The Watersplash

by Patricia Wentworth

  “Now, isn’t that the public all over! There I was on the spot for the best part of the morning, and could anyone tell me that the girl and young Random were supposed to be sweethearting, or breathe a word about their being heard quarrelling on the road, or his telling her off on the telephone? Of course they couldn’t-not one blessed word! But they could pay their bus fares into Embank and go whispering it round among their relations!”

  Mrs. Bury tossed a pretty carroty head.

  “Well, they’re my relations too!” she said.

  He gave her a rather absent-minded kiss.

  “Now, Lil, I’m not saying anything against your relations.”

  There was a second and more vehement toss.

  “And you’d better not!”

  “Much as my place is worth,” he said good-humouredly. “Now look here, Lil, you know these people, and I don’t. How much of what they say is likely to be true, and how much is what you might call window-dressing put up to make you think there’s something behind it?”

  They hadn’t been married very long, but she knew already when it wasn’t any good trying to tease him. She dropped her flirting manner and said soberly,

  “Miss Sims is a talker all right, but she doesn’t make things up. If she says she heard that on the telephone, then she heard it. She’ll take an age to tell you a thing, but it will be true all right. She’s the kind that will keep you waiting till you’ve got the fidgets while she makes up her mind whether a thing happened at four o’clock or at five minutes past.”

  “And this Mrs. Stone?”

  “Well, she’s a perfectly horrid old woman,” said Lil frankly. “And no relation of mine, thank goodness! And only a far-off cousin of Aunt Ivy’s, if it comes to that. Some people wouldn’t take any notice of a family that’s gone down in the world like the Stones have, but Uncle Bert and Aunt Ivy are ever so good to her.”

  “You say she’s a horrid old woman. The point is, does she tell the truth?”

  “Well, I don’t know. She can pitch a tale all right-always coming round and making out she and her daughter are next door to starving. Goodness knows what she doesn’t get out of Uncle Bert and Aunt Ivy!”

  With these sidelights on the characters of the prospective witnesses, he went over to Greenings bright and early on the Sunday morning. Both ladies stuck to their stories, and he certainly got the impression that they were telling the truth. For one thing, in neither case did the story differ from the version repeated to him by his wife. Miss Sims took a long time over hers. He had to hear exactly what she was doing when the telephone-bell rang, and all about the confinement case which had kept the doctor out and made him miss his surgery, together with her reasons for not taking a light into the study, and a good deal of corroborative detail as to how it was that she was able to see who was in the telephone-call-box, but in the end it came down to the words which Lil had repeated-“Edward-darling-I must see you-I really must! There’s something you ought to know!”

  So far Miss Sims was in no doubt at all. Then it appeared her attention had been distracted by the sound of the doctor’s latchkey, and all she was sure of after that was that Mr. Edward was speaking to the poor girl very harsh indeed-“And the Doctor came in to his supper, so I couldn’t wait any more. You wouldn’t believe what it is with the meals in a doctor’s house- never knowing when they’ll be in, and everything to keep hot.”

  Upon this favourite theme she could have said a great deal more, but she was not given the opportunity. She complained afterwards to Mrs. Alexander that people were always in a hurry these days-hardly gave you time to finish a sentence before they were off. “And I’m sure I’m sorry for poor Lil if he’s like that at home. She’s my Cousin Emily’s daughter, you know, and I wonder at her marrying into the police.”

  The Inspector found Mrs. Stone in her garden. He had knocked twice on the front door, when she came shuffling round the corner of the house with the front of her skirt picked up to hold half a dozen apples which, she explained, had come down in the night-“And I have to wait to let them fall, for I can’t shake the tree, nor I can’t climb it, and no one to do it for me. My daughter’s a shocking invalid. Chronic, that’s what Dr. Croft calls her. And no appetite, but she fancies a bit of apple now and again.”

  The Inspector said he fancied a bit of apple himself. He found Mrs. Stone just as ready to talk as Miss Sims had been. She opened the cottage door and showed him just how she had stood with the candle in her hand showing Miss Susan out.

  “And the two of them coming up the road quarrelling something dreadful.”

  “How do you mean, quarrelling? Could you hear what they said?”

  “Not at the first of it I couldn’t. But you don’t need to have the words to know when people are quarrelling. Proper angry, that’s what he was, and Mr. Edward isn’t the one you’d like to get that way with you. I felt sorry for the pore girl even before I knowed who she was. And she was sorry for herself too, I can tell you that. Holding on to him with both her hands she was, and crying ever so. ‘Oh, Edward!’ she says, and calls him darling. And, ‘Don’t be so angry!’ she says, and, ‘I can’t bear it!’ And ‘It frightens me!’ she says. And no good Mrs. Alexander nor anyone else letting on that she hadn’t any call to be frightened. ‘That’s as may be,’ I told her, but she thought different. ‘You frighten me when you’re like that!’ was what I heard the pore girl say with my own ears. And he tells her to leave him alone. And Miss Susan Wayne heard it all, same as what I did. She had to make up a story about Miss Dean turning her ankle, but it wasn’t no ankle she was crying for, and you may take my word for that.”

  At the south lodge he found Miss Susan Wayne. From the fact that she was wearing a hat he deduced that she was thinking of going to church. Well, he wouldn’t need to keep her long.

  She took him into the drawing-room, which contained no more than a couple of the cats, and said she would tell Mrs. Random. “I think she is dressing for church.”

  “As a matter of fact, Miss Wayne, it was you whom I wanted to see.”

  “Yes?”

  Stupid to feel nervous. Stupider still to show that she was nervous. And he had gone over to the window, so that she had to stand and face the light.

  “Won’t you sit down?”

  He said, “Thank you,” and chose the window-seat, which made things worse.

  She took the arm of one of the big chairs. She had the light in her eyes. He could see their dark unusual grey and the fine grain of her skin. He could see whatever he wanted to see. She straightened her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap. “What is it, Inspector?”

  “Well, Miss Wayne, I have a statement here from Mrs. Stone who lives in the end cottage before you come to the Vicarage. She says you were visiting her on Thursday evening. Do you remember what time it was when you left?”

  “Oh, about a quarter past seven, I think. We have supper at half past, but it is always difficult to get away from Mrs. Stone. She likes to talk.”

  “Yes, I have noticed that.” Bury’s tone was dry. “She has been talking to me. She says that when she was showing you out two people came up from the direction of the watersplash-Mr. Edward Random and Miss Clarice Dean. She says that they were quarrelling, and she has given me her version of what they said. I have come here to ask you for yours.”

  He saw her colour change. She looked down at her hands. Her thoughts raced. If he had been talking to Mrs. Stone, then he knew everything that Mrs. Stone knew. It wouldn’t do any good for her to contradict it. Lies weren’t any good, really. She had a deep, quick instinct about that, and she was no good at them anyhow. She lifted her eyes to his face and said,

  “It wasn’t exactly a quarrel.”

  “Will you tell me just what you heard?”

  She frowned a little. He saw that she was trying to remember.

  “The voices at first-his voice-Edward Random’s-”

  “You recognized it?”

  “Oh, yes. I didn’t hear any
words-only his voice.”

  “Speaking loudly? Angrily?”

  “Not loudly. He sounded-well, put out.”

  “Yes? Go on.”

  “The girl was Clarice Dean. You know that of course. She was-behaving very stupidly-making a fuss.”

  “Will you explain what you mean by that?”

  Susan’s fair skin had flushed.

  “It sounds so horrid to say it when she is dead, but she was the sort of girl who likes to make everything into a scene. She dramatized herself, and she did her best to make other people play the kind of part she wanted them to play. She was having a pretty dull time with the Miss Blakes, and she was trying to get Edward Random to play up to her.”

  “Is that what he told you, Miss Wayne?”

  The flush deepened.

  “It’s what I could see for myself. She was always ringing him up-trying to fix dates with him-that kind of thing.”

  “Mr. Random told you that?”

  He got an emphatic shake of the head.

  “Of course not! He has been very busy taking over from Mr. Barr, and often very late coming home. If he was out, I had to answer the telephone. If he was in, Mrs. Random and I could hardly help hearing his side of the conversation. The telephone is in a little room at the back. He generally leaves the door open.”

  He went back to the Thursday evening, taking her over what she had heard, putting Mrs. Stone’s statement to her for corroboration.

  “Miss Dean was crying?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And clinging to him?”

  “She was holding on to his arm.”

  “Now, Miss Wayne, did you hear her use these words, ‘Edward-darling-don’t be so angry! I can’t bear it when you are like that! It frightens me!’?”

  “It was that kind of thing. She was putting on an act. That was why he was angry. It was done for Mrs. Stone to hear.”

  He went on with his questioning.

  CHAPTER XXI

  At two o’clock that afternoon Inspector Bury was talking to his Superintendent, a big man with the air of being on very comfortable terms with his world. He had a pipe in his mouth, a glass of beer at his elbow, and a pair of easy slippers on his feet. He was hoping that Bury would get on with it and get it over and leave him to his Sunday afternoon nap, but with almost his very first words the prospect receded.

  “Dr. Connelly dropped in and said he’d done the post-mortem, and there’s no way out of it, it was murder. Bruise at the base of the skull. It wouldn’t have killed her, but it would have knocked her out. Someone hit her good and hard, and she either fell into the water or was dragged there and left to drown. She was alive when the blow was struck.”

  Superintendent Nayler drew at his pipe.

  “Nasty business,” he said.

  Bury didn’t smoke, and he had refused a drink. He sat on an upright chair and leaned forward, full of what he had to say.

  “It seems there was something going on between her and Mr. Edward Random. He found the body, you remember.”

  The Superintendent remembered a lot more about Edward Random than that. He had been born and bred in Embank and so had his wife, and between them there wasn’t much they didn’t know about most of the families in the county. He knew all about Edward being missing for the best part of five years, and about Mr. James Random giving him up for dead and leaving the property to his brother Arnold. He had heard most of the rumours that were going too, and that Lord Burlingham didn’t believe them and had stuck up for Mr. Edward through thick and thin and given him the agency. Mrs. Nayler had actually been in the fish queue when he came over and told Mrs. Random all about it at the top of his voice for everyone to hear. He said in his placid way,

  “Not much time for them to have been carrying on by all accounts. Mr. Edward Random has been off the map for the best part of five years. Thought to be dead. Turned up six months ago and been at Norbury brushing up this agency business. Well, the girl wasn’t there, because according to Dr. Croft she had only just come back from Canada when she wrote and asked him to find her a job in Greenings.”

  “There was something between them all the same. They were heard quarrelling on the road coming up from the watersplash on the Thursday evening. Here’s a statement from Mrs. Stone, and Miss Susan Wayne doesn’t deny it. Later on that evening Miss Sims, who is Dr. Croft’s housekeeper, heard them talking on the telephone.”

  The Superintendent nodded.

  “Livens a village up having a party line,” he said.

  “Well, here’s what she says… Then after I’d seen Miss Susan Wayne I went back again to the Miss Blakes. Miss Mildred had gone to church, but the other one was full of information. Said the girl was setting her cap at Edward Random- always ringing him up and trying to make dates with him- talking in a very confidential kind of way and calling him darling every second word”

  “That don’t go for much these days.”

  “I said that too, but Miss Ora stuck to it the girl was very affectionate. And she said it wasn’t a new thing-they had known each other before. Seems she had nursed his uncle, Mr. James Random.”

  The Superintendent took his pipe out of his mouth.

  “That’s nonsense. It’s a year since Mr. Random died, and nobody knew that Mr. Edward was alive for another six months after that.”

  “But that’s not what she meant. She says the girl came down to the Hall to nurse Mr. Random as long as seven years ago, and that she and Edward Random were very friendly then.”

  Superintendent Nayler made the sound which is generally written “Pooh!”

  “Old maids’ gossip!” he said. “Seven years ago! Why, he wouldn’t have been twenty then!”

  “There might have been something between them all the same, and she might have come down to Greenings to pick up with him again. Anyhow she did come down, and by all accounts she made a dead set at him, and he wasn’t much for it. Suppose now there was a child and he was afraid of it coming out. Miss Sims states she heard her say, ‘There’s something you ought to know.’ ”

  Nayler drew at his pipe.

  “You’ve been reading fancy novels, my lad,” he said.

  Bury flushed.

  “That’s all very well, but look how it fits in. They were very friendly seven years ago. Then he’s missing for five years, and there are some pretty queer stories going round as to why he let everyone think he was dead. Then he and Clarice Dean come back to Greenings within twenty-four hours of each other, and she keeps on telephoning and trying to see him. She says, ‘There’s something you ought to know.’ Then they are heard quarrelling on the way up from the watersplash. He comes home that way, and it’s plain enough she went to meet him. Mrs. Stone hears her asking him not to be angry and saying he frightens her. Next morning someone puts a note in through the Miss Blakes’ letter-box. Well, you’ve seen it. It says, ‘All right, let’s have it out. I’ll be coming back late tonight. Meet me at the same place. Say half past nine. I can’t make it before that.’ It’s only signed with initials, and I don’t say anyone could swear to them, but they could be E. R.”

  The Superintendent leaned back in his chair with half-closed eyes. A deep and peaceful silence settled about him. When it had lasted as long as he wanted it to he said,

  “Might be-or might not. Plenty of other letters in the alphabet, and pretty well all of them to choose from. Have you put any of this to Mr. Edward?”

  “No-he was out. I thought I had better see you first.”

  There was a slow, comfortable nod.

  “Quite right-quite right. No hurry that I can see. When it comes to a case like this, there’s a lot to think about. Very tricky, it might be, and a matter of looking before you leap. It don’t matter a lot to me-I’m due to retire in the spring-but you are an ambitious young fellow, and you’ve got your way to make. I’m not speaking officially. I’m here in my own house on a Sunday afternoon, and I’m off duty, and what I say is off the record. There’s a lot of wheels within whe
els, and you don’t want to put a foot wrong. Randoms have been at Greenings a good many hundred years. Mr. James Random always very much respected. Chairman of the Bench, treasurer of the hospital before it got taken over-all that kind of thing. Then through his mother Mr. Edward is related to some very influential people in the county.” He removed his pipe, blew out a mouthful of smoke, and repeated the words with a slow emphasis upon them, “Very-influential-people. And on the top of that-and I don’t know that it’s not the most important of the lot-there’s Lord Burlingham that’s been sticking up for him through thick and thin and has just put him in as his agent.” He set his pipe back in his mouth and sucked at it meditatively. “You know, Jim, if I had to pick on someone in the county to get up against, it wouldn’t be Lord Burlingham-that’s all.”

  Bury stared indignantly.

  “You don’t mean to say we’re to stand by when a girl has been murdered and do nothing because Lord Burlingham wouldn’t like it if we arrested his agent!”

  The Superintendent was quite unruffled.

  “There you go-jumping to conclusions. Everyone in the wrong except yourself. Who said anything about standing by and letting girls be murdered? Too much imagination, that’s what you’ve got, my lad, and you’d better watch it. And not miss what’s under your nose. If I’ve got to dot my i’s and cross my t’s, I’ll do it, and maybe next time you’ll know for yourself. If Mr. Edward has been up to anything, then he’ll be for it the same as any Tom, Dick or Harry. The law is no respecter of persons, and don’t you forget it. If he was responsible for this young woman’s death he’ll be run in for it. What I’ve been getting at, and what you are too set in your own opinions to get hold of, is that there isn’t any call for it to be us that run him in. I can go along to the Chief Constable, can’t I, and put it to him the same as I’ve put it to you, only more delicate if you take me, and when he’s got a hold of it I can come in quite easy and natural with a piece about all the young woman’s friends and connections being in London, and what about asking Scotland Yard to take a hand.”