Periam carefully unwrapped a toffee. “Quite decent old sticks, mostly. I don’t have much to do with them now that Mother’s passed on.”
“Is there anyone amongst them who might have a grudge against you, do you think?”
“I’m sure there’s not. Why?” Periam chewed very slowly and deliberately. The action gave his cheeks a melancholy elongation. Moose, thought Purbright.
“The fact is that we have received an anonymous letter. I don’t see why you shouldn’t know about it. It hints that you and Mr Hopjoy were having a row on that Thursday night, a violent row.”
“That’s absolutely untrue, inspector. I told you I was a bit tetchy at being brought over for nothing, but I don’t think I let it show. There certainly wasn’t a tiff, or anything like that.”
“You arrived and later went off again in Mr Hopjoy’s car?”
“The Armstrong, yes.”
“Which he had lent you for the wedding and the holiday following.”
“That’s right. For our honeymoon.” Periam rummaged in his bag, drew out a toffee in green paper, then dropped it back in favour of one wrapped in pink.
“Where did you leave the car while you were in the house?”
“I put it in the garage.”
“So you’d expected to stay a while—long enough to make it worth putting the car away?”
“No, I hadn’t, actually. But Bry doesn’t like the car left on the street even for a few minutes. Whenever I borrow it I automatically take it right into the garage afterwards.” The double operation of talking and chewing seemed at this point to imperil Periam’s retention of saliva. He sucked noisily and clapped a knuckle to his lips. “Pardon me: wind in the willows.”
“Mr Hopjoy knew about your marriage, I suppose?”
“Of course.”
“He didn’t attend, though?”
Periam shook his head. “Very much the bachelor gay is Bry. He said if I insisted on meeting my doom, he wasn’t going to be an accessory. That’s the way he talks, you know—very dry.”
There was a pause. Frowning, Periam twisted a toffee paper into a tight spill. “Look, I don’t quite get this anonymous letter business... What’s supposed to have been going on?”
Purbright looked at him steadily. “Simply this, Mr Periam. We think that Mr Hopjoy might have come to some harm. In your house.”
The chewing ceased. “Harm? What sort of harm?”
“Murder, actually.”
In Periam’s face there came no change whatever. Purbright began to doubt if he had caught the final quiet reply. Then he saw movement of the pale, plump mouth. “Oh, my God...” The words emerged like those of a man praying through the stricture of a noose. “But this is dreadful...I...Look here, you mean you’ve...”
“We’ve not found the body, sir, no. I don’t imagine we shall, now.”
Periam’s hand passed uncertainly across his forehead, as if exploring a wound. “You’ll really have to tell me what all this is about, inspector. Maybe you think I’m being a bit of a stupid-sides, but honestly to God I’ve not the faintest notion of what you’re hinting at. Why should you think something’s happened to Bry?”
“Can you,” Purbright countered, “tell me where Mr Hopjoy can be found?”
“I could suggest lots of places, I suppose. He moves around a good deal. I told you that.”
“Without his car?”
“Well, there are trains, buses.”
“You suggest a fairly extended journey, then?”
“He certainly knew Dor and I were getting spliced and would be away for a while. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t have decided to take a holiday himself.”
“He didn’t notify his employers, sir. They’re just as anxious as anyone.”
“His employers?”
“You don’t know who his employers are, Mr Periam?”
Periam looked away. “I’m not sure what I ought to say to that one. I do have a fair idea, actually. Well, with Bry and Mother and me being rather special pals, things did come out, you know.”
“That’s understandable.”
Periam brightened. “It’s gone no further, of course.” He looked again directly at Purbright. “I suppose you chaps were genned up all along?”
“The police were given such information as Mr Hopjoy’s employers thought desirable.”
“Well, then,” said Periam eagerly, “you can see why old Bry should nip off without a by-your-leave every now and again. Sometimes those fellows are away for years and their own wives don’t know where they’ve gone.”
“How long were Mr Hopjoy’s absences as a rule, sir?”
“Not terribly long, actually. He’s quite often away for the night, though. Sometimes two or three in a row.”
“And you’re never anxious on that account?”
“Not really. It’s a bit of a nuisance sometimes, not knowing whether to lock up or not. But after all, what he’s doing is fearfully necessary—I mean we’d be properly in the soup if the job weren’t done by somebody.”
“A little while ago you said you thought Mr Hopjoy had been drinking when you went back to the house last Thursday night. Was he in the habit of drinking—drinking fairly heavily, I mean?”
“That’s not easy to say, inspector. You see although we’re pretty chummy when we’re both at home we scarcely ever go around together outside, so I can’t swear he goes into pubs or anything like that.”
“You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, would you, Mr Periam? It’s a fairly normal recreation.”
Periam smiled sadly. “You wouldn’t have persuaded Mother to think so. I don’t mean she wasn’t a good sport; it was just that she had a horror of sozzling. It’s funny she never twigged that Bry was a bit squiffy sometimes.”
Absently, Periam felt in the bag he still clutched, withdrew a toffee and began unwrapping it. Then, changing his mind, he twisted the paper tight again. He looked up to see Purbright watching him. “Mustn’t spoil my lunch. As a matter of fact I really ought to be getting back.”
He stood and looked expectantly at Purbright. The policeman made no immediate move. Then he shook his head. “You know, Mr Periam, this won’t do, will it?”
Periam slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bench, half turned towards Purbright. “How do you mean? What won’t do?”
“Five minutes ago you were a good deal shocked at the suggestion that your friend had been murdered. Now you’re anxious not to spoil your lunch.”
Periam drew breath to reply, hesitated, then said quietly: “No, it was Dor I was thinking of; she’ll be wondering where I am. Of course I’m upset. Terribly. I’m just one of those people who don’t always show their feelings. In any case, you still haven’t told me what’s supposed to have happened.”
“That, Mr Periam, is because I don’t think you told the truth about your return home last Thursday night.”
Periam looked down. “I was fibbing a bit, as a matter of fact.”