‘You’re a shrewd man, Reg,’ said the Chief Constable.
Wexford said laconically, ‘Thanks,’ and remembered that it wasn’t long since that same voice had called him a foolish one. ‘Instead she chose to acquire and submit the birth certificate of a man who would never need a passport because he would never, in any conceivable circumstances, be able to leave this country. She chose to assume the identity of her mentally defective and crippled first cousin. And to him, I discovered yesterday, she left everything of which she died possessed and her royalties as long as they continue.’
‘They won’t do poor John West much good,’ said Burden.
‘What happened when Polly encountered Rhoda on the Monday evening?’
Not much caring what reaction he would get, Wexford said, ‘At the beginning of Apes in Hell, two lines are quoted from Beaumont and Fletcher’s play:
Those have most power to hurt us, that we love;
We lay our sleeping lives within their arms.
‘Rhoda wrote that book long before she met Polly. I wonder if she ever thought what they really meant or ever thought about them again. Possibly she did. Possibly she understood that Polly had laid her sleeping life within her arms, and that though she might have to repudiate the girl, she must never let her know the true state of affairs. For eonists, Ellis tells us, are often “educated, sensitive, refined and reserved”.
‘On that Monday evening Polly came to the gates of Stowerton Infirmary prepared to see something which would make her upset and unhappy. She expected to see West either with another woman or on his way to see another woman. At first she didn’t see West at all. She joined the bus queue, watching a much bedizened middle-aged woman who was in conversation with an old woman. When did she realize? I don’t know. It may be that at first she took Rhoda for some relative of West’s, even perhaps a sister. But one of the things we can never disguise is the way we walk. Rhoda never attempted to disguise her voice. Polly got on the bus and went upstairs, feeling that the unbelievable was happening. But she followed Rhoda and they met on that footpath.'
‘What she saw when they confronted each other must have been enough to cause a temporary loss of reason. Remember she had come, prepared to be distressed, but nothing had prepared her for this. Marie Cole’s shock would have been nothing to hers. She saw, in fact, a travesty in the true meaning of the word, and she stabbed to death an abomination.’
Griswold looked embarrassed. ‘Pity she couldn’t have seen it for what it was, a lucky escape for her.’
‘I think she saw it as the end of the world,’ Wexford said sombrely. ‘It was only later on that she came to feel anything would be preferable to having it known she’d been in love with a man who was no man at all. And that’s why she agreed to my story.’
‘Cheer up, Reg,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘We’re used to your breaking the rules. You always do.’ He laughed, adding, ‘The end justifies the means,’ as if this aphorism were invariably accepted by all as pithy truth instead of having for centuries occasioned controversy. ‘Let’s all have another drink before they shut up shop.’
‘Not for me, sir,’ said Wexford. ‘Good night.’
And he walked out into the dark and went home, leaving his superior planning reprisals and his subordinate affectionately incensed.
Ruth Rendell
