‘Yes, one would have thought so. It might be interesting to take a look at Miss Broadmayne’s home and check whether one of the bedrooms, or any other part of the house, has been, re-decorated recently. Then I think you might find it equally interesting to ask Mr and Mrs Saltergate to reconsider the story they told me, or, at any rate, to add to it.’
‘They made the damaging admission, you tell me, ma’am, that they were both at the ruins on the Sunday night and that Mrs Saltergate was actually on the tower with the professor and was engaged in diverting his attention from Mr Saltergate, who was busy snooping around down below.’
‘I don’t think that is the whole story.’
‘I have checked at the Horse and Cart. They were seen to come in at the time they told you.’
‘And were not seen to got out again, but, of course, there is that fire escape.’
‘Are you suggesting—?’
‘No, no. I do not know for certain whether they were responsible for the death. I think they did see someone on the tower, but that was not necessarily Professor Veryan.’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t help if I could find out how Professor Veryan spent the daylight hours of Sunday, would it, ma’am?’
‘I cannot say, but it might be interesting, especially if he spent them with his divorced wife, although it would prove nothing, so far as I can see. Indeed, her alibi stands firm.’
‘I had not lost sight of the lady, ma’am. She stands to gain considerably by the death.’
‘Hardly considerably, I fancy, but it will be interesting to hear how much he had to leave. He is reputed to have been a man of wealth, but archaeological research is not cheap. From Mrs Veryan’s point of view, it might have been more advantageous that he should remain alive, receive a university stipend, write (possibly) books, and continue paying her alimony.’
‘You advised me to check on Miss Broadmayne. Any particular reason?’
‘Only that she is an unusually muscular young woman, a match for most men, especially if they were not prepared for her onslaught. She was also, if reports can be believed, in a very frustrated state of mind and may have been blindly determined, like a child which smites or kicks its toys, to get her own back on somebody, no matter whether that person had offended her or not.’
‘You don’t seriously think she would commit murder?’
‘Intentionally, no, but then probably the child who feels it has been punished unjustly does not really intend to break the doll or the toy. If you find that home decorations were carried out recently, that would do something to support Miss Broadmayne’s alibi, but, if nothing of the sort was done, it does not prove anything except that she is prepared to bend the truth if it seems politic to do so.’
‘That was a queer caper on the part of the other young lady. She doesn’t strike me as the sort to go up to London and cut loose.’
‘She has produced an alibi which she cannot prove and which you would find almost impossible to disprove. Of course, she is a highly intelligent girl.’
‘If she weren’t such a meagre little helping of skin and bone – asking your pardon for the description, ma’am – if she were like Miss Broadmayne or if she were a young gentleman, I mean, I might think of keeping her under suspicion, but, as it is, I haven’t even checked at that farm where she was supposed to be staying. I had better, though, I suppose.’
‘She may have told the London story out of bravado. I think you might do worse than check on her friends at that farm, as you say, and find out whether she did not go to them for the weekend after all.’
‘I would have done that earlier if I had thought she had either the guts or the strength to push Veryan off that tower, ma’am, but the idea seemed ludicrous.’
12
Disappearance of the Hired Help
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Mowbray had enough to keep him busy. Accompanied by Laura and Detective-Sergeant Harrow, who drove the car, he took Fiona to her home. The house was still empty, but there were letters on the doormat which she picked up, glanced at, and placed on a side table in the hall. She had not uttered a word during the journey.
‘Now, miss,’ said Mowbray, ‘it is not that I don’t believe you, but you will appreciate that I have my duty to do. People have given various accounts of how they spent the weekend and I need to check their statements very carefully in view of the serious nature of my investigations. Perhaps you will kindly take me to look at the painting and decorating you claim to have done in this house.’
‘Yes, well, all right,’ said Fiona. She led the way up the stairs. A door on the second-floor landing was wide open and was kept so by a wooden doorstop in the form of a black cat. A strong draught which blew into the faces of the investigators showed that the window was also wide open. There was a strong smell of paint.
Leaving the others on the landing, Mowbray entered the room. The window frames and ledges had been freshly painted, but the wallpaper had not been stripped, although there was a large can of emulsion on the floor. Mowbray looked about him.
‘How much time do you reckon you spent on the job, miss?’ he asked. Fiona shrugged shoulders which would not have disgraced the Village Blacksmith and came into the room.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I did a bit and then got myself a meal or sat in the garden and read, and then did another bit. I’m not awfully good at it, so it took me a long time to do what I have done. I’ll probably get a man in to finish it before my parents come back.’
‘I see, miss. Right. Thank you. After you, miss.’ As she made for the door he delicately touched the window ledge. The paint was still tacky. ‘Do you think it’s safe to leave a window wide open with nobody in the house?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want the window frame to stick,’ she said.
‘Your insurance company wouldn’t be very happy if you were burgled under these circumstances, miss.’
‘No, I suppose not. I never thought of that.’ She did not close the window, however, but descended the stairs. The others followed.
‘I can’t congratulate the young lady on her attempt to bolster up her alibi,’ said Mowbray, when he met Dame Beatrice. ‘That paint was never put on all that time ago. Of course, there’s nothing to prove she didn’t stay in her home for that weekend, but she certainly didn’t spend the time painting window frames and ledges. I regret it, but I shall have to keep her on my list.’
‘What about the other student, Miss Yateley?’
‘What indeed? She stays on the list, too, in spite of what I said about her. I’ve still got to see those farm people, but she claims to have joined in some sort of protest march in London. I’ve been in touch with the Metropolitan boys and there was no protest march anywhere in their area – and, as you know, ma’am, it’s a wide one – nothing at all that weekend. If she did go to London, she isn’t telling the truth of what she did there, at any rate not in that one particular. I think you will agree, ma’am, if there is one tile out of place, the whole roof probably needs inspection because it can no longer be considered weatherproof, and, in my book, that goes for this alibi of hers.’
‘The young hardly seem to come out of this with untarnished truthfulness, do they?’
‘Well, we’re certainly back to square one with Mr Monkswood and Mr Hassocks, ma’am. Besides, the Saltergates and Mr Tynant and even Dr Lochlure are also anything but in the clear. What to do about them I don’t know, although I’m inclined to dismiss Dr Lochlure from my considerations. I’ve combed through the staff at the Holdy Bay hotel and there’s no doubt she and Tynant booked out on the Sunday evening separately, the way they had booked in, although they shared a table in the dining-room, and there’s no doubt Dr Lochlure came back shortly afterwards with the story that her car – she does not appear to have mentioned Tynant, neither did anybody see him again that night – that her car had broken down and she would be glad of a bed for the night.’