She glanced at Maddocks. "Then you're here to talk about Leo and Meg?" Frank nodded.
"And you think Miles might have done it, because of what happened to these wretched women?"
"It's a possibility."
She nodded. "In your shoes, I'd probably say the same."
"And if the roles were reversed and I were in your shoes, what would I say then?"
She stared at him rather strangely for a moment. "I think you'd be too busy stifling the screams inside your head to say anything at all."
Frank watched her. "Are you well enough to talk to us, Miss Kingsley?"
"Yes."
"You don't have to," said Alan sharply. "I'm sure the Superintendent will give you time to recover."
That amused her. "They kept telling me that when Russell died. It meant I could have ten minutes to compose myself before they started in again." She took a pull on her cigarette. "The trouble is, you never recover from something like that, so ten minutes is just time wasted, and as I need to phone my father, I'd rather get this over and done with as quickly as possible."
"Please," said Frank, gesturing towards the telephone. "We'll go outside while you do it."
She shook her head. "I'd rather wait till you've gone."
"Why?" asked Maddocks. "The sooner your brother has a solicitor with him the better, wouldn't you say?"
"Oddly enough, Inspector, I'd like to work out what I'm going to say first. My father will be devastated to hear his son's been accused of a brutal sex attack. Wouldn't yours? Or is that something he's come to expect from you?" She turned abruptly to the Superintendent again. "Miles didn't kill Russell, so if the same person went on to kill Leo and Meg, then it wasn't Miles."
"Do you mind if we sit down?" he asked.
"Be my guest."
The two policemen moved across to the chairs, but Alan remained where he was. "Why are you so sure he didn't kill Russell?"
She thought deeply for several seconds before she answered, and then she did so elliptically. "It's rather ironic, really, considering I've just told him to keep quiet until he has a solicitor present. You see, I'm not convinced solicitors always give good advice. I consulted one after Russell was murdered," she told them, "because it became clear to me that I was at the top of the list of suspects. He persuaded me to be very circumspect in how I answered police questions. Do not volunteer information, keep all your answers to the minimum, avoid speculation, and tell them only what you know to be true." She sighed. "But I think now I'd have done better to say everything that was in my mind, because all I achieved was to raise the level of suspicion against my father." She fell silent.
"That's hardly an answer to my question, Miss Kingsley."
She stared at the floor, taking quick, nervous drags at the cigarette. "We were talking about Russell's death before you came in," she said suddenly. "Miles told me he's always believed my father was responsible, which means he and Fergus could indulge in petty deceit after petty deceit without a second thought. Nicking twenty quid off the gardener or forging their mother's checks counts for nothing against the enormity of murder." She looked up. "But what Miles believes-indeed, what anyone believes- is confined by his own prejudices, and in this instance it is very important that you understand how desperate my brother has always been to feel superior to his father."
"Does he have proof of your father's complicity in your husband's murder?"
"No, of course he doesn't, because Adam wasn't involved."
"But presumably you can't prove that any more than your brother can prove he was." He smiled without hostility. "Truth is a disturbingly elusive phenomenon. All I, as a policeman, can do is accumulate the available facts and weigh them in the balance. In the end, I hope, truth carries weight."
"Then why do so many policemen only hear what they want to hear?"
"Because we're human and, as you said yourself, belief is confined by prejudice." He gestured towards Maddocks. "But I think we're both professional enough to stay objective about what you tell us, so I hope that gives you the confidence to speak out."
She drew on her cigarette and gazed steadily at Maddocks. "Would you agree with that, Inspector?"
"Certainly," he said, "but you're asking for miracles if you expect us to take everything you say on trust. For example, explain this to me. How come you never resorted to petty theft as a way of getting back at your father? Surely I'm right in thinking you, too, have always believed he was guilty of Landy's murder? What was your revenge, Miss Kingsley?''
"Rather too subtle for you to understand," she said curtly before returning to her previous point. "If you're willing to be objective, then why were you so dismissive of everything I told you yesterday?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't recall being dismissive. I do recall challenging some of the statements you made. But then you're a suspect in this case, too," he pointed out, "which means that anything you say will be subject to scrutiny. Is that unreasonable, do you think?"
"No, but I'd be interested to know if you've pursued any of the suggestions I made to you. For example, have you looked for another link between the three murders? Have you examined the possibility that someone was trying to kill me on the day of my accident?"
"These things take time," he said. "We can't work miracles, Miss Kingsley."
"But are you even trying, Inspector?" She turned to Cheever. "Is anyone?"
The Superintendent, who was ignorant of both suggestions because they had not been relayed to him, answered honestly. "Not to my knowledge, no, but if you can persuade me they are worth pursuing, then I shall certainly do so. Why do you think someone was trying to kill you?"
She glanced towards Protheroe, seeking support, but he was staring at the floor. "Because of a series of negatives," she said flatly. "I'm not the type to kill myself. I didn't want to marry Leo. I never get drunk. I didn't kill Russell, so I can't imagine I'd have killed Leo or Meg either. And the car crash clearly wasn't an accident. I can't think of another explanation for what happened to me bar attempted murder. And I keep thinking, what if I had died? Would you have looked for anyone else in connection with Leo's and Meg's deaths? Wouldn't you all just have said to yourselves: 'That explains everything, she must have killed Russell as well'?"
"Do you remember anything at all about the crash, Miss Kingsley?"
She looked away. "No," she said, her face devoid of expression.
He studied her for a moment, unsure if he believed her. "Well, I'm quite happy to go through all the documents relating to it to see if there's anything we've missed, but I should warn you I'm not very optimistic. Even if you're right, I don't see how we'll ever be able to prove it."
"I realize that, but the important thing is that you don't dismiss it as a possibility. You must see what a different light it sheds on the whole thing. I keep coming back and back to it in my mind. If someone tried to kill me, then that means I"-she pressed her hands to her chest-"must know who murdered Leo and Meg, even though I can't remember it. And it also means that that someone is the missing link, because whoever the person is probably murdered all three." She regarded him anxiously. "Do you follow?"
"Oh, yes," he said, "I follow very well. It's an interesting hypothesis, but it doesn't help us very much unless you can suggest a name."
And if I suggest a name. What then?-Do you have any proof, Miss Kingsley? "What good is a name if I can't give you any evidence?''
The Superintendent shrugged. "It would give us a starting point."
But she was only interested in the endgame and she doubted whether the police could ever deliver a result. Truth is a disturbingly elusive phenomenon ... Presumably you can't prove that ... Policemen accumulate the available facts and weigh them in the balance ... What was your revenge, Miss Kingsley?