Webb said, ‘I’m curious about those wallets. Who, in their right mind, nicks four, returns three, and leaves the fourth in the pocket of a corpse? Give Court Lane a buzz, Ken, and get the names and addresses of the other three owners. We’ll go down and have a word with them.’ He turned to Stanley Bates. ‘Anything of interest during my lunch-break?’
‘We drew a blank on the car parks.’ Bates permitted himself a tight smile. ‘There were a fair number of blue, two-door cars, but they’d all clocked in this morning.’
‘We’ll have to spread our net wider, then. It’s always possible the murderer drove off in Marriott’s car, in which case it could be anywhere.’
‘Such as hidden in a private garage,’ Jackson said gloomily. ‘We might never find it.’ And he went out to make his phone call.
Bates gave a small cough. ‘If you like, Skip, I could nip down to Broadminster, seeing as I went yesterday, and save you the trip.’
‘Thanks, Stan, but I need to see these blokes myself. I’m relying on you to keep things going this end,’ he added diplomatically. ‘We want photos of Marriott circulated, for a start, to see if we can trace anyone who saw him on the eighteenth. Get one round to Romilly at the Broadshire News. Then I’d be grateful if you’d phone the London papers Miss Potts mentioned. Say I’ll be up tomorrow, and will want to see all the articles Marriott wrote in the last six months, particularly the famous people series. I’ll also be wanting the names of any reporters or journalists he was friendly with, and a note of where I can find them.’
He frowned, tapping his pen on the desk. ‘How many “famous people” would you say we have in Broadshire, Stan?’
‘Depends what you mean by famous. We’ve our fair share of writers, artists and, of course, members of Parliament. Not forgetting the explorers down in Broadminster, though Edward Langley and his wife are the only ones left now.’
Webb said slowly, ‘It seems Marriott came over to interview a celebrity who was up to something dubious. He was found dead with Langley’s wallet in his pocket. Langley is a celebrity. Do we assume it was Langley he came to see?’
Bates pursed his lips. ‘Langley wouldn’t put his own head in a noose. And don’t forget he didn’t have the wallet at that point.’
‘Unless he’d nicked it himself, to throw suspicion elsewhere. It’s significant it was the only one not to turn up almost immediately.’
Bates felt in his pocket, extracted a foil sheet of indigestion tablets, and pressed two of them into the palm of his hand. It occurred to Webb he’d seen the same ritual before.
‘You hooked on those things, Stan?’
‘Been having a spot of trouble lately, Skip. Touch of dyspepsia, I suppose.’
At least it wasn’t the drink, Webb reflected morosely, returning to the papers on his desk. For the second time, he read the preliminary report on the items found with the body. The bandage was a standard type, available at chemists throughout the country; coarse black thread had been used to sew on the sequins, and the clumsiness of the stitches suggested a man’s hand; scraps of newspaper had been found adhering to the inside of the sweater, trousers and jacket, which, under examination, proved to have come from The Times for Monday, November 3rd. Webb raised an eyebrow at that point.
‘Are the quality newspapers warmer next to the skin than the populars?’ he asked rhetorically, and was irritated when Bates gave the question consideration.
‘Quite possibly, Skip. Pricier, though.’
‘Not if retrieved from a litter bin.’
A tap on the door heralded Jackson, his eyes alight. ‘Bit of luck, Guv,’ he said eagerly. ‘Court Lane were on the point of phoning us. They’ve got the car.’
‘In Broadminster?’
‘That’s right. It was in the High Street multi-storey – clocked in at fourteen-ten on December eighteenth. When it was still there the next morning, they got on to Court Lane, who phoned Swansea and found Marriott was the owner, but they were unable to contact him. Then the Missing Persons alert came through, and they’ve been looking for him ever since.’
‘Why the hell didn’t they mention it yesterday?’
‘Because we told them we’d got Edward Langley. They didn’t see the connection.’
Webb swore softly. ‘How the devil did he get from Broadminster to Chedbury without the car? Courtesy of his killer, no doubt, but it’s the hell of a way to take him. Were there any car-keys with the things we found this morning?’
Jackson flicked open his notebook. ‘No, Guv.’
‘They were probably dropped down a drain somewhere. The killer couldn’t have known where it was parked. Right, Ken; if Broadminster was where Marriott made for, it’s increasingly likely he came to see Langley. In which case, another talk with his sister won’t go amiss.’
‘Of course,’ Bates cut in, ‘it could have been the other way round.’
‘Explain.’
‘Well, Skip, you said yourself the killer could have moved the car. Marriott might have come to Shillingham, got the chop, and been dumped at Chedbury – which, don’t forget, is much nearer here. Then the murderer could have driven Marriott’s car to Broadminster, to divert suspicion.’
‘You’re right, of course,’ Webb said heavily. ‘But since we have to make a start somewhere, we’ll begin in Broadminster. Did you get the names and addresses of the wallet-owners, Ken?’
‘Yes, they’re all here.’
‘We’ll be on our way, then.’
Jan said, ‘Oh, Lady Peel! You’re back.’
‘Miles met me at the station. My dear, I hear you’ve had a most worrying time. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help.’
‘It could have been worse. At least it wasn’t Edward.’
‘Would you like to bring the children to tea? I was intending to invite you in a day or two, but in the circumstances I’d rather see you now, and set my mind at rest.’
‘We’d love to come. Thank you.’
‘In about an hour, then?’
Jan returned to the library, and glanced at the children lying on the rug. They had stayed with her since lunch, instead of going off to play as they usually did. Several times she’d intercepted mouthed messages passing between them when they thought she wasn’t looking. She said brightly, ‘We’re going to Cajabamba for tea.’
A uniformed maid opened the door to them, and Lady Peel appeared in the hall behind her. ‘Come in, my dears, and get warm. I suggest we have tea first, then we can have our little talk.’
There were fingers of hot-buttered toast, newly baked scones and a jam sponge. Almost the same fare, Jan could have sworn, as on her childhood visits here. The children, whose normal appetite had been lacking at lunch-time, devoured all that was set before them. When they had finished, Lady Peel led them over to a table she had set up at the far end of the room. On it was a collection of toys and puzzles dating from Kowena’s youth, together with miniature dolls and animals. The children drew up chairs and settled down happily and Lady Peel returned to Jan by the fire.
‘I think they’re beyond earshot, if we speak quietly,’ she said with a smile. ‘Now, my dear, please tell me exactly what happened.’
Once again, Jan went over the happenings of the previous evening. It was very kind of Miles to come round,’ she ended. ‘I was feeling shaken and – vulnerable, and it helped to talk things through.’
‘It’s a most curious story,’ Lady Peel said with a frown, ‘Edward’s wallet turning up in such unlikely circumstances. However did that tramp get hold of it?’
‘I’m not sure that he was a tramp,’ Jan said slowly.
‘You say he had a look of Edward. That strikes me as a trifle sinister.’
‘That’s what I thought, but Miles seemed to think it was coincidence.’ She paused, then added irrelevantly, ‘He’s very fond of you, isn’t he?’
Lady Peel smiled, it’s mutual. He’s like the son I never had.’
‘Didn’t you help to bring him up, or something?’
‘That’s right. Poor Isabelle was neurotic and quite unable to cope with a child. We lived in Surrey at that time, and the Codys in London, but our families were thrown together a great deal, what with the expeditions being planned, and so on. And more and more often, Isabelle would ask me to look after Miles for her. We had a nanny, so it was no trouble.’ She smiled fondly. ‘Except that he used to follow me everywhere I went. Rowena was a self-contained child, quite happy to stay in the nursery with Nanny, but Miles seemed to need my company. I don’t mind admitting I was flattered.’
‘And then what happened?’ Jan prompted.
‘Well, then there was the ill-fated third expedition. Your father was brought home seriously ill, and both Reginald and Laurence were under considerable strain. It was felt it would be easier to liaise in the future if we all lived closer together. Your family was already settled here, so we and the Codys moved down too. I think Laurence felt it might be less stressful for Isabelle away from London, but alas, it didn’t help her, poor girl. She took her own life soon afterwards.’
‘I didn’t know that!’ Jan exclaimed.
‘No, of course you didn’t, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you now. We never spoke of it. And after her death, poor Laurence withdrew more and more into himself. It was at that stage that I volunteered to take over Miles’s welfare. He was about eight by then, and already showing artistic talent. He’s doing exceptionally well, you know, and making quite a name for himself. He appeared on a television arts programme last month.’
But Jan was more interested in his father. ‘Was that why Laurence never went back to Peru?’
‘Quite possibly.’
‘But it doesn’t explain why my father didn’t, either. I’ve been wondering about that.’
Lady Peel said slowly, ‘He’d been very ill, you know.’
‘But he recovered. And Sir Reginald kept going back. Didn’t he try to persuade the others to join him?’
‘I really don’t remember, my dear. It does seem odd, looking back, that your father and Laurence dropped out, but at the time we accepted it as quite natural.’
‘So after all the trouble of moving to make it easier, there were no more joint expeditions.’
‘True, but they still saw a great deal of each other. My husband and Laurence were always calling at Rylands.’
‘At least I understand now why you were all down here. It seemed strange, three famous explorers just happening to live in Broadminster, which isn’t exactly the hub of the universe. In fact, I started to ask Edward about it, my first night here, but I was too sleepy to think straight.’ Her thoughts came back to the present, which was no less puzzling, and she spoke them aloud. ‘He had a very tight bandage round his arm – put on after death, the police say. Can you think of any reason for it?’
For a moment Lady Peel looked startled. Then she said, ‘Oh, you mean this tramp person. How most peculiar.’
‘But does it bring anything to mind?’ Jan persisted.
‘I don’t understand, dear. What could it bring to mind, other than that it was an illogical action by a psychopath?’
Jan sighed. ‘You’re probably right,’ she said.
‘Number seven, Clarence Mews,’ Jackson said, checking in his notebook, it must be down here, then.’
They had turned off the High Street into Clarence Way, which led up to Monks’ Walk and the Minster. Three-quarters of the way along, a cobbled courtyard led off to the right, and it was here, according to Court Lane, that the third wallet-owner, Miles Cody, lived.
‘Probably won’t have any more luck here,’ Jackson grumbled. It had not been a successful afternoon. There’d been no one in at the Langley house, and the two wallet-owners they’d tried so far were not at home, either. ‘My husband doesn’t get in till six,’ they’d been told reproachfully at each house. He peered at his watch under the light of an old-fashioned street lamp which lit the entrance to the mews. ‘Quarter after five.’ He wouldn’t be back for the twins’ bath tonight.
But when they’d threaded their way over the uneven cobbles and turned the corner into the yard, the diamond-paned windows of No. 7 glowed with a soft light.
‘Somebody’s in, anyway,’ Jackson commented, his spirits rising. With any luck, they might be offered a cup of tea. It seemed a long time since lunch.
The man who came to the door was as tall as Webb, his features indistinguishable against the light behind him.
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Miles Cody?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Chief Inspector Webb, Shillingham CID. I wonder if we could have a word, sir?’
‘Good God! What about?’
‘About your wallet that was stolen a month or two ago.’
‘But I got it back. Didn’t they tell you? There’s no –’
‘If we could come inside for a minute, sir? We won’t take up much of your time.’
‘Very well.’ He stood to one side, and the two detectives went in. The door opened directly into the only main room the cottage possessed. But what a room! Jackson thought; a positive Aladdin’s cave of warmth and colour. A log fire crackled merrily in an open brick hearth, and at the far end steps led up to a railed balcony which, as far as he could see, served as the bedroom.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ asked Miles Cody. In the light of the huge, ornate light-fitting which hung from the ceiling, he looked to be in his late thirties, with dark, slightly long hair, thick black eyebrows and a dark shave. He was wearing a silk cravat in the neck of a coffee-coloured shirt, and brown cord trousers. An artist, Jackson told himself. No two ways about it.
‘Some tea would be very welcome, sir.’
Cody’s eyebrow went up, but he made no comment. He opened what looked like a cupboard door, to reveal a pocket-sized kitchen, complete with cooker, sink and fridge.
‘How could my returned wallet be of any interest to Shillingham?’ he asked, as he filled a kettle.
‘We’d like to hear in exactly what circumstances you came to lose it, sir, and exactly how it was recovered.’
‘Well, that’s easy enough. It was taken from the squash club changing-room, and pushed through the letter-box of the club a couple of days later. Together, as far as I remember, with others that were stolen at the same time.’
‘But not all of them,’ Webb said significantly.
‘Ah – light is dawning. I hear you’ve found Edward Langley’s.’
Webb’s eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know about that, sir? The full story would be in tomorrow’s papers, but no details had appeared as yet.
‘It’s quite simple. I had a call from Janis Coverdale.’
Webb relaxed. ‘I see, sir. A friend, is she?’
Of sorts. Our fathers were fellow-explorers in the dim and distant past.’
‘Is that so? I hadn’t realized. You were never bitten by the bug yourself, sir?’
‘Most definitely not. As far as I’m concerned, the very word “Peru” is a turn-off.’
‘You know, of course, that Mr Langley’s there at the moment?’
‘Of course.’
‘And Mrs Coverdale rang to tell you about his wallet.’
‘She rang, Chief Inspector, to ask me to accompany her to identify what she was given to understand was her brother’s body. I wasn’t in, but she left a message on the answer phone.’ It fitted. Bates had said the woman made a phone call. Cody poured boiling water into a stone teapot and brought it, a couple of mugs and a milk jug over to a low table. It seemed he wouldn’t be joining them.
‘Who was at the club when the wallets were taken?’
‘The usual Saturday crowd. The courts had been booked all morning, and we were the last four to play. But the bar was full, and anyone could have slipped through without being noticed. There was an overlap of about ten minutes when we were all on court. Then Cassidy and I finished, showered, and went through to the bar.’
‘Without having missed your wallets?’
‘Yes. I only realized when I reached in my pocket to pay for some drinks.’
‘So you were the first to discover the loss?’
‘It was more or less simultaneous. Cassidy immediately felt for his, and we were just registering what must have happened when the others burst in from the changing-room with the news that theirs had gone, too.’ He paused. ‘With respect, Chief Inspector, you can get all these details from your colleagues here.’
‘We have consulted with them, naturally,’ said Webb blandly, ‘but a first-hand account is always useful.’ He looked up and met the faintly mocking eyes. ‘You do realize, sir, in the light of the latest developments, that the thief could also be a murderer?’
There was a brief pause, then Cody said softly, ‘Touché. I see what you mean.’
‘Have you ever heard of a man called Guy Marriott, sir?’
‘Is that the chap that was killed? No, I can’t say I have.’
‘He was a journalist from London. We have reason to believe he came to Broadminster to interview someone.’
‘Broadminster? I thought he was found near Shillingham?’
‘As a matter of routine, sir, where were you on Thursday the eighteenth of December?’
‘I?’ Cody stared at him. ‘What has this to do with me?’
‘Just routine, sir. We’ll be asking everyone we interview about the wallets. They had a link with the deceased, after all.’
‘A very tenuous one. In any case, I can’t possibly remember after all this time. And why the eighteenth of December?’
‘That was the date he came over.’
‘Oh yes – Janis said it was before Christmas.’
‘If you could try to remember, sir,’ Webb prompted gently.
‘I work from home, Chief Inspector, and one day is much like another. Just before Christmas, I was extremely busy and made several visits to London, but I can’t recall the dates.’
‘Wouldn’t your diary help?’
Cody smiled. ‘Unfortunately, I threw it out on the first of January.’
Webb sighed. ‘To come back to the wallets, then. There was no note, or any word of explanation when they were returned?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘And the contents were intact?’
‘As far as any of us could recall, absolutely.’
Webb sipped his tea and looked round the ornate room. There were low tables with large lamps on them, and magazines piled haphazardly on the lower shelves. There was a marble bust on a plinth at the foot of the stairs to the balcony, and a very interesting oil painting above the fireplace. Quite a number of antiques, he’d say, but in the general clutter it was hard to be sure. At the end of the room, under the balcony, was a curtained window and beneath it a large desk and a series of bookcases.
‘You say you work at home, sir?’
‘Most of the time. I’m an illustrator, for what are known as coffee-table books. Theatrical décor mostly.’
Webb’s interest quickened. ‘So you’re an artist?’ A common interest might establish contact with what he felt to be an elusive character.
‘I paint, yes, but I spend a fair proportion of my time taking photographs.’
Reluctantly Webb abandoned an interesting discussion and returned to more relevant matters. ‘To come back to the squash club, was there anyone you didn’t know there that day, anyone who hadn’t been before?’
‘Not that I recall. Again, I’d refer you to your colleagues. They went into that very exhaustively.’
‘Then I don’t think we need keep you any longer, Mr Cody.’ Webb rose to his feet. ‘Oh, one last point, since your father was an explorer. Would a tightly wrapped bandage put on after death have any significance to you?’
‘Put on where? What part of the body?’
‘Round an arm.’
Cody shrugged, if it had been all over, it would have suggested a mummy, but other than that, I couldn’t say. Is that any help?’
‘It might well be, Mr Cody,’ Webb said slowly, ‘it might well be.’
‘Miles! What a lovely surprise!’
Jan turned, to see him standing in the doorway in his overcoat, his shoulders glistening with drops of moisture.
‘I didn’t know you had company.’
‘Come in, darling, and take your coat off. Janis and I are just having a chat, and the children, as you see, have been amusing themselves. Is it too early to offer you a drink?’
‘Oh, I think not,’ he said with a smile. ‘Can I get one for anyone else?’
‘Janis?’ invited Lady Peel.
‘I think it’s time we were going home,’ Jan said. Miles hadn’t expected to find them here; no doubt he wanted Lady Peel to himself.
But it was he who replied. ‘Nonsense; it’s early yet. I’ll walk you back later.’
‘That isn’t necessary, I –’
‘Don’t argue, woman, and state your poison.’
She subsided, smiling, and requested a gin and tonic.
‘I thought you were working to a deadline,’ Lady Peel remarked. ‘Have you finished what you’d set yourself?’
Miles turned and carried the glasses across. ‘Not quite, but there was an interruption and it broke the thread. A visit from the police, no less.’
‘The police?’
‘Janis’s friends, from Shillingham. They wanted to hear about my stolen wallet.’
‘Oh, of course – they must be linking it with Edward’s. How unpleasant for you.’
‘It didn’t worry me, Mary. If they enjoy sitting in their big boots drinking tea, who am I to deny them? But I’m afraid I wasn’t much help.’
‘It was a strange business, about those wallets,’ Lady Peel said reflectively, i thought so at the time. There was no point in it. If they were taken for a joke, you’d expect the joker to declare himself. And if it was genuine, why was nothing taken from them?’
Jan stirred, suddenly chilled. ‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘it was only Edward’s he wanted, and the others were taken as a blind.’
Lady Peel looked worried. Miles thought for a moment, then said, ‘But why take them at the beginning of November, when Edward’s didn’t show up till January?’
Jan shook her head, it was only a thought. I hope I’m wrong.’
‘Have the police any theories?’ Lady Peel asked Miles.
‘If they have, they didn’t favour me with them. The only information they volunteered was that there’d been a bandage on the body, which I already knew from Janis. Not that I told them so.’
‘That’s curious, isn’t it? We were just discussing it.’
‘They asked if it suggested anything to me.’ His eyes held Jan’s.
‘And what did you tell them?’ she asked.
‘Well, I’d had time to think about it since last night, so I said that had it been all over, it might have symbolized a mummy.’ Lady Peel’s hand went to her throat, but Miles kept his eyes on Jan. ‘Did that also occur to you, by any chance?’
So despite not having voiced her fears the previous evening, Miles had arrived at the same conclusion.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘it did.’
‘I was waiting for them to tell me about the sequins, but they didn’t mention them.’
‘What sequins?’ Lady Peel looked from one to the other. ‘What are you talking about?’
Jan said, ‘I’m sorry, Lady Peel, I didn’t go into details. The fact was that the jacket the – the body was wearing had sequins sewn on it. And I’m wondering whether, if the bandage was supposed to make the police think of mummies, the sequins also had a meaning.’
Lady Peel made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘I don’t care for this at all,’ she said emphatically. ‘A murder’s bad enough, goodness knows, but I object most strongly when the murderer plays games with the police. Bandages and sequins, indeed. It’s – grotesque.’
The children, hearing raised voices and in any case tiring of their games, came across to the fire, their eyes going from one intent adult face to the other.
God, Jan thought guiltily, I hope they didn’t hear anything. She put an arm round each of them, drawing them to her sides, it really is time we were going,’ she said firmly. ‘Thank Lady Peel for your tea, and for taking the trouble to find you things to play with.’
‘I’ll walk home with you,’ Miles said again. He bent and kissed the older woman. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mary. It’ll sort itself out. I’ll be in touch again soon.’
It was dank and cold outside, with no moon. Despite herself, Jan was glad of Miles’s company, though it was only an eight-minute walk. At the gate of Rylands, she said, ‘That was kind of you. Thank you.’
He hesitated. ‘How would it be if I came in for a while, rather than both of us sitting alone? Or am I intruding?’
‘No, of course not. I’d be glad of the company.’
‘Tell you what, then. I’ll go and buy a bottle of wine while you put the children to bed, and we can continue our discussion over it.’
So Jan and Miles spent a second evening together, but the bandaged, besequined body wasn’t mentioned again. Instead, as they ate supper by the library fire, Jan asked about his work, listening, fascinated, to his account of books he’d worked on and authors he’d met. He’d done the illustrations for a series of books on Stately Homes, and told some amusing anecdotes about their occupants; and he’d been abroad on several photographic assignments.
‘As a matter of fact,’ he added, ‘this year looks like being particularly rewarding. I’ve been put in overall charge of all the artwork involved in the tercentennial celebrations of Buckhurst Grange.’
‘That sounds fantastic. What does it involve?’
‘Just about everything. Designing posters, coordinating press releases, television advertisements, arranging exhibitions – even designing a set of commemorative stamps for the Post Office. It’s by far the most exciting project I’ve ever worked on, and a tremendous responsibility. But if I handle it well – and I think I can – then my future’s pretty well assured.’
‘That’s wonderful, Miles,’ Jan said warmly. ‘What a fascinating life! No wonder you’ve not had time to get married!’
He laughed. ‘There’s still time, if the mood takes me. I’d be a demanding husband, though. Perhaps no one would have me.’
‘You’ve never been tempted?’
‘Once or twice, but I’ve managed to withstand it!’ He glanced at her. ‘Would you recommend marriage?’
She sobered abruptly. ‘I’m not the best person to ask at the moment.’
‘Do you want to talk about it.’
‘Not really. I’m still in a state of shock. You see, it never entered my head anything would go wrong. We were always so happy together.’
‘And what did go wrong?’
She grimaced. ‘The old, old story. A younger woman.’
‘My God, girl, you’re not in your dotage!’
She smiled unwillingly. ‘Nevertheless, she’s ten years younger than I am.’
‘But that couldn’t have been the attraction, surely?’
‘It was probably part of it. She hadn’t two children to look after, and she was bubbly and full of life. She might even have reminded him of me when we first met. But I hadn’t an inkling anything was wrong – possibly because for a long time Roger fought it, tried to stop it happening.’
‘And eventually he just upped and left?’
‘Pretty well.’ She paused. ‘He phoned on Christmas Day. It was – weird to hear him again, and it upset the children, too.’
‘Are you still in love with him?’
‘I suppose so, underneath. But on top is a lot of hurt and anger and resentment, which makes things very complicated.’
‘Poor Janis.’
She said, ‘Could you call me “Jan”? That’s what I’m used to.’
‘Of course.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Time I was on my way.’
‘I suppose so. I’ve a full day ahead tomorrow; I’m taking the children to London, sight-seeing.’
‘Rather you than me.’ He stood up and stretched, his face going into the shadows above the fire. ‘Well, good night, Jan-not-Janis. Enjoy your trip to London. And thank you for supper.’
‘A pleasure,’ she said.