Original Sin (22 page)

“Not much, perhaps, for a city child to do.”

“I wouldn’t say that. There was things to do all right, but start doing them and you were in dead trouble.”

“Like damming the village stream?”

“So you heard about that? How was we to know that it would flow into that Mrs. Piggott’s back kitchen and drown her old cat? Fancy you knowing about that, though.” Mrs. Demery’s face expressed the liveliest gratification.

“You and your brother are part of the folklore of the village, Mrs. Demery.”

“Are we now? That’s nice. Remember Mr. Stuart’s piglets?”

“Mr. Stuart does. He’s well over eighty now, but there are some events that are branded on the memory.”

“A proper race that was going to be. We got the little buggers lined up, more or less, but after that they was all over the place. Well, mostly all over the Norwich road. But, oh God! That village was a terrible place. The quiet of it! We’d lie awake listening to it, that silence. It was like being dead. And the dark! I never knew darkness like that. Pitch black it was. It was like a great black woolly blanket being pressed down on you until you felt suffocated. Billy and I couldn’t stand it. We never had a nightmare till we was evacuated. When our mum came to visit we used to bawl all the time. I can remember those visits, Mum dragging us along that boring old lane and Billy and I howling that we wanted to come home. We told her that Miss Pilgrim wasn’t giving us any food and was always after us with the slipper. It was true about the food too, we never had a decent chip the whole time we was there. In the end Mum brought us back home to get a bit of peace. We was all right then. We had a lovely time, especially after the bombing started. We had one of those Anderson shelters in the garden and we were all snug in it with Mum and Gran and Auntie Edie and Mrs. Powell from number forty-two when she got bombed out.”

Dalgliesh asked: “Wasn’t it dark in the Anderson shelter?”

“We had our torches, didn’t we? And when the raids weren’t actually on you could go outside and watch the searchlights. Lovely criss-cross patterns they made in the sky. And talk about noise! Those anti-aircraft guns, well it was like a giant tearing up corrugated iron. Well, as Mum said, if you give your kids a happy childhood there’s not much life can do to them after that.”

Dalgliesh felt that it would be unproductive to argue this sanguine view of child rearing. He was about to tactfully
suggest that it was time they got down to business when Mrs. Demery forestalled him.

“Well, that’s enough about the good old days. You’ll be wanting to ask me about this murder.”

“So that’s how it strikes you, Mrs. Demery?”

“Stands to reason. He didn’t put that snake around his own neck. Strangled, was he?”

“We shan’t know how he died until we get the result of the PM.”

“Well, he looked strangled to me, with his face all pink and that snake’s head stuffed in his mouth. Mind you, I’ve never seen a healthier-looking corpse. Looked better dead than he did alive, and he looked pretty good alive. He was a good-looker all right. I always thought he looked a bit like the young Gregory Peck.”

Dalgliesh asked her to describe exactly what had happened since her arrival at Innocent House.

“I come in every weekday except Wednesday from nine until five. On Wednesdays they’re supposed to have the whole place thoroughly cleaned by the Superior Office Cleaning Company. At least that’s what they call themselves. Inferior Cleaning Company would be more like it. I suppose they do the best they can, but it’s not like taking a personal interest in the place. George comes thirty minutes early and lets them in. They’re usually through by ten.”

“Who lets you in, Mrs. Demery? Do you have keys?”

“No. Old Mr. Etienne suggested I did but I didn’t want the responsibility. Too many keys in my life already. George usually opens up. Or it could be Mr. Dauntsey or Miss Frances. Just depends who’s earlier. This morning Miss Peverell and Mr. Dauntsey weren’t here, but George was and he let me in. Well, I got on quietly enough with my cleaning back in the kitchen.
Nothing happened until just before nine, then this Lord Stilgoe turned up, saying he’d got an appointment with Mr. Gerard.”

“Were you there at the time?”

“I was as it happened. I was having a bit of a chat with George. Lord Stilgoe was none too pleased to find no one there but the receptionist and me. George had rung round the office trying to find Mr. Gerard, and he was suggesting that Lord Stilgoe should wait in the reception area when Miss Etienne arrived. She asked George if Mr. Gerard was in his office and George said he’d rung but there was no reply. So she went across the hall to the office and Lord Stilgoe and I followed her. Mr. Gerard’s jacket was over his chair and the chair was pulled back from the desk, which seemed a bit odd. Then she put her hand in the right-hand drawer and found his keys. Mr. Gerard always kept his keys there when he was in his office. The bunch was rather heavy and he hated it dragging on his jacket pocket. Miss Claudia said, ‘He must be here somewhere. Perhaps he’s in number ten with Mr. Bartrum.’ So we went back to the reception room and George said he’d rung number ten. Mr. Bartrum had arrived but he hadn’t seen Mr. Gerard though his Jag was there. Mr. Gerard always parked his car in Innocent Passage because it was safer. So Miss Claudia said, ‘He must be here somewhere. We’d better start looking for him.’ By then the first boat had arrived and then Miss Frances and Mr. Dauntsey.”

“Did Miss Etienne sound worried?”

“More puzzled, if you know what I mean. I said, ‘Well I’ve been through most of the back of the house and on the ground floor, so he isn’t in the kitchen.’ And Miss Claudia said something about well he’d hardly likely to be would he, and started up the stairs with me and Miss Blackett just behind her.”

“You didn’t say that Miss Blackett was there.”

“Didn’t I? Well she’d arrived all right with the launch. Of course you tend to overlook her now that old Mr. Peverell’s dead. Anyway she was there, although she was still wearing her coat, and she came up the stairs with us.”

“Three of you to search for one man?”

“Well, that’s how it was. I suppose I went out of curiosity. It was a kind of instinct really. I don’t know why Miss Blackett went. You’ll have to ask her. Miss Claudia said, ‘We’ll start searching at the top of the house,’ so that’s what we did.”

“So she went straight to the archive room?”

“That’s right, and then on to the little room beyond. The door wasn’t locked.”

“How did she open it, Mrs. Demery?”

“How do you mean? She opened it same way you always open a door.”

“Did she fling it wide? Open it gently? Did she seem at all apprehensive?”

“Not that I noticed. She just opened it. And, well, there he was. Lying on his back with his face all pink and that snake wound round his neck with the head stuffed in his mouth. His eyes were open and staring. Horrible they was! Mind you, I could see he was dead at once, though, like I said, I’ve never seen him looking better. Miss Claudia went over and knelt beside him. She said, ‘Go and phone the police. And get out of here, both of you.’ Kind of sharp, she was. Still, it was her brother. I know when I’m not wanted so I got out. I wasn’t that anxious to stay.”

“What about Miss Blackett?”

“She was just behind me. I thought she was going to scream but instead of that she made a kind of high wailing noise. I put my arms round her shoulders. She was shaking something terrible. I said, ‘Come on dearie, come on, there’s nothing you
can do here.’ So we went down the stairs. I thought it would be quicker than the lift, which is always getting stuck. But maybe the lift would’ve been better. I had some trouble getting her down the stairs, she was shaking so much. And once or twice her legs almost gave way. Once I thought I’d just have to dump her and go for help. When we got to the bottom flight there was Lord Stilgoe and Mr. de Witt and the rest of them standing there looking up at us. I suppose they saw from my face and the state Miss Blackett was in that something awful had happened. So then I told them. Seemed like they couldn’t take it in for a moment, and then Mr. de Witt started running up the stairs with Lord Stilgoe and Mr. Dauntsey behind him.”

“What happened then, Mrs. Demery?”

“I helped Miss Blackett to her chair and went off to find her some water.”

“You didn’t ring the police?”

“I thought I’d leave that to the rest of them. The body wasn’t going to go away, was it? What was the hurry? Anyway, if I had rung I’d only have done the wrong thing. Lord Stilgoe came back. He went straight to the reception desk and said to George, ‘Get me New Scotland Yard. I want the Commissioner. Failing him, Commander Adam Dalgliesh.’ Straight to the top for him, of course. Then Miss Claudia asked me to go and make some strong coffee, so that’s what I did. White as a sheet she was. Well, you couldn’t wonder, could you?”

Dalgliesh said: “Mr. Gerard Etienne took over as chairman and managing director fairly recently, didn’t he? Was he well-liked?”

“Well he wouldn’t have been carried out of here in a body bag if he was a little ray of sunshine about the place. Someone didn’t like him, that’s for sure. Of course, it wasn’t easy for him taking over from old Mr. Peverell. Everyone respected
Mr. Peverell. He was a lovely man. But I got on all right with Mr. Gerard. I didn’t worry him and he didn’t worry me. I don’t reckon, though, that many about the place will be crying for him. Still, murder is murder and it’ll be a shock, no doubt about it. Won’t do much good for the firm either, I shouldn’t wonder. Now here’s an idea. See how this grabs you. Maybe he did it himself, then this joker we’ve got about the place put the snake round his neck afterwards to show what they thought of him. Might be worth thinking about.”

Dalgliesh didn’t say that it had been thought about. He asked: “Would it surprise you to hear that he had killed himself?”

“Well it would, to tell you the truth. Too pleased with himself for that, I’d have said. Anyway, why should he? OK, so the firm’s in a bit of trouble, but what firm isn’t? He’d have come through all right. I can’t see Mr. Gerard doing a Robert Maxwell. Still, who’d have thought it of Robert Maxwell, so there’s no knowing really, is there? Mysterious, that’s what people are, mysterious. I could tell you a thing or two about the mysteriousness of people.”

Kate broke in: “Miss Etienne must have been terribly distressed finding him like that. Her own brother.”

Mrs. Demery transferred her attention to Kate but seemed none too pleased at this intrusion of a third person into her tête-à-tête. “Ask a straight question and you’ll get a straight answer, Inspector. How distressed was Miss Claudia? That’s what you want to know, isn’t it? You’ll have to ask her. I don’t know. She was at the side of the body bending over it and she never turned her face all the time Miss Blackett and I were in the room, which wasn’t long. I don’t know what she was feeling. I only know what she said.”

“ ‘Get out of here, both of you.’ Rather harsh.”

“Shock, maybe. You work it out for yourselves.”

“Leaving her alone with the body.”

“That’s the way she wanted it seemingly. Anyway, I couldn’t have stayed. Someone had to help Miss Blackett down the stairs.”

Dalgliesh asked: “Is it a good place to work, Mrs. Demery? Are you happy here?”

“As good as I’m likely to get. Look, Mr. Dalgliesh, I’m sixty-three. OK, that’s no great age and I’ve still got my eyes and legs, and I’m a damned sight better worker than some I could name. But you don’t start looking for a new job at sixty-three, and I like work. I’d die of boredom stuck at home. And I’m used to this place, been here nigh on twenty years. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it suits me. And it’s handy—well, more or less. I’m still in Whitechapel. Got a nice little modern flat now.”

“How do you get here?”

“Tube to Wapping, then walk. It’s no distance. I’m not afraid of London streets. Been walking London streets before you was thought of. Old Mr. Peverell said that he’d send a taxi for me any morning if the journey worried me. He would have too. He was a very special gentleman, was Mr. Peverell. That showed what he thought of me. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

“It is indeed. Tell me, Mrs. Demery, about the cleaning of the archives room, the large one and the small office where Mr. Etienne was found. Is that your responsibility, or does the cleaning company do it?”

“I do. The outside cleaners never go as high as the top floor. That started with old Mr. Peverell. There’s all that paper up there, you see, and he was afraid of them smoking and starting a fire. Besides, those files are confidential. Don’t ask me why. I’ve had a peek at one or two and they’re only full of a lot of old letters and manuscripts as far as I can see. It’s not as if they keep the staff records there, or anything private like
that. Still, Mr. Peverell set great store by the archives. Anyway, he agreed I’d be responsible for those two rooms. No one hardly ever goes up there, except Mr. Dauntsey, so I don’t bother overmuch. No point in it. I usually go up once a month on a Monday and give it a quick dust.”

“Do you vacuum the floor?”

“Might give it a quick go round if it looked as if it needed it. Might not. As I said, there’s only Mr. Dauntsey uses it and he doesn’t make much mess. There’s enough to do in the rest of the house without lugging the vacuum cleaner all the way up there and spending time where it isn’t needed.”

“I can see that. When did you last clean the little room?”

“I gave it a quick dust three weeks ago last Monday. I’ll be up there again next Monday. Leastwise that’s what I normally do, but I expect you’ll be keeping the door locked.”

“For the time being, Mrs. Demery. Shall we go up?”

They took the lift which was slow but smooth enough. The door of the small archives office was open. The gas company engineer hadn’t yet arrived but the two scene-of-crime officers and the photographers were still there. At a sign from Dalgliesh they slipped past him and stood waiting.

Dalgliesh said: “Don’t go in, Mrs. Demery. Just stand at the door and tell me if you see any change.”

Mrs. Demery surveyed the room slowly. Her eyes rested briefly on the white chalked outline of the absent body but she made no comment. With only a few seconds’ pause, she said: “Your chaps been giving it a clean up then, have they?”