The Bloody Wood (19 page)

‘And here is Friary telling lies about it.’

‘Telling one more lie – and one more lie very easy to detect, at that.’

‘My dear Appleby – just what are you getting at?’

‘Friary mayn’t have lied to us.’ Appleby spoke slowly. ‘Charles Martineau may have lied to Friary.’

Judith had wandered into the wood again. Not far from the belvedere – when she could see, indeed, the flat-capped figure of the constable now guarding it – she ran into Dr Fell. It was a mildly surprising encounter, and Fell himself appeared almost disconcerted. He came to a halt, and looked at Judith uncertainly.

‘Good morning, Dr Fell. Are you going down to the house?’

‘I am going wherever I can find the police, Lady Appleby. If possible, the Chief Constable himself.’

‘He is there, and so is my husband. They are probably still in Mr Martineau’s office.’

‘Thank you.’ Fell made as if to move on again, and then hesitated. ‘It’s a revolting business,’ he said. ‘But action I suppose there must be.’

‘The Martineaus’ death, you mean?’

‘No. That is very sad, of course. I gather it is now thought to be suspicious and sinister, into the bargain. It may well be so. But it wasn’t what I was thinking of. Ugly things are coming to light all over the place, are they not? In a matter of this sort, one scandal shakes up another.’

‘No doubt.’ Judith found this vague and uneasy remark curious. ‘The suggestion of some sort of drug-ring, for example.’

‘You know about that?’ Fell, who had begun to walk on beside Judith, came to a halt. ‘It’s certainly in the picture.’

‘I know about it – and that Bobby Angrave felt it was going to make life awkward for him.’

‘And that I feel the same?’ Fell looked at Judith with a faint smile. ‘You are a very direct person, Lady Appleby.’

‘What’s the good of not being?’

‘What, indeed. Well, I suspect it is true that Angrave had been a good deal more than silly. Something of the sort is sure to emerge, and it may as well be stated now… Is that a policeman by the belvedere?’

‘Yes. Was it there you were expecting to find Colonel Morrison? You were on the path to it, really.’

‘It was in my head.’ Fell produced this in his sudden vague manner. ‘Shall we go on there now? I value having a word with you.’

‘Very well.’ Judith walked on. ‘But you began by saying that something is a revolting business.’

‘The Martineaus’ butler and this village child your husband called me in to see. She’s prepared to name Friary as responsible, and there is evidence that her parents can give as well. So it will come into court. I ought to be hardened to such things, but I don’t seem to be.’

‘Dr Fell, do you think that, as the matter stood yesterday, it would have been rational in Friary to suppose that if the Martineaus were out of the way he would have a chance of not being prosecuted?’

‘Good heavens!’ Fell looked really startled. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. But I didn’t know there was a suspicion of just that sort. For that matter, I doubt whether the fellow Friary would have the guts for it. No – I think I’m a better suspect myself.’

‘I find that a strange thing for anyone actually to say.’

‘I had a meeting, you know, or what might be called a confrontation, with Martineau and his nephew. Over the drugs. Its issue was unsatisfactory, from my point of view.’

‘And from Bobby’s?’

‘Oh, certainly. Martineau penetrated to the fact that Bobby had actually been peddling the stuff, and he remained unconvinced that I wasn’t myself in some way involved.’

‘Were you?’ Judith had decided that this curious conversation had better be gone through with.

‘For what the denial is worth, Lady Appleby, quite definitely not. But – for reasons into which I needn’t enter – if some large scandal blew up in these parts I mightn’t get a fair spin.’

‘We know about that. So really, you feel, you and Bobby Angrave had substantial reason to conspire together to silence the Martineaus?’

‘I hadn’t thought of just that. But I see what you mean. If the Martineaus were both murdered, and if the circumstances were to prove such that there must have been two people on the job, then young Angrave and I would – to put it mildly – be well in the picture.’ Fell, who had produced this quite unemotionally, walked for a moment in silence. ‘But here is the belvedere,’ he said. ‘Do you know, I’ve never had a look inside? Would that constable let us in?’

‘I think he might. He knows me now. We’ll have a try.’

The constable made no objection. He contented himself with accompanying his visitors into the interior of the little building.

‘Colonel Morrison and my husband have already had a good hunt through the place,’ Judith said. ‘We came in together earlier this morning.’

‘Did you discover anything material?’

‘Did I? I’m afraid not – although I always have a feeling there ought to be something a woman’s eye can contribute.’ Judith looked around her. ‘For example, it’s a little dusty, wouldn’t you say? Friary claims to see that it is cleaned, and so forth. But the floor could certainly do with a mop. Look how–’ Judith broke off. ‘Dr Fell, will you move that gardener’s ladder so that it stands just
there
? With its two feet just on these marks, I mean.’

Fell did as he was told. The constable made an uneasy noise. Then, presumably recalling the exalted station of this lady’s husband, he fell silent again.

‘You see what I mean?’ Judith pointed. ‘It’s the ladder that has been drawn over the floor, and left these tracks.’

‘It looks,’ Fell said, ‘as if somebody had wanted to climb to the top of those cupboards.’

‘You’re quite right. And there might be anything up there, behind those rather elaborate cornices – if that’s what they should be called. I think I’ll go up and see.’ Judith looked at the cupboards more carefully. ‘What’s that cord,’ she asked, ‘running up the side of the far one?’

‘It’s an electric flex, my lady.’ The constable said this, after examination. ‘The telephone, perhaps. But no – it isn’t that.’ He had followed the flex downward, and was now moving a croquet-box away from the skirting-board. ‘It’s simply plugged into a socket down here. It may run to a lamp, I’d say, or it might be a small radiator, that somebody has stored up there.’

‘Well, we’ll see.’ Judith was already climbing. ‘Dr Fell, just steady it, will you? I don’t want to make a fool of myself.’

At this moment the constable came to a somewhat apprehensive attention. Colonel Morrison and Appleby had entered the belvedere. Judith, who had gained the position she wanted, turned round and looked down at them.

‘John,’ she said, ‘I’ve found something up here. You’ll never guess what.’

‘I certainly shall,’ Appleby said. ‘It’s a tape-recorder. Don’t touch it.’

It was half an hour before the tape-recorder was brought down from its place of concealment. It had to be photographed and tested for fingerprints first. At length it stood on a rustic table in front of Appleby.

‘We’ll run it back for a minute, for a start,’ Appleby said, ‘and then see what it offers us.’ He turned a couple of switches on the machine. Nothing happened. ‘Constable,’ he said, ‘switch it on down there by the skirting-board, will you?’

‘It’s switched on already, sir.’

‘Then there’s something wrong with it. And I doubt whether that makes sense.’ Appleby paused, frowning. ‘What have you got down there?’

‘A plug with its own fuse, sir. It’s on a modern thirteen-amp circuit.’

‘Try that reading-lamp in the corner.’

‘Yes, sir…it works, all right.’

‘Find a screwdriver, or whatever is needed, and change those plugs round.’

‘Very good, sir.’

This operation took five minutes. They were five minutes which added considerably to the tension of the proceedings. Fell, who had remained in the belvedere, paced it moodily. Colonel Morrison eyed him with disfavour, and would plainly have been pleased to order him out. Martine Rivière, who had appeared again, was reduced to sitting close to Judith, nervously twisting a handkerchief.

‘What’s it about?’ Martine almost whispered. ‘What does Sir John expect?’

‘I don’t know. I only know that
he
knows – and that it’s important.’

‘All in order, sir.’ The constable stood up. ‘You can try again.’

Appleby once more moved the switches. A tiny hum came at once from the machine, followed by the whir of the tape being fed back.

‘That’s all it was,’ Appleby said. ‘The fuse had blown. Careless. Odd.’

‘What’s that, Appleby?’ Morrison had moved forward. But Appleby raised an arresting finger; stopped the tape; set it moving again the opposite direction. And at once they were all listening to voices. They were listening to the voices of Charles and Grace Martineau.

The dialogue continued only for seconds. Appleby had switched off – with a decisive snap, and almost as if closing down upon premature disclosure.

‘There’s a little more to do,’ he said. ‘Not much. We’ll meet – everybody will meet – in half an hour’s time in the music room.’ He smiled rather grimly. ‘It’s the appropriate place.’

‘For somebody to be facing the music, eh?’ Colonel Morrison offered this suggestion uncertainly.

‘That, perhaps. And, of course, it’s a place dedicated to the educated ear.’

‘To the
what
, my dear fellow?’

‘And moreover’ – Appleby was unheeding – ‘it’s presided over by Christopher Sly.’

‘You may notice,’ Appleby said half an hour later, ‘that there is one person missing. Let me begin with that.’

‘Someone missing?’ Edward Pendleton looked round the music room. ‘We’re all here, as far as I can see.’

‘It depends what you mean by “we”, Edward. Friary is missing.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Pendleton was disconcerted. ‘Well, go ahead.’

‘Friary is missing because he is in police custody. In what I have to say I shall have to speak for him, if it may be put like that.’

‘Friary will certainly need speaking for.’ Bobby Angrave said this. ‘We’re nearly all in a mess. But I believe Friary is the only person who has been caught out in a pack of lies.’

‘He has been very notably caught out, it may be maintained, in two. And uncommonly interesting lies they are.’ Appleby paused to look round the company. As if distrustful of each other, they were dispersed in a wide circle round the music room. Although there were ten people, all told, they gave little impression of a crowd in the large and rather encumbered place. Behind them Holman Hunt’s more numerous Shakespearian gathering continued its musical activities unconcerned. The tape-recorder, again disposed in front of Appleby, might have been waiting to record the ghostly concert.

‘So Friary will be available as required,’ Appleby went on. ‘Actually, there are two other people who are rather vital to our inquiry, but whom I haven’t asked to attend. I can speak for them too. They are Mr Macaulay, our late host’s head gardener, and his nephew – a lad called Neil. As you know, it was they who found Grace Martineau’s body. But they have another interest for us as well.’

‘Do you mean,’ Martine Rivière asked, ‘that they are suspects too?’

‘And brought in,’ Bobby Angrave added, ‘to add a final touch of the grotesque to this farcical riot of suspicions?’

The aggressive question produced a moment’s silence. Bobby and Martine were now the single exception to the scattered disposition of the company, for Martine had crossed the room and sat down close by her cousin. The effect was of a suddenly consolidated alliance. They might have been preparing to fight something – and fight it every inch of the way.

‘Macaulay and his nephew are in no sense suspects.’ Appleby was unperturbed. ‘They merely have evidence to give. What weight is to be accorded to that evidence it may eventually be for a judge and jury to decide. Equally, it may not. You will find that you have a very open question before you. That’s the first thing to get clear.’

‘You mean, Sir John, that there may in fact have been no crime?’ It was Mrs Gillingham who asked this. ‘That has always been the likeliest supposition, to my mind.’

‘It is not necessarily what I am thinking of. But let me begin, if the Chief Constable will allow me, with a plain fact. It is the existence of this machine, which you see in front of me. There is no question but that it belonged to Charles Martineau. He used it for business purposes – and also, as many people do, for recording music from time to time. It was found in the belvedere this morning.’

‘In the belvedere?’ Edward Pendleton repeated. ‘I’m blessed if I saw it.’

‘The machine was stowed in an invisible position on top of a cupboard. It was plugged in, however, and so ready either to record or play back. Except for one fact. A fuse – the kind that is located in the actual plug – was defective. When we replaced this, the machine worked. But what it produced was neither business correspondence nor music. It was a conversation between the Martineaus.’

‘How very peculiar!’ Irene Pendleton had for some reason taken it into her head to contribute to the discussion at this point. ‘Do you think, John, that Charles and Grace played some sort of game with it? Usually, they played piquet.’

‘It is possible, no doubt.’

‘May I say that I think this intolerable?’ Bobby had returned to the attack. ‘There is an obvious explanation, and it is a very painful one. My uncle wanted to preserve some record of my aunt’s conversation, since he knew that her death was not far off. And he secured it by concealing the machine in the belvedere, where they were in the habit of going to talk. He wouldn’t want her to know what he was doing, I imagine. It is outrageous that you should be charging him with some obscure criminal intention.’

‘You may be right.’ Appleby looked at Bobby gravely. ‘And here I come to Macaulay and his nephew. What they have to say powerfully supports your interpretation. If your uncle was indeed concerned to conceal the machine, it would appear to have been from your aunt only. About a week ago, they both recall him as walking through the wood with it – and perfectly openly. There can be no mistake about this. They have identified the tape-recorder without hesitation.’