It turned out to be even worse than that. The fire must have been started with the deliberate intention of covering up a murder, and the corpse was not that of a boy, but of a woman.
We did not know this at first. At the preliminary interview which Anthony had, the uniformed inspector who called took a most unexpected line. I was not present, of course, but got a full account later. The inspector asked whether Anthony had ever suspected that the old house had been taken over by squatters.
‘Most certainly not,’ my friend replied. ‘The house was quite unfit for human habitation. Besides, I have had an offer for it from somebody who was prepared to do it up — the headmaster of the preparatory school next door. He has been inside it more than half a dozen times during the past month or so and would have informed me at once of any tenants. Apart from that, my gardener would have known if anybody had been living there. Besides, I myself passed the house every time I went to the garage for my car. What makes you ask about squatters?’
‘In a corner of the cellar which the fire had hardly reached we found empty tins which had contained food and beer, sir.’
‘Sounds more like a passing tramp. Anyway, I’m certain the house had not been taken over by squatters.’
‘Have you missed any food lately?’
‘You had better ask my cook. She has made no mention of anything missing from her stores.’
‘Oh, well, that can wait, sir. I mentioned we have evidence that the house was occupied. I take it you have heard of the body discovered among the débris?’
‘My wife would hardly have telephoned you if we had not. The body must be that of some unfortunate tramp, or one of the fire-raisers who didn’t get away in time. A truly dreadful business, Inspector, and I’m glad the body was removed before I saw it.’
‘I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to take a look at it, sir. The fire was not the cause of death. We are investigating a case of wilful murder. There will be a pathologist’s report, but our own police surgeon says that accident or suicide can be ruled out. Our immediate aim is to get the dead person identified. That is partly why I asked whether you had been aware that you had squatters on your premises. Now, in the face of your denials, it’s a long shot, I know, but I would like you to accompany me to the mortuary to see whether you can identify the corpse, as your gardener informs me you had people staying here.’
‘But my denials are absolute. I can’t possibly help you. I assure you that I have never known that anybody was occupying the old place, let alone ever having seen anybody there. As for my guests, they all left safely and can be accounted for. The only one who is still here is Mr Stratford and he is hale and hearty enough.’
‘And you are sure there were no squatters?’
‘Only a few days ago some friends of mine went in to look at a portrait which had hung in one of the downstairs rooms for years. They would most certainly have told me if they had suspected that the house was occupied. The headmaster who has an option to purchase was one of them — he has a key. As I told you, I’m sure he would have known if squatters had taken over the building. No, no, a gang of young hooligans is far more likely and I should not be able to recognise any of them.’
‘Just so, sir. All the same, I would like you to take a look at the body that was found. We need to get it identified.’
‘But how the hell can I identify a person who was entirely unknown to me?’
‘The body was found on your premises, sir. This is more like an elimination than an identification.’
‘Elimination? Oh, but, dammit, look here — !’
‘I’m afraid I must insist, sir.’
‘Is the body — well, is it, as it were, very badly — er — ?’
‘You need take only a quick look, sir. There is one special feature which may help with identification. It should be sufficient for our purpose.’
‘May Mr Stratford come with me? He has been staying in the house, as I told you, and is still here.’
‘We may be glad of him for confirmation, sir. Are there no other persons in the house?’
‘Two women servants and my wife, but I’m not going to have them look at any dead bodies.’
‘We would be loth to submit females to such an ordeal, sir.’
‘If you think this person was a squatter and as I have assured you, I know nothing of any such, what is the point of taking me along to look at this body of yours? I repeat that I cannot help you.’
‘A matter of routine, sir, as the corpse was found under very suspicious circumstances on premises belonging to you, as I have explained. The singular feature to which I alluded should settle the matter of identification if the person should turn out to be somebody you know.’
I had been uneasy in my mind ever since the inspector’s arrival and when Anthony told me of this reference (the second one) to what the police seemed to think was an unmistakeable feature, my thoughts went to the red and black hair of Gloria Mundy, that uninvited and unwelcome interloper. The same idea presented itself to Anthony, I think, for he said in an aside to me after I had been sent for, ‘Je pense que les gendarmes ont quelque chose debout leur manche.’
I nodded. The inspector smiled and said, ‘I ought to tell you that I understand French, sir. Even yours,’ he added unkindly, ‘and I assure you that we have nothing up our sleeve. Shall we go, sir? You and Mr Stratford will be shown the body separately, of course.’
‘I must let my wife know where I am going.’
‘Of course, sir.’
We went in a police car. Nothing was said on the journey. What Anthony’s thoughts were I do not know. Personally I was nerving myself for what I knew would be the most unpleasant experience of my life. At the same time I was aware of a sick sort of curiosity of which I was ashamed but could not dismiss.
Anthony was first and they let him out by another door, for I saw nothing of him before it was my turn. The mortuary smelt heavily of disinfectant, an odour I detest, and it did not help my already queasy stomach.
‘Just a glance, sir,’ said the inspector encouragingly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Sez you! I thought grimly, swallowing in order to rid myself of my horrid feeling of nausea. The attendant drew back the sheet from the face, or what had been the face. It was blackened and quite unrecognisable. The feature referred to twice by the inspector was only too plain to see, however. On the otherwise unidentifiable head of the corpse was the slightly scorched red and black hair which was what I thought of as the trademark of Gloria Mundy. The inspector covered up the horror which lay on the mortuary slab and led me away from it.
‘Well, sir?’ he said, with a briskness which I suppose was an indication that I must pull myself together.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I don’t know, I’m sure. It’s — there’s nothing to go on but the hair, and that doesn’t make sense, does it?’
‘No, sir?’
‘I mean, if the head is — is like that, the hair ought to be shrivelled right up and you wouldn’t see the two colours and all that, would you?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine, sir, so if I may know what your verdict is?’
‘Oh, the identification. I suppose the body is that of Gloria Mundy, but — ’
‘You need go no further, sir. Thank you for your help.’
All was not yet over. We were taken to the police station, where Anthony was escorted to the interview room and I was given a seat opposite the desk sergeant’s counter. He asked me whether I would like a cup of tea. I thought this apparently kind suggestion was an indication that I might need to be fortified against my next ordeal.
I refused the tea and asked whether I had long to wait. He answered, in the elliptical manner of which the police are pastmasters, that these things took a little time. He offered me a newspaper to read.