Blood Sinister

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  Get outta that one, sucker, Atherton thought happily.

  Prentiss opened his mouth, but Ainscough snapped, ‘Don’t answer that.’ He looked at Prentiss hard and then said, ‘I’d like to talk to my client alone for a few minutes.’

  Slider and Atherton left them alone. When Ainscough recalled them, he seemed a little puzzled and uneasy. ‘My client has agreed to continue with this interview, though against my recommendation,’ he said. Prentiss smoked in silence, his face turgid with thought. ‘I must warn you again to be very careful of the language you employ. Remember my client is here voluntarily.’

  ‘All right,’ said Slider, ‘shall we start again? Let’s have an account of all your movements on Thursday, starting from when you got up in the morning, and this time, make it complete and true. Remember that we will check everything.’

  ‘There’s nothing to check,’ Prentiss said at last. His voice sounded faint and hoarse, though that could have been from the heat of the smoke. ‘I got up about seven, and did the usual things, showered, dressed, had breakfast, read the papers. Then I did some work—’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where?’ He looked surprised at the question.

  ‘Where did you do your work?’

  ‘At home. In the drawing-room. It was only reading – some reports on brownfield sites. I read and made some notes, looked at some drawings. We had lunch quite late – about half past three. Then I—’

  ‘What did you have for lunch?’

  ‘Chicken. Why the devil d’you want to know that?’

  ‘You never know what might be important,’ Slider said neutrally. ‘Go on. After lunch?’

  His eyes moved away from direct contact. ‘I did some more work. Then I changed and went out. I left at about a quarter to eight. I’d told Maria I’d be there at eight, but when I left the house I decided on an impulse to drop in on Phoebe on the way. I got to Phoebe’s at about eight and left again at about twenty past. And I got to Maria’s about half past. I had supper with her and eventually left about a quarter to one and was home at one, or just before.’

  Slider listened impassively until Prentiss stopped, and then asked, ‘When you left home – at a quarter to eight, you say – where did you tell your wife you were going?’

  ‘I said I was going to see Giles Freeman, of course.’

  ‘I thought you were going to tell me the truth?’ Slider said sternly.

  ‘It is the truth,’ Prentiss said.

  Slider made an impatient movement. ‘Now I’ll tell you what really happened. You had chicken that day all right, but you had it with Phoebe Agnew. She cooked you supper, chicken casserole and tiramisu, with plenty of wine, and coffee and brandy to follow. Then you had sex with her. Then at some point you quarrelled. The quarrel escalated, and you strangled her. Realising the position you were in, you arranged the body on the bed with the hands tied to make it look like a rape attack, and left. You assumed no-one would know you had ever been there, but unfortunately for you someone identified your car parked nearby.’

  ‘You’re crazy! I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Prentiss said. ‘None of that happened. No, it’s all right, Phil. It’s complete nonsense and they know it.’

  ‘When we came to see you on Friday afternoon,’ Slider continued implacably, ‘you pretended you didn’t know Phoebe Agnew was dead—’

  ‘I didn’t know! That was the first I’d heard about it.’

  ‘But your wife meanwhile had stated to another of my officers that you telephoned her on Friday morning and told her the news.’

  Prentiss said nothing to that, though his lips rehearsed a few unfinished words.

  ‘We’re going to end this interview right now,’ Ainscough said.

  Slider ignored him. ‘You really should have briefed your wife better. First of all she said you were at home all evening. Now she says you went out saying something vague about business. She didn’t know anything about the Giles Freeman story until you told her on Friday night that that’s what you’d told us. And the most foolish thing of all is that your Giles Freeman story and your present story about your mistress aren’t alibis at all, because there’s no evidence about what time on Thursday Phoebe Agnew was killed.’

  Prentiss looked like a man in deep shock. ‘But – but she must have been killed after eight-thirty,’ he said faintly.

  ‘Josh,’ said Ainscough warningly.

  ‘And what makes you think that?’ Slider asked quickly, to get it in while he still could.

  ‘Because she was fine when I left her.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Ainscough said. ‘Unless you’re prepared to charge my client, we’re leaving. Don’t answer any more questions, Josh.’ He put a hand on Prentiss’s shoulder and he stood up, still looking blank and shocked.

  Slider had one more try. ‘Mr Prentiss, you’ve told us nothing but lies from beginning to end. Can’t you understand that we check everything, that your lies will always be found out? You’re an intelligent man, you must see that nothing but the truth can help you now. Tell me the truth. What have you got to lose?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said slowly. ‘My career’s already gone, and my marriage—’ He shrugged, and turned to Ainscough. ‘It’s all right, Phil. I’ve got nothing to hide, and I want to get it straight with them. Otherwise this thing will drag on and on. I know what I’m doing.’ He sat down again and faced Slider. ‘Look, you’re on the wrong track altogether. Phoebe and I didn’t have a sexual relationship. We never did. We really were just friends. To tell you the truth,’ he added, ‘she wasn’t my type. She was too hard and masculine – and far too much of a slob. She was a great friend, though – a great mate, if you like. She and Noni and I have been friends since university days, but it was Noni I married. Noni’s the sort of dainty, feminine woman I find attractive. If you knew anything about me you’d know that was the truth. If you’re going to check with Maria you’ll see what sort of person she is.’

  Slider only nodded expressionlessly.

  ‘Noni’s my type,’ Prentiss went on. ‘She’s been a wonderful wife. Smart and pretty. Superb cook. Entertains my friends and business colleagues. An absolute mainstay – the sort of wife and home-maker a man in my position needs. Phoebe’s never cared for anything like that. She’d scoff at the idea of taking second place to a man or supporting him in his career. Her own career is all she cares about. And she despises domesticity. She lives in a state of chaos, her clothes are always held together with safety pins, and she’s never cooked for me or for anyone in her life. She lives on take-aways. The idea of her cooking supper for me is ludicrous – you simply don’t know how ludicrous!’

  ‘She cooked for somebody on Thursday, or didn’t you notice?’ Slider said.

  Prentiss looked distracted. ‘No, not really. I mean, there were a lot of dirty plates and things in the kitchen, but that was the way it always was. They could have been there for days, for all I knew.’

  ‘You went into the kitchen, then?’

  ‘No, I just saw as I went past the door that there were dishes stacked up. I didn’t go in. Why should I? But it was typical of Phoebe, that’s what I’m saying. Noni would never tolerate mess like that – and I like an orderly home.’

  ‘Yet,’ Slider pursued, ‘despite all the perfections of your wife, you still had to have a mistress?’

  Prentiss reddened. ‘Are you going to sit in judgement on me?’

  ‘I warned you not to go on with this,’ said Ainscough.

  ‘I’m trying to find some consistency in Mr Prentiss’s story, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s all right, Phil,’ said Prentiss.

  ‘No, it isn’t. If you insist on ignoring my advice then I’m of no use to you. Perhaps you’d like to instruct someone else.’

  Prentiss thought a moment and then said, ‘All right, you can go. I’ll do this on my own.’

  ‘I most strongly urge you not to.’

  ‘Your advice is noted. But I’ll do this my way.’ When
Ainscough had left them, Prentiss gave Slider and Atherton a strange look, part angry, part pleading. He appeared to have braced himself for something, but Slider hadn’t any hope it was a confession. Prentiss seemed to have regained his confidence since the low point when Slider had told him his alibi was not an alibi. Had he thought of something – some device for getting out of trouble which, significantly, perhaps, he did not want his brief to hear?

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I didn’t want to tell you this before because it’s personal, and I didn’t see why the intimate details of my life should be pored over by strangers – but, though I love Noni and she’s a wonderful wife, we haven’t had sex for a long time. Not for a couple of years. She’s been depressed ever since her career flopped. She was in a sitcom and it was panned by the critics.’ He paused and looked to see if they knew what he was talking about.

  ‘Yes, we heard about that from someone else,’ Slider said.

  ‘Right, well, you must understand how hard that was for her. It ought to have been her big break, and in fact she hasn’t worked since. Naturally, she’s been very low. And she’s getting to a difficult age for women.’

  Ah, that was it, Slider thought. The inconsistencies in the story were to be laid at the door of Mrs Prentiss’s menopausal irrationality.

  ‘Well, I’ve been as supportive of her as I can,’ he went on, ‘but it hasn’t been easy. My own career takes up a lot of time and energy; and, frankly, I’m a man who needs a sexual outlet.’

  He appealed to them, man to man. Slider and Atherton remained unappealed to, and Prentiss was bounced back into his exposition as off a wall.

  ‘Well, I don’t apologise for that,’ he said. ‘I’ve always been discreet, and never given Noni anything to complain about. And as for Maria, I assure you she knows the score and she’s quite happy with the situation. So where’s the harm?’

  Slider refused to specify. ‘What has this to do with your actions on Thursday?’ he asked neutrally.

  ‘I’m coming to that,’ Prentiss said. He lit another cigarette from the stub of the first, drew on it and coughed a little. ‘Look, I don’t like telling you this, but I have to, otherwise you won’t understand, and you won’t believe me. On Thursday, right from the time we had breakfast, Noni seemed to be in a funny mood.’

  ‘In what way, funny?’

  ‘I don’t know, she seemed a bit edgy and excited. I couldn’t tell what was going on with her. I was trying to read and she kept interrupting, trying to start up conversations. Talking about the news and my Government job. She asked about holidays, and when we were going to have the children over and so on and so on. I did my best to be patient with her but she was making it hard to concentrate. In the end I had to say that this was a working day at home, and I didn’t want to be disturbed, and she shut up and went off.’

  ‘Off?’

  ‘Oh, just pottering round, the way women do. I thought maybe she was sulking, but when she called me to say lunch was ready she’d obviously got over it because she seemed quite happy. Almost—’ He frowned, seeming to search for the right word. ‘Almost flirtatious. She brought me a glass of champagne first. I said, what’s the occasion, and she said, nothing, I always used to like a glass of champagne as an aperitif, and had I changed. I said I still had work to do that afternoon and she said, oh you’ve got a hard enough head to take it. Flattering me, you know?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, she’d done a delicious chicken and rice dish for lunch – she really is a super cook – and at that point I thought, what the hell, the poor love probably needs the company, stuck here alone all day with nothing to do, so I gave in and we had an excellent bottle of burgundy with it. She was being as entertaining as she knew how – chatting and laughing. She has immense charm when she wants to use it. Anyway—’ He hesitated, and looked down at his hands. ‘Anyway, after lunch she – we – we went to bed.’ He was silent a moment, and Slider didn’t prompt him. ‘It was the first time for a couple of years. She said she hadn’t been a good wife to me lately and she meant to make it up to me in the future.’

  Another silence, and he looked up unhappily. ‘It put me in a difficult position. I mean, I’d got used to the way things were, and I was quite happy with my arrangements. The last thing I want to do is to hurt Noni, and I do love her – there couldn’t be a better wife – but the fact of the matter is—’

  ‘You don’t fancy her,’ Atherton suggested.

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said defensively. ‘I want you to understand. Maria and I – I’m deeply involved with her. I can’t give her up. But I knew I’d feel bad about it if Noni and I were also – if we were lovers again. And there was her mental state to consider – Noni’s. I’ve told you she’s been very depressed. If she was making an effort to come out of it, and I rejected her, or she found out about Maria after I – oh,’ he finished, goaded, ‘you must see!’

  Slider nodded. ‘So with all these worries about your wife on your mind, you decided the best thing was to pop out and visit a couple of your mistresses.’

  Prentiss reddened and half rose. ‘Look, I don’t have to take this sort of abuse!’

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ Slider said. ‘You invite it, it would be rude not to take it.’

  Prentiss was so shocked by this response he hardly knew what to say. ‘Do you think this is funny?’ he said at last, incredulously.

  ‘No,’ said Slider, fixing him with a hard stare. ‘I’ve seen the body of Phoebe Agnew. I don’t think there’s anything remotely funny about it. So please sit down and stop blustering. I’m trying to get at the truth.’

  Prentiss subsided, but he looked angry and disconcerted. ‘I don’t understand you at all. I’m here voluntarily. I’m doing my best to help you, but I can walk out of here right now and leave you to stew in it, and I will do if you don’t start showing me a bit of respect and common courtesy. You’re a public servant. And you must know I’m a man of influence. Do you want me to make a complaint against you? Don’t you value your career?’

  ‘Let’s not talk careers, Mr Prentiss,’ Slider said. ‘Let’s remember why we’re here, and what I already know. Now, tell me what happened after you made love with your wife.’

  He breathed hard, but answered after a moment. ‘I fell asleep. When I woke up it was half past six. I was annoyed because I hadn’t done all the work I’d planned to do, and I’d told Maria I’d be round at eight. I jumped up to go and shower, and Noni asked where I was going. She said, “You’re not going out, are you?” I said I had to, and she got upset. She felt that after what had happened I ought to stay with her. She asked me who I was going to see and said I should cancel it and I got angry and said it was Government business and she ought to know by now what was important, and she said did that mean she wasn’t important – well, you know how women go on. Before I knew what was happening I was in the middle of a row. The last thing I wanted to do was quarrel with her, especially—’ He hesitated.

  ‘Especially given where you really were going,’ Slider suggested. ‘She made you feel guilty and that made you angrier.’

  He shrugged. ‘You know what women are like,’ he said again. ‘I will say that was one thing about Phoebe. She never behaved that way. She had a mind more like a man’s. That’s why I went to see her, really. When I was in the car and starting off for Maria’s, I decided to call in on Phoebe and ask her advice about the situation. I didn’t know what to do about Noni, and I thought Phoebe could give me an impartial view.’

  ‘Did you tell your wife you were going to call on her?’ Slider asked.

  ‘No, of course not. I told you, it was spur of the moment. I didn’t think of it until I was driving off.’

  Atherton spoke. ‘But your wife told me today that you said you were going to call in on Phoebe and asked her if she wanted to send any message.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Prentiss shook his head in a goaded way, and drew again on the cigarette. It was burning too quickly, and the glowing lump
of tobacco at the end detached itself and fell, landing in the untouched and cooling coffee. Prentiss looked down in vague surprise, and then reached for his lighter. ‘I don’t know why she said that,’ he mumbled through the lighting operations.

  ‘I think I do,’ Slider said. ‘She was trying to protect you as a loyal wife would. Trying to make us believe your relationship with Phoebe Agnew was innocent.’

  ‘But it was innocent.’

  ‘Don’t forget’, Slider said, ‘that we know differently.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Faurés a jolly good fellow

  It was the early hours of the morning when Slider got home. The streets were empty, shiny with incipient frost, the sky black without feature behind the yellow street light. The houses looked two-dimensional and unreal. It was a bleak time of day, and winter sunrise was too far off to inject a ray of hope.

  The streets were parked both sides as far as the eye could see: everyone was at home and accounted for. He had to cruise to find a space several streets away, and then walk back. The parked cars seemed to be sleeping too, tucked in snugly at the kerb; he imagined a windscreen eye half-opening as he passed and then drooping closed again.

  He turned a corner, into a better-off street. The security conscious owners had fitted intruder lights, and because the front gardens were so short, he set them off from the pavement, like a row of bathchair colonels on the promenade waking one after the other: ‘What? What? What?’ He yawned as he walked, and yawning made him shiver. Oh, for bed, for the blissful sleeping heat of Joanna’s body, for that wonderful moment when you check out of your brain and slip child-naked into the warm black waters of oblivion!

  She woke as he came into the bedroom. ‘Huh? Wasser time?’ she muttered.

  ‘Sshh! Just after four. Go back to sleep.’

  ‘Huhnn,’ she said. He pulled off his clothes and slid in under the covers, cold as a stone, hesitating to touch her. But she reached behind her and pulled him against her scorching flesh, draping her legs over his and rubbing his cold feet with her warm ones. Sighing, he sank into her back, and thought that this was probably the most inexpressibly wonderful sensation life could afford.