As he had instructed Sheila outside the cemetery, Webb closed his eyes and willed himself back into the past — the warm hay pricking his bare legs, the dusty smell of it. But strive as he would, the initial words remained elusive and he could recall only those he’d repeated to Hannah, ending with Dick’s frantic “I had to see her, I needed—’ and then the punch that silenced him.
Webb opened his eyes on the present. Why had it been so important for Dick to see Lilian that night? If John had held his temper, he might have explained. Perhaps it had not been an amorous assignment, but a consultation, a plea for advice on a course of action? But what? And had it anything to do with Dick’s death?
THINK! he commanded himself. Assuming, because he must, that his father had not killed Dick, what possible reason would anyone else have to do so? On all sides, he had been assured of Dick’s popularity and easygoing nature. The photograph on his widow’s piano bore that out.
Billy Makepeace was an obvious suspect. General opinion was that he and Dick had had no contact for years — but the same had been assumed of his father. Perhaps some more recent enmity had blown up between them, too. According to his statement, Billy had spent that evening at home with his family, a fact corroborated by his wife. Had there been real grounds for suspicion, that alibi would not have counted for much.
Or what of Eileen Vernon? She was a strong-minded woman and had resented her sister-in-law’s influence. Suppose she’d followed Dick when he left the house that evening, had witnessed his meeting with Lilian? No, Webb decided, it wasn’t feasible. Even if she could have brought herself to kill her husband, she would have been incapable of reopening the grave and burying him. Unless, of course, she had help. But again, who?
He sat down on the pile of straw and reviewed the position. If his father’s blow hadn’t killed him, Dick must at some stage have come round. What would he have done? The obvious answer, surely, was to set out for home. So who had prevented him reaching it? Someone who had known where to find him that evening — which was extremely unlikely — or someone he’d met by chance? And why should a chance meeting have such disastrous consequences?
Webb sat on, plunged in thought, while the shadows outside grew longer and the interior of the barn dimmer. If Dick had met someone on his way home, it was more likely to be as he crossed one of the roads rather than in the fields.
But why had whoever it was suddenly turned on him and struck him down, this time fatally? It didn’t make sense.
A faint sound of voices impinged on his senses and for a moment, still enmeshed in the past, the hairs rose on the back of his neck. Then a girl’s laugh sounded nearer at hand, and a young couple, arms twined round each other, appeared in the doorway. They were inside the barn before they saw Webb, and as he rose from his pile of straw the girl gave a little scream.
‘Sorry!’ he said quickly. ‘It’s all right, I’m just going.’ And he passed them hastily and started back across the field, aware of them staring after him. He hoped their tryst would have happier consequences than the one he’d just reconstructed.
Minutes later he was edging his car out of the cul-de-sac where the Vernons lived on to the main road. It was then he noticed the pub on the corner, where Dick had mentioned going for cigarettes that last evening. On an impulse he pulled into its car park and went inside.
As he had hoped, it was filled to capacity, everyone laughing and talking at the same time. He ordered half a pint of bitter and felt the tensions inside him begin to ease. This impersonal friendliness was the perfect antidote to the haunted shadows of the barn. He had revisited his boyhood that evening; it had not been an easy exercise, nor, as far as he could see, had it achieved anything. But tomorrow was another day.
*
Colin said, ‘Oh, there you are. What are you doing in the dark?’
Sheila turned, blinking as he switched the light on and the twilit garden disappeared into a reflection of the room behind her.
‘Thinking,’ she said.
He walked over and sat in the easy chair opposite. ‘What about?’
‘All kinds of things. You, me, David, Mr Makepeace, Dick Vernon.’
‘Did you reach any conclusions?’
‘A few. We’ve been forced to take stock of ourselves this past week, and I’m not sure I like what I see.’
Colin was watching her warily. ‘In what respect?’
‘For one thing, I’ve had to think more deeply about my parents; particularly since David had me reliving that ghost business. And I found it all rather depressing.’
He sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘I didn’t tell you before, but I can’t see why you shouldn’t know. Mum was once engaged to Dick Vernon.’
‘My God! How long have you known that?’
‘Since she was dying. I told David the other evening. What’s more, I don’t think they ever stopped loving each other.’
‘Well, that would explain your father’s attitude.’
‘And hers,’ Sheila said defensively. ‘He took her away from Dick, after all. They would probably have been very happy together.’
‘She made her choice.’
‘But it was the wrong one. They were never happy, were they? Not that I remember.’ She paused and added reflectively, ‘I was so determined my marriage would be better than theirs.’
‘And isn’t it?’ he asked quietly.
‘Until last week I’d have said it was. Now I’m not so sure. It’s different, certainly.’
He stood up and went over to the drinks table, where he poured two whiskies. ‘Why the qualification?’ he asked, handing her one of the glasses.
She looked up, her eyes challenging him. ‘What do you think? Would you say we have a successful marriage?’
He smiled crookedly. ‘I need warning of a question like that.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ she said seriously. ‘When you gave up university and we bought this place, I was determined to be at your side every step of the way, an equal partner.’
‘But,’ he suggested, ‘you’ve ended up a bit more equal than I am?’
She met his eye. ‘That’s what I was wondering. Or rather, I wondered if that’s what you thought. Perhaps you’ve answered my question.’
He said gently, ‘Sheila, I’ve always been grateful for your support, you know that. You also know that it’s long been my opinion that you drive yourself too hard. I understand the reason for it — I think you do, too. Perhaps now it’s even more apparent.’
‘And somewhere along the way we’ve lost something?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘No wonder I’m feeling depressed.’
‘Look, we have a lovely home, a successful business, two fine healthy children—’
‘Yes, yes, I know. We’ve a lot to be thankful for, but are we happy? Are we really any happier than my parents were? Or are we two separate people happening to live under the same roof, as they were?’
He was silent, staring down into his glass. She watched him for a minute or two. Then she said, ‘Do you love me, Colin?’
He looked up quickly. ‘What kind of question is that?’
‘Do you?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’
She sighed. ‘I suppose that’s all right, then,’ she said.
CHAPTER 13
The next morning Webb put in a couple of hours at his own desk before setting out for Erlesborough. They’d woken to heavy rain — the first in weeks — and now, sitting beside Jackson in the car, he watched the rhythmic sweeping of the windscreen wipers and reflected that the change in the weather would suit Colin. Last week’s brief thunderstorm had barely penetrated the soil; this steady soaking should provide badly needed moisture.
His brother-in-law had come naturally into his mind because he was on his way to see him, and not looking forward to the encounter. He did not seriously suspect Colin of killing Makepeace, but if he had nothing to hide, why lie about
the Old Boys’ Dinner? Whatever the reason, he had to uncover it, even if it marred their relationship for evermore. That was one of the hazards of his profession.
‘Won’t be much fun trailing around in this,’ Jackson said gloomily, as a lorry overtook them sending a deluge of dirty water over the car.
‘Fun isn’t the name of the game, lad,’ Webb rejoined. ‘At least be thankful it stayed dry for the exhumation.’
Jackson grunted. ‘Where are we making for specifically?’
‘You can drop me off at The Old Farmhouse; I have to tackle my brother-in-law about his alibi, but it would be politic to do so privately. In the meantime there are still a few magistrates to track down; there’s just a chance they might know of some villain with a grudge against Billy. See what you come up with, and we can compare notes over lunch. Not the Narrow Boat today, I think; it’ll be dreary down by the canal in this weather. Let’s try the Fox and Grapes in Bridge Street. I’ll walk back and meet you there in an hour’s time.’
*
Sheila opened the door to him, and Webb thought how tired she was looking.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Time for a coffee?’
‘I can make time.’ He followed her to the kitchen. The cat was crying at the back door and when Sheila let it in, rain blew into the room on a gust of wind. The cat rubbed its wet fur against her legs and she pushed it away.
‘I know we need rain,’ she commented, ‘but it does complicate things. I’ve some bedspreads waiting to be hung out, but not a chance today.’
‘Colin around?’ Webb asked casually, seating himself at the table.
‘He’s deadheading houseplants. Do you want him?’
‘I’d like a word, when we’ve had coffee.’ He watched her pour boiling water on to the grounds. ‘I went to see Mavis, by the way.’
Sheila turned quickly. ‘Oh yes? How did you get on?’
‘She has a fantastic memory but it wasn’t really much help. She was there, though, when Dick phoned, which ties up that loose end.’
‘She knew it was him?’
‘No, no. She thought it was Father, for some reason.’ He paused. ‘Did you know she had a crush on him?’
‘On Dad? But she was only a kid.’
‘None the less, she worshipped him from afar. What was more, she commented on how fond of Mother he was.’
Sheila came slowly to the table with the coffee-pot.
‘So,’ Webb continued, looking up into her face, ‘perhaps you wronged him in suspecting he only married her to spite Dick.’
‘If so, I’m delighted. I was always fond of him, as you know, but since Mum told me about Dick and how Dad had muscled in on them, I’ve not felt the same.’
‘To get back to that evening, Mavis says Mother was very upset when she came home. She pretended she’d fallen and hurt herself, but Mavis wasn’t convinced.’
Sheila poured the coffee. ‘I’ve remembered something else too, though I don’t suppose it’s important.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘It must have been that week or the following one. In the very early days of my nightmares, anyway. I woke up after a bad dream and ran out on the landing, intending to go to Mum and Dad’s room for comfort. But then I heard them shouting at each other. Mum screamed, “What did you do to him?” and Dad shouted back, “What did you?” I was frightened to go in, and crept back to bed.’ She shuddered. ‘David, you don’t really think he killed Dick Vernon, do you?’
‘No,’ he said, hoping he spoke the truth, ‘but I have to prove he didn’t.’ He stirred his coffee reflectively. His sister had been frank with him; he owed her the same courtesy.
‘Sheila, there’s something I didn’t tell you about that night.’
She tensed, nerving herself for what was to come. ‘Well?’
‘I did go to spy on the courting couple, as I said. And I fell asleep as I said. But I was woken by shouting voices, and I peered through the trapdoor to see Father and Dick confronting each other.’
She had whitened. ‘David, you didn’t see Dad—?’
‘I saw him knock Dick down. Then he stormed off. I waited for quite a while, but Dick hadn’t stirred by the time I crept away and ran home.’
She made a soft, moaning sound. Then she whispered, ‘So you were the last person to see him alive?’
‘The next to last, I hope.’
Sheila lifted her cup with fingers that shook. ‘And you’ve kept that secret all these years?’
He nodded.
‘It explains a lot of things,’ she said quietly. She looked up, meeting his brooding eyes. ‘What are you going to do?’
He shrugged. ‘I should have gone to the Chief Super as soon as his skeleton was identified. I’m breaking all the rules, but I’ve given myself another forty-eight hours to try to clear Father.’
She put a hand on his. ‘Thank you.’
‘I might see things more clearly when I set them down,’ he continued. Webb’s habit of illustrating his cases was well-known at Carrington Street, where it was referred to as ‘drawing conclusions’. Often, sketching out the background to a case and inserting cartoon figures of the suspects pointed him in the direction of a murderer. The need to draw was building inside him, but his equipment was at home.
‘I can provide pencil and paper.’
‘Oh, I’ll probably last till this evening.’ On the other hand, the sooner he got down to it, the better; once the need established itself, it was not easy to hold off. He looked at her with a smile. ‘If I change my mind, though, I might pop back this afternoon. Would that be OK?’ Provided, he told himself, Colin hadn’t by that time barred him from the house.
He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘In the meantime I must get on. I’ll just go and have a quick word with Colin.’
‘He’s in the houseplant greenhouse — it’s the nearest one to the house. Have you got an umbrella?’
‘No, I can’t be bothered with them. I’ll just make a dash for it.’
She opened the back door for him and then, to his surprise, reached up and kissed his cheek. ‘Good luck,’ she said.
*
Colin was indeed engaged in deadheading, moving slowly along the displays with a pair of secateurs in his hand. He stopped when he saw Webb enter the greenhouse and stood waiting for him to approach. There were a few people wandering around — probably come in out of the rain, Webb thought — but they were at the far end and would be unable to hear their conversation.
As Webb came up, Colin said flatly, ‘I’ve been expecting you. Have you seen Sheila?’
‘Yes, I’ve just had coffee with her.’
‘Did you tell her why you’re here?’
‘Only that I needed a word with you.’
‘Thanks.’
The second time he’d been thanked by his family in the space of five minutes. Webb ran a variegated leaf gently between finger and thumb. ‘Are you going to tell me where you were last Monday?’
‘Not murdering Billy Makepeace.’
‘Colin, I need to know.’
‘Yes.’ He sighed deeply. ‘This is not going to be easy, David.’
There was a brief pause. A low hum of voices came from the browsers at the far end of the greenhouse. Outside, rain cascaded down the panes and made a steady pattering on the glass roof above them. Webb waited patiently.
Colin stirred and squared his shoulders. ‘It would be hard enough telling anyone, let alone you.’
‘Another woman?’
Colin looked at him sharply, then nodded.
‘Rona Vernon, by any chance?’
His brother-in-law looked startled. ‘How the hell did you know that?’
‘I saw her yesterday. I think she thought I knew.’ Which was why she, too, had thanked him.
‘Sheila and I haven’t been close for some time. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed during your Christmas visits.’ To his shame, he hadn’t. ‘And Rona and I had a thing going years ago, before either of us was
engaged. It just — suddenly flared up again.’
Colin snapped savagely at a stem and a lovely, overblown hibiscus bloom fell to the floor at their feet. ‘I suppose it’s useless saying I didn’t mean to hurt Sheila. It’s true, though. But she didn’t seem to need me any more. She’s so all-fired efficient and highly motivated, she doesn’t need anyone. At least, that was how it seemed. After last night, I’m not so sure.’
Webb waited for an explanation of last night, but it wasn’t forthcoming. ‘And Monday?’
‘That was just bloody bad timing. In fact, Billy Makepeace had seen us together the previous week. We always met well away from Erlesborough, so you can imagine our horror when he walked into a pub in Popplewell. Popplewell, I ask you!’
Webb had to smile. The tiny village outside Steeple Bayliss must certainly have seemed a safe haven. ‘Did he speak to you?’
‘No, just stared. Then a knowing smile spread over his face. We were so unnerved we left straight away. But the incident made us stop and think. Suppose Billy, who had no love for our respective families, broadcast the news? How would we feel if Sheila and Tom found out about us? I think we both realized our homes and families meant more to us than we did to each other. So we arranged to meet one last time, really just to end it. And as luck would have it, it was the night Billy got himself murdered.’
‘Where did you meet that time?’
‘A hotel the far side of Oxbury. We’d — used it before. The manager would confirm it.’ Colin stared down at the collapsed bloom on the floor. ‘You can’t have a very high opinion of me. I haven’t of myself. But I do love Sheila, David. I realized last night, when she asked me outright. I think now this ghost business has been explained she’s been doing a bit of self-analysis. She realizes we’ve drifted apart, and we’ve a good chance of coming close again. That is, if she doesn’t find out about Rona. There’s no point in telling her, is there, since it’s over?’
‘No, I agree. Salving your conscience with a confession would do more harm than good.’
David Webb 10 - Three, Three, the Rivals Page 17
