An Amateur Corpse (15 page)

‘Very wise. So she always came up here?'

Geoffrey nodded sadly. ‘Yes. It started in the summer. You remember the long, hot summer?'

This new note of wistfulness, like everything else, sounded contrived. Charles didn't respond to it. ‘Tell me, why did Charlotte come sometimes to Charing Cross and sometimes to Waterloo?'

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows and nodded in appreciation. ‘Ten out of ten for homework. To answer that question, I think you have to understand what Charlotte was like. It was her first affair, she treated it with great excitement, and I think much of the excitement came from the secrecy. Corning to different stations was her idea of discretion, of covering her tracks. She was very young. As you see,' he continued with irony, ‘the smoke-screen was not very effective. It. didn't take the police – or you – long to see through it.'

Charles felt a glow of satisfaction for his understanding of Charlotte's character. ‘And was it for the same reason that she planned to go to Victoria on the day after she died?'

‘Victoria?'

‘I'd better explain. I found Charlotte's engagement diary down at the house. She'd listed all your meetings by a time and the name of the terminus she was coming to. The last two entries were one o'clock at Charing Cross on the Monday, the day she died, and then one o'clock on the Tuesday at Victoria.'

‘Ah, I didn't know she'd done that.'

‘What – put the places down in the book?'

‘Yes. Yes, that must have been it.' For the first time in their interview he seemed to be in the grip of some emotion that was more powerful than his control. ‘I'm sorry, it's just so typical of her, to think that that kind of subterfuge would fool anyone. Going to Victoria instead . . . I mean, to go out of her way like that to be inconspicuous and then write all the details down in a diary. I think a lot of the affair was just a game for her, like a schoolgirl having a midnight feast.'

‘But it was serious on your side?'

Geoffrey looked pained. ‘Serious on both sides – in our different ways. It was very good.'

‘And it was still going well when she died? I mean, you hadn't had a row or . . .?'

Geoffrey looked at Charles with some distaste, pitying his lack of subtlety. ‘I know what you mean. No, we hadn't had a lover's tiff which would inspire me with hatred to go and kill her. It was all going very well.' He was becoming wistful again.

‘And was it going to change?'

‘Change?'

‘I mean, were you likely to get divorced and marry?'

Geoffrey shook his head and slowly. ‘No, it was an affair. I wanted to go on as long as possible, but I suppose some time it would have ended. I've had other affairs. They all end sooner or later. I wouldn't have left Vee. People can never understand how close Vee and I are. I'm just one of those men who's capable of loving more than one woman at a time. Do you understand?'

‘I think I do. Did Vee know about Charlotte?'

‘I assume so. I never told her, but she's not stupid.'

‘Didn't she get jealous?'

‘Vee would only get jealous if she thought someone was likely to take me away from her. She knew that no one would. According to my own rules of morality, I'm very loyal.'

Charles nodded. Geoffrey had a male chauvinist vanity which was quite strong enough to blind him to his wife's real feelings. No woman, however liberated, actually welcomes the knowledge that her husband is sleeping around. And Charles knew from the way that Vee had watched her husband at the cast party, she had a strong possessive instinct.

There wasn't a lot more Charles could find out. ‘I must go. I mustn't keep you from your work any longer.'

Geoffrey laughed cynically and flapped his copy of
The Winter's Tale
. ‘Ah, my work. Geoffrey Winter Associates haven't had a decent size job now for four months.'

‘Where are the Associates?'

‘Disassociated – or should it be dissociated? I never know. All gone their separate ways, anyway. Even the secretary's gone.'

‘So you just come up here and do nothing all day?'

‘Sometimes things come up. Odd little jobs, through friends in various government departments. That's the answer these days – work in the public sector. No room for men on their own. I keep applying for jobs in local government and things, but as yet no luck. So I stay on here and wait. May as well, until the lease is up.'

‘When's that?'

‘A couple of months.'

‘And then what?'

Geoffrey Winter's shrug started expansive as if it encompassed every possibility in the known world, but shrank down to nothing.

‘So what do you live on?'

‘Credit.' He laughed unconcernedly. ‘And the confidence that something will turn up.'

Charles went back to Hereford Road feeling excited. He had been glad to hear Geoffrey's watertight alibi because that removed him from the running. And enabled Charles to follow the suspicions which were hardening in his mind. It wasn't Geoffrey he suspected; it was his wife. He could not forget the tensed-up energy he had felt in Vee's body as they had danced together. She was a woman capable of anything.

The chain of motivation was simple. Vee's jealously of Charlotte had started when she was beaten for the role of Nina which she had regarded as hers by right. It had been compounded by the discovery of her husband's affair with the upstart. That, however, she could have borne; what drove her to murder was the discovery that Charlotte was giving Geoffrey the one thing that their marriage could not – a child.

The opportunity for committing the crime was equally easily explained. Geoffrey had been at such pains to establish his own alibi that he hadn't thought about his wife's. While he was upstairs ranting through Leontes, she was assumed to be downstairs watching I. Claudius. So far as Geoffrey was concerned, that was what she was doing. He could presumably hear the television from upstairs.

But a television set conducts a one-way conversation, regardless of whether or not there is anyone watching. Vee, knowing that Geoffrey would get carried away by his performance, had every opportunity to leave the house after the show had started. There was plenty of time for her to have gone up to the Meckens'. Charlotte would have recognised her and let her in. A brief exchange, then Vee had taken Charlotte by surprise and strangled her. Put the body in the coal shed to delay its discovery and a brisk walk home to be back in time for the end of
I, Claudius
.

It was all conjecture, but it fitted. And, what was more, Charles thought he could prove it.

The proof lay on the table of his bedsitter. For reasons mainly of masochism (to see how much work other actors were getting), Charles always had the Radio Times delivered. Since he had no television and rarely listened to the radio, it was frequently thrown away unread. But on this occasion he felt sure it was going to be useful.

It was the Wednesday that interested him. He thought back to the Wednesday night when he had rung the Winters to get Robert Chubb's number. He remembered the time. Twenty-five to eleven, because he had looked at his watch after speaking to Kate Venables. And when he had spoken to Geoffrey Winter, there had been a break in their conversation while Vee was given advice on how to adjust the television for a good picture on BBC2.

Charles almost shouted out loud when the Radio Times confirmed his suspicions. At ten o'clock until ten-fifty on BBC2 on Wednesday night there had been a repeat of the Monday's episode of
I, Claudius
. Geoffrey Winter would not have been watching it, because he had missed so many of the earlier episodes.

So why should his wife watch the same program for a second time in three days? Unless of course she hadn't been there to see it the first time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHARLES HAD CAUSE
to be grateful to sour Reggie for forcing him into joining the Breckton Backstagers. As a Social Member, it was quite legitimate for him to be propping up the Back Room bar at a quarter past seven that evening.

There were not many faces he recognized. Robert Chubb gave him the sort of glance most people reserve for windows and a few others offered insincere half-smiles. The only person who greeted him with anything like conviviality was Denis Hobbs, who bought him a large Bell's. ‘You going to do some show or something down here then, Charles?'

Denis without Mary Hobbs was a refreshing change. He remained hearty, but didn't seem to have the same obligation to be raucously jovial which he had demonstrated on their previous meeting.

Charles denied that he was likely to break into amateur dramatics. ‘Just a handy bar,' he explained, hoping that Denis wouldn't ask why it was handy for someone who lived fifteen miles away.

But Denis was a man without suspicion. He leaned forward to Charles and confided, ‘Exactly the reason I joined. I mean, you can't turn up the chance of a bar on your doorstep, can you?'

‘So you don't act?'

Denis erupted with laughter. ‘Me? Bloody hell, I could no sooner act than have a baby. Blimey, me an actor – no, I'm a builder, that's what I am. Although Mary keeps trying to get me to say I work in the construction industry.'

The mimicry which he put into the last two words suggested that he was not as devoid of acting talent as he had implied. ‘No, the acting bit's all Mary's. Very keen she is on all this arty-farty stuff. I tell you,' he confided like a schoolboy with a dirty story. ‘I've been more bored in that theatre next door than a poof in a brothel. Still, Mary enjoys it. Keeps her out of my hair and keeps her off the streets, eh?' He laughed again robustly. ‘I'm only here for the beer – and I like to look at the scenery. The young female scenery, that is.' He winked.

They were silent for a few moments. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just a pause of drinking companionship. Then, idly, to make conversation, Charles asked whether there had been any further developments on the burglary.

‘No, not a thing. The police seem to think their best hope is to catch the villains when they try to get rid of the stuff. Apart from that, apparently there's not much chance. I mean, they've been all through the house and they haven't got any fingerprints or anything to go on.'

‘They left it very tidy?'

‘Oh yes, everything put back, all the doors closed – very neat job.'

‘Nasty thing to happen, though.'

‘Yes. Still, we were insured, so it could have been worse. Mary was a bit cut up about what was taken, sentimental value, all that, but I went out and bought her a load more gear and that seems to have calmed her down a bit.'

At that moment the Winters came in. Perhaps it was what Geoffrey had said in the morning, but they did look very together to Charles. As if they did share the complete relationship which he had described.

Denis Hobbs seemed to be slightly uneasy at their appearance, as if he suddenly had to be on his best behaviour. Mary continually told him what a privilege it was to know such artistic luminaries as the Winters.

Geoffrey did a light take, but greeted Charles cordially. As if by mutual agreement, they did not mention their earlier encounter.

Charles offered them drinks heartily. ‘What's it to be? I'm just taking advantage of my new membership.'

Geoffrey wasn't fooled by that, but he made no comment. Charles wondered if the architect knew that he wanted to talk to Vee.

It was possible. Certainly Geoffrey seemed to be keeping his wife at his side to inhibit private conversations. A new thought struck Charles. Maybe Geoffrey had discovered his wife's crime and was set to defend her against investigation. That could make things difficult. Geoffrey's was a formidable mind to have in opposition.

But the architect's protection couldn't last long.
The Winter's Tale
rehearsal started at seven-thirty ‘and he gets furious if you're late, so I'd better go. Will you be going straight back home, Vee?'

The question was delivered with studied casualness, but Charles could sense the tension beneath it. Vee, either deliberately or not, didn't take the hint. ‘No, not straight away. I'll just buy Charles a drink. See you later. Hope it goes well.'

‘Fine.' Geoffrey went through to the rehearsal room with a cheery wave. Or was it his impression of a cheery wave? Charles was getting paranoid about Geoffrey Winter's sincerity or lack of it.

He asked for a Bell's and Vee bought him a large one. Denis and a lot of the others round the bar had left and so, whether Geoffrey wanted it or not, Charles and Vee were alone together.

She commented on her husband's departure. ‘You know, he almost sounded as if he was jealous.'

‘What, of us?'

Vee shrugged. Charles laughed loudly, as if it was the best joke he had heard for a long time.

Interesting – straight away she put their meeting into a sexual context, just as she had done at the cast party. Once again he wasn't interested. And once again he felt she wasn't really interested either.

He decided that he would have to be a bit more subtle in questioning Vee than he had been with her husband. Better start at an uncontroversial level. ‘What are they rehearsing tonight?'

‘Blocking the first two acts. So I'm not wanted.'

‘Oh, I didn't even realize you. were in the production. What are you playing?'

‘Perdita. Since yesterday.' She pronounced it with triumph.

‘You mean it was going to be . . .?'

‘Charlotte, yes. Of course, it's a terrible way to get a part, but it's an ill wind . . .' Her regret was merely formal.

At least she wasn't disguising her satisfaction at Charlotte's removal from the scene. She was now back in her position as undisputed queen of the juve leads in the Breckton Backstagers. Charles would have thought she was a bit long in the tooth to be ‘the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the greensward' and a symbol of youthful beauty and regeneration, but now she was the best that Breckton had to offer. If she had killed Charlotte, then the returns were immediate.