Original Sin (23 page)

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In the boardroom the four partners still waited. Gabriel Dauntsey and Frances Peverell sat at the oval mahogany table, close but not touching. Frances had her head bowed but was absolutely still. De Witt was at the window, one hand pressed to the pane as if he needed support. Claudia stood intently examining the large copy of a Canaletto of the Grand Canal which hung beside the door. The magnificence of the room both diminished and formalized the burden each bore of fear, grief, anger or guilt. They were like actors in an over-designed play in which a fortune had been lavished on the extravagant set but in which the players were amateurs, the dialogue half-learned, the moves stiff and unpractised. When Dalgliesh and Kate had left the room Frances Peverell had said, 'Leave the door open', and de Witt, without a word, had gone back to leave it ajar. They needed the sense of a world outside, the sound of distant voices however faint, however occasional. The closed door would be too like the vacant chair at the middle of the table, one awaiting Gerard's impatient entry, the other his presiding presence.

Without looking round Claudia said: 'Gerard always disliked thi picture. He thought Canaletto overrated, too precise, too flat. He said he could picture the apprentices carefully painting in the waves.'

De Witt said: 'It wasn't Canaletto he disliked, just that picture. He said he was bored with constantly having to explain to visitors that it's only a copy.'

Frances's voice was indistinct. 'He resented it. It reminded him that' Grandfather had sold the original at a bad time and for about a quarter of what it was worth.'

'No,' said Claudia firmly. 'He disliked Canaletto.'

De Witt moved slowly from the window. He said: 'The police are taking their time. Mrs Demery is enjoying herself, I imagine, giving her favourite impersonation of a Cockney charwoman, good-natured but sharp-tongued. I hope the Commander appreciates it.'

Claudia turned from her concentrated examination of the painting. 'Since that is what she is you can hardly describe it as an impersona

[ ome arrulous tion. Still, she do, es bec g when excited. We must take 7hjshjy odn�,edogwa .,rul�us' Talk t�� much' Tell the P�lice De Witt said: Nhat things had you in mind?' '13at we weren't precisely united about the furore of the firm. The police think in cliches. Since most criminals act in cliches that is probably [heir strength.' Frances Peverell raised her head. No one had seen her weep her face was drained and bloated, [he eyes dull under swollen lids,

and when she spoke her voice sounded cracked and a little querulous. 'What does it matter if Mrs Demery does talk? What does it matter what we say? No one here has anything to hide. It's obvious what happened. Gerard died of natural causes or an accident and someone, the same person who's been playing tricks in this place, found the body and decided to make a mystery of it. It must have been terrible for you, Claudia, finding him like that, seeing the snake around his neck. But it's all fairly straightforward surely. It has to be.' Claudia turned on her as vehemently as if they were in the middle of a quarrel. 'What sort of accident? You're suggesting Gerard had an accident? What sort of accident?' Frances seemed to shrink in her chair but her voice was firm. 'I don't know. I wasn't there when it happened, was I? It was just a suggestion.' 'A bloody stupid one.' 'Claudia,' de Witt's voice was more loving than censorious. 'We mustn't quarrel. We have to keep calm and we have to stay together. 'How can we stay together? Dalgllesh will want to see us separately.' 'Not physically together. Together as partners. Together as a team.' As if he hadn't spoken, Frances said: 'Or a heart attack. Or a stroke. He could have had either. It happens to the healthiest of people.' Claudia said: 'Gerard had a perfectly sound heart. You don't climb the Matterhorn if you've got a weak heart. And I can't imagine any less likely subject for a stroke.' De Witt's voice was conciliatory. 'We don't know yet how he died. We can't until after the post-mortem. In the mean time what happens here?' Claudia said: 'We carry on. Of course we carry on.' 'Provided we have the staff. People may not want to stay,

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especially if the police suggest that Gerard's death wasn't straightforward.' Claudia's laugh was harsh as a sob. 'Straightforward! Of course it wasn't straightforward. He was found dead, half-naked with a toy snake wound round his neck and its head stuffed in his mouth. Even the least suspicious policeman would hardly call that straightforward.' 'I meant, of course, if they suspect murder. We've all got the word in our minds. Someone may as well speak it.' Frances said: 'Murdered? Why should anyone murder him? And there wasn't any blood, was there? You didn't find a weapon. And no one could have poisoned him. Poisoned him with what? When could he have taken it?' Claudia said: 'There are other ways.' you mean he was strangled with Hissing Sid? Or suffocated? But Gerard was strong. You'd have to overpower him to do that.' Then, as no one replied, she said, 'Look, I don't know why you're both so anxious to suggest Gerard was murdered.' De Witt came and sat down beside her. He said gently: 'Frances, no one is suggesting it, we're just facing the possibility. But you're fight of course. It's much better to wait until we know how he died. What puzzles me is why he was in the little archives office. I can't remember him ever going up to the top floor, can you Claudia?' 'No, and he couldn't have been working up there. If he decided to do that he wouldn't have left his keys in his desk drawer. You know how punctilious he was about security. The keys were only in that drawer when he was working at his desk. If he left the office for any length of time he'd slip on his jacket and put the bundle of keys back in his pocket. We've all seen him do that often enough.' De Witt said: 'The fact that he was found in the archives office doesn't necessarily mean that he died there.' Claudia seated herself opposite him and leaned forward over the table. You mean he could have died in his office?' 'Died or been killed there and moved subsequently. He could have died quite naturally at his desk, a stroke or heart attack as Frances suggests, and the body moved later.' 'But that would need considerable strength.' 'Not if you used one of the book trolleys and took the body up by the lift. There's nearly always a trolley waiting at the lift.'

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'But surely the police can tell whether a body has been moved after death.'

'Yes, if it's found outdoors. You get traces of soil, twigs, flattened grass, signs of dragging. I'm not sure that it would be so easy with a body discovered in a building. It's one of the possibilities they'll be considering. I suppose they'll condescend to tell us something sooner or later. They're certainly taking their time up there.'

The two of them were talking as if there was no one else in the room. Frances suddenly said: 'Do you have to discuss it as if Gerard's death was some kind of a puzzle, a detective story, something we'd read or seen on television? This is Gerard we're talking about, not a stranger, not a character in a play. Gerard is dead. He's upstairs with that ghastly snake round his neck and we're sitting here as if we didn't care.'

Claudia turned on her a speculative gaze tinged with contempt. 'What do you expect us to do? Sit around in silence? Read a good book? Ask George if the newspapers have been delivered? I think it helps to talk. He was my brother. If I can stay reasonably calm, so can you. You shared his bed, at least temporarily, but you never shared his life.'

De Witt said quietly, 'Did you, Claudia? Did any of us?'

'No, but when this death really hits me, when I really believe what's happened I shall mourn for him, never fear. I shall mourn for him but not yet, not now and not here.'

Gabriel Dauntsey had been sitting gazing ahead out of the window towards the river. Now he spoke for the first time, and the others turned and looked at him as if suddenly remembering that he was there.

He said quietly: 'I think he may have died of carbon monoxide poisoning. The skin was very pink - that's one of the signs apparently - and the room was unnaturally warm. Didn't it strike you, Claudia, that the room was very warm?'

For a moment there was silence, then Claudia said: 'Very little struck me except seeing Gerard and that snake. You mean he could have been gassed?'

'Yes. I'm saying that he could have been gassed.'

The word hissed on the air. Frances said: 'But isn't the new North Sea gas harmless? I thought you couldn't poison yourself any more by putting your head in a gas oven.'

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It was de Witt who explained. 'It isn't poisonous to breathe. It's perfectly safe if properly used. But if he lit the gas fire and the room wasn't adequately ventilated the fire could malfunction and produce carbon monoxide. Gerard could have become disorientated and unconscious before he realized what was happening.'

Frances said: 'And afterwards someone found the body, turned off the gas and put the snake round his neck. As I said, it was an accident.'

Dauntsey spoke quietly and calmly. 'It isn't quite as simple as that. Why did he light the fire? It wasn't particularly cold last night. And if he did light it, why did he shut the window? It was shut when I saw his body and I left it open when I last used the room on Monday.'

De Witt said: 'And if he was planning to spend the evening working in the archives long enough to need a fire, why did he leave his jacket and keys in his office? None of it makes sense.'

In the silence that followed Frances suddenly spoke. %qe've forgotten Lucinda. Someone's got to tell her.'

Claudia said, 'God yes! One tends to forget the Lady Lucinda. Somehow I don't imagine that she'll hurl herself into the Thames with grief. There was always something odd about that engagement.'

De Witt said: 'All the same, we can't let her read it in tomorrow's papers or hear it on the South East News. One of us had better ring Lady Norrington. She can break the news to her daughter. It would come best from you, Claudia.'

'I suppose so, as long as I'm not expected to go round and administer comfort. I'd better do it now. I'll ring from my own office, that is if the police aren't in occupation. Having the police here is like having mice in the house. You can sense them scrabbling away even when you don't actually hear or see them and once they're in you feel you'll never get rid of them.'

She got up and walked out, her head held unnaturally high but her step uncertain. Dauntsey tried to get to his feet, but his stiffened limbs seemed unable to respond and it was de Witt who moved quickly to her side. But she shook her head and gently pushed away his supporting arm and was gone.

Less than five minutes later she returned. She said: 'She wasn't in. It's hardly the kind of message you can leave on the answerphone. I'll try again later.'

Frances said: 'What about your father? Isn't he more important?'

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'Of course he's more important. I shall drive down to see him tonight.'

The door opened without a preliminary knock, and Detective Sergeant Robbins put his head in.

'Mr Dalgliesh is sorry that he's keeping you waiting longer than he expected. He would be grateful if Mr Dauntsey could come now to the archives office.'

Dauntsey at once got up, but his stiffness after long sitting had made him clumsy. His stick, dislodged from the back of his chair, clattered to the ground. He and Frances Peverell knelt simultaneously to retrieve it and, after what sounded to the others like a short scuffle and a few almost conspiratorial whispers, Frances laid hands on it and, rising red-faced from under the table, handed it to Dauntsey. He leaned on it for a few seconds, then hung it again on the back of the chair and moved towards the door without its aid, slowly but firm-footed.

When he had left Claudia Etienne said: 'I wonder why Gabriel gets the privilege of going first.'

James de Witt answered: 'Probably because he uses the little archives office more than most of us.'

Frances said: 'I don't think I've ever used it. The last time I was there was when they took the bed away. You don't go up there either, do you James?'

'I've never worked up there, at least not for more than half an hour. The last time was about three months ago. I went up to find Esm

Carling's original contract with us. I couldn't find it.'

'You mean you couldn't find her old file?'

'I found her file. I took it into the little archives room to study it. The original contract wasn't there.'

Claudia said, without particular interest: 'That's not surprising. We've had her on the list for thirty years. It was probably misfiled twenty years ago.' And then, with sudden energy: 'Look, I don't see why I should waste time just because Adam Dalgliesh wants to chat with a fellow poet. We don't have to stay in this room.'

Frances sounded doubtful. 'He said he wanted to see us together.'

'Well, he has seen us together. Now he's seeing us separately. When he wants me he'll find me in my office. Tell him that, will you.'

After she had left James said: 'She's right you know. We may not feel like working but it's worse sitting and waiting, looking at that empty chair.'

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'But we haven't been looking at it, have we? We've been carefully not looking at it, keeping our eyes elsewhere, almost as if Gerard were an embarrassment. I can't work, but I would like some more coffee.' q'hen let's find it. Mrs Demery must be about somewhere. I'd rather like to hear her version of her interview with Dalgliesh. If that doesn't lighten the atmosphere nothing will.' They moved together to the door. As they reached it Frances turned to him. 'James, I feel so frightened. I ought to be feeling grief and shock and the horror of it. We were lovers. I did love him once and now he's dead. I ought to be thinking of him, of the awful finality of his death. I ought to be praying for him. I did try but it came out as meaningless words. What I'm feeling is totally selfish, totally ignoble. It's fear.' 'Fear of the police? Dalgliesh isn't a bully.' 'No, it's worse than that. Fear of what's going on here. That snake whoever did that to Gerard is evil. Don't you find it, the presence of evil in Innocent House? I think I've been feeling it for months. This just seems like the inevitable end, something all the petty mischiefs have been leading up to. My mind ought to be full of grief for Gerard. It isn't, it's full of terror, terror and an awful foreboding that this isn't the end.' James said gently: ere aren't any right or wrong emotions. We feel what we feel. I doubt whether any of us feels intense grief, even Claudia. Gerard was a remarkable man but he wasn't lovable. What I try to persuade myself is grief is probably no more than that universal and impotent sadness one always feels at the death of the young, the talented, the healthy. Even that is overlaid by a fascinated curiosity spiced with apprehension.' He turned to her and said: 'I'm here, Frances. When you need me and if you need me, I'm here. I shan't be a nuisance. I shan't thrust myself on you just because shock and fear have made us both vulnerable. I'm just offering you whatever you need when you need it.' 'I know. Thank you, James.' She put out her hand and for a second laid it against his face. It was the first time she had ever voluntarily touched him. Then she turned to the door and, in turning, missed the spreading radiance of joy and triumph on his face.