortly afterwards.’
‘So you think that’s what she meant?’
‘What else could it be? Mistresses always think the wife doesn
’t know, but sometimes she simply doesn’t care.’
‘And why did you change your mind?’
‘Because of everything you’ve just said. I did want to stand up to her and tell her that things weren’t going to go her way, and for all the reasons you mentioned – the shame and the humiliation, the sense of never quite being good enough. I suppose I wanted to understand what was so special about her, as well. I could never see it myself, but Anthony obviously could. It sounds stupid, but I wanted to understand him before I killed him, and there was a part of me that longed for her to save him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Even though I knew exactly what was going on, I wanted her to tell me that I’d misunderstood, that he wasn’t really going to leave. She was his last chance, I suppose, but I never for one moment intended to kill her, and I didn’t do it on the spur of the moment, either.’
‘Why did you lie about what you did that morning?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘Sometimes I make no sense even to myself, Chief Inspector. I can look you in the eye and tell you I shot my husband, but I’m embarrassed to admit to wanting a showdown with his mistress.’
‘So you still insist that you have never been inside that flat, then or at any other time?’
‘No, I haven’t. I knocked several times but there was no answer and that made me angry. I wasn’t about to waste more of my time waiting for her, so I left and went back to Broadcasting House.’
‘How long were you there?’
‘About five minutes, I suppose – if that.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘No one in particular. A few passers-by, that’s all. It seemed very quiet. I suppose most people were at the Coronation.’
‘Miss Gray didn’t invite your husband at the same time, did she?’ Penrose asked, remembering the three cups laid out on the tray.
Vivienne Beresford looked at him in surprise. ‘Not to my knowledge. I’m sure she would have known that Anthony couldn’t stop for a social call on a day like that.’
Penrose took a small bag from the folder in front of him and pushed it across the table. ‘Do you recognise this, Mrs Beresford? Before you say anything, I should tell you that it has your fingerprints on it.’
She looked down at the silver powder compact. ‘I’d expect it to. It’s mine. Anthony gave it to me for an anniversary, but I lost it recently. Where did you find it?’
‘In Millicent Gray’s bedroom, near her body.’ He let the words sink in, then asked: ‘How do you explain that if you’ve never been inside her flat?’
She had no trouble in meeting his eye. Rather than destroy her, the accusation of a second murder seemed to have given her a new strength, and he was pleased to see her spirit return, even if it was at his own expense. ‘What do you think I did? Killed her and powdered my nose? Actually, Chief Inspector, I can think of a number of ways it might have got there. Perhaps my husband had it all along and left it there. Or perhaps it mysteriously appeared while the police were carrying out a search of the premises. As you said earlier, I’m an intelligent woman and I know how convenient it would be for you and for the BBC if I were guilty of two murders. To use your own logic, you’ve got my confession for Anthony’s murder; you might as well try for Millicent Gray’s, too. But I’m afraid I can’t help you. I wasn’t in her flat, and I didn’t kill her.’
‘And that’s your final word?’
‘It is, yes.’
He nodded, satisfied with her answer, although he knew his own belief in her innocence would do him no good when he reported back to the Assistant Commissioner. He took the bag with the set of keys out of his pocket, and asked her to look at them. ‘Have you ever seen these before? They were found in your husband’s desk at Broadcasting House.’
She shook her head. ‘No. They’re not his.’
‘They have his prints on them.’
‘Then he must have been looking after them for someone else. We haven’t owned a car for several years. It’s a nuisance in town, and if we went away it was usually abroad. And those are not our house keys.’
‘What about this?’ Penrose asked, showing her the toy soldier.
Vivienne Beresford looked at him as if he were mad. ‘Is that something else you found lying around in Millicent Gray’s apartment?’
Penrose suppressed a smile. ‘No. Again, it was in the drawer of your husband’s desk.’
‘Anthony had long outgrown tin soldiers, Chief Inspector. When he wanted to play, he chose women. If he hadn’t, neither of us would be here.’ She watched him carefully as he closed the files and gathered up the evidence. ‘What happens now?’
‘You will shortly be charged with the murder of your husband. After a brief appearance in a magistrate’s court, probably tomorrow morning, you will be held in remand at Holloway until your trial.’
She flinched at the name of the prison, and he realised how synonymous it still was with the abortive hanging of Edith Thompson; Thompson’s treatment and the publicity around it must strike the fear of God into any woman facing a murder charge. ‘And her death?’ she asked. ‘Will I be charged with that, too?’
‘I have to speak to my superiors. They’ll look at the evidence and make that decision.’
‘You mean they’ll look at the newspapers and have a word with the BBC,’ she said, her voice more cynical than ever. ‘If for some reason my husband killed his lover – he is a logical suspect, after all – that will be very awkward for the Corporation, won’t it? With that scenario, you might even call what I did justice.’ She paused, waiting to see if Penrose would comment, but he didn’t. ‘Either way, I want a solicitor now. I presume it’s not too late to change my mind?’
‘Of course not. You’ll be allowed to make the necessary telephone calls.’
‘And can I have visitors while I wait for my trial?’
‘Visits are always made at the discretion of the Deputy Governor, but I can’t see a problem in this case.’
‘Thank you.’
He left her with Fallowfield and went upstairs to find Rygate waiting in his office. ‘Well?’
‘She denies any knowledge of Millicent Gray’s murder, sir, and I think she’s telling the truth.’
‘I’m not interested in your bloody hunches, Penrose. What evidence have you got against her?’ He listened as Penrose outlined the facts. ‘So she was seen at the flat at the time of death. She admits being there, even though she lied about it. The scarf was probably Beresford’s, something she could easily have taken with her from the house. Her powder compact was found in a room she claims never to have seen. And she had every reason in the world to want the woman dead. Oh, and we know she’s capable of murder because she happened to shoot her husband six hours later. Quite frankly, Penrose, I don’t see what your problem is.’
‘Her prints aren’t anywhere else in the flat, but—’
‘So she wore gloves. And if you’re about to tell me that Beresford’s prints are there, I think we both know why that is. Anyway, there’s no point in going down that road – you told me his schedule was too tight.’
‘There’s nearly an hour between the engineer’s soundchecks, and anyway, we haven’t had the full reports yet. Spilsbury might revise the time of death.’ Rygate gave him a look which was perfectly justified; the pathologist was rarely wrong once he had nailed his colours to the mast. ‘Anyway, why are we limiting this enquiry to two suspects? What about the tea tray? Miss Gray was obviously expecting someone else, so couldn’t you at least give me some time to find out who? Look into her life a bit more, find out who she was – I can’t believe her only purpose on this earth was to be Anthony Beresford’s mistress, so perhaps there’s another line of enquiry, another grudge we’re missing.’
‘There’s no time for a wild goose chase, Penrose. You seem incapable of understanding what a high-profile case this is – even the Home Secretary’s taking an interest in it, for Christ’s sake. It’s vital that we’re seen to have it in ha
nd from the very start.’
‘Even if we’ve got the wrong person? Millicent Gray’s parents are on their way up from Kent. They’re devastated, naturally. I’d like to be able to offer them a bit more than the most convenient solution.’
Rygate sighed. ‘Look, Penrose – you know how much I respect your work and how highly I value your opinion, but in this case I genuinely believe you’re wrong. You’ve got some bee in your bonnet about Vivienne Beresford and I don’t know what it is, but it’s not doing you or the force any good. Open your eyes and look at the facts. I want you to charge Mrs Beresford with both murders, and then I’m putting you back on royal duties.’
‘But sir . . .’
‘No buts. As soon as my back’s turned, you’ll be on this like a terrier unless I find you something else to do. That stubborn streak will be your downfall, and I’m doing this for your career, not mine. The royal couple will be driving through north London later this afternoon. It’s supposed to be a surprise but we all know it will leak, so I want you there to make sure there’s no trouble. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Penrose said reluctantly.
‘Good. Now, go and get the paperwork sorted and I’ll call Broadcasting House.’
5
As it turned out, Josephine was saved the ordeal of telling Julian about Millicent’s death. Archie had obviously been swift to alert Broadcasting House because a message was left for her at the Cowdray Club long before her two-hour curfew was up. Apparently, Lydia would be ‘delighted’ to help them out, and would be at the studio early for a final run-through with the rest of the cast; Josephine was welcome to join them, but if Julian didn’t hear from her, he would meet her in the entrance hall at the time previously arranged. It was a relief not to have to go through the experience all over again, and, with a bit of luck, everyone would be far too busy with the broadcast later to make her relive each detail. As time went on and the cushioning effect of shock faded, Josephine became increasingly upset by what she had seen. It wasn’t just the horror of being confronted with violence, or the loss of an actress she had respected; as much as she had tried to resist the idea at the time, Millicent’s final words to her had created a sympathy between them that made her death – and the obvious sadness of her last few days – all the more tragic, and all the more personal.
