Chapter 18

 

The maid who answered the door in Albert Avenue, Chiswick was poker-faced. Brown could see her really looking down her nose at the inspector and himself. The thing was, she did actually have a long, sharp nose that reminded him of a picture in a book he’d had as a child, of a hook-nosed and sharp-jawed witch, wearing a big, black, pointed hat and stirring a cauldron.

“We’d like to see, your mistress, please, Miss.”

“Is Mrs. Sheridan expecting you,” a pause, “sir?”

Brown’s spine stiffened. This was a right one they had here and no mistake.

“Just tell her that it’s Chief Inspector Greene from North Yorkshire police and my sergeant.”

A muscle twitched in her jaw and her lips narrowed. “If you would just step inside, Inspector and you, Sergeant, I will tell Mrs. Sheridan you’re here.

Brown wondered if she’d actually taken in his own uniform. Greene was wearing a light coat and soft homburg hat and in fairness, it was the boss who had commanded the woman’ attention.

The house was beautiful, three stories, solid, Georgian town house. Inside, was a slight disappointment to him, though it was so out of his own range that his choosy attitude amused him. It was perfectly decorated and maintained.

He could smell the heavy sweetness of lilies and saw the huge crystal vase on a polished hall table. The colour scheme was a bit too austere for his taste, featuring a lot of beige and off-white, eau-de-nil, that was it, apparently, one of the fashionable colours of the moment. It all shouted conventionality at him. He sighed as the woman led them into a fairly small, perfectly square room off the corridor. It was more of the same and he gave a few seconds to redecorating it in his mind before taking in the disapproval emanating from Inspector Greene. What was wrong with him now?

“Come back to earth, lad. You look like you’re miles away, and stop gawping.”

The words were spoken in a low tone but took Brown’s attention, so he didn’t see the woman until she was virtually in front of him.

His first reaction was complete disbelief. Giles Etherington had preferred this woman to that…angel he was married to? It was unbelievable.

“Sit down, Inspector, Sergeant. I thought you might be coming. But, I have to say I really need you to be gone before my husband comes back from Chambers. He can’t find you here. Please.”

Her tone was urgent, but something about the way she spoke struck Brown as false. He knew he must not jump to conclusions just because of how much he admired Mrs. Etherington.

“We won’t take long, Mrs. Sheridan but to be quite honest, I can’t guarantee that we won’t have to speak to your husband at some point.”

He paused as the woman gasped and bowed her head.

“Surely, Mrs. Sheridan, you must see that in the circumstances…” Greene’s voice was as near to sympathetic, as it ever got but he was watching her closely too.

“If you speak to my husband, I will be in the greatest trouble you could imagine. I might be in actual danger for my life, and my marriage will most definitely be over.”

There was a pause and Brown felt the burden she was putting on them and he was angry.

“Are you saying that you’re afraid of your husband, Mrs. Sheridan?” Greene spoke.

Her face changed and a look of confusion crossed the slightly angular features. “I’d be afraid what he would do if he found out about…about my relationship with Giles, yes.”

Greene sighed and placed his hands on his thighs; he’d put his hat on the arm of the chair.

An air of disapproval filled the room and Brown was uneasy and at a loss. He knew the boss enough to know when he was angry, and he was angry now, maybe in a controlled way but angry.

Bill Brown was confused. He couldn’t make this woman out at all, but if she was genuinely frightened of her husband, didn’t she deserve a bit of sympathy? Or was the Inspector angry with the husband, not Daphne Sheridan at all? But, then a moment ago he’d felt the woman was toying with them.

“Have you not thought about leaving your husband, Mrs. Sheridan?”

The answer was instant and spoken in a flat tone. “I have nowhere to go.”

“No family,” Greene asked

She gave an unconvincing laugh. “You must be joking, Inspector. My mother’s reaction to any of this would be worse than John’s.”

A heavy silence descended again and Brown was uncomfortable.

“We need to ask you about your relationship with the late Mr. Etherington. I’m sorry if this is painful, but we need to talk to everyone in his life, particularly to those closest to him.”

Brown thought that the transformation in the woman was one of the most amazing things he’d ever witnessed. It was as though she came to life. That measured, dramatic attitude disappeared and she was like a young girl talking to her friends about her sweetheart.

“We met at a party and I knew instantly that everything that had happened to me before had just led up to this moment, this meeting. I don’t know if you ever…”

She giggled and Brown was embarrassed for her. How old was she? She was what his mother called immature. His mother just occasionally used the expression about him and his reaction was usually to tell her that he was surely entitled to be immature at his age.

“I don’t suppose you have actually, inspector. He was the one for me, the destined other side to my personality. I was meant to be with him, and if you’ve never felt that, you probably won’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”

Inspector Green interrupted them. “Yes, well Mrs. Sheridan, as you say I have probably no understanding of these matters.”

Brown wondered if the woman was even aware of the sarcasm. It wasn’t always easy to tell with the old boy. As for whether Inspector Greene had ever been in love or infatuated or whatever the woman was on about, well, that didn’t bear thinking about. Brown found he was feeling queasy at the very thought.

Greene continued. “The thing that’s really puzzling me about this whole affair, if you pardon me using the word here, Mrs. Sheridan is the timing of the thing. I mean when it started and most particularly…when it ended.”

She sat still and blinked a few times, rapidly.

Greene continued. “You see, Mrs. Etherington, is adamant…”

Then, she interrupted, no longer still, her hands busy, rolling the expensive looking rings around, pulling down the cuffs of the soft grey cardigan.

“Mrs. Etherington! I’m not concerned about what she says. What does she know? She might think she knew her husband. I beg to differ. She knew nothing at all about what he was really like, what his interests were, how unhappy he was stuck in the country with her.

“Parish council meetings and fruit and vegetable shows and village fetes. You should have heard him, Inspector Green, how he talked about that sort of thing. Giles was interested in much bigger things than trivial carryings-on in the sticks.”

She looked at Brown. “And you too, sergeant. You look like you just might understand. Believe me, he was more than ready to chuck all that, throw it over.

Brown felt a flush start at his jawbone and spread upwards and outwards over his face and neck. Damn it.

Greene allowed the silence to last. “That’s all as it well may be, Mrs. Sheridan, but Mrs. Etherington and not only she, I may add, believes that your relationship with Giles Etherington ended last year, shortly after his wife found out about you. Are you telling me that they’re wrong, that it wasn’t over?”

She gave a laugh, an angry sound. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Inspector. Over and over again, it seems. We had to cool things between us for a while.

“We couldn’t just up sticks and go off together at that precise time, no. It’s not that easy, is it, to untangle things? There’s money, his business, scandal, what that would have done to his career. Not to mention, John or my mother.” As she mentioned her mother the corners of her mouth turned down.

“Also, I don’t know whether your enquiries have got you this far, Inspector, but Giles wanted to go into politics, run for election. It’s not out of the question, if you have a divorce behind you. Look at Mr. Moseley, for instance and others too, I believe. But, Giles said that it had to be handled very carefully. We couldn’t just run off together…” Her voice petered out.

Brown looked at her. He’d been staring at the notebook on his lap while she’d spoken. She looked vulnerable, her expression unsure, all the bluster of a few minutes ago, gone.

“Now, he’s dead and I have no hope. Nothing is going to change for me.”

 

Inspector Greene told him without preamble that they had another call to make before leaving London. He didn’t, however, deign to tell him where until Brown, whose geography of London was getting better, realised that they were heading back into the centre of the city.

“What did you make of that Sergeant? A right strange lass wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, sir, I thought so. But she seemed adamant that Mr. Etherington was going to leave his wife and go off with her.”

Greene nodded. “And the wife is just as adamant that all that business was over and done with. So either the wife didn’t know–and that wouldn’t be the first time in history that happened or her ladyship back there is lying through her teeth,”

Brown wanted to ask his boss what he thought and more pressingly, where they were going, but as usual, his best approach was to say nowt. His mother had a saying about two eyes and two ears and one mouth that she used to trot out whenever she thought he was butting in as a child when she’d had her cronies around for tea and cake. He reckoned this was one of those times when he should remember the saying.