Cold Coffin (22 page)

Joan Parkes was shortish, plumpish, greyish. She was the sort, Kate noted with satisfaction, to have gimlet eyes at the back of her head.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you to come here,” Kate began when they were both seated. “I want to talk to you about Dr. Trent. You used to work for him, I understand.”

“That’s right, I did. Poor man! You could’ve knocked me down with a feather when I heard about him being murdered. And that other gent too, Sir Noah Whatsit. What a world!”

“How long ago was it that you stopped working for Dr. Trent?”

Mrs. Parkes was immediately on the defensive. “It was only because I had to go and look after my grandchildren, no other reason. My Angie was expecting again and she had to go into hospital because of high blood pressure. So I had to tell all the people I did for that I wouldn’t be able to come for a bit, not till after the babe was born.”

Tactfully, Kate enquired of the grannie, “What was it, boy or girl?”

“Oh, a lovely little girl. Seven pounds three ounces. Ever so bonny, she is. Charlene Daphne, they’re calling her.”

“Congratulations, Mrs. Parkes. When exactly was it you went off to look after your grandchildren?”

“Well, let me think. It was just after the bank holiday.”

“End of May, beginning of June?”

“That’s about it. Since I came home a fortnight ago I’ve taken up all my other jobs again. Well, they were only too thankful to get me back after the rubbish they’d been filling in with. You’d never credit the stories they told me. But with Dr. Trent, I just kept mum about being back. My Angie said I was doing far too much at my age, and it was such a long way to that cottage of his on my bike. And so deathly quiet when I got there ... I’d never clap eyes on a living soul the whole morning. So, like I say, I kept mum. I didn’t want him begging me to go back to him, or I might have weakened.” She sniffed. “I heard he’d fixed up with one of them contract cleaning firms. I can just imagine how the job gets done ... a lick and a promise, that’s all. The sort of people they employ, they’ve got no heart in their work, have they?”

Kate smiled. “I suppose you didn’t see a lot of Dr. Trent while you were working for him? He’d have been away at the lab when you were at the cottage.”

“That’s another thing. Trust! Can you trust them other people, I wonder?”

Kate had to repeat the question.

“No, I never saw a lot of him. But you don’t have to see a man to get to know him, not when you clean for him.”

This one, Kate, is going to pay dividends.

“Dr. Trent seems to have lived a very quiet life,” she said. “He wasn’t the sort of man to make many friends, so it’s been difficult for me to form a true picture of him in my mind. Which, I’m sure you will appreciate, is most important in helping to solve a difficult case of murder. That’s why a chat with you could be so useful to me. I thought to myself, Mrs. Parkes probably knew Dr. Trent better than anyone ... the private side of his life, that is. Anything she can tell me will be accurate, I can rely on it. That’s what I thought.”
God, will you listen to yourself, Kate Maddox!

Joan Parkes resembled a plump pigeon, the way she preened herself. “Ah, well, you’ve certainly come to the right person. What is it you want to know?”

“I’m trying to make a complete list of the people he knew, apart from his work. He must have had one or two personal friends he saw occasionally.”

But, disappointingly, Joan Parkes shook her head. “If he did, it’s news to me. I’ve got loads of friends myself, but some folks ... A funny old world, ain’t it?”

“Did you take any phone calls for Dr. Trent while you were working at the cottage?”

“Only once in a blue moon. I mean, everyone would know that he’d be at work in the daytime. There were just one or two ... queries about things he’d ordered from some shop, that kind of thing.”

“How about letters? Personal letters?”   ,

“His sister up north wrote to him sometimes. I’d see the letters from her. And a picture postcard now and then. I never read them, of course.”

Perish the thought!

“Did anyone ever call at the cottage while you were there?”

“Well, there was a regular delivery of groceries every Tuesday from the shop in Aston Pringle.” Mrs. Parkes screwed up her face in fierce concentration. “The telephone engineer came once to fix the phone. Dr. Trent told me to expect him.”

Kate opened a drawer in her desk and took out the Tom Jones tape Trent’s sister had brought to her.

“Do you recognize this, Mrs. Parkes?”

“It’s one of them music tape things, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. It was found at Dr. Trent’s cottage.”

“Oh, he had heaps and heaps of them. Very musical gent, he was.”

“But this one is quite different from all the others. It’s a Tom Jones album. Not at all the sort of thing Dr. Trent enjoyed. I wonder if you know how he came by it?”

“I wouldn’t mind betting his lady friend gave it to him.” There was a crafty look on her round face as she said this. Kate realized that Mrs. Parkes had been deliberately saving up this morsel, savouring the effect it would have when she brought it out. The amazed expression Kate adopted gave her full value for money.

“He had a lady friend? I see. Do you happen to know who she was?”

“Had no way of knowing, did I? He never so much as breathed a word about her, and it wasn’t my place to ask.”

“So how did you know she existed?”

The scornful glance demanded, You ask me that, and you a woman! “I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? And a nose. You can’t miss perfume. Expensive perfume, too. It lingers. And
two
glasses on the table next morning. And that’s not all, neither.”

“What else, Mrs. Parkes?”

“Bed, that’s what. When there’s been a woman in a man’s bed, her as comes to make it next morning can’t help knowing. Oh, yes!”

Kate let an impressed moment go by. “Was this a regular occurrence? Was she there often?”

“Well, I couldn’t really say that. I only went a couple of mornings a week.”

“When was the first time you noticed anything?”

She scratched her head inelegantly. “Sometime beginning of May, it must’ve been. I remember it clear as anything. The minute I walked in that day, I thought to myself, Hallo, hallo, what’s been going on here then? And when I was upstairs hoovering I found a lipstick under the bed.”

“You haven’t still got it, I suppose?”

“Course not! I’m not a thief. I don’t take what’s not mine.”

You were too eager there, Kate. Backtrack.

“
I didn’t mean to suggest that for a minute, Mrs. Parkes. It’s just that it would have been useful if you’d put that lipstick safely away somewhere. It’s hoping too much, I suppose, that you might be able to remember which brand it was? Or even which colour?”

“It was one of them fancy ones. I tried a smear on myself but it never suited my complexion. Too vivid, a real bright scarlet. I always use English Rose.”

“So what did you do with it?”

“I put it out where Dr. Trent would see it. I wondered what he’d think, knowing that I knew.”

“Did he make any comment to you when you next saw him?”

“It was that very same day, as a matter of fact. Dr. Trent came home lunchtime, which was very unusual. He was ever so jolly for once, in a real happy sort of mood. Then when he spotted the lipstick—I’d put it on the table downstairs—he went bright pink and slipped it in his pocket quick. Not a word to me about it. Well, he needn’t have been so embarrassed. I’m not narrow-minded.”

“Is there anything more you can tell me, Mrs. Parkes? Have a good ponder about it. You might be able to come up with some hint which will enable me to trace this woman.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think that she ...”

“Whoever she is,” said Kate, “I think she might be able to help us discover
why
Dr. Trent was killed.”

Joan Parkes, she could see, would dearly have loved to produce the essential clue that led to the solution of the double murder. She would fancy herself as the vital witness for the prosecution who couldn’t be shaken under intense cross-examination.

“I don’t know as there’s anything more I can tell you,” she said regretfully. “I only wish I could. But there it is.”

There it was. Tantalizing. Definitely a step forward, but how big a step?

* * * *

By no stretch of imagination could Kate see Lady Kimberley as the woman involved with Trent. All the same, in view of Richard’s revelation the previous evening, there were questions about her that had to be answered. A sideways approach seemed the best tactic in this instance.

She herself phoned Lord Balmayne’s house, and fortunately he was at home.

“I wonder if I might come and see you this morning, sir?”

“I suppose so, if you must.” He sounded cool. “I shall be setting out for Lady Kimberley’s shortly, because I’m taking her out to lunch. Perhaps we could more conveniently talk there.”

“I would prefer to talk to you alone,” she said.

“Really? I can’t imagine why. Oh, very well, Chief Inspector. When will you be here? I can’t wait around for long.”

“I’ll come at once,” she promised.

Kate easily found the house, an Edwardian mansion standing in several acres. Pitched red roofs and tile-hung gables, white-painted brickwork with louvred shutters at the windows. Nearby was a stable block (four or five horses were grazing in an adjoining paddock), garaging for several cars, and what Kate took to be an indoor swimming pool or gymnasium. Perhaps both. No doubt Lord Balmayne did a good deal of entertaining.

Grecian columns lent extra grandness to the portico. Kate anticipated a butler or manservant in livery, or at the very least a primly starched maid. But the door was opened by a homely woman in a blue nylon overall.

“His lordship will see you in the study,” she informed Kate. “Will you come this way, please?”

More columns in the hall, with gilded capitals, intricate cornices and a moulded ceiling. The stairway made an elegant double curve. Rich oriental carpets muffled footsteps. Kate followed the woman along a wide corridor until she stopped at one of the many panelled doors, tapped and entered.

“Detective Chief Inspector Maddox to see you, sir.”

Lord Balmayne rose from behind a desk of Dutch marquetry, set before the high window. He was impeccably dressed—when would he not be?

“Come in, Chief Inspector.” There was no welcome in his voice, but he was a man who believed in good manners. “Please sit down. May I offer you some refreshment? Coffee, perhaps?”

“I think not, sir, thank you.”

With a small wave of his hand, the woman was dismissed.

“Am I to take it,” he enquired, reseating himself at the desk, “that your presence here indicates a development in the case?”

“There have been several developments.”

“Really?” A pause. “Does this mean that you are near a solution?”

“How near remains to be seen. I want to speak to you further about the events of the evening when Sir Noah Kimberley disappeared.”

His lips pressed together in disapproval. “My man in London has informed me that an officer of yours was sent to interview him on this subject yesterday. Was that really necessary?”

“I’ve already explained to you that in an investigation into a serious crime such as this, we are obliged to check and recheck every statement made to us, no matter from whom.”

He sighed and made a gesture of resignation. “If you say so. What is it this time?”

“I want to be quite certain in my mind of the reason for Lady Kimberley’s non-appearance at your gala that evening.”

“You
can
be quite certain. You have been given the reason.”

“It has been suggested to me,” Kate persisted in an even voice, “that the throat infection to which both you and Lady Kimberley referred was in fact no more than a diplomatic excuse to account for her non-appearance.”

Lord Balmayne sprang from his chair and glared down at her, red in the face. Kate held his gaze steadily, anxious to avoid a confrontation if that were possible.

“This is monstrous,” he protested. “Who dared to suggest such a thing?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources, sir.”

He swung his back to her, staring out through the window as if fighting to control his anger. When he turned back, Kate saw that the battle had been lost. He was still furious. His eyes burned and his voice was harsh.

“You pick up a malicious rumour and immediately seize upon it as grounds for accusation. I will not tolerate this kind of treatment, Chief Inspector. I shall complain to the Home Secretary about it.”

“You must do as you think fit, Lord Balmayne. But I cannot permit your unco-operative attitude to prevent me from performing what I see as my proper function.”

For moments longer he remained standing, his mouth working. Then he reseated himself and challenged Kate with a penetrating gaze.

“What are you seeking to prove with these questions?”

“I am not seeking to prove anything,” she said in a mild tone. “I am trying to establish the truth. A number of people are involved in this case, due to their connections with the two victims, and I am required to investigate all of them fully. Lady Kimberley, as the spouse of one of the deceased, is inevitably among that number. And you also, sir, as a close friend of the Kimberleys. If you are innocent, then I appeal to you to give me frank answers.”

She allowed him a moment, noting the strain on his distinguished features. At length he said in a tired voice, “Lady Kimberley had nothing to do with the death of her husband. Neither did I. If you persist any further with this line of enquiry, you will be doing a great disservice to a fine artist and a remarkable woman. She is entirely innocent. Please leave it there.”

“I cannot leave it there, Lord Balmayne. You must be able to see that.”

He sighed heavily, looking beyond her from side to side as if seeking a solution there. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued. “It seems I have no option but to tell you something that I would much prefer not to speak about. I trust it can remain confidential?”

“That will depend, sir. I can’t make any promises.”