The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) (29 page)

‘
And did she?
’

‘
It looks like it,
’
said Freddy.
‘
As I said, the place had been scrubbed clean, especially t
he floor around the bed, but whoever did the cleaning had evidently missed a section or two over by the door, and the police found unmistakable signs that someone had been very ill there.
’

‘
I see,
’
said Angela.
‘
And can they link all this to Lita?
’

‘
They a
re doing tests on the substances they have found, to see if they can find traces of arsenic,
’
said Freddy.
‘
If they do, I imagine all doubt will be at an end.
’

‘
Poor Lucy,
’
said Angela.
‘
If it looked bad for Gil before, it looks even worse for him now.
’

‘
Y
es,
’
said Freddy.
‘
If I were he I
’
d have tried to get away with it by claiming I killed her in a fit of passion, and then I
’
d have thrown myself upon the mercy of the jury. But arsenic is a cold, deliberate method of killing someone
—
you can
’
t claim you di
d
it without thinking good and hard about it beforehand.
’

‘
I wonder why she came down here,
’
said Angela.
‘
Was it to blackmail him, do you think? Or do you suppose she had some idea of patching things up for the sake of the boy? I suppose it depends on whet
her or not she knew about Gil
’
s engagement to Lucy.
’

‘
There
’
s no reason she shouldn
’
t have known,
’
said Freddy.
‘
After all, the notice was in the papers
—
Lucy told us herself, don
’
t you remember?
’

‘
Perhaps that
’
s what spurred her on to come down here in the
first place,
’
said Angela.
‘
Presumably Gil will be able to confirm whether or not that is the case, though
—
that is, assuming he is ever found, and that he is willing to talk when he is.
’

‘
Hmm,
’
said Freddy.
‘
It
’
s a mess, all right.
’
He wandered over to th
e window and stared out into the garden. The day was grey and overcast, and it looked as though rain were threatening.
‘
I say, Angela,
’
he said suddenly.
‘
I
’
m feeling cooped up and in need of a little fresh air. Why don
’
t we go out for a while?
’

‘
Out?
’
sai
d Angela.
‘
Where do you want to go?
’

‘
Oh, I don
’
t know,
’
he said vaguely.
‘
Perhaps we might take a little drive down to the coast. It
’
s quite nearby and I understand there are many natural beauties to be seen on the way.
’

‘
I didn
’
t know you were an admirer
of nature, Freddy,
’
said Angela in surprise.

‘
Oh yes,
’
he assured her.
‘
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, and a rapture on the lonely shore, and all that. I like nothing better than to feel the grass under my feet and hear the cry of the birds as
they sing their joyful song. It brings a tear to my eye and a flutter to my jaded heart. We who live in the grim, grimy city would do well to think about what lies beyond its walls, and make room in our lives now and again for a little freshness and puri
t
y.
’

‘
I see,
’
said Angela, who was not fooled for an instant.
‘
I suppose I had better fetch my coat, then. And perhaps an umbrella, since it looks as though it might rain at any moment.
’

‘
What is a little rain, when set against the unalloyed ecstasy that ca
n be felt only at the first glimpse of the unspoilt English countryside?
’
said Freddy sententiously.

Angela saw that she should get no sense out of him, at least for the present, and went to fetch her outdoor things.

They sat in silence for a
while as Freddy steered his little motor-car carefully through the narrow streets of Littlechurch, and out onto the open road. Here, the scenery was as stark as anything Angela had seen in the area, but there was a sort of desolate beauty to the flat, du
l
l green landscape, which stretched for miles in every direction until it reached the point where the sky bent close to the earth and they merged into one.

It was cold, and Angela was glad of her warm coat and gloves. She pulled the fur collar of her coat m
ore tightly about her and huddled down into her seat. There was a slight tang of salt in the air, and she guessed that they were not far from the sea, although there was little joy in the prospect given the dismal skies, which spoke of imminent rain.

‘
Wher
e are we going?
’
she said at last to Freddy, who had been lost in his own thoughts.

‘
Dungeness,
’
he replied.
‘
I have a fancy to see the place.
’

‘
No you don
’
t,
’
said Angela.
‘
You have some plan of your own, I can tell.
’

‘
Well, perhaps I do,
’
he said. He fel
l silent for a few moments, then said,
‘
I telephoned Father this morning. I thought he might be able to tell me where Gil had gone, since Miles was determined to give nothing away.
’

‘
Do you think Miles and your father know where he is, then?
’
said Angela.

‘
I think they have a jolly good idea,
’
he said,
‘
but of course they didn
’
t want to say. Poor Father is feeling rotten about the whole business
—
he
’
s not a bad old stick, you know
—
so I suspected he
’
d be easier to work on than Miles, and I was right. I laid
t
he guilt on thick and he came up with the goods, as they say.
’

‘
How can you be so cool about it?
’
said Angela curiously.

‘
I
’
m not cool at all,
’
said Freddy.
‘
A murder has been committed and I want to see the man who did it brought to justice. It
’
s easier f
or me than it is for Father, that
’
s all, because Gil
’
s not a personal friend of mine. Somebody has to bite on the bullet and bring the chap in.
’

‘
So that
’
s where we
’
re going, is it?
’
said Angela.
‘
To find Gil? Can you be certain he is where your father sai
d he
’
d be?
’

‘
No, not at all,
’
said Freddy,
‘
but we may as well give it a try. If he
’
s not there then there
’
s no harm done, is there?
’

‘
What is this place?
’

‘
It
’
s a fisherman
’
s cottage on the headland that the three of them used to visit years ago. Father s
aid that Gil had run off and hidden there once or twice when he first came back from the war and needed time to think.
’

‘
And you think he might be there now? I suppose it
’
s possible. But if he is, how do you intend to persuade him to come back?
’

‘
I don
’
t k
now,
’
said Freddy.
‘
I
’
m sure we
’
ll think of something, though.
’
Despite his careless tone he was not as indifferent as he pretended to be, for once or twice Angela saw an uncertain look flicker across his face.

‘
Don
’
t you think that perhaps you ought to ha
ve let Inspector Jameson know of your suspicions?
’
said Angela.
‘
After all, this is none of our business, really.
’

‘
Oh, come now,
’
said Freddy.
‘
Don
’
t tell me you
’
re not simply dying to see how it all turns out! Why, you were in at the very beginning
—
it wa
s
your
corpse, so to speak. Surely you want to be in at the finish, too. Look at it this way
—
if he
’
s there and we find him, we can simply say we were out on a little jaunt and happened to run across him. If he
’
s not
—
well, then, we can just enjoy the day, c
an
’
t we?
’

Angela opened her mouth to reply, but then shut it again. Freddy
—
damn his perspicacity
—
was right: she
did
want to be in at the finish. She had been the one to start this whole thing off with her unlucky plunge into the ditch, and now she felt it
was her responsibility to make sure the thing ended properly. Quite apart from anything else, she had unwittingly caused an innocent man to be wrongly imprisoned and many people to be thrown out of work. Of course, none of that was her fault, as such, but
she felt vaguely as though the matter must be resolved, and that she must be the one to do it. How their presence would help bring Gil back she did not know, but as Freddy said, there was no harm in trying it.

They came to a point where the road turned sha
rply left and curved back on itself and along the coast. Straight ahead of them was a narrow track that led seemingly to nowhere, for all that could be seen in the distance was a never-ending stretch of stone, shingle and sea-grass, dotted with a few batt
e
red and weather-beaten huts which could hardly be dignified with the name cottage, but which presumably belonged to local fishermen. Down this track Freddy guided the motor-car until the bumps became too much for it, and he jolted to a stop.

‘
I think we
’
d
better get out here,
’
he said.

Angela stepped out and looked about her. The sky was more overcast than ever, and there was a fine, grey mist in the air that swirled around them and was almost as wet as rain. The only sound to be heard was the infrequent cr
y of a seagull and the rush of the wind and the distant waves. It was almost impossible to imagine a more bleak and desolate spot.

‘
Do you really think he has come here?
’
she said.
‘
It
’
s not exactly hospitable, is it?
’

‘
Not in this weather,
’
said Freddy,
‘
although I understand it can be rather pleasant on a warm summer
’
s day, for those who want a little peace and quiet.
’

They set off across the beach, walking at a brisk pace to keep warm. The shingle crunched under their feet as they went. It was so quiet t
hat Angela felt as though they were the only people for miles around, although here and there a fisherman must surely be sitting in his little hut, smoking his pipe and waiting for a favourable tide.

‘
Where is the cottage?
’
she said at last.

‘
It
’
s that one
, I think,
’
said Freddy, pointing. Angela looked and saw a small, weather-beaten building that stood some way apart from the others. Perhaps it had once been painted in cheery colours, but the wind and the rain had long since stripped it of its greens and
blues and rendered it a dull, stone-grey.
‘
I gather it belongs to the Blakeneys,
’
he said.

As they approached, Angela
’
s heart began to beat faster, and she pulled her coat more closely around her
—
for warmth, she told herself. She suddenly noticed that the
sound of their footsteps seemed very loud in that barren place and her pace faltered. Freddy seemed to have realized the same thing, for he put his hand on her arm and then placed a finger across his lips. They walked, quietly and warily, up to the hut. I
t
had a little window but no door on this side, and so they crept as silently as they could around to the front of the dwelling. Then they were brought up short.

‘
You needn
’
t have bothered to be so sneaky about it,
’
said Gilbert Blakeney.
‘
I saw you coming
from miles away.
’

He was sitting on the wooden doorstep of the fisherman
’
s hut, smoking a cigarette and staring out to sea. His clothes were dirty, and damp from the drizzle, and he had several days
’
growth of beard.

‘
You look ghastly, old chap,
’
said Fred
dy not unsympathetically. Gil turned a pair of red-rimmed eyes towards them and Angela was appalled at the change in him. His once round, jolly face was now sunken and hollow-cheeked, and he looked thin and exhausted.

‘
Well, it
’
s not exactly the Ritz, this
place, what?
’
he replied with grim humour.

‘
When did you last have anything to eat?
’
said Angela in concern.

He shrugged.

‘
A few days ago, I think,
’
he said.
‘
There
’
s not much to eat around here unless one has a boat and a fishing-net.
’

‘
We ought to have
brought some food with us,
’
said Angela,
‘
but I didn
’
t think of it, I
’
m afraid.
’

‘
No matter,
’
said Gil. He seemed perfectly unconcerned about their arrival and went on with his cigarette.
‘
I found this on the beach over there,
’
he said.
‘
Somebody must have
dropped it. I smoked my last one days ago, of course. Luckily, this one wasn
’
t too damp. I suppose the police are looking for me, are they?
’

Angela nodded.

‘
I thought so. I knew it was only a matter of time before it all came out. They know about the marr
iage, I take it.
’

‘
Yes,
’
said Angela.

‘
It seemed rather a laugh at the time, you see. I
’
d had too much to drink, and
—’
he hesitated.
‘
It
’
s rather uncivil to claim that one only married a woman because one was drunk, don
’
t you think? No, I shan
’
t try and ta
ke that way out. Lita was a good, kind girl, but we were both mad. People did crazy things like that during the war. I was about to return to the Front, and it must have seemed like a good idea then to have a girl waiting for me when I came back. Of cours
e
, we realized almost immediately that it had been a mistake, and agreed to part. I returned to Belgium, and I suppose she went back to her old life in the theatre.
’

‘
Did you never hear from her again?
’
asked Angela.

‘
No,
’
he said, then looked uncomfortable
.
‘
To be perfectly truthful, I
’
m not sure I ever gave her an address to write to. She certainly didn
’
t give one to me. I tell you, we had both realized that the marriage was a mistake.
’