Death of a Commuter (10 page)

“I say what I believe to be true.”

“My sister is a qualified nurse,” said Edward helplessly, as though that explained everything.

“I've seen suffering, Mr. Deene.”

“Most of us have, in one form or another.”

“I sometimes wonder if my brothers have. They're so complacent.”

Carolus was relieved to see Chatty Dogman coming across.

“I'd like to see your garden if I may,” he said to Edward before she reached them.

Edward brightened up.

“Please do. It's not very much but I've got some interesting things. I'm going to be at home all next week so come when you like.”

Nora was looking into the distance again.

“Darlings,” said Chatty. “You've all got empty glasses. What's yours, Edward? Scotch? No, of course you don't. All right lemonade. Nora? The same?
You'll
have a drink, won't you, darling? I forget your name. Do come across and get it Willy James will be incapable of pouring out in a minute. Wait, I could do with another myself.”

Carolus followed her to the refectory table.

“Darling, this poor man's dying of thirst. And just a teeny one for me.”

“You'll be tight,” said Willy James bluntly.

“I like that coming from you.”

Elspeth joined them.

“How did you get on?” she asked Carolus with a smile.

“Oh, very well. She told me about her quarrel with your late husband.”

Elspeth's smile disappeared and she looked suddenly unhappy.

“I know it's silly,” she said, “but I'm still not used to hearing old Felix called my late husband. Yes, they did have a row. Felix
could
be a little quarrelsome, you know, but I think this was her fault. She's reaUy a bit eccentric. Now you deserve to meet someone nice, so I shan't introduce Scotter yet He's nice, I suppose, but so prickly. Jimmie! Come here and meet Mr. Deene. He's been suffering under the Limpole yoke. This is Jimmy Rumble. He's been a pet to me since it happened, though we scarcely knew each other before.”

Carolus faced a smallish man with an open face and a clipped, slightly greying moustache, very much what used to be called a gentleman, meaning that he had been at a good school and perhaps in a good regiment.

When they were a little apart from the rest, Rumble said, “Elspeth tells me you're going to get at the truth about Felix's death.”

“Yes. If I can.”

“I quite agree it probably wasn't suicide. The only thing that worries me is … suppose it turns out to be anything else …”

“Murder, you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose so. Don't you think that might be even worse for Elspeth? Frankly, she's my only interest in the case. I'd almost rather see a murderer get away with it than have her upset again.”

“I see what you mean. But is the truth even worse than doubt?”

“It's a tough question. I never got on too well with Felix. It's only since this happened I've been seeing much of Elspeth. I don't think he approved of me.”

“Why not?”

“Not for any particular reason, perhaps. He wasn't altogether an easy man to get on with. Some years ago I bought a travel agency, chiefly to give me something to do, really. He pretty well
called me a fool to throw my money away. ‘Foreign travel's a passing craze', he said. But that's all forgotten now.”

“Didn't you point out that it was a passing craze which has gone on ever since man could stand upright?”

“He wasn't a man you could argue with.”

Somehow the two of them were drawn into a group in which were Enid and Patsy Thriver. He saw that Patsy was going to speak as though they shared a secret and was pleased to find himself being introduced to a man and wife he had not seen before and, as it happened, never saw again.

At that moment there was sudden darkness. There were no screams, though the buzz of conversation rose in pitch and grew louder.

Chatty's voice could be heard above the rest, sounding a little hysterical.

“God, Willy James! Can't you do something? Put a new fuse in! I don't know where I put my drink.”

Patsy spoke in a low voice to Carolus.

“One always finds there has been a murder when the lights come on,” she said.

But there had not been a murder. It was only the manner in which the Reverend George Hopelady announced himself. He knew the main switch was in the hall and he was having one of his jokes.

“Good evening! Good evening to you all!” he cried entering joyfully, his flushed, bony little wife following him into the room.

There was some relief and a little laughter from his supporters, but one could not say that the vicar had had a wild success. Rupert Priggley who with Elspeth's niece had been helping Chatty by carrying a huge tray of food into the room had been caught in mid passage unable to set down the tray. He was frankly furious.

“I wouldn't have minded so much if I'd had my hands free,” he confided in Carolus later.

Mr. Hopelady had a neck which grew like a thin pink stalk out of his clerical collar. His face was all teeth and cheek-bones, the chin receding woefully. Carolus watched him without affection as
he made his round of the guests, greeting everyone—not effusively but as though certain of his own popularity.

“He's a crashing bore,” said Patsy. “And of course means well. He'll have some jolly pleasantry for you when he gets round to us.”

Hearing this, Rupert Priggley seemed about to make for the door but Carolus restrained him because Elspeth's niece, unfortunately known as Bunty, was already half-way upstairs.

“You can't do that,” Carolus said.

At that moment Mr. Hopelady reached them and unfortunately chose Rupert as his victim, stopping to speak in his ear.

“Excuse me, old chap, but your zip's open,” he said.

Rupert's reaction was admirably swift.

“So's your mouth,” he said truthfully, and picking up a block of ice-cream from the table beside him he rammed it between Mr. Hopelady's jaws, already wide in anticipation of laughter.

There was a scream from Mrs. Hopelady, but her husband's splutterings and chokings alarmed her and she led him from the room.

“Darling,” said Chatty to Rupert, “that was rather beastly of you. Funny, I suppose, but not very polite. However, have a drink, darling.”

When Mr. Hopelady returned he came up to Carolus as the responsible adult.

“I did not think that was very funny,” he said severely.

“Not a bit funny,” echoed his wife.” The suit will have to go to the cleaners.”

“No, it was not respectful,” agreed Carolus. “But I'm afraid there was a certain amount of provocation.”

“Provocation? A harmless little leg-pull like that? Has your son no sense of humour?”

“Priggley is
not
my son,” said Carolus.

“Well, whatever he is. That's what's lacking in the modern generation of youngsters. They can't take a joke against themselves.”

“It's a common failing,” said Carolus mildly.

“If you mean George,” said Mrs. Hopelady furiously, “he's
the
first
to laugh when someone pulls his leg. But that wasn't a joke. It might have been dangerous.”

The vicar seemed to realise that it was time to beam magnanimously. “Anyway, no harm done,” he said. “We mustn't get heated over ice-cream.”

“Priggley, you owe Mr. Hopelady an apology,” said Carolus.

“I'm sorry, sir,” said Priggley rather too readily. “But don't ever,
ever
play practical jokes on me again. Can I get you a drink?”

Mr. Hopelady smiled.

“A rather mixed form of apology,” he said. “But yes, I should like something warming. A little Scotch perhaps?”

“Ice?” asked Priggley, but there was no reply.

“I wanted to have a talk with you if you can spare the time,” Carolus told the vicar. “Could I call on you, perhaps?”

“Delighted. Please do. Tomorrow if you wish. I shall be at home all day.” Then rather anxiously, “Anything urgent?”

“Don't bring that detestable boy with you,” said Mrs. Hopelady.

Carolus, having arranged to call at the vicarage in the morning, crossed the room to where Mr. Scotter, a tall unsmiling man in his forties, stood alone.

“May I introduce myself?” he said, and did so.

“I've been watching that little incident,” said Scotter. “It was time someone did something like that. I don't like larks.”

“I'm not mad on them myself.”

“I'm not a believer in conventional religion, but when a man receives a salary as a minister of a church he should behave like one,” continued Mr. Scotter severely. “I expect you're wondering what a man like me is doing in a place like this. I feel that the modern man should be able to move up and down the scale.”

“And which is this? Up? Or down?” asked Carolus wondering when Mr. Scotter would make a remark that did not start with ‘I'.

“I come from the Masses, myself,” continued Mr. Scotter, “but I don't feel out of place in any society. I told the late Mr. Parador…”

“How did you get on with him?”

“I respected his position and he respected mine.”

“He was a customer of yours?”

“I had the pleasure of supplying him, yes. I found him somewhat opinionated, of course. I don't think he agreed with me politically speaking, but I was pleased that he invited me to his house on several occasions.”

Carolus did not think this the time or the place to ask any more questions and in any case was interrupted by the last and most surprising event of that disturbed occasion. His back was to the door, but he saw Mr. Scotter stiffen. His eyes opened wide and he so far forgot himself, quite literally, that he asked a question.

“Who's this?”

Carolus turned and saw in the doorway a woman in her thirties. She looked either doped or drunk and she was wearing a fur coat and a hat. It seemed that she was a stranger for a silence fell over the room and everyone watched the newcomer.

“Is she here?” she asked in a loud, dramatic voice. “I want to speak to Elspeth Parador.”

Elspeth stood up. It was like an old-fashioned play.

“Henrietta!” she said. “Whatever's the matter?”

“As if you didn't know!”

Elspeth remained calm and looked somewhat disgusted.

“Are you drunk?” she asked the woman. They did not approach one another but talked across several people as though unaware of an audience.

“Yes. I am rather. But I was determined to see you.
You drove him to it.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about Felix. I loved him just as much as you. You drove him to it, I said, and I meant it.”

“I think you had better go away,” said Elspeth with admirable calm.

“Yes, you can't come here like this, whoever you are,” said Willy James Dogman, moving towards her.

Henrietta Ballard ignored him, and addressed Elspeth again.

“Don't pretend you don't know. You introduced us yourself. Where do you think he used to go at night? You made his life hell.”

“Did he tell you that?” asked Elspeth.

“No. He believed in you. I supposed you told him he had to leave me?”

Elspeth lost her calm.

“I did not know… I hadn't heard of you for years…” she said rather brokenly.

“Then you stopped him giving me what he promised. He's left me without a sou and it's all your doing!”

Willy James had reached her now, supported by James Rumble.

“You must go,” he said. “You can't come to my house and shout like that”

“I'll go,” said Henrietta Ballard. “I've said what I want.”

She turned towards the door.

“But she'll hear more from me. Or my s'licitors.”

It looked as though she was going to stumble through the door but she made it.

Carolus joined the group round Elspeth. She was being given a brandy and much sympathy.

“It's true,” she said tearfully. “I did introduce them … but I'd no idea. I don't believe it of Felix.”

“She was drunk,” said Rumble.

“I know … but she
said
those things.” Elspeth had been so calm during the attack that the reaction, now that it came, was violent. “I won't have her saying I drove him to it… my dear old Felix. It's wicked. And he
didn't
leave her without a sou. She was always deceitful, even when I first knew her. I don't believe Felix used to go… oh it's too beastly. Chatty, dear, I'm sorry your party's been upset…”

“Don't worry about that, darling,” said Chatty. “What you want is another little drink. Willy James, do give Elspeth a drink, darling. She just needs a drink.”

“No, dear. I want to go home. I'm … it was …
please
let me go home.”

B
UT
T
HAT
W
AS
N
OT
Q
UITE THE
E
ND OF THE
P
ARTY.
C
HATTY
D
OG-
man was making vigorous gesticulations to Rupert Priggley and Bunty and they appeared with another tray of food towards which Mr. Hopelady and his wife edged their way. Rumble had taken Elspeth home, but the Thrivers remained and Carolus was with them.

“Seen any more faces at the window?” he asked Patsy.

“No. Wasn't I absurd? I still jump every time I hear a motorbike.”

“Is that often?”

“Not up our road. But there are plenty on the main road. One woke me up the other night, just under my window, I thought it was.”

Thriver called Carolus aside.

“I suppose that's the new beneficiary,” he said.

“Yes, if the will turns up.”