Shallow Grave (22 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: Shallow Grave
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‘Nothing happened. She talked for a bit, told me more than I wanted to know about her relationship with David. She asked me several more times where he was, and then left.’

‘At what time?’

‘She couldn’t have been here more than ten minutes or so.’

‘Did she say where she was going?’

‘No, and I certainly didn’t ask. I was simply glad to be left in peace – though it wasn’t for long, of course, because at about half past nine her wretched husband arrived.’

Now Slider did jump. ‘Eddie Andrews came here?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

‘No. You’ve filled in a gap for me.’ Allowing for the drive here and back, it probably accounted for the missing time between his leaving the Mimpriss at ten to nine and returning there at ten thirty.

‘He came looking for his wife, of course. He, at least, had the grace to apologise for disturbing me.’

‘Was he drunk?’

‘He’d been drinking. I think he was more upset than drunk. I felt rather sorry for him, really. He couldn’t manage to come straight out with the question at first. He was beating around the bush, and I supposed he didn’t know whether I knew about David and Jennifer, so I put him out of his misery and said I knew all about it, and that she had been here looking for David. Then his face—’ she paused, thinking ‘—it
collapsed with
misery. He hadn’t been sure, and now he was. I felt as though I’d kicked a puppy. He was such a pathetic little man.’

‘How long was he here?’

‘About a quarter of an hour. He was rather shaken and I felt sorry for him so I took him into the kitchen and gave him a cup of coffee – I had some already brewed. He asked where David was and I said I didn’t know but that he obviously wasn’t with Jennifer, since she was looking for him, and that I was pretty sure that he had finished with her.’ Slider looked the question and she shrugged. ‘I thought it would be better for him to think so – and it rather looked that way, to judge by Jennifer’s desperation.’

‘And what did he say to that?’

‘He said, “But has she finished with him?”’ she said glumly.

‘Ah,’ said Slider.

‘Yes, it was rather horribly perceptive. Anyway, he drank the coffee, thanked me very courteously, and left – that would be about a quarter to ten.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’

‘He said he was going to look for her, and when he found her, he’d wring her neck.’ She met his eyes with a clear look. ‘People say that sort of thing.’

‘I know,’ Slider said.

‘Yes, I suppose you do. Well, he drove away and that was that.’

‘And what time did your husband come home?’

The clear eyes moved away. ‘I don’t know. Not exactly. I went to bed at about eleven, and read for a bit before putting out the light. I was probably asleep by about half past. I didn’t hear him come in. I was up early the next day and took the
dogs out for a long run. By the time I got back he’d left for work.’

‘He didn’t wake you when he came in?’

‘We have separate rooms,’ she said, her voice as neutral as wall-to-wall beige Wilton.

‘And you didn’t see him when you got up? Did you see his car?’

‘He keeps it in the garage. I didn’t go and check whether it was there or not.’

‘So you don’t actually know whether he came home at all that night?’

‘I just assume that he did. But, no, if you put it that way, I couldn’t say for certain.’

‘Do you take sleeping pills?’ Slider slipped the question in, and it was sequitur enough not to bother her.

‘I didn’t that night, though I do have diazepam for when I need it.’

Slider noted it mentally, though Tufty would surely have tested for that. He went on, ‘What did your husband say when you told him about your visitors the evening before?’

‘I didn’t see him to speak to until Wednesday evening. And by the time he came home, I’d heard about Jennifer being dead, so I didn’t mention it. I wasn’t sure how he felt about her death, and I didn’t want to know. The whole subject was too fraught to open up.’

‘So you’ve never spoken to him at all about both the Andrewses coming here on Tuesday evening?’

She eyed him defensively. ‘You seem to find that remarkable, but I don’t go seeking out unpleasantness. It’s a subject I would far rather not raise with anyone, and especially not with my husband. Why should I? It’s not my business.’

‘If Andrews killed his wife, and it was because she was having an affair with your husband—’

‘If?’

‘It’s all supposition at the moment. We don’t know that Andrews did it.’

She looked at him for a moment, but her eyes were focused through and beyond him. ‘I suppose as a loyal wife I ought to be providing David with an alibi, but I’m a hopeless liar, and it’s always safer to stick to the truth, isn’t it? And the truth
is that I don’t know what time he came in on Tuesday night. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Wherever he was, he wasn’t with her.’

CHAPTER TEN
Fresh Words And Bastards New
 

‘She thinks he did it,’ Slider said to Joanna as they sat thigh to thigh in a quiet corner of the Kestrel. ‘Or at least, not to put it too strongly, she’s afraid he might have.’

Joanna lowered the level of her pint of Marston’s by a quarter and put the glass down in the beam of sunshine that came in through the crooked, ancient casement window for the express purpose of turning it to liquid gold. ‘But if she did, wouldn’t she be sure to give him an alibi? Or do you think she’s so friendishly cunning she’s trying a double bluff on you?’

‘Good God, no! That sort of thing only happens in books. But there are people who just tell the truth, you know, because it’s the right thing to do. Not many of them, granted.’

‘She really impressed you, didn’t she?’ Joanna looked at him curiously. ‘The way you’ve described her to me, stunningly beautiful, intelligent, noble, good – it’s enough to make a person chuck.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said comfortably, nudging her knee. ‘But if Meacher was out all night—’

‘If. She didn’t say he was.’

‘Quite. But he didn’t tell me he had an assignation with the Andrews woman that evening. He didn’t tell me he’d been having an affair with her—’

‘Would you, in his position? It doesn’t mean he bumped her off.’

‘Why are you so keen on him?’ he asked resentfully.

‘My darling dingbat, you’ve just had a thorough job done on you by a master – or should one say mistress? – of the art. You loathed Meacher on sight and you adored Mrs ditto, so it hasn’t occurred to you that if he was out all night,
she
hasn’t
got an alibi either. Why shouldn’t she have killed this ghastly woman?’

‘Ridiculous!’

‘Is it? Maybe she didn’t know before that the affair was going on. Bleach-bag comes to her door and spills the beans, demands where Meacher is as if she’s got a right to know,
and
brags that she’s done it on the marital premises. Who has a better motive now?’

‘I hate it when you’re reasonable.’

‘Maybe Jennifer never left the house again. Maybe Mrs M. did her right there and then on the doorstep in a fit of righteous, wifely rage.’

‘Lady Diana, not Mrs M. And anyway, Jennifer wasn’t killed violently, remember. Freddie thinks she was drugged to helplessness.’

‘Even better. Lady Diana got her inside, gave her a drink, and drugged her.’

‘With?’


I
don’t know. I can’t do everything for you.’

‘She says she does have sleeping pills,’ he said reluctantly.

‘There you are then! She did her, bunged her in the pantry, then late at night drove her to the Rectory and shoved her down the hole, knowing that everyone would suspect Eddie Andrews, and that there was nothing to connect the deed with her.’

‘It holds together—’

‘Of course it does. I’m brilliant!’

‘—so far, I was going to say. But why didn’t Eddie see Jennifer’s car when he arrived? And how did it get back to Fourways?’

‘Lady D. hid the car temporarily, and took Jennifer home in it so as not to leave any traces in her own, of course.’

‘And got back home—?’

‘Somehow. Bus, train, taxi, shanks’s pony. Aeroplane.’

‘I see. And if she did it, why did she tell me about the visits of the Andrewses at all?’

‘She didn’t know how much you knew. The fact that you were there was a worry. She had to think fast.’

‘She did?’

‘Notice,’ Joanna pursued, ‘how she cunningly deflected suspicion away from Eddie Andrews, by telling you she felt sorry
for him and gave him a cup of coffee. That was so that she could plant the seed about her husband in your mind.’

‘Why should she do that?’

‘Because hubby is a much better smokescreen. If
he’s
guilty, she’s innocent. You have to be innocent to be someone’s alibi.’

‘But she
wasn’t
his alibi.’

‘Which makes her even more innocent – too good even to lie for her own husband.’

‘I love it when you’re unreasonable,’ he grinned, glad to discover she wasn’t serious. They stopped talking while their toasted sandwiches were put in front of them. When they were alone again, he said, ‘Joking apart, what we’ve got now is a much better motive for Eddie. If Jack Potter was right, Eddie didn’t really believe, deep down, that Jennifer was straying; after his visit to Lady Di, he knew for certain that his worst fears were founded. I’m afraid he’s still the front runner. We’ll have to check up on Meacher, though.’

Joanna said, ‘Poor thing, you so wanted it to be him instead of Eddie, didn’t you?’

‘It still might be. The thing that puzzles me about him is, why didn’t he call Mrs Hammond when he heard about the body being found on her premises? If he was such an old friend, and was sorry for her … It’s as if he’s trying to distance himself from the whole thing.’

‘Could be any number of reasons,’ Joanna shrugged. ‘People don’t phone each other like anything, every day of the week. Especially when they ought to.’

‘True,’ he sighed. ‘Well, it looks as though we know where Jennifer was going, anyway, when she left the Goat and told Jack Potter she was going to meet someone. But why didn’t he keep the appointment?’

‘Probably he was finished with her and that was his noble way of letting her know.’

‘Unnecessarily cruel. I know restaurants like that. Lady Di said she went there once and had rubber lasagne that smelt like sweat.’

‘Very graphic. I can see why you liked her.’ Joanna grinned suddenly. ‘It reminds me of the story of the man who went to a very bad Chinese restaurant. When he’d eaten his main dish the
waiter came and asked him if everything was all right. He said, “Well, the duck was rubbery,” and the waiter said, “Thank you, sir. We have bery nice rychees, too.”’

When they emerged into the sunlight and walked towards their cars, he said, ‘What time do you think your meeting will be finished?’

‘I expect it’ll last a couple of hours. Why?’

‘I thought if I could get away early enough I ought to go and see Irene and try and sort things out.’

‘I thought she said don’t ring us, we’ll ring you?’

‘Yes, well she can’t expect to make all the rules,’ he said irritably. ‘Besides, it’s my house as much as it’s hers, and if I can’t stop her going there, she can’t stop me.’

‘It’s rather more yours than hers, I would have thought, since you pay the mortgage and everything.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

Joanna blinked. ‘Sorry, which bit of the sentence are you having difficulty with?’

‘I thought the subject would come up sooner or later. It all comes down to money, doesn’t it?’ he said angrily. ‘These things always do.’

‘What things?’

‘Divorce, first wives versus second wives, the whole palaver! Mortgages and maintenance and who gets the pension! The next thing you’ll be complaining that we live in penury while she swans about in a big house, and that I never spend any money on you.’

She whipped round on him like a cobra striking. ‘Hold it right there! In the first place I’m not your wife, second or any other sort. In the second place I haven’t the slightest interest in your money or what you do with it. All I want is for this business to be sorted out so that people can stop hurting each other, and you and I can have a little life together, and I can stop having to watch you turn grey and wrinkled as you wonder what the next ghastly cock-up will be. And in the third place,’ she went on, forestalling his attempt to break in, ‘if you ever speak to me like that again I shall smack you round the ear with a wet fish.’

‘You’d assault a police officer?’ he said feebly.

‘In a second.’

They looked at each other for a moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Abject grovel. I get so strung up about it all.’

‘I know. Just don’t take it out on me.’

‘I’m really sorry.’ He kissed her contritely and she kissed him back. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘I know,’ she said.

‘I miss my children.’ It burst out of him without his meaning it to.

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