Dr Lucas paled. He gulped a couple of times before he spoke. ‘I … I might have spoken to him a couple of times, perhaps. When Sir Matthew was taken ill he was worried about his master. In fact, yes,’ said Dr Lucas, his confidence growing. ‘I believe he did waylay me on at least one occasion to enquire about his master’s condition.’
That didn’t tie in with what Arthur had overheard them say about the war, but Ashley let it go. ‘What was his attitude? Respectful?’
‘Yes. Well, no, not always. Ryle has – had, I should say – a very rough and ready manner of speech.’ Dr Lucas stopped, wiping his forehead. ‘Really, Superintendent, I find these questions very uncomfortable. Someone might have seen me talking to Ryle, but the conversation, if you can call it that, was so unimportant it slipped my mind. And really, I find it utterly incredible that the mutilated corpse I examined could be that of Ryle. He was not very well liked but to inflict such savage injuries on a man calls for some other motive than mere dislike. I cannot believe that the man we found was a local man. It seems too fantastic for words.’
‘And yet, sir, to get the corpse into the cupboard in the church required precise local knowledge.’
Dr Lucas looked honestly bewildered. ‘In that case, I can only conclude that we must have an unsuspected criminal lunatic in our midst.’
‘Is such a thing possible, Doctor? That a criminal lunatic could be unsuspected in a close-knit community such as this?’
Dr Lucas nodded vigorously. ‘Unfortunately, although I must say I shrink from the idea, it’s perfectly possible. I know little of such matters, but my son, Jerry, is far more versed in modern thinking on psychology than I am. He has discussed cases with me where a man seems perfectly sane in all respects and yet has no real moral sense. I believe the technical term to describe such a man is a psychopath. There has been some work on this type of criminal disorder in Germany and, latterly, America. I may say that the motives for the crimes in such cases seem utterly inadequate. Indeed, there may not be any motive that we would recognize as a motive at all.’
The door was suddenly flung back and a dark-haired, nervy-looking man a few years older than Jack erupted into the room. The angle of the door blocked Jack and Ashley from his view and he rushed forward, his hands twitching in agitation.
‘Dad! They know the dead man is Ryle!’
Dr Lucas coughed and motioned to where Ashley and Jack were sitting. The man spun round. His eyes widened in dismay as he saw them. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought my father was alone.’
Dr Lucas waved a hand in their direction. ‘This is Superintendent Ashley and Major Haldean, Jerry. This is my son, Dr Jeremy Lucas.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ muttered Jerry Lucas, looking anything but pleased.
‘Who told you the identity of the dead man?’ asked Ashley.
Jerry Lucas twisted his hands together. ‘It’s all over the village. I … I thought my father should know. He did the post-mortem.’ Jerry Lucas spoke in quick, jerky sentences. ‘I thought he’d be interested.’
‘Did you know Ryle?’ asked Jack. Jerry Lucas’s eyes flickered to his father. Dr Lucas nodded his head very slightly.
‘Yes. That is, I knew who he was.’
‘Did you like him?’
‘No! I mean …’ Jerry Lucas pushed his hair back from his forehead.
Dr Lucas moved closer to his son. It was an unmistakably protective gesture. Jerry Lucas stopped, gulped, then plunged once more into speech, his eyes seeking his father’s approval. ‘I didn’t know him well enough to like or dislike him.’
Jack could see the relief in Dr Lucas’s face.
‘What my son means,’ said the doctor smoothly, ‘is that Ryle suffered from an unsavoury reputation. If you want further information, you could ask either the Vardons or the Castradons. We know very little about him, don’t we, Jerry?’
Jerry Lucas looked at him gratefully. ‘Hardly anything,’ he agreed. He edged to the door. ‘I think I’d better go now.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Jack pleasantly. What he really wanted was to get Jerry Lucas on his own, away from his father who seemed to be controlling the conversation like a puppet master, but that didn’t seem to be possible. He decided to back a hunch. Whatever the connection was between Dr Lucas and Ryle, Jerry Lucas obviously not only knew all about it but, Jack was prepared to bet, was as involved as his father.
‘Surely you knew Ryle better than you say. After all, you met him privately more than once, didn’t you?’
It was a guess but there was no doubt of the truth. Jerry Lucas paled and shrank back, his tongue moving over suddenly dry lips. ‘How did you know?’ His voice was a whisper.
‘What did Ryle want from you?’
Dr Lucas intervened. ‘There were no private meetings. My son obviously misunderstood your question, Major Haldean. He wanted nothing. Isn’t that right, Jerry? Nothing at all. Now, gentlemen, I know you’ll excuse me, but I have some more work I must do this evening so if I can show you out …’
He attempted to usher them to the door, but Ashley stood firm. ‘Not yet, Doctor. There are some questions to be answered.’ He glanced at Jack, breathed deeply, and took the plunge. ‘We believe Ryle took drugs. He must’ve got them from somewhere.’ He stopped, looking at father and son keenly. ‘Did you supply him with drugs?’
Dr Lucas stared at him. ‘Did I supply him?’ he repeated incredulously.
Ashley turned on Jerry Lucas. ‘Did you?’
‘Me!’ Jerry Lucas took a step backwards, stuttering in his anxiety. ‘No, of course not. That would be wrong. Really wrong. I don’t know why you’d think such a thing. Ryle was a swine, a real swine, but he didn’t take drugs. At least, we never gave him any, did we, Dad?’
His manner was so sincere, Jack was certain Jerry Lucas was telling the truth. He could tell Ashley believed him too.
Ashley looked thoughtfully at the young doctor. ‘So if you weren’t supplying him with drugs, what was the nature of your relationship with Ryle?’
Jack felt honestly sorry for Jerry Lucas. He looked like a hunted animal. He tried to speak, but couldn’t.
Dr Lucas drew himself up to his full height. ‘Superintendent! I must insist you stop these questions. Apart from a few chance meetings, neither my son nor I had any relationship whatsoever with Ryle. Furthermore, I very much dislike the tone you have adopted. This is, I would remind you, my house and you are here at my invitation to receive a post-mortem report which I have carried out at your request.’
‘I’m grateful for the work that you’ve done, sir,’ said Ashley with every appearance of sincerity. ‘Having said that, you must see why I’m puzzled. For instance, you’ve stated that neither you nor your son knew Ryle well, yet Dr Lucas here—’ he indicated Jeremy Lucas – ‘says that Ryle was “A real swine”.’
Jerry Lucas shrank back, his eyes wide. He didn’t speak but gave an odd little whimper.
All of a sudden, Jack could hardly bear it. He wanted to shout, ‘Stop!’ but Ashley couldn’t stop. There was no hint of bullying in his voice. He was polite but as implacable as a steamroller. ‘You must have some reason to hold such a strong opinion.’
Jerry Lucas shook his head dumbly. The tension in the room stretched like a piano wire.
‘Well?’
Dr Lucas gave a snort of impatience and suddenly the tension was gone. ‘Ryle had an unsavoury reputation. That was what my son referred to, Superintendent. I repeat; we had no personal connection with Ryle whatsoever.’ Ashley stirred and was about to speak, but Dr Lucas ploughed on. ‘If you think either my son or myself have a charge to answer, then make your accusation and we will thresh this out in court.’
Ashley held up his hand in a placatory way. ‘We’re nowhere near making any accusations yet, sir. All I’m doing is asking a few simple questions and hoping for some answers.’
‘Which you have received. Now, gentlemen, I really think it would be best if you left.’
<
br /> There was nothing for it but to allow themselves to be shown out.
‘What d’you make of that?’ asked Ashley in disgust as they walked back across the green to the station. ‘I’d love to know what was going on between those two and Ryle. Do you think they were selling him drugs?’ he demanded.
Jack clicked his tongue. ‘It’s hard to tell, but I don’t think so. The pair of them seemed astonished by the idea Ryle used drugs. I’d say they were telling the truth.’
‘It’s about the only thing they were telling the truth about,’ grunted Ashley. ‘There’s something going on and I want to know what. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.’
TEN
The next morning, after dropping Isabelle in the village, Jack visited the police station. He’d had an idea about Jerry Lucas and Jonathan Ryle, an idea he wanted to discuss with Ashley.
Ashley, however, wasn’t there. Constable Stock didn’t, he said morosely, rightly know when he’d be back.
Strolling aimlessly across the green, Jack decided to take another look at Coppenhall Lane. Although they’d explored it pretty thoroughly yesterday, there was just a chance there could be a few threads from the tartan rug they’d overlooked. If he could find any threads on the village end of Coppenhall Lane, past the Castradons’ house, it wouldn’t automatically rule out Ned Castradon as a suspect, but it would be a strong presumption in his favour.
He walked up the lane, looking in the ditch, scanning the hedges and paying particular attention to the odd clumps of spiky hawthorn and thorny holly, but there were no red or yellow threads.
He was nearly at the Castradons’ when he saw Thomas Vardon coming along the lane from the church. He, too, was studying the hedges carefully.
‘Hello!’ said Jack. ‘Are you looking for something?’
Sir Thomas gave a disarmingly shy smile. ‘In a manner of speaking. You’ll probably think I’m wasting my time, but I was taking a hand at playing detective. It struck me yesterday how dark this lane must be at night and I wondered if that poor guy in the church was brought along here. I suppose I was hoping to find a clue,’ he added with a grin. ‘Sherlock Holmes always finds footprints or cigar ash …’
He broke off as the noise of a door slamming came clearly from the house beyond the hedge, followed by a man’s voice, thick with worry and bad temper. It was punctuated by the higher tones of a woman. Sue Castradon’s voice rang out clearly. ‘And what about me, Ned? Don’t my feelings matter?’
Jack exchanged an embarrassed look with Vardon and, inclining his head for him to follow, walked up the lane in the direction of the village, stopping when he judged them to be out of earshot.
‘That guy,’ said Vardon, catching up with him, ‘deserves to be kicked. If I had a wife the last thing I’d do is spend my time arguing with her.’
Jack looked at him quizzically. ‘But you’ve got a wife, haven’t you?’
‘And how! I meant if I had a wife like that. Mrs Castradon’s a cut above the average.’
For Sue Castradon’s sake, Jack hoped that Thomas Vardon’s only-too-obvious admiration wouldn’t come to Ned Castradon’s attention. Sue Castradon had quite enough to contend with without another layer being added to her husband’s jealousy. ‘Did you find anything in the lane?’ he asked, hoping to change the subject. ‘Any clues, I mean?’
‘Not a thing,’ said Vardon with a shrug. ‘I don’t suppose you and Superintendent Whatsisname – Ashley – found anything, did you?’
‘I don’t think I should really answer that,’ said Jack. ‘After all, this is a police case.’
‘That means you did find something,’ said Sir Thomas in triumph. ‘I’m glad to know you’re getting somewhere. Was it Ryle who was bumped off? Everyone seems to be very sure it was.’
‘The honest answer is that we simply don’t know, but I must say it’s looking that way. After all, he seems to have disappeared without a trace.’
Thomas digested this in silence. ‘Ryle’s my father’s son,’ he said slowly. ‘I suppose that makes him my brother, not that I can think of him in that way. However, those letters I showed you, the letters from the guy calling himself the Chessman, he said he’d murdered my father and threatened to murder me. My father made a good few enemies in his time. Could this guy, the Chessman, be carrying out some sort of vendetta against my family?’
‘He could,’ said Jack cautiously. It was, he thought, a perfectly coherent explanation but the last he wanted to do was add to Thomas Vardon’s worries. ‘The Chessman would have to know the connection between your father and Ryle, though.’
Thomas shrugged. ‘I can’t see why he shouldn’t. After all, you spotted it right away, once you’d seen that photograph. It was obvious.’
He bit his lip distractedly. ‘I wish my brother was here. He’s good at working things out. He can see connections. He’s got that sort of mind. I know you and the police are working on the case, but if there is some sort of family feud, then we’re the ones most concerned. He might even be able to guess who the Chessman is. Simon knows far more than I do about my father’s business dealings.’
‘I’d certainly like to get some sort of clue as to who the Chessman is. It’d be worthwhile talking to your brother. I think you said yesterday you were expecting him?’
‘I tried to telephone him this morning, but there was no answer.’
Jack was about to reply when the gate to the Castradons’ garden swung back and Sue Castradon, holding her hat in her hand and looking, Jack thought, hopping mad, strode out.
She gripped the brim of her hat and, with an angry snort and a gesture far more expressive than any words, rammed it on her head, breathed deeply, then turned down the lane towards the village.
She looked utterly dismayed when she saw them, then with a little shake of her shoulders and her chin held high, she walked towards them.
‘Good morning.’ Her voice was steady but her eyes had a furious glint.
The two men raised their hats in greeting.
‘Hello,’ said Thomas Vardon with a brilliant smile. ‘I’m in luck. I was going to call on you.’
She stopped, uncharacteristically flustered. ‘Sir Thomas? It’s not … not really convenient. I was just going to the village.’
‘I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind,’ said Thomas. ‘I wish you’d call me Tom. Everyone did in the States.’
She forced a smile. ‘I’ll try to remember.’
Sir Thomas tipped his hat to Jack. ‘I’m sure you’ll excuse us, won’t you, Haldean?’ he said smoothly, offering Sue Castradon his arm.
Sue hesitated momentarily, then took his arm and the two of them walked off down the lane.
Jack looked after them with a frown. He couldn’t help thinking Ned Castradon had enough problems without finding a handsome rival at his very door. Thomas Vardon, married or not, had a dangerous charm.
Sue Castradon was experiencing a guilty pleasure in that charm. And why not? she thought, rebelliously. With a sense of one reaching for forbidden fruit, she set herself out to charm in return. After all, they were only walking down the lane together.
‘My wife should be arriving in five days’ time,’ Thomas said. ‘I had a cable from her this morning. So if that invitation to dinner still stands, we’ll take you up on it next week.’
Reassured by the mention of the absent Lady Vardon, Sue smiled up at her escort. ‘You must be looking forward to that.’
‘Maybe.’ He sounded doubtful. ‘I don’t know how she’s going to find village life. She’s a city girl, you see, and Hollywood’s an exciting place.’
‘But she’ll be with you.’
Vardon gave an ironic smile. ‘I don’t think that’ll be enough to entertain her.’ He hunched his shoulders and for a moment looked like a young and unhappy boy. ‘Esmé’s not like you, you know. Mrs Castradon – Sue – do you mind if I tell you about it? I’m sick of trying to cover everything up and pretend things are fine.’ He stuck his hands in his p
ockets and stared moodily into the middle distance. ‘I don’t know if you’d understand.’
‘I might,’ said Sue, quietly.
He glanced down at her. ‘Yes, I really believe you would. I’m Esmé’s second husband, you see,’ he said in a rush. ‘I suppose I’ve been a disappointment to her. I’ve never measured up. Marriage and divorce seem to be easier in Hollywood. I’ve tried – perhaps I could have tried harder – but it takes two to make it work. I’m sorry. I feel a bit of a cad talking like this, but it’s such a relief. Let’s talk about something more cheerful, shall we?’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Not unless you want to, Tom.’ She said his name with a conscious effort and was rewarded with a smile. ‘I’m fairly good at keeping secrets.’
‘Oh, well, there’s not much more to tell. Esmé had asked me for a divorce when the news of my father’s death came through and all of a sudden she realized she was Lady Vardon. Can you believe it? Some rotten tin-pot title with nothing to go with it and she was over the moon. I was back in favour and all ideas of separation went out of the window.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Look, I really am sorry to have burdened you with all my problems. I want you to like Esmé. It’d be easier if she got on with local people. I don’t know why I mentioned it. There’s just something about you that made me feel I could talk to you, but you don’t want to hear about other people’s marriages. God knows, I know I’m not alone.’
‘No,’ said Sue with a sudden surge of bitterness. ‘You aren’t.’
Without any very definite aim in mind, Jack continued his walk along the lane to the church. St Luke’s, he thought idly, dominated the village. It was built on a mound, a great flint-studded monument to ancient faith and local pride, solid and enduring, with its square, hundred-foot stone giant of a three-storied bell tower, brooding over the landscape below.
The lichgate, he noticed, was swung back. Ashley, he knew, wanted to get the church back to normal as soon as possible. Maybe he’d find him here.
He walked up the gravel path between the lichened gravestones. The church door was open. He paused in the porch, took off his hat, and walked into the cool, quiet space, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the sunshine outside to the dim light.
The Chessman Page 13
