Who Pays the Piper? (16 page)

“Well then, I wasn't. If you must know, I'd got the sack. The show had cleared out. That's why I had to see Lucas.”

“And you saw him, and he gave you a fifty-pound note?”

Her look came back, angry and direct.

“Any business of yours if he did?”

“Well, I'm afraid it is. When did you leave Mr. Dale?”

She sat up with a hand on either arm of the chair.

“Look here, what's all this? Do you keep your watch in your hand all the time you go visiting? Because I don't, and I never heard of anyone else that did either.”

“I just thought you might have some idea,” said Abbott mildly.

She seemed mollified.

“I suppose I was there for the best part of twenty minutes. I'd a bus to catch, and I know I had to hurry.”

“The six o'clock bus from the Crown and Magpie?”

“That would be it.”

“And did you catch it?”

She turned a full, bold stare upon him.

“Trying to catch me out, dear? Well then, you can't? I could have caught it if I'd wanted to. But I didn't want to—see? And why? Because a nice young man came along with his car and gave me a lift. And you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Busy from Scotland Yard!”

“You didn't go back to King's Bourne, did you?”

Her eyes brightened uneasily.

“No, I didn't.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. What'd I go back for? I'd got my fifty pounds, hadn't I?”

“Had you?”

The dark colour rushed into her face. He thought of Cleopatra and Semiramis.

“What do you mean? What do you mean? What do you mean?” Her voice ran up to a scream and broke. She got to her feet and stood there shaking—was it with rage? “What's all this about? You'll tell me what you mean or you'll get out! Do you hear?”

Frank Abbott straightened up.

“I've been listening with the greatest interest, Miss de Lisle. Now I'm going to ask you to listen to me. You got into Netherbourne at about five o'clock, and you went into the Crown and Magpie and had a double brandy.”

“And what if I did? I told you, didn't I?”

Abbott nodded.

“You did—and now I'm telling you. You went up to King's Bourne and had your talk with Mr. Dale, and came away at about ten minutes to six. And then you went back to the Crown and Magpie and had another double brandy, and missed the bus. You didn't tell me that bit—did you?”

She looked darkly sullen.

“I told you I missed the bus.”

Frank Abbott said, “Well——” and saw her colour rise. She bit her lip and did not speak. He thought, “Why doesn't she throw me out—why hasn't she thrown me out long ago? She's angry all right, but she's less angry than afraid. She's dropped the pretence that I've come from Dale. I think she knows he's dead. If the news reached her in any ordinary way, why should she pretend she doesn't know? If she really doesn't know, why should she have answered a single one of my questions—unless the fifty pounds was blackmail? It might be that. I think she knows he's dead, and knows it in a way that she can't or won't own up to. She knows something—
something
——” He let the silence go on until the room was heavy with it. Then he said so quietly that the silence broke without jarring.

“When you came out of the Crown and Magpie, which way did you go?”

She frowned and tapped with her foot on the floor.

“Come, Miss de Lisle, the landlord remembers your coming in at five o'clock, and again at just after six. It's all downhill from King's Bourne, so it didn't take you so long to come back as it took you to go. And you had your double brandy and ‘took it off quick and out again', and he didn't see which way you went. The bus was gone when you got there. Now what did you do when you left the Crown and Magpie?”

She looked down at her tapping foot.

“I told you I got a lift.”

“What sort of car was it, Miss de Lisle?”

He got an angry stare.

“I don't know one from another.”

He smiled.

“Big car—little car—tourer—sports model? Red—blue—green—black—grey?”

She said with a kind of goaded energy,

“It was dark. Do you think I can see in the dark? I didn't give a damn what sort of car it was. I wanted to get back here.”

“Very natural. But you haven't told me which way you turned when you came out of the Crown and Magpie.”

The air became charged with furious suspicion. He could almost see her thinking, “Perhaps someone saw me—perhaps they didn't. Better be on the safe side.” She said,

“I turned to the right.”

“To go back to King's Bourne?”

“No!” She almost shouted the word at him.

“Well, you wouldn't get to Ledlington that way—would you? Wrong direction, I'm afraid.”

“Don't you ever take a wrong turning in a place you don't know?”

“I might after two double brandies.”

Cora de Lisle whirled round, snatched the large bright blue vase from the mantelpiece, and hurled it at his head. That it smashed against the wall instead of in his face was due to quickness of eye and some proficiency in boxing. He side-stepped neatly and received with calm the flood of vituperation which followed the vase. When angry tears supervened he said,

“That was unpardonable of me. I really do apologize. Why did you go back to King's Bourne, Miss de Lisle?”

She stopped midway in a sob and glared at him.

“I didn't, I tell you—I didn't! Are you trying to make out that it was me——” The loud voice failed. The hand with the ring came up across her mouth. She bit upon the knuckles. Her eyes were sick with fear.

There was a jagged pause.

“Yes?” said Frank Abbott. “You were going to say——”

“I wasn't.” The words came in a desperate whisper.

“I think you were. I think you knew last night that Lucas Dale had been shot.”

Her hand fell from her lips. The knuckles were bleeding.

“I—didn't——”

He thought, “She did know it. It's no surprise—no shock.” He said,

“When did you hear?”

“I don't know—someone told me——”

“Who?”

“I don't—know——”

“You knew last night—you knew when you were at King's Bourne. If you shot him—I won't ask you to incriminate yourself. But if you didn't—if you didn't—don't you see how important your evidence is going to be?”

Her face went grey. She stood back.

“You listen to me, young man. What had I got to shoot Lucas for? If I'd been that sort I'd have shot him fifteen years ago, not now. I was married to him for five years. If I'd been the killing sort I'd have killed him then. I didn't. I ran away from him, and he'd the nerve to divorce me—
him!
And all I wanted was to get quit of him. I haven't seen him since, and I wouldn't have seen him now, only I'm done—finished—out. Can't keep my jobs—can't get them—can't stand it all like I used to. And he'd got all that money. Well, I touched him for fifty pounds, and I'd have gone on touching him. If he'd married his Miss Susan Lenox, it would have paid him to keep me quiet—see? Now perhaps you can tell me why I should shoot Lucas.”

Abbott walked over to the window. He stood looking down at the untidy yellow privet. Then he turned round and said,

“It would have been very stupid. People are stupid sometimes. By the way, Miss de Lisle, I see this was a variety show you were with. They left on Sunday. What sort of turn did you put on?”

She stared without answering.

“Are you going to tell me?” He paused. “Is there any reason why you shouldn't tell me? … Well, perhaps I can tell you. I think you were billed as Miss Cora de Lisle, the famous female sharpshooter. That's right, isn't it?”

CHAPTER XXIV

Bill Carrick and Susan Lenox drove in the pale sunlight. It had been fine all the morning. It was fine still, but there was an east wind blowing and no warmth anywhere. They went by crooked lanes between bare hedgerows, and then up through a cutting, where tree roots propped the banks, to an open heathy common. Right in the middle of it Bill drove off the road on to a flat sandy place and stopped the car. A solitary motor-bicycle went by and disappeared behind a clump of rowans and gorse bushes a couple of hundred yards away. Susan watched it out of sight. She frowned a little and said,

“He's been behind us all the way.”

Bill said, “Yes.”

She looked at him with startled eyes.

“I can't hear his engine.”

Bill said, “No—he's stopped.” Then he laughed. “I wonder what he would have done if there hadn't been a clump of trees.”

“Do you mean he's following us?
Bill!”

He sat round against the side of the car and faced her.

“Of course he is. I expect he's been told to be discreet. He won't do anything more than follow us unless he thinks I'm going to do a bunk. It must be very reassuring for him to see us sitting here in a nice open place like this—very calming. And as he's well out of earshot, we can afford to be calm about it too.”

“You mean he's a policeman?”

“Undoubtedly. Look here, Susan, we've got to face this. I'm under suspicion. Old Lamb isn't going to risk my cutting loose. Of course I'd be a fool to do it, but if I'd really shot Dale I expect I should be so rattled by now that I might be ready for any fool trick. Ever since he saw us this morning I've been wondering why he hasn't had me arrested, but now I think it's because he's got me on a string and if I bolt I'll be giving myself away.”

Her hands clenched upon one another, straining.

“Bill—
don't
!”

He leaned forward and put his hand down hard over hers.

“I've got to. Look here, my dear, we've got to talk this out and know where we are, and we've got this chance to do it—we may not get another. That's why I brought you here. I picked a place where we shan't be interrupted. We don't want Cathy, or Aunt Milly, or the police, or Mrs. Mickleham getting themselves mixed up with this conversation—it's between you and me. And the thing we start off with is this—are you quite sure in your own mind that I didn't shoot Dale?”

Their looks shocked together and held. A heavenly certainty sank deep into Susan's mind. She said,

“Quite sure.”

He nodded.

“That's all right then, because I didn't. But if you'd had any sort of doubt about it, everything was going to be a lot harder for both of us. The next thing is this—how much can you stand? Because it's going to be fairly tough.”

Susan said, “I don't know—I don't think I can stand much more.”

She felt the hard strength of the hand that was over hers.

“You've got to. Do you hear? You've got to! Cathy's a crumpler, but you're not. If she'd stood up to Dale and told him to go to blazes, we shouldn't be in this mess. That's what crumpling does. It doesn't let you out, and it lets everyone else in. Now are you going to crumple?”

The colour ran up into her cheeks like two bright burning flames. She shook her head.

“You're not that sort. Now, my girl, we're up against it. It'll be all right in the end, but before we get there you're going to want every bit of toughness you can get together, because, short of finding the fellow who did shoot Dale, they're bound to arrest me. They may just keep me on a string till the inquest—and I suppose that'll be Thursday or Friday—but that's the most we can expect. There isn't any jury in the world that wouldn't bring in a verdict against me, with the motive they'll think I had and Mrs. Mickleham's evidence to ram it home. You see, it's exactly the sort of thing a jury understands—motive—threat—opportunity. He took my girl. I said I'd kill him. And I did. It's as easy as pie, and they'll simply eat it.”

The little bright flames flickered away. They left the fine skin colourless. The dark blue eyes were steady.

“If you look at it, it won't frighten you so much. You've got to look at it, because as far as I can see it's bound to happen. When you've got used to the idea it won't frighten you. You see, I didn't do it, and someone else did. All we want is time to find out who that someone was, and there'll be plenty of time. Do you see?”

Susan said “Yes” with a break in her voice. She pulled her hands away and sat back. “Bill, it's crazy—you
couldn't
have done it. You had only just time to reach the study. How could anyone believe he would have let you rush right in and get his revolver and then turn round and let you shoot him from behind? It's nonsense. There simply wasn't time before I heard the shot.”

His mouth twisted.

“My poor child, do you suppose they're going to believe you?”

“What do you mean?”

He said, “Wake up, Susan! If no one except you and me heard that shot, the bottom drops right out of all that about there not being time. If no one heard it except us, we could fix the time to suit ourselves, couldn't we? And he wasn't found until a quarter to seven. That's what we're up against.”

A shiver ran lightly over her. She said very quietly,

“I see.”

Her voice stopped as if she could not keep that quiet tone. When she went on again it was dry and strained.

“Someone else must have heard it.”

“If they did they're not telling. Besides, who was there to hear it? It's too far for the village, and no one in the house seems to have heard anything, from what I gather.” He gave a sudden short laugh. “I expect it would surprise old Lamb if he knew what a lot the village knows. Isn't it tomorrow you have Mrs. Green? You'll get it all from her.”

“I wish there was anything to get,” said Susan.