When Quinn went downstairs he found Parry and Neil Ford talking quietly together near the central hearth. Carole was in the kitchen making sandwiches.
He stayed in the doorway and stood watching her. She seemed older — older and more serious and very different from the girl with the cheeky smile whom he’d met at Charlie Hinchcliffe’s party.
It felt like a lifetime since he’d yielded to a crazy impulse and kissed her. That had been a stupid thing to do. If he’d known about the man who’d lived with her at the cottage he’d never have done it. For all he knew there might have been more than one man.
… Don’t believe she’s like that. Whatever else, she isn’t a tart. As I see it she invited me here for the week-end because she didn’t want to be available for Bossard while she was at Elm Lodge. I was her excuse for keeping him at arm’s length. So he must mean a lot to her and she doesn’t want to show it …
Out of nowhere came a thought that took shape, piece by piece, like an irregular structure built with a child’s set of bricks. It wasn’t very solid but it stood up long enough to give Quinn a new awareness of many things that had perplexed him since he’d arrived at Castle Lammering.
… Adele didn’t really mean anything to anybody. Bossard’s behaviour when he saw her lying there seemed peculiar at the time … the look on his face wasn’t right… but now I understand. That look was one of relief — as though her death had taken a load off his mind …
Ariadne Wilkinson hadn’t shown any grief, either. Neil Ford didn’t even pretend to be sorry. Carole was thoughtful and withdrawn, but not sad. Her friend — a kind, hospitable friend — had died suddenly and tragically, but Carole shed no tears.
And Michael Parry … He didn’t act like a man who had lost his wife. The only emotion he betrayed was fear — an underlying fear that could have been caused by any one of a dozen reasons. Neither in his voice nor his eyes was there any hint of sorrow.
That left Irene Ford. She’d been shocked into a state of hysterics, but with a woman like Irene that could have been expected.
… She’s a twitching neurotic. It needn’t have been affection for her sister-in-law that made her hysterical. She’d probably have reacted the same way if she’d discovered the body of a complete stranger. Not that I blame her for being upset. Finding a corpse in the next room is enough to make any woman jump out of her roll-on. But not every woman would scream the house down …
Carole looked up and gave him a little forced smile. She said, “Hallo … You’ve been upstairs a long time. Has that inspector finished asking questions?”
“I’d say he’s only just started,” Quinn said. “We’ve a long way to go before we see the end of this business. How’s Mrs. Ford?”
“Dr. Bossard’s with her now. He’s given her a sedative and he says she should be all right after a good night’s rest … but it’ll take a little time for her to get over the shock.”
“That’s only to be expected. How do you feel?”
“Oh, I’m all right.” She brushed some crumbs together with the edge of her palm and gathered them into a mound. Without looking at Quinn, she added, “A lot better than I’d have felt if I’d been the one who found Adele.”
Quinn said, “That’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Did Mrs. Ford tell you what made her go into the nursery? I understood that no one ever went in there.”
“The light was on. She noticed it when she was leaving her own room to come downstairs. From what she says the nursery door wasn’t quite shut. Naturally, that made her curious …”
“If it hadn’t got suddenly dark she wouldn’t have seen the light in the nursery,” Quinn said.
“No, I don’t suppose she would. What I don’t understand is why Adele should have needed to use the light on a day like to-day.”
“Me, neither. And I’ve no doubt Inspector Elvin will make three.”
Carole went on toying with the mound of crumbs. Then she said, “Maybe Michael could suggest a reason. He might know if Adele had recently been in the nursery after dark.”
“If he doesn’t, no one else will,” Quinn said. “I’ll ask him.”
Parry didn’t know. He didn’t seem very interested, either.
It was Neil Ford who made an issue of the question. He said, “I heard my wife saying something about the light being on in the nursery … but I don’t see why that should concern you.” Once again he had an offensive look in his eyes.
Quinn said, “I thought the war was over. So you don’t get the wrong idea let me tell you I’m merely quoting Inspector Elvin. It’s he who wants —”
“Then let Inspector Elvin ask for himself. In the circumstances, don’t you think your presence here is rather unnecessary?”
Carole came out of the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and crockery and a pot of coffee. She said, “I’ll tell you something, Neil. That old adage isn’t true: it doesn’t take two to make a quarrel. You do very well all by yourself.”
Ford said, “I didn’t mean anything more than that this was hardly the time to have strangers around.”
“That’s merely your opinion. Besides, Mr. Quinn isn’t a stranger. He’s a guest of the house. I invited him to spend the week-end at Elm Lodge and it isn’t his fault that this has happened.”
In a restless voice, Michael Parry said, “I don’t want to take sides … but it’s for me to say who stays here and who doesn’t.”
“If that means what I think it means” — Ford’s womanish mouth tightened and his face lost some of its colour — “you won’t need to say it twice. If Irene’s all right we’ll leave in the morning.”
Michael threw up his hands. He said, “Oh, don’t be a bloody fool! I don’t want you or anyone to leave. Now can’t we drop this whole silly business and behave like civilised people?”
Quinn said, “If nobody minds me butting in I’d like to mention that Inspector Elvin wants me to stay on … either here or somewhere nearby. I think he’s got an idea I might be needed at the inquest.”
It was a weak excuse but they seemed to accept it. Michael said, “Then that’s that. You’ll all stay … at least until after the inquest. Since the week-end is bound to delay arrangements, I don’t suppose it’ll take place before Monday at the earliest.”
“I have to get back to Ringwood first thing Monday morning,” Ford said. “I’ve got my business to look after. In any case they won’t need me. Irene’s the one who found” — he gave Parry a long look — “who found Adele. Strange affair altogether when you come to think of it.”
Michael asked, “What’s strange? Why shouldn’t it have been Irene?”
“No reason at all. She just happened to be the first to go upstairs. If it had been any one of us we’d have wondered why the light was on in the nursery … same as she did. That’s not what I meant when I said it was a strange affair.”
“Then what did you mean?” Carole said, “I wish you’d leave all this talk until later. The coffee’s getting cold.”
“No.” Michael turned his back on her and folded his arms and stared at Ford belligerently. “If you’ve got something on your mind, let’s hear it. Let’s bring it out into the open. What did you mean?”
Neil Ford shrugged. He said, “Nothing that everybody else hasn’t already thought of … including Dr. Bossard and that police inspector. Adele must’ve been in the house all the time … and yet you didn’t know.”
With a slight narrowing of his faded blue eyes, Parry asked, “Are you suggesting that I did know?”
Ford said, “Now who’s being foolish? Of course I’m not! I just mentioned that it was rather strange. If you’d only thought of looking in the nursery —”
“Well, I didn’t. I went straight up to my room for a lie down and I was asleep when Carole and Mr. Quinn arrived. Adele wasn’t supposed to be coming home until this evening, anyway, so why should I have gone and looked in the nursery … of all places? You’re as bad as that damn’ policeman with some of the things —”
“O.K. O.K. Don’t get excited. I was only trying to help.”
In a voice that matched the sour look in his eyes. Parry said, “You’d do a lot better if you went and looked after your wife.”
Neil Ford drew in a quick breath. As though the words were fighting to get out, he said, “And you’d have done a lot better if you’d looked after yours …”
There he faltered, his plump face pale and scared. Then he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I had no right to say a thing like that. Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s been a trying time for all of us and …”
His voice tailed off again. Then he said, “Maybe I should go and see how Irene’s getting on.”
Carole said, “Ask her if she’d like something to eat. I’ll make her whatever she wants. And tell Dr. Bossard there’s some coffee waiting for him.”
Ford hurried upstairs as though afraid that Parry would stop him. When he had gone, Carole looked at Michael and said, “You deserve a medal for restraint. How you controlled yourself I’ll never know.”
He brushed up the ends of his moustache and gave her a weak smile. He said, “I was tempted to punch him in the nose but it wouldn’t have done any good. This is neither the time nor the place for that sort of thing. Let’s have a friendly cup of coffee and a sandwich and forget Adele’s” — he stumbled over the next word and took a moment to recover himself — “Adele’s relations.”
To Quinn it was all unreal. Michael Parry might as well have said that they should forget Adele herself. She had died … her body had been removed … and now the gap had closed. It was as though she had never been.
Through his thoughts he heard Parry saying “… haven’t eaten since lunch time and that was before one o’clock. You’ve no idea how appetising those sandwiches look.”
Then he turned to Quinn and asked, “How about you?”
Quinn said, “I’d like a cup of coffee but that’s all. I had a pretty good meal when we got here.”
Perhaps Michael Parry guessed what he was thinking. In an uncomfortable voice, Parry said, “There’s something I want you to know. Maybe it’s not really any of your business —”
“Then don’t tell me,” Quinn said.
“I must … for my own sake I must. You see, whatever my faults and failings, I’ve never been a hypocrite. And I’m not going to start now. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Quinn nodded. At the back of his mind he was asking himself why a man who had lived on his wife’s money, who had been little better than a parasite, should object to being thought a hypocrite.
… Now he’s going to tell me the old story. Why does a husband always use the excuse that his wife doesn’t understand him? He might be a lot worse off if she did …
Michael Parry said, “I can’t pretend I’m overwhelmed with grief. It’s a terrible thing to have happened … of course it is … and I’m sorry … but that’s all. In my position I should be heartbroken but I’m not. I just don’t feel anything. All I want is to get the whole business over and done with so that I can get away — as far away as possible from this damned house. Whatever I’ve been, she made me. Nobody realises —”
“Don’t say that,” Carole said. “If you hadn’t been drinking you’d know how dreadful it sounds. Anyone hearing you would imagine all sorts of things.”
Quinn said, “He isn’t drunk. Let him talk. Nothing he says can make the situation any worse.”
Parry looked at Carole and said, “I told you, didn’t I? They think I killed Adele. Just because I didn’t know she’d come home they think I got rid of her.”
Carole said, “That’s a load of nonsense.”
Then she turned and stared at Quinn and asked, “Isn’t it?”
He wondered why Michael was so anxious to talk about his relationship with Adele … why he seemed to have forgotten that he was hungry … and why Carole wanted to protect him. Nobody at Elm Lodge behaved true to type.
Quinn said, “All I can tell you is that Inspector Elvin isn’t satisfied with Mr. Parry’s account of what happened this afternoon. There’s not much doubt that Mrs. Parry lay down on the bed in her own room when she came home. The fact that she was found in the nursery makes Elvin think she was put there by someone who didn’t want her to be discovered before she was dead.”
Michael Parry picked up a sandwich, looked at it, and tossed it back on the tray. Then he rubbed a hand across his eyes.
He said, “See how they’ve got it all worked out? I was the only one in the house from half-past three until the time you and Quinn arrived … so it must’ve been me. Either I deliberately killed Adele or I let her die. Take your choice.”
Carole shivered. With no emotion in her face, she said, “It’s horrible … just too horrible.”
She doesn’t believe it, Quinn told himself. But somehow I think she wants to. And there can be only one reason for that.
… Wish I could find a reason for Michael’s behaviour. Publicising all this isn’t in his own interests. Why should he invite the lightning? Or did he know he’d be suspected and is this his method of making people think that a guilty man wouldn’t go out of his way to attract suspicion? …
It was tempting to lay the blame on Parry. If he were responsible for his wife’s death — directly or indirectly — then there would be no questions left unanswered.
… Maybe he’s using me now as a contact between himself and Inspector Elvin and that’s why he asked me to stay in the room while Elvin was questioning him … and also why he put out the red carpet for me soon’s I got here …
It seemed far-fetched. And yet …
Carole was looking at him, her wide, dark eyes like the eyes of a stranger. She asked, “Is all this true?”
Quinn said, “In substance — yes. The police are thinking along those lines.”
“Did the inspector say he thought Michael was responsible for Adele’s death?”
“Not in so many words. It was just mentioned — along with several other things — as a possibility. Elvin has a lot of inquiries to make before he’ll be able to say exactly what happened here this afternoon.”
“Never mind Inspector Elvin. You know pretty well as much about the affair as he does. What do you think?”
It was an awkward question. And Carole wasn’t the type to be fobbed off with half an answer.
… From Basingstoke to Castle Lammering must be approximately sixty-five miles … and from her cottage it’ll be a little less since it’s this side of Basingstoke. If she averaged forty miles an hour she could’ve done the return journey in roughly three hours …
That didn’t allow for what had to be done at Elm Lodge. But there would still have been plenty of time.
… I slept like a pig from the early hours until about a quarter past five in the afternoon. If she’d known that Adele would be arriving home some time after the daily woman left at one o’clock … if she got to Elm Lodge, had a drink with Adele, and doped her brandy … if she escaped from the house before Michael returned at three-thirty or thereabouts she’d have had ample time to get back to the cottage by five-fifteen and waken me with a cup of coffee …
Quinn said, “I’d say it was too early to draw conclusions. I’m willing to believe that Mr. Parry didn’t know his wife was in the nursery when he returned home.”
Some of the bitterness left Michael Parry’s face. He said, “That might not be much but it’s better than the way Inspector Elvin talked to me. If it were left to him I’d be locked up right now.”
Carole said, “I’m sure you’re wrong. You just feel depressed because you’ve had a very trying day.”
As she began pouring out a cup of coffee, she added, “Drink this and have a bite to eat and then go to bed. Things will look better to-morrow.”
Michael said, “Thanks. I’m glad you two are here … and I hope you’ll stick around until everything’s cleared up …”
The opening of a door on the floor above stopped him. There was the sound of subdued voices … someone saying “… I’ll look in again in the morning.” Then Quinn saw Dr. Bossard coming downstairs.
With a peculiar look on his face Michael Parry turned his back, piled three or four sandwiches on a plate, and carried them along with his cup of coffee to a bench seat near the central hearth. When he sat down he kept his back towards Bossard.
All Quinn’s attention was on Carole. He hated himself for what he was thinking but he couldn’t get it out of his mind.
… She used you as her alibi. When she went to Charlie Hinchcliffe’s party she must’ve been on the lookout for some mug who’d fancy going home with her. If necessary she’d have been prepared to sleep with him … after he’d drunk a nightcap fortified with a few Pembrium capsules which would’ve kept him safely in dreamland all next day …
Dr. Bossard was smiling at Carole and asking, “Do you think I might have a cup of coffee before I go?”
Carole said, “Of course. It’s not very hot, I’m afraid. If you like I’ll make some more.”
“Oh, no. This’ll do nicely. I’ve got to get back, anyway, in case there are some late calls for me.”
They went on talking small talk while Bossard drank his coffee … and Michael Parry sat alone beside the hearth … and Quinn thought bitter thoughts about the cute little girl with dark eyes and dark hair and the kind of smile that melted his cynicism. The pity was that it always left him wide open to be fooled.
… She was lucky in picking you up. Since you were stinking drunk she didn’t have to undergo a fate worse than death …
Bossard was saying good night. Carole said she would see him to the door … Michael Parry mumbled something … Quinn answered mechanically.
… All that smooth explanation about going out to buy a razor for you was just a load of malarkey. She wanted a cover-up in case you’d roused and found she wasn’t there. Not that there was much chance of you waking up too soon when you had a bellyfull of sleeping pills …
By then Carole and Bossard were walking to the door. Quinn told himself this was his opportunity to catch her unawares.
He said, “Before you go, Doctor, do you mind if I ask you something?”
Dr. Bossard turned without haste and looked at him with raised eyebrows. In his usual mellow, courteous voice, Bossard said, “Not at all … providing it won’t keep me too long. I really must be off.”
Quinn said, “This’ll only take a moment. Are you now able to say what time, approximately, Mrs. Parry died?”
Carole looked startled. Dr. Bossard was obviously taken aback. Only Michael Parry remained unmoved.
In a slightly pompous tone, Bossard said, “I don’t think that’s the sort of thing we should discuss — at this juncture.”
“Why not? Inspector Elvin didn’t put an embargo on the information, did he?”
“No. I just think this is hardly the place to go into details of a nature that might cause — distress.”
“Distress to whom, Doctor? I never knew the lady: Miss Stewart” — Quinn glanced at her briefly — “won’t require smelling salts … whatever you choose to disclose: and Mr. Parry, I’m quite sure, actually wants the answer to my question.”
Bossaid said, “Perhaps so. But there will be plenty of opportunity later for him to be told.”
Michael Parry put down his half-eaten sandwich and swung round. He said, “Later won’t do. I want to be told now. I’m entitled to be told. What you and Inspector Elvin and a few other people seem to have forgotten is that Adele was my wife.”
Quinn liked that. It was much more than he had expected.
… Fine stirring speech. Wonder what made him change his tune all of a sudden? Could be he thinks I’m pally with the law and he wants to have a Mend at court … if that’s not an unfortunate way of putting it. I’d say that either he already knows the time his wife died or he doesn’t care a damn. If the latter, then he must feel pretty safe …
Dr. Bossard put his hands behind his back and rocked to and fro while he thought. It didn’t take him very long to make up his mind.
Eventually, he said, “Very well. I didn’t imagine it would be all that important, but if you really wish to know … In my opinion, when I examined Mrs. Parry she had been dead approximately five hours. That is to say, death took place around four o’clock. Of course, it might have been as late as four-thirty. These things can’t be calculated to within half an hour.”
He stopped bobbing up and down and shared a well-groomed smile between Parry and Quinn. He said, “That’s about all I can tell you.”
His smile meant nothing. It was merely a cover behind which he tried to conceal his dislike of being questioned.
Quinn said, “There’s one thing more. How long does it take for an overdose of barbiturate to cause death?”
Dr. Bossard moved impatiently. He said, “That’s something I can’t really answer. It would depend on a number of factors, the most important one being which of the barbiturates —”
“Assuming it was this stuff Pembrium, and also assuming the minimum fatal dose, how long do you think it would have taken?”
“Until we have the results of a post-mortem” — Bossard looked at his watch — “I’ve got just no idea. It’s far too early to make positive statements.”
Michael Parry stood up. He said, “It wasn’t too early for Inspector Elvin to question me in detail about where I went this morning and what I did and when I returned home and why I didn’t know my wife was in the house when I got back. He seemed pretty sure that she must’ve been here at half past three … which can only mean you told him she couldn’t have taken the Pembrium after that time.”
Bossard waved a hand in mild protest. He said, “Don’t blame me because the inspector arrives at his own conclusions. All I did was to express the opinion that fatal results of an overdose would not ensue in less than an hour … might’ve been as much as two hours but unlikely to be less than one.”
“That’s the same thing expressed in a different way,” Parry said. “If my wife died at about four-thirty and those sleeping pills needed at least an hour to take effect —”
He faltered. Then he went on, “I mean she wouldn’t have died for at least an hour after taking them … and so she must’ve been in the house before half-past three … and yet I didn’t know.”
“By that time she would be in a state of narcosis,” Bossard said.
With neither regret nor sympathy in his face, he added, “Now I must go. Good night.”
At the door he murmured a few words to Carole and Quinn heard her say “… It won’t do any good … but I’ll think about it.”
Parry turned away and sat down. Quinn stood listening to the quiet voices talking in the doorway.
… Something damn’ funny about the life and death of Adele Parry. She isn’t yet cold but her husband doesn’t care two hoots and neither does her doctor. You’d think she’d done them a favour by dying. Michael’s attitude I can understand — he probably inherits her money. But what does the handsome Dr. Bossard get out of it? Maybe Carole knows. If she does, I’ll lay any odds she won’t tell me …
Then Bossard got into his car and drove off. Carole came back inside and closed the door and said, “It’s raining again. I think we’ll have a wet day to-morrow.”
Michael Parry said, “Wet or fine, the morning can’t come too soon. This has been the longest day of my life.”
He stretched and yawned and then got stiffly to his feet. He said, “If nobody objects I think I will go to bed. Show Mr. Quinn his room, Carole, there’s a good girl …”
At the foot of the stairs he glanced over his shoulder at Quinn and added, “Sorry about all this carry-on. You picked the wrong week-end.”
Quinn said, “I didn’t pick it. Until this afternoon I’d never even heard of Castle Lammering. It was all Carole’s idea.”
“Doesn’t matter. Good to have you.” He climbed a couple of steps and looked back again. “I don’t expect you to be on my side … but I’m glad you’re here, all the same …”
Carole waited until his bedroom door closed and then she said, “I’ll never understand that man. One time I feel sorry for him and the next I think he needs kicking.”
“Lends a touch of variety,” Quinn said. “What are your feelings about him right now?”
With her lower lip held between her teeth she looked at Quinn thoughtfully, her eyes troubled. At last, she said, “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m afraid.”
“Because you think he poisoned his wife? Or are your fears for somebody else?”
A spot of colour came into her cheeks. She said, “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I don’t believe anyone would’ve wanted to harm Adele. If she died from an overdose of sleeping pills, then she must’ve taken them herself.”
“Try telling that to Inspector Elvin. He’s got a notion that this is a case of murder … and he’ll take a lot of convincing that it isn’t. From what I’ve seen and heard since I entered this house I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“What have you heard?”
“Enough to tell me that no one loved Adele Parry. Like the song, she was a poor little rich girl. Everybody’s going to be better off now she’s dead — or so they like to think.”
“You mean financially?”
“Sure. She’ll have left some nice bequests to her family and friends, won’t she?”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. She never made a will.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me. A few weeks ago, apropos of something else, she mentioned that she’d always hated the idea of making a will but one of these days she’d have to do so. Apparently her lawyers had been urging her not to be superstitious. For the sake of all concerned it was her duty to make a will.”
“And now all concerned are devoutly hoping that she wasted no time in following her lawyers’ advice,” Quinn said.
Carole gave him a barbed look. She said, “You’ve changed since last night. You’re a completely different person. I don’t like you in this mood.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got. I’m like a chameleon: my disposition changes according to my surroundings. And this environment is hostile … or haven’t you noticed?”
She smiled at him without showing her teeth. It wasn’t the kind of smile that had attracted him to her in the beginning.
She said, “You’re good with words … so I’m not going to get involved in an argument. Let’s leave it like that. Now I’ll take you up to your room.”
He followed her upstairs … past the first two bedrooms … and the bathroom … and the nursery. A couple of doors farther on, she said, “You’ll be quite comfortable in here. Sleep well.”
“And the same to you,” Quinn said. “Say good night for me to Neil Ford … if you should happen to see him.”
Carole stopped. She said, “For some reason best known to yourself you’re trying to make me lose my temper. You know perfectly well there’s nothing between Neil and me.”
“How about Michael Parry?”
“That’s even more ridiculous. Why do you want to annoy me? Didn’t you say you hoped we’d be friends?”
“Friends are honest with each other,” Quinn said. “That lets you out.”
With her dark eyes narrowed in a frown she studied him carefully. Then she asked, “Just what do you mean?”
“Well, to start with, you might’ve told me I was only invited to spend the week-end at Castle Lammering because it served your purpose.”
Her mouth opened in swift denial but she left it unspoken. He saw the conflict in her eyes before at last she said, “What difference would it have made if I had? You were on holiday and had nowhere to go. It served your purpose, too, or you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation.”
“That’s not the same thing. I didn’t pretend.”
“Neither did I.”
“You led me to believe you wanted my company. And that wasn’t true, was it?”
“Oh, yes, it was. I thought someone like you would be —” She broke off with a shrug.
“Useful is the word you’re looking for,” Quinn said.
She tightened her lips and he thought she was going to walk off and leave him. After a little struggle, she said, “I see you’re determined to pick a quarrel … although I still don’t know why you should want to row with me.”
“There’s only one thing I want right now,” Quinn said. “I’m sick and tired of being led by the nose. Why not tell me the truth for a change?”
“About what?”
“The part you play in all the funny business that’s been going on here. You invited me to spend the week-end at Elm Lodge because you thought I’d act as a fence between you and somebody else. If the man isn’t Neil Ford or Michael then it must be Dr. Bossard. Am I right?”
She opened the door of Quinn’s room, switched on the light, and glanced here and there. When she looked at Quinn again, she asked, “Supposing you are right? What’s it got to do with you?”
“Quite a lot … if he’s the man who went off without his laundry.”
“I can assure you” — her eyes were hard and bright — “he isn’t bothered about a few odds and ends like that.”
“No, but I am,” Quinn said. “I don’t fancy walking around in your former lover’s shirt.”
Carole smiled the wrong kind of smile. She said, “He wasn’t my lover … but it’s true that I hoped you’d keep him away from me. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Adele didn’t really ask him to come here this evening. He invited himself because he wanted to see me again. That’s all.”
Quinn said, “If he wasn’t your lover how did he come to be staying at the cottage? Don’t tell me he merely used it as a dressing-room.”
She shook her head. In a tone of mock pity, she said, “You’re not very clever, are you? A man and a woman are entitled to live together if they’re legally married.”
“Do you mean he’s your husband?”
“Not any more. We’re separated.”
Conflicting thoughts tumbled over each other in Quinn’s mind. He asked, “Do the others know about this?”
“No, they were never told. My marriage broke up before Geoffrey took over his practice in Blandford. Adele knew that he and I were friendly — but nothing more than that. I think recently she must’ve guessed there was something between us because she kept trying to bring us together … or so I imagined. Of course, Geoffrey might’ve had a lot to do with that. He wants me to go back to him.”
“And will you?”
“I don’t know if I dare take the chance. He swears it’ll never happen again … but I’m afraid to take the risk that I’ll be hurt like I was hurt the last time.”
Her voice tailed off and there was a glint of tears in her eyes. Quinn told himself she hardly looked the type to trick anyone into providing an alibi so that she could commit murder.
… She’d need to have a motive — and I don’t know of any. The prospect of being left a fair sum of money wouldn’t be a strong enough urge to kill somebody who was her Mend. It takes more than that… money isn’t Carole’s problem … she has bigger troubles … easy to see she’s still in love with Bossard … he must earn a comfortable income … and she’s got a good job … if she went back to him they wouldn’t go short of anything …
Lack of motive was the stumbling block. Inspector Elvin thought he had found one — the only one worth pursuing. But Elvin might well be wrong.
Quinn said, “Forget all the nasty cracks I’ve made. If you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on, try mine. Sometimes it helps to talk this sort of thing out of your system. So come on in and tell me all about it.”
Her eyes searched his face and he gave her an encouraging smile. When she still hesitated, he asked, “Are you afraid you’ll be compromised?”
She went on looking at him as though his question merited a serious answer. Then she shook her head.
In a solemn little voice, she said, “No, that’s not what I was thinking of.”
She walked past him into the bedroom. With both arms hugging herself she waited until he had shut the door before she said, “There isn’t much to tell. Maybe you’ll say I did the wrong thing. I sometimes feel that way myself. Maybe I should’ve tried to understand, to see it from a man’s point of view, but at the time I couldn’t. Now it’s probably too late.”
“While you’re alive, nothing’s ever too late,” Quinn said. “When I’ve heard the story I’ll give you this man’s point of view — if you want it.”
“Oh, yes, I do.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. “That’s exactly what I do want …”
It was a disjointed account of a marriage between two people who met and fell in love and married without knowing very much about each other. As Quinn listened, the impression grew on him that Carole had needed Geoffrey Bossard more than he had needed her.
“… He was a ship’s doctor. That’s how I first met him … on a trip to the United States. I went over there to do a programme on race relations in New York. Instead of flying I went by sea because I’d been working hard and I thought a few days’ rest would do me good …”
Bossard came to see her the next time he was on leave. In the following months they saw each other frequently, but always in snatches. She learned very little about him except that he was tired of life aboard ship and wanted to settle down somewhere permanently.
“… A country practice was what he kept talking about … Dorset or Somerset or even farther west in Devon. I happened to mention it to Adele one week-end when Geoffrey was away and she said her own doctor in Blandford had been looking for a partner because his health wasn’t good and he couldn’t run the practice on his own much longer. Of course, Adele didn’t know that Geoffrey and I were more than just friends …”
So Bossard had gone to see the man in Blandford … and they had agreed on a three-month trial period, to commence when Bossard completed his contract with the shipping company … and then he had asked Carole to marry him.
“… We decided to live at my cottage until Geoffrey was free to take up the partnership offer. He had only a few days’ leave … we got married … and on the Monday he went away. Some people from the studios attended the wedding … but I didn’t get the opportunity to tell anyone at Castle Lammering because I never saw Adele for some weeks …”
They had been married about two months — during which time Bossard was at home every couple of weeks — when Carole was given another assignment in the United States. She went away on first October and didn’t return until the middle of November.
“… Perhaps I shouldn’t have left him so long … but we’d agreed that I should carry on working until such time as he settled down in practice at Blandford. Anyway, I hadn’t been home more than a couple of hours when I discovered that he’d had another woman at the cottage. Whether he’d got himself a mistress or she was just some bird he’d picked up, I never bothered to find out. I didn’t know which was worse and I didn’t care …”
That was the end of their marriage. Bossard didn’t deny he’d been unfaithful: he merely asked her to believe it had only happened once. He was sorry — he’d always be sorry. For the rest of his life he’d regret having yielded to a crazy impulse. If she would try to forgive him he would do his best to make up for what he’d done.
But Carole couldn’t forgive. So they’d separated.
With her hands resting limply on her lap, Carole said, “That’s the whole story. He finished his contract with the shipping line and went into practice in Blandford. I heard that not long afterwards his partner had died … so as things turned out, Geoffrey did quite well for himself.”
“Except that he’s neither married nor single,” Quinn said. “It’s not a very comfortable situation for either party. Have you ever discussed the subject of divorce?”
“No.”
“Why not? I can understand that he’s not keen on the idea because he still hopes you’ll go back to him, but don’t you want your freedom?”
She shrugged and said, “I’ve never given it much thought.”
“What’s kept you from thinking about it?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her hands over and studied them as though admiring her long slim fingers.
Quinn said, “You do know … and so do I. You’re still in love with him. All that stands between you and your lawful husband is wounded pride.”
She looked up slowly and sat nibbling her lower lip. Then in a dry voice, she said, “That’s not true. I could never live with him again.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes … yes, I do.”
“And you’ve no intention of remarrying?”
“Not at present. If and when the right man comes along …” She shrugged again.
“Until that time you’re content to go on living the life of a celibate spinster?”
“Yes … of course.” She seemed vaguely surprised.
Quinn said, “I see. How long is it since you and your husband separated?”
“About — twelve months.”
“And all this time you’ve been keeping yourself pure and unsullied for some good man whom fate may bring your way before you’re too old to get any fun out of it?”
Her air of surprise changed to annoyance. She said, “I don’t know what you think I am —”
“Then I’ll tell you,” Quinn said. “I think you’re as human as any other girl who’s once had a husband. Sleeping with a man is an acquired taste. Once you’ve acquired it, you don’t readily break the habit. Now, in your case —”
“That’s enough,” Carole said.
“— you can do as you like. You don’t owe your ex-husband either loyalty or anything else. So there’s no reason why you shouldn’t satisfy a perfectly natural desire … is there?”
“I’m not” — she stood up — “I’m not going to listen to any more.”
“You don’t have to. That’s the lot … except for the man’s opinion that I promised to give you.”
“Don’t bother. I can do without it.”
“How do you know until you’ve heard what it is? I think there’s only one way you can get Geoffrey Bossard out of your system … and that’s by sleeping with another man. So” — Quinn pointed to the bed — “why not hop in and give both of us a treat?”
As he came towards her she backed away, a look of open disbelief on her face. She said, “Don’t you dare. If you touch me —”
“You’ll scream,” Quinn said. “How quaintly Victorian … You invited me here for the week-end hoping, or anticipating, that I’d try to make love to you — not because of my good looks or charm or sex-appeal but merely because I was a man. You wanted to compare somebody else with dear Geoffrey.”
“That’s nonsense!”
“Oh, no, it isn’t. So let’s make a proper comparison. Let’s do the job completely. I’ll have a bit of fun … and you’ll resolve the problem of your relationship with Geoffrey Bossard. Yes?”
She drew in a long breath and then she let it out again very slowly. She said, “You can’t really be serious. This is your idea of a joke.”
“Why should I be joking? I’d like to sleep with you … and you can’t find me altogether repulsive or you wouldn’t have taken me home to your cottage and then asked me to spend the weekend with you at Castle Lammering.”
“I —” She shook her head and began again. “I explained all that and I thought you understood.”
Quinn said, “What you explained was only what you wanted me to believe. It wasn’t necessarily the truth. But now I’ve discovered the truth for myself.”
She watched him half-fearfully as he went to the door and opened it. He said, “You’re a one-man woman, Carole. When you became Mrs. Bossard it was for keeps. Whatever your husband did made no difference. He’s still your husband … and he always will be. Now get out before you ruin my reputation.”
Her eyes were still afraid as she passed him. She said, “To you this is still some kind of game. If I’d known I wouldn’t have confided in you.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference whether you had or not. The fact that you and Dr. Bossard were married was bound to come out pretty soon. By this time to-morrow, Inspector Elvin will have a complete history of everyone in this house.”
“You make it sound as if” — with both arms wrapped round herself again she looked back at him — “as if I had something to hide.”
Quinn told himself she was asking a question. She wanted to know how much he knew.
He said, “Maybe you have. But you won’t be able to keep it hidden for very long. And when the time comes …”
“Yes?” She was still standing at the half-open door looking back at him.
“Don’t rely on me,” Quinn said. “I owe you nothing — neither you nor anyone else connected with Adele Parry. Whatever I learn while I’m here I’ll tell the police.”