‘Good God!’ Bess’s face stiffened. ‘What kind of creature are we talking about?’ And when Madden failed to reply — he merely looked at her — she had added, ‘Well, I can see now why you and the police are so concerned. Until this man’s arrested Evie won’t be safe.’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Mrs Spencer. I should have been more direct. Perhaps you could speak to her …?’
‘I will. You may depend on it.’ She glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll talk to her as soon as I’ve seen to Pickles.’
Brushing snow from her cheek, Bess turned to where her pony was standing still harnessed to the trap, frosty plumes issuing from his nostrils, and as she did so the door opened and Mary Spencer put her head out.
‘There’s a phone call for you, Mr Madden. It’s a Chief Inspector Sinclair calling from London. He says he’s got some good news.’
When he returned to the kitchen ten minutes later, Madden found Bess sitting alone at the table nursing a cup of tea.
‘Mary’s in the cellar seeing to the furnace,’ she said, nodding to a door at the end of the kitchen which stood open. She sent Evie upstairs to lie down for a while. The poor girl’s exhausted. Mary’s feeling guilty herself. Not only wouldn’t she listen to you when you tried to explain, but she’s failed to offer you anything to eat all day. Do have one.’
She pushed a plate of sandwiches that was lying on the table in front of her towards him.
‘She’s longing to hear your news,’ she added. ‘And so am I.’
The smile that accompanied these words softened her rough-hewn features, which Madden now saw in their entirety for the first time. During his absence Bess had shed not only her coat — revealing a pair of corduroy trousers and a seaman’s thick sweater beneath it — but her fur-lined cap with its earflaps as well. Her hair proved to be iron-grey in colour and cut short.
‘The police have tracked this man down. They know where he’s staying in London.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ She gave a grunt which to Madden’s ears sounded more like a growl. There was a certainty about her solid presence he found reassuring. Her brown eyes held his with a steady gaze.
‘They haven’t laid hands on him yet. But I’m hoping it’s just a matter of time.’
Before he could say more, the sound of Mrs Spencer’s voice came to them from below, through the floor.
‘Freddie, are you down here?’ they heard her call out.‘Are you hiding?’
Glancing out of the window — he’d noticed that the snow had stopped falling — Madden saw a flicker of movement against the white backdrop.
‘He’s out in the yard,’ he told Bess, who looked over her shoulder and then called to Mary Spencer.
‘Freddie’s up here …’
After a few seconds they heard footsteps and their hostess appeared, brushing aside the branch of a Christmas tree which stood in a corner near the cellar door, puffing from the steps she’d just climbed.
‘There you are, Mr Madden.’ Her smile was like a peace offering. Please have something to eat. I feel I’ve been starving you all day.’
She opened the kitchen door and looked out.
‘Come in at once, Freddie,’ she called to her son. ‘I’ve already told you. No more playing outside today. And why haven’t you got your coat on?’
After a pause they heard the squeak of Wellington boots on the snow-covered steps and Freddie appeared, flushed in the face and with eyes that sparkled with mischief.
‘You didn’t see me, Mummy,’ he boasted.
‘Oh yes I did. You were hiding behind the snowman.’
‘Not then. Before.’
‘Before when? Oh, you mean down in the cellar. Of course I saw you. I suppose you went out of the door down there, even though you’ve been told not to. Now I’ll have to go down and lock it again. Honestly, you exhaust me.’
She flopped down on one of the chairs.
‘I’m so ashamed of myself, Mr Madden. I was quite beastly to you earlier, and all you were doing was trying to help. Please forgive me. Bess gave me a good talking to while you were on the phone.’ She smiled. ‘ hardly dare to ask, but is it true? Have you got some good news for us?’
‘Yes and no.’ Madden returned her smile. ‘The police have caught up with this man.’
‘Thank heavens.’ Mary Spencer put a hand to her breast. ‘Does that mean Evie can stay with us?’
‘I’m not sure. They haven’t actually laid hands on him yet. It might be as well not to say anything to her for the time being.’
It was a point Sinclair had stressed when he’d rung to report that the whereabouts of Raymond Ash were no longer a mystery. And to hear from Madden’s lips what he himself had learned in the course of the past half-hour.
‘I’m sorry if I have to disrupt their Christmas, John, but we can’t take any chances. Not after what you’ve told me. It’s obvious Quill found the girl. That must have been him asking questions down there. What we don’t know — still — is whether he told Ash.’
Nevertheless, on balance the latest developments had inclined the chief inspector towards optimism and he was now in a far more cheerful frame of mind.
‘He’s come down to roost in Lambeth this time, Mr Raymond Ash. I’ve just heard from the station there. And he didn’t move far: just up the road from Brixton. He registered as Henry Pratt at a boarding house off the Stockwell Road last Monday and his new landlady swears it’s him. She didn’t recognize him from the photograph published by the papers, but when they showed her a blow-up of Ash’s face she changed her mind. Unfortunately he’s out at the moment; he left early this morning. But the place is being watched by the local police and I’ve got four armed detectives on their way over there.’
‘What about Billy and Grace?’ Madden asked. As before, he had stood by the window looking out; though now at a changed scene. Gone were the footprints he had seen earlier on the path leading up to the house. The snow that had fallen had covered all trace of them.
‘I’d half a mind to recall them,’ Sinclair had replied. But they were past Leatherhead already and after some thought I decided to let them proceed. If we haven’t laid hands on Ash by the time they get to Liphook they’ll have to bring the girl back. Let’s wait and see, shall we?’
Despite having his hands full, the chief inspector had paused long enough to add a few more details to the brief state of play he’d given his old colleague.
The detectives I’ve sent over will wait for Ash inside the boarding house. I don’t want him spotting them. I’ve supplied them with a search warrant and they can have a look at his room while they’re waiting. I’m still hoping we’ll get our hands on something, some piece of evidence that will tie him to at least one of these killings.’
Sinclair had saved till last his news about the van bringing the Petersfield police contingent to Liphook.
‘They went into a ditch, if you can believe it. One of them had to walk to a neighbouring farmhouse to ring headquarters. Apparently the farmer’s going to pull them out with his carthorse. They’ll arrive in due course. Oh, and I spoke to Helen. She said Rob had just got back and now you were the only absentee. I told her she needn’t worry about there being no trains to get you home: Styles can drop you off at Highfield when he and Grace return to London.’
30
At half-past four, having received no further word from Sinclair, Madden went outside to look at the weather. The fresh snow that had fallen earlier had blanketed the yard and he saw the deep tracks crossing it that Mary Spencer and her son had left when they had walked up to the Hodges’ cottage ten minutes earlier.
Persuaded that the crisis was all but over now — the information Madden had relayed to her had done much to lift her spirits — she had decided to pay her Christmas call on the old couple as planned and had taken her son with her.