‘I don’t think so, Dame Beatrice. You mentioned guesswork. Don’t you think that’s all it was, and some of it rather malicious?’
‘Her niece may have told her about Mr Wotton’s premarital acquaintanceship with Miss Mundy. Incidentally, but for your information, when I had my talks with her, I asked her to write down some sentences which I dictated. They contained a disproportionate number of a’s, o’s, d’s, g’s, p’s and q’s.’
‘I think I see what you were getting at. My guess is that she carefully joined up the rounded tops of those letters, instead of leaving them partly open, as many people do when they are writing fairly fast.’
‘Exactly. Miss Brockworth dislikes leaving unnecessary gaps.’
‘So what she doesn’t know, she invents.’
‘Her deductions are logical, and, despite what may appear to be evidence to the contrary, she is shrewd, precise and well-informed.’
‘Her information is acquired by listening behind doors,’ I said. ‘She may have heard Gloria trying to blackmail Anthony.’
I told the story of Gloria and the young mother from America, and the baby dumped into the arms of the unsuspecting Anthony. I told of the photograph of him and Gloria in the guise of fond parents. When I had finished she cackled and made a comment I did not want to hear, but of which I could hardly deny the significance.
‘She had forged a powerful weapon,’ she said, ‘if Mr Wotton has a jealous wife.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘If the whole truth came out, there could be as strong a case against Wotton as against Coberley. Then there is McMaster, who also had an affair with the girl. There may be others. What if the wretched Gloria got money by blackmail and one of her other victims, not Wotton or McMaster, tracked her down and killed her?’
‘Blackmail comes under the heading of dangerous trades, certainly. Not only is it a major crime, but the blackmailer can never be certain that one day one of the victims will not turn, like the proverbial worm. “Publish and be damned” is not only a courageous but the most sensible reply to blackmailers. If it came to the point, they would hardly dare to carry out their threats.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I don’t know whether Coberley killed Gloria or not, but I don’t want to see Wotton or McMaster in the dock in his place.’
‘ “Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing”,’ said Laura Gavin mockingly, and Dame Beatrice added, ‘Ring up Mrs Wotton and ask her to find out whether Mrs Coberley would care for me to call on her. I have my own reasons for believing in Mr Coberley’s technical innocence.’
‘His technical innocence?’
‘Oh, I think it more than likely that Mr Coberley might have killed Miss Mundy, if — ’
‘If somebody else hadn’t beaten him to it,’ said Laura Gavin. I returned to Beeches Lawn puzzled and perturbed.
To my astonishment, Marigold Coberley’s response to Celia’s call (which was in person and not over the telephone) was a blunt and apparently unalterable refusal to entertain a visit from Dame Beatrice.
‘But how extremely foolish of her,’ I said. ‘Surely she knows of the immense reputation Dame Beatrice has built up for herself? Surely she knows of her standing at the Home Office? Surely she realises that Dame Beatrice would not offer help if she didn’t believe that poor old Coberley is innocent of the charge? Can’t you tackle the silly girl again and persuade her to have a bit of sense?’
‘No, I can’t. I can’t say more to her than I have said already. Have a go at her yourself, Corin, if you think you can do any better than I’ve done. I’ve talked my head off and done no good at all. She must be mad to refuse such wonderful help, but there it is. She says it’s up to the lawyers. It’s their job now.’
With some embarrassment I informed Dame Beatrice of the result of my telephone call. She listened to my apologetic explanation that Marigold must be suffering from severe shock and depression and did not attempt to cut me short. At the end she said, ‘You have told me what I expected to hear.’
‘That Marigold Coberley would turn down your most kind and generous offer?’
‘Yes. Come and see me again, if you can spare the time.’
‘Right away,’ I said. When I arrived I repeated my question: did she know that Marigold would refuse her help?
‘Not exactly that. What you have told me confirms my view that Marigold Coberley believes that her husband did kill Gloria Mundy. Oh, well, if the cup is full, perhaps the saucer will be more receptive. I shall go to visit Cranford Coberley himself.’
‘If it’s a permitted question,’ I said diffidently, ‘do you believe that Coberley is innocent?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘the time sequence may well be wrong.’
‘Oh? In what way?’ I enquired.
‘I think I agree with William Underedge’s theory that the murder may have been committed before Mrs Coberley slipped on the school-house steps and hurt herself.’
‘If that could be proved, it would go a long way towards removing Coberley’s motive for murder,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Dame Beatrice, ‘if it could be proved, but that proof may be difficult to find and it may be non-existent. I will hear what the man himself has to say. I doubt whether he will refuse to see me, although he would be within his rights to do so.’
‘He would be a fool to refuse help,’ said Laura. ‘As for his wife, even if she does think him guilty, surely she wants to do the best she can for him.’
‘Possibly she thinks she is doing the best she can for him,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘She may have heard that I have a passion for finding out the truth, so, if she really believes that he murdered Miss Mundy, she will do everything she can to keep him out of my clutches. Well, now, Mr Stratford, I need to know the address of the hospital. I shall look in on Miss Brockworth tomorrow morning at eleven. Would it fit in with your plans to meet me at the hospital gates at twelve?’
‘But they won’t let you in at eleven,’ I said. ‘The visiting hours, you know.’
She grinned at me with a mirthless stretching of her mouth. Laura Gavin told me impatiently not to be silly.
‘There isn’t a hospital in the land which would keep Dame Beatrice out,’ she said. I apologised. Dame Beatrice cackled and our next meeting was arranged forthwith. I parked in the hospital grounds at a quarter to twelve to make certain that I did not keep Dame Beatrice waiting, got out of my car to stretch my legs after having driven to the hospital from McMaster’s Dorset hotel where I had spent the night, and saw Laura Gavin at the wheel of another car. I went up to it and she wound down the window.
‘Good morning,’ I said. ‘I’ve been wondering why Dame Beatrice asked me to meet her here.’
‘I think she wants to tell you what she and Miss Brockworth have had to say to one another. Are you free for the rest of the day?’
At this moment Dame Beatrice emerged from the main door of the hospital. She was accompanied by nurses who were attending her as though she were royalty. I walked towards them and Dame Beatrice took her leave. I escorted her to her car.
‘We are all to lunch at Beeches Lawn,’ she said. ‘Will you lead the way and then Laura can follow you.’
It was clear that Anthony and Celia welcomed us with relief as well as with enthusiasm. Celia, in fact, went so far as to say that poor Cranford Coberley would be all right now.
‘Not necessarily,’ Dame Beatrice said. ‘So much depends upon when the murder was committed. Unless that can be established — and upon present evidence it looks almost impossible to say when the killing took place — it is the vexed question of an alibi which faces us. This afternoon I shall hear all that Mr Coberley can tell me about his movements after the last time that Miss Mundy was seen at the old house.’