The superintendent sighed and mopped his sweating brow as he earnestly hoped that he could continue to convince KL that this incident was purely a local affair and not some renewed outbreak of insurgency. The best way to settle the matter would be to discover and arrest the perpetrator, but that seemed as far away as on the day of James Robertson’s death.
He spent the next hour on routine matters, including a fruitless review of the bank robbery investigation, then decided to go out. His dark blue Land Rover took him and Inspector Tan once more past ‘The Dog’ and up the Kerbau road to Gunong Besar estate, as he had decided that Diane Robertson had had long enough now to be ready for a formal interview. Half afraid that she might still be in her pyjamas at ten in the morning, he was relieved to see her leaning over the verandah dressed in a cream blouse and fawn slacks. For once, there was no glass in her hand, just a cigarette which she waved in welcome as they drove up the slope from the road.
‘I’m afraid this has to be rather official, Diane,’ said Blackwell as they entered her wide lounge. ‘We’ve taken statements from almost everyone else, but I left you until you settled down.’
‘No problem, Steven, I know you have to go through the motions!’
She said this almost gaily, as if he’d come to enquire about the theft of a bicycle, rather than the murder of her husband. Blackwell sat in one of the big rattan chairs and Tan slid unobtrusively into a corner with his notebook at the ready, as Diane went through the ritual of offering drinks and settling for fresh limes all round. After Siva had brought them and then silently vanished, the senior officer got down to business. He went yet again through the movements of Diane and her husband on that fateful night, getting a repetition of what she had said before, with no more definite timing as to when they had both left the club.
‘You took a long time getting back here, Diane?’ probed Steven gently. ‘You said you gave an officer a lift back to the garrison, but surely that would only add another ten minutes?’
The blonde coloured slightly. ‘We stopped for a chat on the way. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’
The policeman shook his head. ‘None at all. We had a word with Lieutenant Crosby, he says he thinks you dropped him off at about twenty to midnight. Would that be about right?’
The widow lifted her shoulders in a gesture of indifference.
‘I suppose it was, if Gerry says so. I didn’t know you were going to interrogate him?’ she added sharply.
‘Just tying up loose ends, Diane. Quite a long chat, though?’
‘For God’s sake, Steven, this is the nineteen-fifties!’ she snapped irritably. ‘We did a bit of necking, that’s all. Not much room for anything heavier in that bloody Austin of mine. The way things were between James and myself, I think I deserved a bit of fun now and then.’
Blackwell looked at her impassively. ‘And how exactly were things between you and your husband?’
The blonde gave him a scornful look as she fumbled another cigarette from her packet. ‘Come on, Steve! You know damn well that we couldn’t stand each other. I’d even been thinking of going back to the UK.’
The police officer wondered if a certain surgeon might now figure in that scheme, but it seemed irrelevant, unless. .?
‘We know definitely that this wasn’t a terrorist shooting, so can you think of any reason why anyone would want him dead?’ he asked sombrely.
Diane tapped the ash from her cigarette into a potted plant standing next to the couch. ‘It’s no secret that he’d been getting his leg over a few local ladies. Maybe someone took strong objection to that?’
‘Are you going to tell me who they were?’ ventured Blackwell.
She shrugged dismissively. ‘A couple of other planter’s wives, but not lately, as far as I know. Then recently there was that sister down in the hospital. She was in Pangkor this weekend, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her bloody mouth!’
Diane paused and took a nervous drag at her Park Drive, before continuing.
‘Of course, there was that holy bitch next door, though again that was some time ago.’ She inclined her head towards the other bungalow lower down the slope.
This was news to Blackwell, though admittedly he wasn’t as close to the social gossip as some.
‘Are you saying that James had an affair with his manager’s wife?’
Diane feigned indifference, but viciously stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette in the long-suffering pot plant. ‘He must have been having it off with her for years — before I even married him, I suspect! It fizzled out some time ago, so maybe her religious conscience got the better of her, but more likely, Jimmy dumped her.’
‘Did Douglas know about this?’
The widow shrugged. ‘Hard to tell, he’s never said anything or showed any sign of knowing. James would have been very careful, he depended totally on Douglas to run this place, he wouldn’t have wanted to lose him. Maybe that’s why he gave her up.’
Blackwell, a happily married man with no inclination to go roving, marvelled at the risks that fellows would take in such a tightly knit community as this. He found it hard to believe that the news bore any relation to Robertson’s death, but it was another piece of information to add to the pitifully thin file on the case. Looking across at Tan, he saw that the inspector was quietly writing everything down in his notebook, so he launched into another topic.
‘Just for the record, to tidy up loose ends, it’s been obvious to everyone that Colonel O’Neill has been more than friendly towards you recently. Is there anything you want to tell me about that?’
He felt a little foolish asking this and Diane’s reaction made him even more embarrassed. She burst out into peals of laughter which though nervous, sounded quite genuine.
‘Poor old Desmond? Come on, Steve, where’s your sense of humour? I was just having a bit of fun, leading the poor old devil on. Those old witches that sit around the club already think I’m a scarlet woman, so I thought I’d give them a bit more scandal to gossip about.’
‘I’d be very careful, if I were you, Diane,’ advised Blackwell. ‘I think the colonel took it more seriously than you think. He could be a difficult man, if he thought you were making a fool of him.’
Diane Robertson waved a hand in dismissal. ‘It’s nothing, he just bought me a couple of drinks in The Dog and pranced about ushering me into his big new car. It’s rather nice, having a colonel fussing over you.’
Steven despaired of this attractive widow, who seemed to have about as much moral sense as the monkeys in the trees outside. After a few more profitless questions, he ended by cautiously raising one last matter.
‘You said that even before your husband died, you were thinking of going back to England, Diane. Would it be indelicate of me to ask if Major Bright might figure in any such future plans?’
She gave him a brittle smile. ‘What you are really suggesting is an Irish divorce?’
Steven stared at her, he had no idea what she was talking about.
‘An Irish divorce is with a twelve-bore, Steve, it’s a joke! That policeman’s mind of yours is really wondering if Peter might have shot James to make me available?’ she explained cynically. ‘It’s an exciting idea, I suppose. A handsome young man willing to kill for me, to get the woman he desires! But I can’t see Doctor Bright going to those lengths, keen as he is.’