The Bloody Wood (17 page)

‘No doubt you were right. And again it seemed to be a matter of normal conversation?’

‘Yes. It was exactly as on the previous night.’

‘Thank you, Friary. We needn’t detain you further. But presently the Chief Constable wishes me to take a look at Mr Martineau’s office. I shall want you there then.’

‘As you say, sir.’ Friary produced his minimal bow. He was like a clergyman of the most low-church persuasion, Appleby in-congruously thought, civilly constrained to make a bob at the altar of a high-church colleague. And then he walked away. There was a moment’s silence, before Edward Pendleton exploded in indignation.

‘That fellow’s a damned liar!’ Pendleton said.

‘It’s only too likely.’ Appleby spoke grimly. ‘Quite apart from what’s happened at Charne, Friary’s in an uncommonly tight spot. In fact, he’s booked for gaol – and by now I think he knows it. He’s got a girl in the village with child. And she’s so impossibly young that he can’t possibly get away with any plea of ignorance. He’ll tell any lie.’ Appleby paused, and looked hard at Pendleton. ‘But Edward, just what lie are you talking about?’

‘His saying that he heard Charles and Grace up here at five o’clock yesterday afternoon. Irene, you can support me in this?’

‘Most certainly. We all heard the stable clock.’ Irene Pendleton, although not without giving signs that the whole matter in hand was distasteful to her, spoke confidently and at once. ‘At five o’clock yesterday, Edward and I were talking to Grace in that beautifully warm corner of the walled garden. Friary is certainly lying.’

‘Not a doubt of it,’ Edward Pendleton said. ‘Nasty piece of work all round.’

‘Do you know, I find that rather interesting?’

Appleby said this so mildly that Judith looked at him swiftly. Not that she needed to look. For she knew instantly that the Commissioner of Police, careful not to trespass on a field that was none of his, politely helpful only if appealed to, anxious to get away from a false situation while the going was good – she knew that this John Appleby, whose façade might be described as having undergone a certain amount of erosion already, had now crumbled, tumbled, vanished in dust…

‘For just why,’ Appleby said, ‘should Friary tell precisely – the word’s his, isn’t it? – precisely
this
lie? We’ll take a look inside the belvedere. And then we’ll go down to Charles’ office straight away.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Morrison, you’ll give me till midnight?’

‘That’s fair enough.’ The Chief Constable managed his casual note – but he was staring at this transformed person, all the same. ‘To the very stroke of the hour.’

‘Good,’ Appleby said. ‘Come along.’

The double doors of the belvedere, themselves elegantly curved to conform to the lines of the building, were wide open. The interior, although lit also from the small aperture above, somehow remained filled only with a subdued light. Once inside and looking outward, the effect was rather that of being in a miniature theatre, and of facing a proscenium arch beyond which was revealed a brightly lit rural scene. Alternatively one could close the doors and so find oneself in dim seclusion, with no other company than that of two sightless marble statues set in niches, and a vague proliferation of dolphins and other marine creatures on a somewhat cracked and damaged mosaic floor. There was provision for electric heating and lighting; there was a table together with a few comfortable chairs; there was even one of the ivory telephones. As fixtures there were some tall and elegant cupboards in a grey wood and of classical design. At one time these had no doubt served some purpose of refined living. When one opened them now – Appleby discovered – they disclosed merely a tumble of flower pots and similar oddments. The whole place, indeed, seemed to have been only casually reclaimed for occupation; near the back there was a barrow, a gardener’s ladder, and a jumble of croquet-boxes, golf-bags, tennis nets and similar paraphernalia.

Here, it was to be supposed, the Martineaus had found their last contentment together. Perhaps because a consciousness of this hung in the air, one found oneself moving quietly, and not caring much to linger. The Pendletons, indeed, had gone off at once, so that the Applebys were again left alone with the Chief Constable. Three people were enough for one small and obvious experiment.

‘You two can sit down,’ Appleby said. ‘More or less in the doorway, I’d say. When I give a whistle, you must contrive a couple of minutes’ casual conversation. Would you be able to manage that?’

‘I don’t see why not.’ Colonel Morrison was once more rather forlornly humorous. ‘It oughtn’t positively to tax our social resources.’

‘Then here goes,’ Appleby said, and walked back into the wood. When he returned five minutes later, it was to nod briskly. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Really no comment needed.’

‘You both heard our voices and could identify them?’ Morrison asked.

‘Definitely.’

‘And make out what we said?’

‘A word or two. Judith said something about its being a fine evening, and of the sort that promised a fine day tomorrow.’

‘Yes. I thought I’d better go the whole hog.’ Judith shivered suddenly. ‘Can we leave this place now?’ she asked. ‘I somehow didn’t like that experiment an awful lot.’

‘Then come along.’ Appleby turned to Morrison. ‘Ought the belvedere to be locked up?’ he asked.

‘I have a man keeping an eye on it. He made himself scarce when we turned up.’

‘Good. Now for the office.’

‘Those two kinds of motive,’ Judith said, as they made their way through the wood. ‘Greed and fear. You know, they may
both
apply to Bobby Angrave – and to Bobby Angrave alone.’

‘Making him an odds-on favourite, eh?’ Morrison had showed a quick interest. ‘You know, I don’t care for that young fellow, as I said. Too clever by half. Not that I’d let such feelings prejudice the matter in any way. But how do you mean, Lady Appleby?’

‘There can be very little doubt that Bobby was his uncle’s eventual heir. Probably there is a will of Charles’ leaving Charne and a good deal else to his wife in the first place, for it was certainly wholly in Charles’ power to dispose of. But ultimately he would have arranged that Bobby should inherit. Very well. That actually makes Bobby Angrave the owner of Charne at this moment, or at least as soon as various legal forms have been complied with. John, would that be right?’

‘Almost certainly.’

‘But, until both Charles and Grace were dead, Bobby was only an heir on sufferance. He had no right in the property whatever.’

‘That must be so too.’

‘And so we have the motive of greed.’

‘But what about fear?’ Morrison asked. ‘We’ve worked out the facts about Friary. Miss Page had exposed him to Mrs Martineau. As soon as Mrs Martineau passed on the story to her husband, Friary’s number was up. But as Miss Page herself could be frightened into silence–’

‘We’ve got all that.’ For the first time, Appleby spoke impatiently. ‘The point is that, for some reason, the
double
motive works with Bobby. And I think I know why.’

‘Quite suddenly, he was in a fix with his uncle and aunt,’ Judith said. ‘He said exactly that to me, when he more or less presented himself as top suspect. I felt he was simply trailing his coat. There’s something perverse about the movement of Bobby’s mind, even at the best of times. But perhaps it was all some kind of bluff. Anyway, it seems a fact that something was going to turn up that would wreck his chances, if he didn’t act quickly.’

‘And, of course, we know what it was going to be.’ Appleby had turned to Morrison. ‘Would I be right in supposing you had quite a spot of trouble over drug-taking not so long ago – and actually among highly respectable county families?’

‘Yes, indeed. Not surprised you’ve heard of it. A shocking thing. One boy driven potty. Another packed off to be a jackaroo in New South Wales or some such place. And a lot more mischief than that.’

‘Bobby Angrave admits to having been in on it. He spoke to me rather light-heartedly about it – but that was something he probably wouldn’t have done unless there was trouble brewing. And that brings in Pendleton.’

‘Pendleton?’ Morrison was blankly astonished. ‘Fellow’s a bit too pleased with himself for my liking. But I can’t believe he’d peddle–’

‘No, no – it’s not like that at all.’ Appleby was amused. ‘From Edward Pendleton we have to move on to one of the local doctors. He’s the man who’s been attending on Grace Martineau. His name is Fell.’

‘Fell? Yes, I’ve heard of him. Very well reputed, and all that.’

‘Well, Fell – although it appears to be going off at a tangent – is in the running as a suspect himself – under “fear”, that is, not “greed”.’

‘My dear chap, haven’t we got enough–’

‘Oh, no.’ Appleby was suddenly cheerful. ‘One can’t, you know, have too many suspects. The more you have, the likelier you are to nobble one of them.’

It appeared to take Colonel Morrison a moment to gauge the frivolous character of this piece of logic. Having done so, he offered no comment.

‘But we’ll stick, for the moment, to Angrave. Charles Martineau suddenly becomes aware that his nephew has been taking drugs. It’s impossible to see that as serious in itself. The boy quite clearly hasn’t become any sort of addict, and he hasn’t been involved in any open scandal. Charles Martineau is a man of the world, and a man of sense as well. So far, there’s nothing that would persuade him to come down heavily on a lad who must still have been short of his majority during the time in question. On the other hand, Martineau, like his wife, is a person of high moral principle. If Bobby’s conduct had something really vicious about it – if he had made money, say, by peddling the stuff to younger friends – that would finish him as certainly with his uncle, who liked him, as it would with his aunt, who did not. One can imagine a position, that’s to say, in which Bobby would have to act swiftly or be disinherited.’

They had now emerged from the wood, and Charne lay in front of them. Colonel Morrison halted for a moment to survey it. He might have been estimating just what it could be worth to a dislikeable young man who was too clever by half.

‘That’s a facer,’ he said. ‘If Angrave has got the wind up at this moment, I can’t say that I’m surprised. But what could have brought the drug business home to him now? It’s past history, more or less. At least, I hope it is.’

‘The answer to that is Dr Fell. Or rather, it’s a luckless encounter between Fell and our friend Pendleton. At the moment, I needn’t go into details. But Fell has some scandal about drugs concealed in his past; Pendleton happens to know about it; and Pendleton thought it proper to give a very private warning to Martineau. It’s clear that Martineau at once thought of that bad business of Bobby’s local friends. He became alarmed, questioned Bobby, taxed Fell, probably made fresh inquiries at the other lads’ homes. And here’s our final point for the moment. Bobby may have been in sudden and unexpected danger. But so may Fell. Fell may actually have let people have drugs. Or, at the very least, he may have been so careless about them that – his record being in some way as it is – any further trouble would lead to his being struck off the Medical Register. But it was still only from the Martineaus that any such trouble could come.’

‘Edward Pendleton,’ Judith interrupted. ‘What about him?’

‘It’s a point, certainly. Yet just consider. Edward is a very fair-minded man, and has the strongest possible sense of professional propriety. He considers that it would be wholly improper to breathe a word in public about Fell’s past history, whatever it may have been. If Fell was ever actually charged with professional misconduct, he must either have been cleared, or penalized only in some minor way. Probably he turned GP simply because he realized it was imprudent to continue as an anaesthetist: no more than that. So all that Edward Pendleton does is to say this very confidential word to Charles. And then–’

‘But wait a moment.’ Morrison had held up a hand to interrupt. ‘If Fell’s past is not in any way really lurid, why should this admittedly awkward cropping up from it lead towards desperate courses?’

‘I’ve told you. The revelation of even a mild second involvement in irregularities over drugs might well be fatal to him. Moreover, he may have a present – or a recent past – that is more lurid than whatever trouble first checked his career. And now let me get back to Judith’s question. Suppose there is this new threat – embodied solely in what the Martineaus may conceive it their duty to do. Suppose Grace Martineau then appears to die by a tragic accident, and her husband appears to take his own life in consequence. These misfortunes don’t seem to have the slightest connexion with Dr Fell. They distress our friend Edward very much. And one very likely consequence is that Dr Fell and his affairs never enter Edward’s head again.’

‘It would be a most desperate gamble, all the same.’ Colonel Morrison paused on the terrace. ‘Is there anybody else, Appleby, that you can work up a case against in this terrifying way?’

‘Macaulay the gardener, perhaps. And, of course, his Aberdonian nephew. Or old Mr and Mrs Coombs at the lodge.’

‘No, no – my dear fellow. Seriously, more or less.’

‘Martine Rivière.’

‘Ah, the niece. But would she stand to inherit much?’

‘At the moment, we just don’t know. Certainly something. Perhaps she hasn’t been altogether out of the running for a great deal. With one single changed circumstance, she would be a very good suspect indeed.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘A switching of the two deaths.’

‘Whatever do you mean by that?’

‘Simply in point of time. It seems certain and established – doesn’t it? – that Grace Martineau died before Charles. But suppose it had been the other way round. For a certain space of time, Grace would probably have been the owner of Charne and everything else. Like my wife, I can’t imagine Charles Martineau as having made any other sort of will.’

‘But that’s fantastic!’ The Chief Constable seemed really upset. ‘To leave everything to a dying woman would simply be to invite red ruin in the way of death duties.’