THIRTY-ONE
In the small hours, the world felt like a place, full of pain and suffering. And fear. It was the owl that shriek’d. But waking at half past four was not so bad. Radio Five Live had stopped its phone-ins and “The News” had begun, interspersed with plenty of sport, but that was only to be expected. Some sports were mildly diverting but Jane had an aversion to rugby, and Five Live had a habit of broadcasting sudden deafening bursts of sound, medleys of past commentaries that might have been acceptable during the day, but not in the small hours.
Once she had flinched at “breaking news”, but lately the term had been extended to include virtually anything. A member of the royal family had expressed an opinion on comprehensive schools. A football manager had been sacked. This morning it was something to do with the supply of energy. Turning onto her back, being careful not to reactivate the cramp that had plagued her left leg during the night, she stared at the light filtering through her bedroom curtains.
Uppermost in her mind was Arthur and his remark about Noel’s death, tossed out nonchalantly enough, but she was getting to know the boy and nothing he said was as casual as it appeared. I reckon the men women fall for are the ones that are no good. Wise words from someone so young. Was he thinking about his mother? Willa was hardly the discreet type, and Arthur could well have overheard phone calls between her and Noel. Or returned home early from school and heard suspicious sounds emanating from her bedroom.
Sometimes Jane wondered if Arthur knew something about that dreadful afternoon and was teasing her, tempting her to ask him to tell more. When he talked about the computer game he and Simmy were devising, it was clear he was a believer in violent retribution. But Eddie was the murderer. Not intentionally, perhaps – a court of law would say she was not of sound mind – but at what stage of her illness did responsibility come to an end? Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow. If the truth came out, Eddie would be none the wiser, but Jane would be the talk of Faraday Road. She might have to move.
Lying in bed was a mistake. Vague worries were exacerbated. Imagination ran riot. Best to get up and face the world. A brisk walk to clear her head.
Leaving the house, she came across Gus, stuffing a bag of rubbish into his black wheelie bin.
‘Morning, Miss Marple.’ He was wearing his dressing gown, and the frayed ends of grey cotton trousers hung over a pair of red flip-flops. While his shop was still a going concern, he had left early, returning at seven or even later. Now, like her, he had no routine. Your days are your own, as a crass television presenter had remarked, in good spirits herself since she had an interesting, well-paid job.
‘Put too much washing in the machine.’ Uncharacteristically, Gus felt the need to explain why he was not fully dressed.
‘Do you have a dryer?’
‘A what? Oh, one of those things that eats up electricity.’
‘I don’t expect Dave would mind if you hung your washing in the garden.’
‘You don’t, don’t you? Shows how well you know Dave.’
Jane sighed. ‘It’s not as though he takes any trouble with it. The dandelion seeds blow over into mine. If he doesn’t want the bother of cutting the grass, he should have the whole thing paved.’
Gus sniffed and she realised her mistake. ‘More patio stones, you mean. How’s Eddie?’
‘I’ve been thinking about the day she went missing.’
‘Is that what you call it? The Day Eddie Went Missing. Well, I suppose it’s an improvement on The Day Noel Threw Himself Off The Balcony.’
‘I’m going for a walk. They say it releases endorphins in the brain.’
‘Thought you wanted to ask me something.’
‘Did I?’ Should she mention how Willa had said she saw him returning to the house, not long after two? Gus would think she was accusing him, and Willa could have made it up. Besides, it was irrelevant now. ‘I forget what is was. Can’t have been important.’
‘If you say so. Need to get changed. Business meeting.’
‘Another? Starting a new business, are you?’
He gave a snort. ‘What did you think of the funeral?’
‘I met an old flame of Noel’s.’
‘That blonde woman?’ But he had no interest in anything she had to say and was going back into his house.
Just as well. She had almost decided to tell him about the handcuffs but he had given no indication he was prepared to listen to her, so he was not the right person to confide in. Except, who else was there? ‘Oh, Gus,’ she called, and he turned, rubbing his eyes.
‘On the day of the accident, Willa saw you coming back up the road. I’m not sure what time it was. A bit after two o’clock I expect when she was on her way to a lingerie party.’
‘Aha, the plot thickens. So, Sherlock, you think I was on my way to do the dastardly deed. By the way, is Eddie still able to handle money?’
‘No.’
‘Doesn’t need it. Like the Queen.’
‘Her memory’s worse. It’s impossible to have a sensible conversation. Except now and again she remembers something from the past. A few weeks ago she started talking about a visit to Greece we made twelve years ago. The airport at Athens, the boat that took us to one of the islands. Little details I’d completely forgotten.’
‘Odd thing, the brain.’ But he was more interested in his bin. Had he thrown something away and regretted it? Not long ago, foolishly, she had bought a pair of shoes because she liked the colour, but when she tried them on at home discovered they squeezed her toes and would undoubtedly give her corns. Searching for the receipt, she had been reduced to looking in the bin, then found it, screwed up at the bottom of her shopping bag.
Gus was muttering away, something about Sainsbury’s. ‘Only when I saw her, standing outside ...’
‘Eddie? You saw her? When? What time was it?’ Jane’s sharp intake of breath had given her away but, oblivious, Gus was still busy with his bin.
He straightened up, pointing at a pair of magpies on the roof opposite. ‘Evil creatures. Raid nests and eat fledglings. Two-fifteen. Had an appointment at half past.’
‘On that Saturday? A quarter past two? When you saw Eddie?’
‘Checked my watch and realised I had ten minutes to fill so I might as well do some shopping. Someone had tied up a Jack Russell and Eddie was deep in conversation.’
‘You’re quite sure it was Eddie?’
‘Her memory may not be up to much but she looks the same as she always did. Never one for bothering about her appearance. Artistic temperament and all that.’
‘And it was definitely two-fifteen? A dentist’s appointment, was it?’
‘Why d’you say that?’
‘You mentioned last week you’d felt a twinge. A wisdom tooth you thought.’ Weak with relief, Jane had calculated it would have taken Eddie at least twenty minutes to reach Sainsbury’s. Simmy had knocked on the door just before two so, in order to have reached the supermarket by two-fifteen, Eddie would have to have slipped through the front door while Jane was showing Simmy into the sitting room. And it made sense she would have made a beeline for the place where they had done their weekly shop.
‘I wish you’d told me before, Gus.’
‘You knew she’d gone to the shops.’
‘Yes, yes I did.’ She must have taken the fluffy handcuffs to the loft soon after she brought her back from The Spruces. Following loud demands for ice cream, Jane had left her in front of the television – a programme about cats that did things “that made you laugh” – and hurried, half walking, half running, to the nearest shop and back. Ten minutes, not more, but quite long enough for Eddie to forage about in the kitchen, find the handcuffs behind the herbs and spices, and take them next door. ‘I’ve been thinking, Gus.’
‘Never a good idea.’
‘I know some people liked Noel’s loft conversions, but others thought them an abomination.’
‘And like all good private eyes you need to eliminate suspects.’ He slammed down the lid of the wheelie bin. ‘Not guilty. As I told you before, out, hoping to get a close-up of a summer visitor. Someone had seen a flock of redstarts in a field. Came back for a lens I’d forgotten.’
‘Where did you see the bird? No, it doesn’t matter. I just wondered ...’
‘Love you and leave you.’ He had a foot in his front door. ‘Need to check my washing’s dry.’
A business matter. Was he hoping to re-open his shop, or perhaps he intended to set up some kind of photographic service? Or “a business matter” could mean another rendezvous with the woman from number twenty-two. But none of that concerned her just now. He had seen Eddie outside Sainsbury’s at two-fifteen. She was in the clear.