There was a slight pause. ‘I’m afraid we’re just going out to lunch.’
‘When will you be back, madam?’
‘About three-thirty, I should think.’ Another pause. ‘It’s to do with poor dear Nancy, I suppose?’
‘That’s right, madam. We’ll be along at three-thirty, then.’
He turned from the phone to see Charlotte in her coat, holding her suitcase. ‘Hannah insists I go to her, bless her. I’ve certainly had enough of my own company in the last twelve hours.’
Jackson took the case from her and they left the flat together. After she’d locked the door, Charlotte handed Webb the key. ‘You’d better take charge of this.’ He nodded his thanks.
Her car was in a garage in the side street facing the flat. ‘Goodbye, Chief Inspector. No doubt we’ll meet again.’
She nodded to Jackson, and they stood watching as she manoeuvred the car past those lining the road, their own among them.
‘What did you make of her, Ken?’
‘Tough, self-confident, a bit haughty. Wouldn’t like to get on her wrong side.’
‘True. I like her, though. Well, we’ll have to kick our heels till three-thirty. God, how I hate London, specially on Sundays. Let’s call on the local Force. We ought to put them in the picture, specially since they’ve fixed our accommodation for us. Then we can have a bite of lunch.’
CHAPTER 7
They located the Beresfords through the A to Z. In one of London’s most opulent squares, their flat was the ground floor of a large Georgian house.
Roger Beresford opened the door himself. His face, Webb thought, was a middle-aged schoolboy’s, lined but still young-looking, with an expression of anxious friendliness. Webb could almost see him in cap and blazer.
‘So sorry to keep you waiting,’ he said as he led them to the drawing-room. ‘Some friends from South Africa were giving a lunch party.’
‘No problem, sir.’
Faith Beresford was standing at the fireplace — a deliberate pose, Webb was willing to bet. Her short hair and boyish figure were set off by her Twenties-style dress, with its flat bodice and dropped waist. Unlike Miss Yates, she wore a set of gold bangles and a large sapphire ring.
Introductions were performed and Webb sat gingerly on a brocade chair. Jackson chose an upright, balancing his notebook on his knee.
‘Did you come all this way to see us, Chief Inspector?’ Beresford inquired easily. ‘You were lucky to catch us in town.’
‘We’ve been to Mrs Pendrick’s flat, sir. Miss Yates was spending the weekend there.’
‘God, yes. I heard them arranging it at New Year. Poor Charlotte — was she very upset?’
‘She was shaken, naturally. She’s known Mrs Pendrick for some time.’
‘That’s right, longer than any of us. But it’s shaken us all. A terrible thing to have happened.’
‘I believe you were in Broadshire yourselves, sir, last weekend. Did Mr and Mrs Pendrick seem happy together?’ Faith gave what in anyone less ladylike would have been a snort. ‘They fought like cat and dog the whole weekend.’
‘Oh darling, steady! That’s not quite true!’
‘Of course it’s true, Roger. It took them all their time to be civil at the party, and there was that unpleasant scene the next day.’
‘What scene was that, Mrs Beresford?’
‘Oliver complained Nancy was never there, and she accused him of neglecting his family. Then for some reason Henry took umbrage and started shouting too. I don’t remember the details, but it was all very vulgar and gave me quite a headache.’
That tallied with Oliver’s account.
‘I understand Mr Pendrick’s ex-fiancée was at the party. Did his wife know who she was?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ It was Roger who answered. ‘I imagine she must have.’
‘But their edginess wasn’t because of her?’
‘I don’t think so. As my wife said, it stemmed from the time Nancy spent in London.’ He hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t pay too much attention to it, Chief Inspector. It would probably all have blown over if poor Nancy hadn’t been killed.’
‘You could be right, sir,’ Webb said blandly. ‘Now, I understand you were in Shillingham on Wednesday afternoon?’
‘Wednesday? Yes, we were. Faith had a hair appointment.’
‘What time would that have been?’
Beresford glanced at his wife. ‘Three o’clock, wasn’t it? It was a long do, because she had some beauty treatment as well — massage or something.’
Mrs Beresford, disliking this discussion of her affairs, nodded confirmation.
‘Could you tell me which — er — salon it was, madam?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Alexander’s, in East Parade. I always go there when I’m over.’
‘And you were there from three o’clock till when?’
‘It must have been five-fifteen or so, wasn’t it, Roger?’
‘Too darned long, certainly. I got frozen, hanging about.’
‘And what did you do, sir, while your wife was engaged?’ Roger stared at him for a moment. Then he said softly, ‘My God, are we talking about the time Nancy died?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘But wasn’t it Thursday she was found? I hadn’t — ’
‘She’d been dead over twenty-four hours. The time of death was between four and six p.m. on the fourth.’
‘My God!’ Beresford said again. His eyes came back to Webb’s. ‘I’m sorry, you asked what I was doing. I went to the cinema, Chief Inspector. The Odeon, in Gloucester Circus.’
‘What programme was showing, sir?’
‘The Magnificent Seven — for the Christmas holidays, I suppose. I can tell you the plot in detail, but since I’ve seen it three times, it’s not much of an alibi.’
‘You saw the complete programme?’
‘No, it had been on about an hour when I got there. I was only filling in time till Faith was ready. As it was, she was later than I expected.’
‘You collected her from the salon?’
‘Yes, she didn’t know where the car was.’
‘And where was it?’
‘In the Odeon car park.’
‘So you didn’t use the Duke Street multi-storey?’
‘No, why?’
‘Mrs Pendrick parked there that afternoon.’
Roger’s face was white. ‘I could have bumped into her! God, if only I had!’
‘Did you see anyone you knew in Shillingham?’
‘Only Henry, in the distance.’
‘Henry Pendrick?’
‘Yes. He was across the road as I came out of the cinema. I don’t think he saw me.’
‘And that would have been when?’
‘Just after five, I’d say.’
Interesting. According to Henry — and his father — he’d been in the hotel kitchens. ‘Have you got the car with you now, sir?’
‘No, we came up by train. I never drive in London if I can help it.’
‘I take it you’d have no objection if we ask the local Force to examine it?’
Roger gave a nervous laugh. ‘None at all, but I doubt if it’ll be much use. It was filthy after all that country mud, and I left instructions for it to be given a good clean and polish.’
‘Nevertheless, sir, it’s routine procedure, as I’m sure you appreciate. And I’m afraid I’ll also have to take the clothes you were wearing on Wednesday. That, too, is standard practice.’
Faith Beresford said on a high note, ‘You don’t want my clothes, I hope?’
‘I’m sorry, madam. It’s a formality, but we can’t make exceptions.’
‘Then you’d better take care of them,’ she said tightly, ‘or I’ll claim for damages.’
Beresford threw Webb an apologetic glance. ‘I’m afraid that’ll fall to the local Force, too; we only have formal clothes here. I’ll phone through and leave instructions.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to have disturbed your Sunday.�
��
‘Well, Ken,’ Webb said drily as they drove out of the square, ‘you’ve met your first “Hon”. What did you think of her?’
‘Seemed a cold fish, didn’t she? Shouldn’t think he has much of a life with her.’
‘Depends what he’s prepared to settle for. She’s decorative and rich and has influence in the right places. Earl’s daughter, and all that.’
Jackson dismissed Faith’s assets with a grunt. ‘I liked him, though. Seemed a decent sort of bloke. Bit of a novelty for him, wasn’t it, being on the wrong end of the questioning?’
*
The next morning, the staff at Dean Catering seemed generally more upset than the Pendricks. Perhaps they’d been closer to Nancy than her own family. But for all their grief, they’d little to tell. She had returned as expected on Tuesday, seeming her usual efficient self. She’d also come in on Wednesday, but cancelled an appointment for the afternoon.
‘I was surprised,’ said the manageress. ‘It wasn’t like her — she hated breaking appointments.’
‘She gave no reason?’
‘Said something important had come up, so would I change it to Thursday.’
‘She expected to be back the next day, then?’
‘Oh yes. She asked for some papers to be on her desk first thing.’
‘So what did you think when she didn’t turn up?’
‘I couldn’t understand it. I kept ringing the flat, but there was no reply. So I thought she must have been delayed and would get back as soon as she could.’
‘She didn’t say where she was going?’
‘No. I didn’t realize it was out of London.’
‘What time did she leave here on Wednesday?’
‘Just after midday. Said she wanted an early lunch.’
Webb tapped his pencil reflectively. ‘Had she any men-friends, do you know?’
‘She never mentioned any, but then she wouldn’t, would she?’
‘You don’t know how she spent her free time?’
‘When the school was open, she did a lot of preparation for that.’
‘Did you ever meet her first husband?’
‘Mr Dean? He’s been in once or twice. Looking for a hand-out, I shouldn’t wonder. I don’t know why she bothers with him.’
‘You think she gave him money?’
‘I’m blooming sure she did. She was soft like that.’ The woman’s eyes filled with tears, and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief.
‘Could you describe him for us?’
‘Oh, he’s nice enough looking. Fancies himself no end. Dark, wavy hair — going thin on top, but he brushes it over the bald patch. Quite a one for the ladies.’
‘Age?’
She shrugged. ‘Mid-forties, I suppose.’
‘And how tall is he?’
‘Medium — not as tall as you.’
‘Eyes?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Blue, I think. Yes, blue.’
Webb came to his feet. ‘Thank you, Mrs Carstairs. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else.’
Frost still lay in the shadows as they came down the steps, but the strengthening sun glinted on the pavements.
‘Well, Ken,’ Webb said with relief, ‘we’ve done all we came for. Let’s head for home. We can fill ourselves in on the latest before the inquest. Did that description tally with Pendrick’s?’
‘More or less. You reckon Dean’s the one we’re after?’
‘We’re after him all right, but whether he’s guilty is anyone’s guess. Lord love us, a husband and ex-husband in one case! Too much of a good thing, wouldn’t you say?’
They were back in Shillingham by one o’clock, and, having left the car in Carrington Street, walked round the corner to The Brown Bear. Inspector Crombie raised his fork in greeting.
‘The wanderers return! How’s the Big City?’
‘Big.’ Webb sat down while Jackson went for drinks.
‘Worth the trip?’
‘Oh, I think so. Nothing spectacular, but the facts are building up. I reckon we can narrow the time of death to between four-thirty and five.’
‘How d’you arrive at that?’
‘Well, according to the stomach contents, she’d eaten four hours before death. We now know that last meal was in London. She’d left her office around twelve saying she wanted an early lunch, and the remains of it were still in the flat when Miss Yates arrived. I’d say she ate between twelve-thirty and one and left soon afterwards — she didn’t stop to wash up.
‘Allowing for traffic getting through London and so on, the journey should take roughly two hours and forty minutes. At any rate we know she was at the car park at four, and Jubilee Road soon after. And according to Mrs Tallow she left at four-twenty. So, taking the time of death as four hours after eating, we come up with four-thirty to five. QED.’
‘Wonderful!’ said Crombie, in mock admiration.
Jackson put three pints of beer on the table. ‘Pie and chips, Guv?’
‘Fine. Thanks, Ken.’ Jackson went back to the bar and Webb drank from his tankard. ‘It may be circumstantial but it fits the facts. You know, Alan, there’s one thing worrying me. She was in Broadshire the previous week; why didn’t she see Dean then? Why go all the way to London and have to come dashing back?’
‘Perhaps she didn’t want to see him earlier.’
‘Then what changed her mind? Why was it suddenly so urgent it couldn’t wait till Friday, when she’d be back anyway? Remember, he didn’t contact her, it was she who phoned him. Mrs Tallow was clear on that. And another thing. She came at some inconvenience specifically to see Dean. Having seen him, wouldn’t she have gone straight back to the car and home again?’
‘Perhaps she was making for it when she got waylaid.’
‘At four-thirty in the afternoon? With the streets still crowded with people?’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
‘Any in the last twenty-four hours?’
‘No, everything’s been fairly routine. Dick returned Mr Pendrick’s car and is going over his kids’. I haven’t heard his findings. And of course the Scirocco’s been turned inside out, to no avail.’
Jackson arrived with two steaming platesful and seated himself at the table. Webb reached for the salt.
‘Ken, while I’m at the inquest, get on to CRO. We now know Dean has form: I want to see if there’s a record of violence. Also, let Dick have that engagement book. We might as well confirm it was Nancy herself who scored out that appointment. And when he’s checked it for dabs, make a note of all names and addresses, going back at least three months. Oh, and ask Mike Romilly at the News for a decko at reports on the first Mrs Pendrick’s death — inquest, PM, etcetera.’
‘What shall I do after tea, Guv?’
Webb grinned and piled some chips on his fork. ‘I’ll think of something,’ he said.
*
It was five o’clock by the time Webb returned to the station and the Duty Sergeant called to him.
‘Lady waiting for you, Guv. Been here over an hour, but wouldn’t see anyone else. Got a little girl with her.’
Webb glanced into the reception area. A middle-aged woman was perched on the edge of a chair, gripping her handbag with both hands. Beside her was a girl of about thirteen, with a long flaxen plait over one shoulder. He walked towards them.
‘Good afternoon, madam. Webb, CID. You want to see me?’
‘Oh yes, Inspector.’ She jumped to her feet and Webb made no comment on his demotion. ‘My little girl has something to tell you.’
‘We’ll go to an interview room, then.’ He shepherded them across the wide hall to a vacant room, seated himself at the table, and gestured them to sit opposite. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
‘It’s what we can do for you, Inspector,’ the woman said importantly.
‘First, can I have your name and address?’
‘Mrs Robinson, 124, Wellington Street. And this is Sharon.’
W
ebb smiled at the child, who seemed on the verge of tears. ‘Hello, Sharon.’
‘You see, Inspector, Sharon saw her. On Wednesday afternoon. The lady that was murdered.’ Having delivered her bombshell, she sat back with a pleased expression.
‘Then you did right to come. Can you — ’
‘As soon as we saw her picture on telly, she gave a little scream, Sharon did. “That’s the lady!” she said, “the one that was so kind.” So I said, “Right. Down to the police we go.” We didn’t even stop for tea, though the kettle had boiled.’
‘I hope the sergeant gave you some,’ Webb said diplomatically.
‘Oh yes, he was very nice about it.’
‘Now, if Sharon could tell me in her own words — ’
‘She’d fallen down, see. I’m always telling her not to run, specially in the dark, but she won’t be told. So she ran, and of course she fell, and this poor lady helped her up. Her last act of kindness, you might say.’
Webb repressed a sigh. ‘Sharon, could you tell me exactly what happened?’
The child hung her head and sniffed.
‘It was definitely Mrs Pendrick you saw?’ he prompted. A nod.
‘What time was this?’
‘Dunno. About half four.’
‘And where were you?’
‘In Station Road. I’d been to the Co-op for Mum.’
It tied in. ‘And what happened?’
There was a long silence, then Mrs Robinson said, ‘She’s shy, but I told you, didn’t I? She fell and this lady picked her up.’
‘Is that right, Sharon?’
Another nod.
‘Did the lady speak to you?’
He had to bend his head to catch her reply. ‘She said, “Whatever’s the matter? Are you all right?”’
‘Anything else?’
‘I think she said, “What happened?”’
‘Think carefully, Sharon, this could be important. Was there anyone with the lady at the time — anyone at all?’
‘No.’
‘You’re quite sure of that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it any help?’ Mrs Robinson asked eagerly.
In all conscience Webb couldn’t see it was. It prolonged the last known appearance by some ten minutes, but that was all. However, he answered firmly, ‘Yes, I’m sure it is. I’m very grateful to you for coming. I’ll arrange for a driver to run you home, and if Sharon remembers anything else, we’d be glad to hear about it.’
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