‘Thank you, Inspector. Where and when was it left?’
‘Duke Street multi-storey, Wednesday p.m. Clocked in at sixteen hundred on the nail.’
Webb put the phone down and turned back to Pendrick. ‘Your wife was leaving the house when you last saw her. I presume she was travelling by car?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is it possible she didn’t after all go to London?’
Pendrick frowned impatiently. ‘No, Chief Inspector, it is not. As I’ve explained, that was the whole point of her leaving. In any case, she forwarded a bill to me. It had a London postmark.’
Webb leant forward. ‘When did you receive it, sir?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Did you notice the postmark?’
‘No, I didn’t, but since it came second-class, it was probably Wednesday.’
‘Have you still got the envelope?’
‘Look, what is this? What does it matter when it was posted? Nancy was in London all right, and in all probability still is. Where else is she likely to be?’
His question hung on the air. Very slowly he straightened and uncrossed his legs. ‘What is it, Chief Inspector? You’re leading up to something. Do you know where she is?’
‘I’m afraid I might, sir. Have you seen a newspaper in the last couple of days?’
‘I’ve not had time. Why?’
‘A woman’s body was found on Thursday, by Chedbury Woods. She — ‘
‘You’re suggesting it could be Nancy? But that’s ridiculous! She’s never been to Chedbury in her life.’
Just in her death, Webb thought grimly. He was no longer in doubt. ‘Sir, I think I should warn you — ‘
‘Look, if Nancy came rushing back to Broadshire, which I don’t believe for a minute, why on earth should she go to Chedbury? Her only friends in the county are in Frecklemarsh, and to be honest they’re my friends rather than hers. I should explain she’s my second wife. We’ve only been married three years.’
‘Sir, I’m very sorry, and I hope I’m wrong, but I think it would be advisable for you to — take a look at the body.’ Pendrick stared at him, and the colour left his face. He said slowly, ‘My God, you’re serious, aren’t you? You really think it’s Nancy you’ve got down there. But it can’t be. She’s in London — unless she’s home by now.’ He glanced a little wildly at the phone. The Chief Inspector rose to his feet. ‘It’ll only take a minute, sir.’
*
Shillingham town centre was allegedly planned by a policeman with a wooden leg. All relevant buildings were conveniently close together and, as often before, Webb was grateful that the hospital and mortuary were next to the police station. He wondered if he’d ever be able to watch dispassionately when the long drawer was pulled out and the sheet folded back from the dead face. For a full two minutes Oliver Pendrick stood rigid, staring down. It was as well they’d prettied the poor woman up a bit. Then he turned, met Webb’s eyes and gave a brief nod.
Webb put a hand under his elbow and led him back to the station. Jackson had some tea ready. Automatically, Pendrick lifted the nearest cup and drank. If it burned his mouth, he gave no sign. He spoke for the first time since seeing his wife’s body.
‘I presume it was a traffic accident?’
‘I’m afraid not, Mr Pendrick. Your wife was strangled.’
There was a silence, then Pendrick said hoarsely, ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
‘No, sir. Her body was found on Thursday night, but she’d been there since the previous evening.’
‘But who — I mean, why — ? I don’t understand. How can Nancy, who was alive on Wednesday morning in London, be dead on Wednesday evening in Chedbury?’
‘That’s something we’ll have to find out, sir. I’m afraid there are some questions I’ll have to ask, but if you’d rather we left it for a while — ’
‘Let’s get it over, for God’s sake. I’ll tell you all I know, but it won’t be much help.’
‘We’ll start with the formalities, then.’
Methodically, Jackson took them down: Pendrick’s full name and address and that of his wife, the details of their oddly split life. No, she’d no children by either marriage. Yes, he had two: their names and ages.
‘Who else was in the house last weekend?’
‘My brother-in-law and his wife were staying a few days.’
‘Your wife’s brother?’
‘My first wife’s. And we had a party on Saturday, New Year’s Eve.’ He paused, added wonderingly, ‘Only a week ago.’
‘Was it a large party, sir?’
‘Not more than twenty, counting ourselves.’
‘I’ll need the names and addresses later. And you say, sir, you and your wife had a disagreement?’
Briefly Pendrick put a hand across his eyes. ‘Yes. I can’t change it now, but I’m sorry we parted like that.’
‘Was it serious?’
‘Not really. I was annoyed about her spending so little time with us. She retaliated by saying I neglected my family.’
‘Which you resented.’
‘Of course. Admittedly the hotel takes up a lot of my time; that’s only to be expected; but Henry and Rose aren’t children any longer.’
‘Perhaps they need more, rather than less, of your time now?’
It was an astute remark from a man with no children. Pendrick resented it, though he made no reply. He probably thought Webb spoke from experience.
‘Are your brother-and-sister-in-law still with you, Mr Pendrick?’
‘No, they went home on Thursday.’
‘And they are — ?’
‘Mr and the Honourable Mrs Roger Beresford, Heron Court, Chardsey, Surrey. They’ve a London flat too.’
Webb looked up. ‘Would that be the barrister?’
‘Correct.’
‘A brilliant man. I always follow his cases.’
The questions went on, and the Pendricks’ home life began to emerge. Oliver admitted frankly that his children hadn’t accepted his second wife. ‘Though things might have been improving,’ he added. ‘Nancy said Henry’d gone to her with a problem.’
‘Do you know what it was?’
‘No idea. He leapt up at that point and said it was confidential.’
‘And that was last weekend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Might he have been in the habit of turning to her?’
‘I doubt it. Nancy wouldn’t have missed the chance to tell me.’ He paused. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to give the impression we were always quarrelling. We had our good times, too.’
‘I’m sure you did, sir,’ Webb said smoothly. ‘Now, will you tell me, please, where you were between four and six on Wednesday afternoon?’
Pendrick stared at him, a pulse beating in his temple. He moistened his lips. ‘At the hotel. I had some paperwork to see to.’
‘And the other members of the household?’
‘My son was in the hotel kitchens; he’s learning the business. I don’t know about Rose, but my sister-in-law had a hair appointment. Her husband drove her to Shillingham, which is why I felt free to work.’
‘What time did they return?’
‘I don’t know. I was on duty that evening, and didn’t get back till late.’ His thoughts moved on. ‘There’s so much I don’t understand. Nancy’s car, for instance. Is it missing, or was it found near her?’
‘It was left in the car park in Duke Street.’
‘Then how did she get to Chedbury? None of it makes sense. And if she was as near home as that, why didn’t she contact us?’
‘Did she know anyone who lived in Shillingham?’
‘Not a soul.’
‘Might she perhaps have arranged at the party to meet someone?’
‘If she had, she wouldn’t have gone back to London.’
‘Unless she’d an important engagement?’
Pendrick shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea what she does up there. She runs a cookery school and
a catering firm, but she never discusses them with me, nor what she does in her spare time.’
‘You don’t know if she’d any gentlemen friends?’
‘Lovers, you mean? I doubt it. Nancy met men on her own terms, but she wasn’t dependent on them. Sex was something she could take or leave.’
‘Was your own relationship satisfactory?’
Pendrick looked up, an angry flush staining his cheeks, then the fire went out of him. ‘I suppose you have to ask. It was all right, but not like it had been with Avis.’
‘Your first wife?’ Webb paused. He’d have to go into that marriage too, see if there were any links that could be relevant, but not yet. They’d enough to occupy them for the moment.
Pendrick said awkwardly, ‘Why did you ask about men? I mean, she hadn’t — ?’
‘There was no sign of recent intercourse, either before or after death.’
‘Thank you.’ He spoke with dignity, and Jackson cleared his throat. Poor bugger, he thought. ‘Presumably,’ Pendrick added, ‘that means there’s been a post mortem?’
‘Yes, and the inquest’s on Monday, at four-thirty.’ Webb studied his face. It was just beginning to sink in, he thought, unless this is all one big act, which had been known to happen. In the meantime, he’d better press on.
‘Did your wife have any connection with the staff or guests at the hotel?’
‘No, she — my God!’ Pendrick stared at him and he waited patiently. ‘I’ve just remembered something, though I doubt if it’s important. Her ex-husband was working at the hotel until six weeks ago.’
Webb laid down his pen. ‘She was aware of that?’
‘She found out the same time I did.’
‘Then you hadn’t engaged him?’
‘No, the head barman hires the bar staff. At least no one at the hotel knew who he was.’
‘How long had he been there when you found out?’
‘A month or so. I’d seen him around, but I hadn’t heard his surname. Even if I had, I doubt if it’d have registered. He was the last person I’d expect to see behind my own bar.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Nancy arrived one Friday, and since no one was home, she came over to the hotel. I met her in the hall and we went to the bar, where Dean was on duty. She just stopped and stared at him. He smiled sheepishly and said, “Hello, Nance.” And she burst out laughing. I’d no idea what was going on.’
‘And you fired him?’
‘I suggested it, but she said no. She told me he never kept a job for long, so it might as well run its course. I remember her saying, “You have to hand it to him, don’t you?”’
‘And eventually, as she predicted, he left of his own accord?’
Pendrick smiled grimly. ‘Not quite. He was found with his fingers in the till.’
‘When was that?’
‘Some time in November.’
‘And where did he go then, do you know?’
‘Back to London, I suppose. He’s a Londoner through and through.’
‘Did he explain why he’d come to your hotel?’
‘Some cliché about seeing how the other half live.’
‘And until your wife walked into the bar he’d made no attempt to contact her?’
‘Apparently not.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘He touched her for money once or twice. I was very annoyed, but as she didn’t hesitate to point out, it was her money and there was nothing I could do about it.’
Webb doodled thoughtfully on his pad. ‘What kind of man is Dean?’
‘The kind that appeals to women. Handsome, plausible and weak. He always lands on his feet, because there’s always some woman who’ll take pity on him.’
‘Would he have left a forwarding address?’
‘Possibly, when he realized we weren’t going to prosecute. I can find out.’
‘I’m afraid, Mr Pendrick, we’ll have to see the staff, whether they knew your wife or not. And your family, of course.’
‘My family? Why?’
‘There might be some light they can throw on why she was in the district.’
‘I very much doubt it. She wouldn’t confide in Rose or Henry.’
‘Even so, they’ll have to be questioned, but we won’t intrude until — ’
‘If it’s got to be done, there’s no point in delaying it. Come back with me now, if you like. Nancy wasn’t their mother; they didn’t even like her particularly. They’ll be shocked, but certainly not heartbroken.’
Webb glanced at Jackson who, behind Pendrick’s back, raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
‘Very well, Mr Pendrick, if that’s what you’d prefer. We’ll run you back and you can leave your car here. Forensic will need to look at it, anyway. Purely routine,’ he added, at Pendrick’s frown. ‘Now, who’s likely to be home at the moment?’
‘My son and daughter and the housekeeper. They won’t be able to help, but you’re welcome to question them.’
‘We’ll also need to examine your wife’s possessions, any papers and so on.’
‘There again, you won’t find much. She kept most of her things in London.’
‘I’ll be going there tomorrow. I imagine the keys will be among those in her handbag.’
Pendrick said diffidently, ‘Where are her things? The ones she — had with her?’
‘They’ve been sent to the laboratory for examination.’
‘I see.’ He was silent for a moment, then rose determinedly to his feet. ‘Very well, Chief Inspector, I’m ready when you are.’
Avoiding each other’s eyes, the three men went together out of the room.
CHAPTER 5
Frecklemarsh was not one of Webb’s favourite villages; it had about it a self-conscious charm that irritated him. You came upon it round a bend at the top of a hill, stretching down the gentle slope and fanning out at the foot into the main village.
In that first bird’s eye view, all its salient features were visible, the river Darrant spanned by stone bridges, and over to the right the cobbled square with its cluster of specialist shops, none of which, Webb felt, had any place in a proper village — winestore, delicatessen, craft gallery. Even the church, reputedly Norman, was too pretty for his taste, set artistically on a green mound with its marble tombstones glinting in the sun.
It was the tombstones which recalled his attention, and he glanced in the mirror at their passenger. Pendrick hadn’t spoken during the fifteen-minute drive. He was staring out of the window and Webb felt a stab of sympathy. It was the hell of a thing to be faced with. Then suddenly, unaware he was watched, his mouth twisted into a smile and Webb’s pity evaporated. What, in the present circumstances, could have caused him even fleeting amusement?
He said brusquely, ‘Once we’re over the bridge you’ll have to direct us, sir.’ His eyes were still on Pendrick, and the man started, coming back to the present.
‘Keep straight on. It’s about half a mile on the left.’ He paused. ‘The Gables was originally the Squire’s house, some distance from the village, and the cottages where I live housed estate workers. However, a spate of building after the last war narrowed the gap, as you see.’
The little speech, oddly formal, sounded like a quotation from the brochure. Neither of the policemen offered any comment.
As they passed the gate with the hotel board, Pendrick leant forward. ‘Here we are — on the left. You can drive in, I left the gates open.’ He laughed briefly. ‘Do you know, I found myself looking for Nancy’s car. Habit, I suppose.’
Webb’s compassion would have been stronger had he not seen that reflected smile.
They drew up with a crunching of gravel and the three men climbed out. The driveway was at the end of the long, low house which stretched parallel to the road, the facade of the original cottages still clearly visible. The main entrance was in the end wall. Pendrick went ahead and opened the door, standing aside to let the policemen in. Webb, a diligent absorber of atmosphere
, paused to assess it.
The conversion had been skilfully done. From where, they stood in the small hall, they could see through a series of archways to the far end of the house, each section, no doubt, the width of an original cottage. It was very much a country home; the floor was tiled in red and in the alcove to their right an assortment of jackets and anoraks were untidily bunched on hooks. Beneath them stood some muddy boots and a bag of golf clubs. A steep flight of stairs led upwards, at the foot of which was a door which Pendrick now opened. An appetizing smell reached them, and a pleasant-faced woman turned from the stove.
‘Are Henry and Rose in, Mrs Foldes?’
‘Yes, sir, in the sitting-room, I think. We were just wondering if you’d be back for lunch. There’s still no word from Mrs Nancy.’ She caught sight of the men behind him, and her eyes widened in alarm. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there, sir?’
‘You’d better hear this too. Come through.’
The ceiling was low, and Webb ducked as he went under the archway before realizing that Pendrick, his own height, had preceded him. They passed through the dining area, the table laid for lunch, and under the final arch. The sitting-room turned, L-shaped, to the right forming a large square, which at present was dominated by a Christmas tree. Lounging on a sofa in T-shirt and jeans was the loveliest girl Webb had seen. Her hair, a deep honey-gold, framed an oval face with sultry, long-lashed eyes of smoky grey. Come-to-bed eyes, if ever he’d seen them. He heard Jackson’s indrawn breath, and grinned mentally.
There was also a young man present, who, hearing footsteps, turned from the window.
‘At last!’ he exclaimed. ‘We were just beginning to wonder — ’ His voice trailed off as he registered the silent group behind his father.
Pendrick plunged straight into his announcement. ‘These gentlemen are from the police. I’m afraid I’ve some bad news. Nancy’s dead. She’s — been murdered.’
There was a moment’s electric silence. Then the boy and the housekeeper exclaimed together — murmurs of conventional disbelief. But having scanned all three faces in that first second, Webb’s eyes came to rest on the girl. She was pushing herself back against the sofa as though to escape from something she could not bear. Her wide, horrified eyes were fixed on her father.
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