Chapter 7

 

“I don’t like being lied to, Mr. Butler. I don’t like being made a monkey out of.”

Roderick Butler drew himself up, emphasising his height and his lankiness.

“Now, look here Inspector, draw it a bit mild. You were not lied to. I cannot always remember where I went, or when. I go to the country practically every weekend, if I’m not abroad—three weeks, six weeks. I’d forgotten, that’s all.”

“And your sister, had she forgotten, as well?”

“I can’t speak for Caroline, Inspector. But, yes, come to think of it, we did visit mummy together and it probably wasn’t quite as long as I thought before she died.”

“So, you’re suddenly remembering it now? All coming back, is it? Well, that’s a bit of luck. Can you remember what your visit was about?”

Roderick shrugged. “Well, I suppose it cannot have been for the races, then?”

Greene shook his head.

“No, well then we made our ordinary social visit. As I told you before, we did so several times a year. Mummy was getting on a bit. She used to say that she liked having young people around, to liven the place up.”

He didn’t believe one word of it, but he let it pass for now. He sincerely hoped this wasn’t going to be a wasted journey. As it was, they’d had to beard Roderick in the lair of work, so obviously they had chosen one of the rare days he graced Butler & Co with his presence.

“You checked with your sister? She is at home? She knows we are calling.”

“Yes, Caro thinks it’s all a bit of a hoot. It’s almost as good as being one of those gangster pictures. He laughed in that braying way of his.

God, give me strength. Caroline was a different proposition. She didn’t look happy to see them; much less, that she thought it a hoot. She shared a flat with some other girl who was apparently studying at the Slade. The word flat hardly did it justice.

Greene cast his eyes round at the experimental décor, and particularly at the size of the place. Somebody had been experimenting with colour. The ceiling had been painted a dark blue with star shapes to give, he supposed, the impression of night. There were a couple of those statue-type things…busts they were called.

“How did you find me, inspector?”

She was wearing a striped blue and white dress that reminded Greene of a deck chair. The huge sailor collar made her look out of proportion, almost sinister, which was ridiculous. How could a woman in a summer dress be sinister?”

“Your brother gave us your address,” Greene answered shortly.

“Well, I must say, I think it’s a bit much, Inspector. You could almost say we’re being hounded. What is it this time?”

“There is a discrepancy between when you told us you visited your aunt and the time at least one witness saw you visit.”

“So what? Not a crime, surely?”

Right defensive, she is. “With all due respect, Miss Butler, it’s better not to go down that road. No one is saying it’s a crime to visit your stepmother, or even a crime to get the timing of the visit wrong. But wasting police time with misleading information is a different thing which can have serious consequences.”

Obviously undaunted, she shrugged narrow shoulders, her slenderness emphasised by the shape of the dress.

“Do you remember the visit now, Miss Butler?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s not easy when you’re being badgered…”

Greene gave a big sigh, indicating a patient man who was reaching the end of his tether. “No one is badgering you, Miss. It’s because of the suspicious circumstances surrounding your stepmother’s death, we have to delve into her life in the preceding weeks and months. You said yourself, most emphatically that there was no way that Mrs. Butler would have taken her own life. So, someone else must have given her an overdose. Those are the stark facts. I’ll ask you again whether there was anything different about her when you visited, whether she mentioned any callers, or guests who had stayed with her?”

She shook her head

“We will be visiting her solicitor obviously, to look at her will, in more detail. I believe you and your brother came in for sizeable legacies?”

For the first time Caroline’s expression changed. She stepped down from her high horse and looked uncomfortable. “Yes, Inspector…but no more than we expected. Daddy left our stepmother a wealthy woman. Some money was tied up in trusts for Roderick and me. It was always an unspoken understanding that after mummy’s death, the bulk of the estate would come to us. After all, she didn’t have anyone else. There were legacies to her staff, to a cousin and a goddaughter and a not so small legacy to Doctor Horton.”

That was a long speech and it may be she was trying to deflect the next question.

“So, would it be fair to say, Miss Butler, this legacy came in useful?”

She once again shrugged the thin shoulders. “I’m sure most people would agree, Inspector, that money is always useful.”

As they sat once again at the station café, waiting for the North Country train. Brown was surprised at Greene’s good spirits. He’d been expecting a tirade on the visit being a waste of time.

But, as he looked with pleasure on his iced, sticky bun, Greene said, “Now that’s what I call a good day’s work, lad. Now I feel as though I am getting to the heart of matters. Money, never underestimate the power of money.

* * *

Edith had not known what to expect at all on this weekend out. As she sat in the passenger seat of Aunt Alicia’s Morris Traveller, she reflected that the whole business of where she was actually going had been a distraction from the big thing—the big step out of the hated, but secure doors of St Bride’s. Now the time had come, she was most conscious of a ball of tension somewhere between her stomach and her chest and a dry mouth.

What would they do over the weekend? Suddenly the whole weekend pass seemed an ill-conceived idea. Archie, as usual, knew what he was talking about. Would it be terrible if she were to ask Aunt Alicia to take her back? They were only through the big gates and a few hundred yards down the lane. If she just came out and said it, that she didn’t feel ready and could she take her back, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The sky would not fall in.

“Aunt Alicia” she began. She stopped. No. “My mouth is dry. Nerves, I expect. You wouldn’t happen to have a boiled sweet in the glove compartment?”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry but I haven’t…I have an idea, though. The Old Schoolhouse?”

Edith nodded. The Old Schoolhouse was just that, but it had been turned into a country tearoom several years ago, by a couple who wanted to try country living. Rumour had it the man had been gassed in the war and shell-shocked. His nerves had been affected, and he developed an aversion to noise, smoke, and city life. The wife was a sweet woman who did most of the work at the front of the shop while he helped with maintenance and the heavy, behind the scenes work.

Edith’s heart slowed and the knot in her insides loosened. This would be perfect. A bit of a stepping-stone between the hospital and home. It would give her a half an hour to adjust a little.

 

She stirred her tea and looked at her aunt who was chatting happily. You could have thought she was prattling to fill the gaps and stay any awkwardness. But, Edith didn’t think so. Her aunt did not seem discombobulated at the situation. In turn, this was making Edith relax. Suddenly, whether Archie’s reasons for fobbing her off on Aunt Alicia were or were not disingenuous didn’t matter. Maybe, it would actually turn out to be a blessing.

“Archie thinks he may be able to come for dinner tonight,” said Aunt Alicia.

Edith smiled. “It will be nice to see him, nice to have a meal in a proper dining room and have a real conversation.

* * *

Archie Horton checked his wallet one more time and secured the house. He had spoken to Maybury, who had agreed to deal with any emergencies. It was about time he returned a favour.

All day, Archie had been restless, felt the need to get away from this infernal countryside. Strange, how the very thing that normally soothed and sustained the spirit, could sometimes drive you out of your mind. London wasn’t only calling at him, it was shouting. He wanted to smell the smog and the traffic, feel the grime on his skin and the rush of people who neither knew him nor cared about him. He craved that feeling of melding into the crowd. That was not all he craved. But, it was probably all part and parcel of the same need.

He had rung ahead to book a bed in the low-key club he had joined, full of ideas above his station, when he’d first become a services medic. It would suffice to sleep in, which was all he intended to do there. He filled up at the petrol station on the edge of the village, giving evasive answers to Bert, the old boy, one of his patients who worked the petrol pumps. One of his many low-paid efforts to eke out a living.

“And your sister, Doctor? She hasn’t been too well, I hear? Is she on the mend? The wife and meself was sorry to hear about her troubles.” His forehead creased in genuine concern rather than prurience.

“She’s on the mend, Bert, and thanks for asking. As a matter of fact, she’s gone to stay with our auntie this weekend. Company for her, as it were.”

Oh, damn and blast and bloody hell. He had completely forgotten this weekend pass business, and he’d also forgotten he was supposed to be joining them for dinner tonight. He hesitated and wiped the windscreen to buy a few more minutes thinking time. But, he knew what he would do He continued on his journey south. He would ring from London and make his excuses.