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MELVILLE-BRIGGS OPENED a door on the first floor that overlooked the drive. 'These are the investigating policemen, Mrs. Galvin.' He didn't bother to introduce them. 'I believe I mentioned that they required a room?'
She acknowledged this with a nod, and then glanced at Rafferty. 'I imagine you require details of our staff, their duties, hours of work and so on?'
Rafferty nodded encouragingly. Her voice was pleasant; low and musical. She was perhaps in her early thirties. An attractive, delicate-featured woman, there wasn't a strand of dark hair out of place in the ruthlessly neat French pleat, and Rafferty wondered what hidden depths such an outwardly controlled appearance might be concealing. There seemed to be an air of constraint between her and the doctor. Intrigued, Rafferty glanced speculatively at them both, but Melville-Briggs, having made his wishes known, wasted no more of his valuable time, and went out, shutting the panelled door firmly behind him, as much as to say "don't bother me with minor details".
Mrs. Galvin opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet and extracted two thin files and handed them to Rafferty. 'The green file lists all the staff that is on duty this week and the buff file covers the full complement of staff, from the medical staff through to the cleaners. Though, of course, most of the nursing staff are away on escort duties at the moment. We usually take our patients away for their short spring holiday about this time, so there's only a skeleton staff and a few patients here.'
Rafferty brightened. That was the first glimmer of good news he'd heard all morning. 'And they're all accounted for?' Mrs. Galvin nodded. 'You'll understand that we need to establish the victim's identity as speedily as possible. Have you any idea who she might be? What she might have been doing in the grounds?'
'I'm afraid not. I finish work at five thirty, so have no idea who might frequent the premises after that time.'
There had been certain distaste in her voice. Rafferty wondered who would know. Perhaps his earlier guess about one of the night staff smuggling in a girlfriend to help the lonely night shift hours’ pass would prove accurate. He hoped so, and if the rest of the staff proved as confiding as the hospital porter, it should make establishing the victim's identity easier. Now, he gave Mrs. Galvin one of his more winning smiles. 'Can you tell me what sort of patients you treat here?'
'We accept a variety of cases, but we specialise in drug-dependency, and most of our patients come into that category.'
'How long do most of them stay?'
'We tend to take in the really hopeless cases, I'm afraid, those that have been assessed and treated unsuccessfully elsewhere. You could say we provide a permanent and secure home for the sadder elements of society.'
Few empty beds then, mused Rafferty, very profitable.
'They lack for nothing,' Mrs. Galvin went on, as though anxious to remove the cynicism Rafferty suspected might be lurking in his blue eyes. 'Perhaps you don't realise that in the grounds we have an extensive range of facilities to keep them happy and occupied? For instance, we have an indoor heated swimming-pool, a Jacuzzi, a gymnasium for our younger clients, and of course we encourage them to develop an interest in gardening—it's a very soothing occupation for disturbed minds, we've discovered.'
As well as making a small saving on gardeners' wages. Rather convenient.
'Do you handle really violent cases at all?' asked Llewellyn, getting to the heart of the matter.
'Occasionally,' she admitted cautiously. 'But the patients are carefully supervised at all times. There is no possibility—'
'I'm sure they are,' Rafferty interrupted soothingly. He remembered the patient he had encountered in the grounds, and asked, 'Could you let me have a list of the in-patients?'
Her manner became brisk. 'Not without Dr. Melville-Briggs's authority, I'm afraid. Most of our patients come from very distinguished families and we have to be discreet.'
Rafferty didn't press the point. They could always apply for a court order to release the files if it should prove necessary.
After giving him a searching glance from steady grey eyes, she added, 'You'll find the staff lists clearly marked to show those on sick leave or holiday leave, those on escort duty and so on. All the symbols are explained at the base.
'You keep a tidy filing cabinet, Mrs. Galvin,' Rafferty complimented. 'Really first class.' He thought ruefully of his own untidy and neglected paper work. When this case was over, he resolved, he really must tackle it.
Her grey eyes held a hint of amusement as she remarked, 'It's my job, Inspector; I hope I'm reasonably efficient at it.' She handed over another document with the comment, 'This is a plan of the hospital and its grounds. You might find it helpful.'
Rafferty nodded. 'Would you have a Hospital Yearbook? Dr. Melville-Briggs thought we might find it useful.'
'Really? I can't imagine why, but yes, of course, I have a copy.' She reached over to the book rack on her desk and passed it to him. 'It's this year's.'
'I'm obliged to you. I'll let you have it back as quickly as possible.'
She nodded and walked briskly to the door. 'If you'll follow me, I'll show you the room you can use.'
She led them along the corridor and back down the stairs. She opened a door at the far end of the hall and they descended another short flight of steps, though these had no fancy scroll work and were plain and serviceable. After negotiating several dusty corridors and interconnecting empty rooms, Mrs. Galvin at last led them to their temporary office.
The room allotted to them was in a rather mouldy smelling semi-basement at the back of the house. Rafferty turned on the light. The naked bulb illuminated a cheerless little box, empty but for half a dozen rickety-looking chairs and a battered table upon which countless schoolboy hands had carved their initials. He guessed that Melville-Briggs had chosen this particular room for them as punishment for not falling in with his wishes over the attempted bribe. Two telephones rested on the table and he picked one up to check that it was working.
'That one has an outside line,' Mrs Galvin told him. 'The grey one is for internal calls. I'll supply you with a list of the various extensions.'
He nodded his thanks before glancing up. There was a small window high up in the wall, but all it illuminated were the cobwebs festooned around it. Rafferty gave a wry smile as Llewellyn murmured predictably, 'Be it ever so humble...'
Mrs. Galvin looked embarrassed. 'Perhaps I could try to arrange something a little more...a little larger.'
Rafferty surmised that her boss was unlikely to take kindly to the idea, especially if, as he suspected, his slanderous accusation against a fellow medical man proved so much hogwash. 'Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Galvin.' He tried his smile again and this time there was a definite softening in the dark grey eyes. 'This will do us very well, won't it, Sergeant?'
Llewellyn looked around the room with a marked lack of enthusiasm. 'It'll serve our purpose, Sir.'
His dour tones gave the impression that, once installed in the room, they intended to wield truncheons with vigour and Rafferty winced, half-expecting the Welshman to enquire if it was sound-proofed. But perhaps he was being unduly sensitive, as Mrs. Galvin didn't seem to read any more into the remark.
'If you need anything else, please ask me. I'd rather you didn't trouble Dr. Melville-Briggs.'
Her sentiment echoed Rafferty's. Until they had identified the victim, the less he saw of that gentleman, the better. Gallantly, he escorted her to the door. 'Thanks for your help and I promise I'll try not to trouble the doctor more than strictly necessary. I'm sure he's a very busy man.'
A slight flush tinged her delicately-boned cheeks. 'Oh yes. I think you could say he keeps himself fully occupied.'
Rafferty detected a certain bitter irony in her tone, but at his sharp glance her voice immediately softened.
'He has much with which to concern himself. The patients can be very demanding, and he has to think constantly of their welfare.'
He'd have to if he wanted them to keep laying, was Rafferty's cynical thought. 'Dedicated type then, is he?' he enquired.
'Dedicated?' Her voice was lightly ironic. 'Oh, yes, I think you could say that. Hence the flat. Lady Evelyn doesn't encourage him to bring his work home.'
Especially not the blondes, brunettes and red-heads, whom Gilbert had more than hinted at. Perhaps the faceless lady would turn out to be one of them.
***
THEY'D WORKED THEIR way through the files that Mrs. Galvin had given them and soon had several impressive looking lists. After careful checking, it was firmly established that no-one from the hospital was missing, and all the staff and patients currently away on holiday at the Dorset coast had been accounted for, which meant that the victim had certainly come from outside. It was curious, because Rafferty had earlier despatched Constable Hanks to question Jack, the night gate-porter before letting him home, and the man had been adamant that not only had no unknown visitors been signed in the previous evening, but that everyone he had signed in had been signed out again. As Gilbert had told them, Jack hadn't seen or heard anything; as far as he was concerned, it had been a quiet night. It pointed to the dead girl being very much an unofficial visitor as he had suspected.
Rafferty looked at the clock. 'Right. It's time to go a calling.' He bundled the files together, and handed them to Llewellyn. They had an appointment for five o'clock. 'Perhaps Lady Evelyn will be kind enough to drop the great Narcissus in it?' he remarked hopefully. 'Wouldn't that be nice?' As expected, Llewellyn contradicted him.
'Unlikely, Sir. Besides, there must be plenty of other witnesses to confirm Dr. Melville-Briggs’s alibi.'
'Well, I can hope,' Rafferty retorted, adding caustically, 'Get a move on. We don't want to be late twice in one day.'
***
ELMHURST HALL WAS THE only property down a quiet country lane and was well-concealed from prying eyes. Rafferty had made Llewellyn stop off at the public library to borrow a book on local history on their way to see Lady Evelyn, and the hall featured prominently. He was looking forward to seeing it.
The high, wrought-iron gates were open, and Llewellyn turned the car into the drive. The building was mainly early Tudor, but Rafferty's part-trained builder's eye recognised that the great hall was medieval. The old stained-glass glowed with an unearthly light, well set off by the simple black and white timber-framed walls and he stared blissfully, absorbing it all.
The man-servant who opened the door must have been warned to expect them, for after checking their names, he led them through an inner high arched door, which to Rafferty's delight, led to the original hall. It was magnificent and as he looked round him a lump formed in his throat.
The roof timbers soared fully fifty feet above the floor and looked as though they had been crafted by a giant's hand. Enormous king-posts rested on collar-beams, which, in turn, rested on moulded braces, all coated with the rich patina of centuries. His gaze took in old battle banners, swords and shields hanging from the wall, enormous serving dishes and a vast oak table, which must easily hold thirty people. Barely aware that he had stopped to stare, it was only when Llewellyn cleared his throat that he remembered why he was here.
The butler opened another door and introduced them. Lady Evelyn rose from her chair and came to greet them. 'Inspector. Won't you and your Sergeant come and sit by the fire? These large rooms grow a little chilly at this time of day.'
Rafferty was glad to sit at the vast hearth and warm himself. Llewellyn settled himself and his notebook at a short, discreet distance.
Lady Evelyn sat opposite Rafferty on the other side of the hearth. 'You'll both take coffee with me? It's all ready.'
Rafferty nodded his thanks and while she served him, he studied her. He guessed her to be around the late forties. She was tall, and although the fine skin and grey-flecked auburn hair were her only real claims to beauty, she had an indefinable quality that no cosmetic could provide. He wondered what she had seen in old Tony. Her grey, worsted skirt and high-necked white blouse were plain, the blouse adorned only with a discreet gold brooch on which there was some Latin inscription, the meaning of which Llewellyn would, no doubt, take great delight in explaining to him later.
Taking his cup, he settled back comfortably as she served Llewellyn. It was a restful room and, if the chair upon which he sat lacked cushioned modernity, its straight back and high curved arms offered repose. Even Llewellyn seemed to have relaxed, Rafferty noticed, with amusement, and looked as contented as the melancholic composition of his features would allow.
Rafferty glanced curiously around the room, at the well-worn, but presumably expensive rugs, at the many paintings of fierce-looking earlier Melvilles, each neatly labelled, the photographs that adorned the desk top and mantelpiece. He was reluctant to introduce the unpleasant topic of murder into such peace, but, he reminded himself, as he was here as a policeman and not an invited guest, he'd better get on with it.
Putting, his cup down, he began. 'As I believe my Sergeant explained on the phone, we're taking statements from everyone in any way connected with your husband's hospital, Lady Evelyn. In most cases, it's just going to be a formality, of course, but we need to eliminate as many people as possible from our enquiries.'
She nodded. 'Naturally, I'll help in any way I can.' Her eyes shadowed. 'A most distressing business. I understand her face...' Lady Evelyn paled and stumbled to a halt. It was a few moments before she was able to go on. 'Forgive me. It's all been rather a shock.' She gave a moue of distaste. 'My husband rang me earlier and revealed some of the more - unpleasant details. Her poor family—have you been able to identify her yet?'
Rafferty shook his head. 'Of course, it's early days. You've no idea who she might be, I suppose?' he asked hopefully.
Lady Evelyn shook her head. 'I rarely visit my husband's sanatorium these days, Inspector. Even the staff are mostly strangers to me now.' She gave a faint smile. 'A consequence of a busy life, I'm afraid. At one time, I used to know them all.'
'I see. I understand you and your husband were at The George at Hamborne last night?'
'That's right. A medical dinner. It's held every year.'
'It went on till 2.00 a.m. I understand?'
'Yes.' With a tinge of irony, she added, 'I found it a rather long night, but as the proceeds were in aid of the local nursery and I'm on the committee, I felt obliged to attend.' She smiled self-mockingly. 'A case of noblesse oblige, as they say.'
Rafferty nodded understandingly. How often had he felt obliged to do what he would rather not? His wife, Angie, had made any number of scenes whilst he had been studying for his sergeant's exams. Too often, for the sake of peace, he had abandoned his studies to escort her to some function or other, and they hadn't even offered the consolation of supporting a worthy cause. That was why he had failed his exams the first time. She had hated the police force and its anti-social hours of duty. "Duty, duty, it's always duty," she had often screamed at him. "What about me—my needs? Don't they count?"
A log crashed in the grate and brought Rafferty back with a start. He found he had relaxed once more and forced himself to sit more erect in the chair. 'Were you both present at The George for the entire night? Your husband—'
'Anthony?' She stared at him. 'Surely you don't suspect my husband?'
'No, no,' he reassured her. No more than anyone else, anyway, though certainly no less, either. 'As I said, it's probably only a formality, so if you can assure me that you were both there all evening we won't trouble you any further.'
'But I can't.' Lady Evelyn fingered her gold pin and gave him a bleak little smile. 'This is rather unfortunate. We weren't together the entire evening, you see, Inspector. Once the meal was over I saw little of him, so I'm afraid I can't give him an –- alibi – I suppose the term is. As you can imagine, on these occasions the medical fraternity talk shop and their partners tend to be left to their own devices.'
She spoke lightly as though it were a matter of little moment, but Rafferty had been in enough similar situations in his own marriage and knew what it was like to be ignored, left on the side-lines while one's partner joined more congenial companions.
Almost as though in defence against his silent and unasked for sympathy, Lady Evelyn brightened. 'I'm sure it will be a simple matter to prove he was there the entire night. There were enough people present, and as Anthony seemed to know most of them, someone's sure to be able to confirm what he says.'
'How did you get to The George that night, Ma'am?' asked Llewellyn. 'I understand you have a chauffeur?'
'Yes. But, as it happens, it was his long weekend off and I'd stupidly forgotten to ask him to change it—so annoying. And by the time I did remember, he'd already left. Normally, of course, for such a function, we would use the Bentley and Anthony was rather put out when we were reduced to my car.'
'But surely you could still have used the Bentley?'
'I'm afraid not, Sergeant. The Bentley is a manual and I only drive automatics. When we discovered that Anderson, our chauffeur, had left for the weekend, we both knew that I would have to drive.' She smiled faintly. 'There are usually excellent wines at dinner and on such occasions my husband likes to let his hair down with his colleagues.'
'A rather unfortunate start to the evening, Ma'am,' Rafferty commented sympathetically.
'Yes.' She sighed. 'Of course, in the way of such things, it got worse. The lights on my car had been accidentally left on and the battery was flat. Anthony rather blamed me, but both he and my son, when he's home, tend to use my car as a spare. Anyway, after some completely pointless recriminations, we used jump leads from the cook's car. By the time we finally got going, it was rather late.'
'It might have been a better idea to borrow the cook's car in the first place,' Llewellyn commented dryly.
'I did suggest it, of course—it's an automatic like mine, but it's a little old and shabby and my husband feels he has a position to maintain. He didn't want to arrive in such an...unsuitable vehicle.' She went on. 'But as it happened, it wouldn't have mattered. By the time we got to The George, the car park was full and the attendant wouldn't let us in. We had to drive round and round the streets till we could find a parking place. Anthony wasn't very pleased. He gave the door-man rather a hard time, though, of course, it wasn't his fault, poor man.'
Rafferty could imagine how Anthony Melville-Briggs would take such an affront to his dignity. No wonder he had been so sure the door-man would remember them. The good doctor in a rage would certainly be a pretty spectacular sight. He swallowed the appreciative chuckle, and glanced over at Llewellyn. The Welshman's dark head was bent over his notebook as though its contents engrossed him and, for a moment, Rafferty wondered if it was possible that his uptight sergeant shared his amusement. Then he dismissed the possibility. Llewellyn suffered from a sense of humour failure on an epic scale and had already made it clear where his sympathies lay.
Although the day outside had turned bleak, and the old house groaned from the buffeting of the wind blowing straight off the North Sea, the winter parlour was warm. The panelled walls reflected the glowing red and gold flames from the heaped logs burning steadily in the hearth. They had Rafferty mesmerised. He felt lethargy begin to steal over him and he gave himself a mental shake. Curious to discover more than his quick perusal of the guide-book had revealed, he asked, 'Has Elmhurst Hall always belonged to your family, Ma'am?'
'No, only since the late Fifteenth Century,' replied Lady Evelyn. 'My great, great, great, etc, grandfather, a landless knight, backed Henry Tudor at the Battle of Bosworth and as you probably know, the Tudor won the day.'
'And your family were rewarded with the Hall?'
'In a roundabout way. Henry Tudor was reluctant to give rewards out of his own pocket, being a mean man by nature, but Edward Melville was given something even better – a rich heiress in marriage – Lady Cecily Aimering. It was through her that we acquired the Hall, amongst other things. At that time, of course—' she broke off and he looked enquiringly at her.
'I'm sorry.' She gave an apologetic smile. 'I didn't mean to give you a history lesson.'
Rafferty glanced slyly at Llewellyn to see if this sensitivity had penetrated. Llewellyn met his eyes with the inscrutable expression of a Merlin as Lady Evelyn continued. 'My husband tells me I bore people to death talking about the house.'
'You're not boring me,' Rafferty assured her. He managed to get a little dig in for Llewellyn's benefit. 'Give me someone who knows their stuff and can tell it without talking down to people and I'm happy. Besides, I'm a bit of a history buff myself. Houses are a hobby of mine,' he explained, 'and history tends to go with the territory.' But there was work to be done, he reminded himself. He signalled to Llewellyn as he got to his feet. 'We'd best be off. Thank you for your hospitality, Ma'am. If you could possibly pop into the station some time and sign the statement?'
'Of course. Tomorrow morning? About ten?'
He nodded. 'That'll be fine.' Rather sheepishly, he pulled the little library book about the Hall from his pocket as they headed for the door. 'I understand you occasionally open your home to the public, Ma'am? I wouldn't mind seeing it myself when this case is over.'
'Why don't you give me a ring when you're able to make it and we'll arrange a time?'
Rafferty was happy to agree and finally they left. But he couldn't help wondering if Lady Evelyn would still be willing to show him round her home if the case ended with her husband being arrested for murder. He rather doubted it. In spite of his air of confidence, Melville-Briggs's alibi wasn't nearly as sound as he'd led them to believe. If his own wife couldn't vouch for him for the whole evening, was it likely that anyone else could?
