Neil Ford arrived back in time for the evening meal. He seemed to be in a more affable mood and exchanged a few words with Quinn as though there had been no unpleasantness between them.
Parry didn’t join the others. He said he wanted to post his letters and so he’d take a walk down to the village. If he felt hungry he would have a bite to eat later.
Carole was subdued, Irene Ford talkative but vague. She kept harking back to the subject of Adele’s death and how terrible it was for the family and what people must be saying … on and on as though it were a compulsion neurosis.
Eventually Neil Ford rounded on her. “… For God’s sake, leave it alone, will you? We feel bad enough as it is without you making it worse. Anybody would think you got pleasure out of raking the whole thing up, over and over again.”
She put a hand to her face as though he had struck her. She said, “How can you say that … to me of all people? You seem to forget I was the one —”
With tears in her eyes she got up from the table and half ran towards the staircase. Carole called after her but she didn’t answer. As she went stumbling upstairs she was wailing “… Oh dear … oh dear … oh dear …”
Ford said, “Now I’ve done it. Each time it happens I swear I’ll know better next time but I never learn.”
He looked at Quinn. “I can guess what you’re thinking so you needn’t say it.”
“You can’t guess,” Quinn said. “So I’ll tell you. Maybe you were kind of rude, but she did go on a bit. I was getting tired of it myself.”
Carole said, “Don’t encourage him. Irene’s had a most distressing experience and she’s not the kind of person who finds it easy to adjust. I think she should’ve gone home. After what’s happened this is the last place she should be.”
“Michael insisted on her staying,” Ford said. “Asked me not to persuade her to leave. Seems he can’t bear the thought of being here alone.”
“I don’t blame him,” Quinn said.
Ford gave Carole a quick look. She asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? There’s nothing clever about it. He needs company to keep the gremlins away. It’s only natural.”
“Depends on what type of gremlins he’s scared of,” Ford said.
A withdrawn look came into Carole’s face. She said, “This is all wrong. Whatever Michael’s faults and failings, we’ve no right to sit here and condemn him for something that’s no more than a suspicion. There’s been a lot of talk but no one can say definitely that Adele didn’t commit suicide.”
“I’m not saying it was anything else,” Ford said. “But Quinn knows the police aren’t satisfied. And I can tell you that’s really what’s upsetting Irene — not so much the fact that Michael might’ve done it, but what people are going to say if he did.”
“Oh, that’s absurd!”
“All right. Have it your own way. But I ought to know her by this time.”
He gave Quinn a nod. In the same off-hand voice, he said, “Take my advice and don’t get married. It leads to nothing but trouble … as you may have noticed ever since you got here. Now I’ll go and see if I can console my wife before she works herself into a state of hysterics.”
When he’d gone upstairs, Carole began clearing the table. Quinn said, “Can I give you a hand with the dishes?”
“No, thanks. It’s no trouble at all. I’ll put them in the dishwasher and they’ll be ready to stack away by the time I get back.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes, I thought I’d make my peace with Ariadne Wilkinson. I wasn’t very nice to her last night. Will you be all right for a little while on your own?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Quinn said. “Have fun.”
She disposed of the crockery and the cutlery. When she’d switched on the dishwasher she came out of the kitchen and asked, “Have you told anyone that Geoffrey Bossard is my husband? Neil Ford, for example?”
“Neither Neil Ford nor anyone else, for example.”
“Shouldn’t you have told the police?”
“Yes, but I didn’t.”
Her wide dark eyes studied Quinn reflectively. “Any special reason?”
“I don’t see that I need one. The police aren’t really interested in who’s married to whom.”
“You know that isn’t true. They want all the information they can get about everybody in this house.”
“Maybe so. But in my opinion it would only be confusing the issue.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I don’t think Dr. Bossard killed Adele Parry,” Quinn said. “That’s what you wanted me to tell you, isn’t it?”
She tucked her lower lip between her teeth while she stared past Quinn at the russet glow of the sunset. Then she said, “I’ve never been the least bit afraid that he had anything to do with it.”
“But you know she must’ve been the woman he entertained at your cottage that night?”
With a look of defiance, Carole said, “Yes … but I don’t believe it happened more than that once.”
“You don’t believe it because you don’t want to believe it,” Quinn said. “As I told you last night you’re still in love with him. But you’re too damn’ stubborn to admit it. Why not put your pride in your pocket and give him the chance to make a fresh start?”
Quinn saw the conflict in her eyes. It lasted only a moment.
Then she smiled. As though she had at last seen the answer that had been there all the time, she said, “I think I will … Now that Adele is dead, perhaps we can begin again.”
He watched her go outside, he heard the sound of her car starting up, he saw her drive past into the light of the dying sun. And he thought he knew where she was really going.
As he listened to the dwindling murmur of the engine, he told himself, “Well, that’s that. Playing Cupid without even a bow and arrow. The lads back home would say you were out of your tiny mind. Must be getting senile.”
Maybe he should get away from Elm Lodge and forget about Adele Parry. Maybe the truth would only do harm … unless the truth exonerated her husband … if he were innocent of her murder … if she had been murdered …
The phone rang. It was Inspector Elvin.
“… Thought you’d like to hear the results of the P.M. Analysis of the stomach contents reveals that she must’ve had a massive dose of pentobarbitone.”
“That’s what’s in Pembrium, isn’t it?”
“The same. Based on what they found, she’d swallowed anything up to forty grains. The minimum fatal dose is thirty grains … and what she got was taken in conjunction with brandy. The pathologist tells me what most of us know — that alcohol acts as a potentiator which increases the effect.”
“Was it the same stuff in the bottom of that brandy glass?”
“Yes … but no partly-dissolved gelatine in the stomach as one would expect. Somebody’s been just a little bit too clever.”
“Which rules out Dr. Bossard,” Quinn said.
“But of course. He’d know better than to leave any capsules in the glass to make it look like suicide. I’ve known all along you were barking up the wrong tree.”
“What made you so sure?”
“Well, for one thing, police surgeons aren’t in the habit of committing murder.”
“Neither are they in the habit of committing adultery — but it’s been known.”
Elvin said, “Now you’re being slick.”
“All right. Tell me the rest.”
“Not much more. Pembrium is supplied in one and a half grain yellow capsules which can be opened quite simply by pulling the two halves apart. The drug itself is a white, odourless, crystalline powder with a slightly bitter taste — a very slightly bitter taste.”
“Too slight to be noticed in brandy?”
“If mixed with a little milk and sugar it would probably not be detected by the average person. When you consider that forty grains is just about a rounded teaspoonful and that Pembrium is freely soluble in alcohol … well, it’s too easy, isn’t it?”
“As you say,” Quinn said. “Go on.”
“I found an empty bottle in the bedside cupboard with the label of a Blandford chemist. He checked the number on the label and confirmed that the bottle had contained Pembrium capsules — twenty-five of them. They’d been prescribed for Mrs. Parry by Dr. Bossard.”
Quinn said, “Good old Dr. Bossard. Wherever we go we keep falling over him.”
“Don’t start all that again. He happens to have been her doctor and —”
“— the prescription just happens to have been for twenty-five capsules. Twenty-five times one and a half is thirty-seven and a half … which is near enough the quantity that your pathologist estimated. Right?”
Inspector Elvin said, “Your arithmetic is right but not your conclusions. A doctor’s entitled to prescribe sleeping pills for one of his patients.”
“This doctor also prescribed something else for this patient — but you can’t get it on National Health.”
“You’re being slick again. No one can ever prove that their relationship wasn’t perfectly ethical.”
“Not now,” Quinn said.
He remembered the smile on Carole’s face. That could have been what she had meant.
“ … Now that Adele is dead, perhaps we can begin again.”
The phone was saying “… This is what a bachelor doctor’s always up against. He’s an easy target for gossip while there are women like Miss Wilkinson around. Bossard should get himself a wife.”
The sun went down and dusk settled in the elm trees. Quinn chain-smoked and thought about Michael Parry and wondered how long it took him to post a bundle of letters.
… Could be he’s having a booze-up at the Bird-in-Hand. Hasn’t had a drink all day so far as I’ve seen … or last night, either. Maybe he doesn’t need the stuff any more. Maybe he only drank so as to forget what she and her money had made of him. Now he doesn’t have to drink. Now that Adele is dead he’s a new man. The world’s a different place for many people now that Adele is dead …
It was growing dark when the phone rang again. As Quinn picked up the receiver he could hear music at the other end of the line.
Ariadne Wilkinson said, “Well, how about that? The very man I want — and don’t take that the wrong way. You’re not my type. I meant that it was you I wanted to speak to.”
Her facetious gabble distracted and irritated him. He said, “About what?”
“Oh, do I detect a certain lack of warmth?” she gave a high-pitched laugh. “We’re not in a very good temper, are we?”
Quinn said, “Look, I don’t want to appear rude but I’m expecting a very important phone call … so if there’s anything you have to say would you make it as quick as you can?”
“Important … dear, dear. How do you know this phone call isn’t important?”
“I don’t. And I never will unless you get to the point.”
“For a man who doesn’t want to be rude” — now there was a touch of sarcasm in her deep, masculine voice — “you’re doing pretty well. It would serve you right if I didn’t tell you … hold on a minute while I turn the radio down. It’s making a terrible row …”
The music in the background stopped abruptly. When she came back to the phone she went running on as though there had been no interruption.
“… Have you ever wondered why they call it incidental music when it’s so loud you can hear nothing else but? You set the volumes at just the right level to hear speech comfortably and next thing you know it’s making enough noise to bounce the pictures off the walls.”
She laughed again. Then she asked, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Adele must’ve been drugged before half past three in the afternoon? I thought she’d come home much later.”
Quinn was in no mood to exchange gossip with someone like Ariadne Wilkinson. He said, “Does it make any difference what time she came home?”
“But, of course! Do you remember I asked you how you thought Michael would’ve felt if he’d found out what was going on behind his back?”
“Yes, but I don’t see —”
“Because you don’t know what I know … even though I’ve explained how I saw Dr. Bossard making his frequent visits to Elm Lodge.”
“All right. So I don’t know. But you can soon remedy that, can’t you?”
“Ah, how about that? The man’s not in such a hurry to hang up now … but he’s a devil for demanding proof.”
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea what you’re talking about,” Quinn said.
“That’s too bad. I’d be glad to put you in the picture … but I don’t want to occupy your telephone when you’re anxiously waiting for an important phone call … ha-ha.”
Quinn said, “You’ve already occupied the telephone to no purpose.”
“Not quite. I wasn’t sure my information was correct about Adele being put to sleep before half past three. Now you’ve confirmed it.”
“So?”
“So all I have to do is ask a couple of pertinent — or impertinent — questions and I’ll have enough proof to sink a ship.”
“Proof of what?”
“Oh, no. I’m going to teach you a lesson in good manners. Next time you won’t be so abrupt with a lady.”
“Now you’re being silly,” Quinn said.
“Not me.”
She was laughing as her voice receded from the phone. “If you’d been more patient I’d have let you share my secret. So it’s the well-known Mr. Quinn of Fleet Street who’s silly …”
He tried to break in but he was too late. The line went dead before he managed to say a word.
At eleven o’clock he got tired of sitting alone in the big empty living-room and decided to go to bed. Carole had not yet returned. Michael Parry was still out posting his letters.
As Quinn went upstairs he heard voices talking in Mrs. Ford’s bedroom. The house was very quiet and he caught an odd phrase now and again, a few words that made him tread cautiously as he approached their door. Then he heard the name Adele.
A moment later, Neil Ford said, “Don’t raise your voice. Carole’s gone out but that fellow Quinn’s downstairs and he’s got ears like an elephant. That’s why I didn’t like the idea of him staying here over the week-end. In his job he just loves to rake up dirt.”
“But there wasn’t anything wrong — really wrong — between you and her, was there?”
“No, of course there wasn’t! How many times have you got to ask? I thought I’d explained the whole thing. Don’t you trust me? Don’t you know I wouldn’t let you down?”
“Yes, dear, I do know. But it’s come as a shock all the same … especially after what I’ve been through since yesterday. I wish you hadn’t told me.”
“What else could I do? You knew she’d made one or two phone calls and I was afraid you might let it out accidentally. That’s all somebody like Quinn needs to hear. He’s an expert at making a mountain out of a molehill.”
In a snuffling voice, Irene Ford said, “But I didn’t know she’d come to Ringwood several times and met you without me knowing. If only you’d told me —
“It wasn’t several times … just two occasions. And there was nothing to tell. At first I thought she just wanted to confide in me, to ask my advice as to what she should do about Michael, but when I discovered what she was really after I put a damn’ quick stop to it. You don’t think I’d let a woman like her make a fool of me, do you?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t ever believe you could do a thing like that … so you don’t need to reassure me. But I’m scared, Neil, terribly scared. What if they find out?”
Ford said, “There’s nothing for them to find out — nothing at all. I keep telling you that.”
“Yes, I know, dear. But supposing somebody saw you and her together —”
“Nobody saw us. So long as we don’t say anything the whole business can be forgotten.”
“But you can’t be sure. If they learn the kind of woman she was and then hear you’d been seen with her they might imagine —”
“How can they? For God’s sake, how can they? Just tell me that.”
“I don’t know,” Irene Ford said miserably. “I don’t know how they discover such things. I’ve just heard they sometimes can. And I’m afraid. You’ve no idea how afraid. If they should find out — and please don’t be cross with me, dear — what’ll they do?”
“Nothing — absolutely nothing. I’ve told you that already. If someone poisoned Adele it wasn’t me. And that’s all the police are interested in.”
“You’re not — worried?”
“Not in the slightest … so long as we keep our mouths shut and you stop looking so damn’ silly. You’ll make people suspect we have something to hide if you don’t take a hold on yourself.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve never found it easy to pretend. And I’m upset, anyway. You might not care but I was fond of Adele. I know she had a thing about men … but she was like a sister to me. Now you’ve spoiled that by telling me she wanted you to … well, you know. If only you hadn’t —”
There Irene began to weep. Neil Ford said, “If you’re going to start that again, I’ll leave you to get over it by yourself. One thing I can’t stand is when you turn on the waterworks.”
Footsteps stamped towards the door. Quinn had just time to duck into the bathroom before Neil Ford came out, pulled the door shut with a bang, and hurried downstairs.
Footsteps in the corridor roused Quinn as he was falling asleep — the clip-clop of a woman’s high heels followed by a man’s heavy tread. After a whispered “Good night …” they went into separate rooms.
He knew the woman was Carole and the man had walked like Neil Ford. That left Parry still absent. And Quinn’s watch said the time was ten past twelve.
Of course, he might have dozed off without knowing it. He hadn’t heard the sound of an engine … and yet Carole must have returned in the car. Possibly Michael Parry was already home in bed.
Vagrant thoughts took on larger-than-life substance as sleep clouded Quinn’s mind again. He wondered how long Carole and Neil Ford had been talking together downstairs … and what they had talked about … and if the way Ford looked at Carole meant anything.
He was far from being a man’s man but that didn’t mean to say he couldn’t be attractive to women. They had their own ideas of what they liked in the opposite sex.
… Even intelligent women have been known to get soppy over types that the average man can spot a mile off. And Carole is no exception. I could have been wrong. There might be something between her and Ford. Maybe it wasn’t Bossard who broke up the marriage. Maybe she was the one who strayed off the straight and narrow while her husband was at sea. Maybe he only had an affaire with Adele Parry because he felt that what was sauce for the goose …
Behind the old saying, Quinn caught a glimpse of another thought … leading to yet another … and another … like the mirror-image that loses definition as it shrinks into infinity.
Then the cloud grew darker in his mind and the procession of thoughts were footprints in the sand at the water’s edge. He saw the tide flow in under the light of the moon to fill the footprints with molten silver … and when the sea rolled back it took the footprints and left the smooth expanse of beach untrodden again.
One thing only remained before he fell asleep. Ariadne Wilkinson was saying “… l’ll have enough proof to sink a ship.”