“She did mention him to me once, yes. But she said she’d cut off all relations with him and his father.”
“Even so, they could have come to drag her back. Maybe they fought and he killed her?”
Vivian shook her head. “I’m sure I would have known.”
“Was Matthew ever violent toward her?”
“Never. Matthew had always been a gentle person, and even his war experiences didn’t change that.” Her voice had taken on a strained, wavering quality.
Banks paused and softened his tone. “There is one thing that really puzzles me,” he said, “and that’s what you did think had happened to Gloria? Surely you can’t have thought she had simply disappeared from the face of the earth?”
“It wasn’t a mystery at the time. Not really. She left. That’s what I had always thought until you found the remains. You are certain it’s Gloria, aren’t you?”
Banks felt a twinge of doubt, but he tried not to let it show. They still had no definite proof of the skeleton’s identity. For that, they would need Francis Henderson so they could run DNA checks. “We’re sure,” he said. “Why would she leave?”
“Because she couldn’t stand it anymore, taking care of Matthew, the way he was. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done that. She had clearly broken off all contact with whatever life she had had in London before coming to Hobb’s End. I don’t think Gloria was particularly strong when it came to emotional fortitude.”
True enough, Banks thought. If a person has bid one life good-bye, then it probably wouldn’t be too difficult to do it again. But Gloria Shackleton hadn’t bid Hobb’s End good-bye, he reminded himself; she had been killed and buried there.
“When did she disappear?” he asked.
“Shortly after VE day. A week or so.”
“You must see how the discovery casts suspicion on your brother, most of all. Gloria was buried in an outbuilding adjoining Bridge Cottage. Matthew was living with her there at the time.”
“But he was never violent. I had never known him be violent. Never.”
“War can change a man.”
“Even so.”
“Did he go out much?”
“What do you mean?”
“After his return. Did he go out much? Was Gloria often alone in the house?”
“He went to the pub on an evening. The Shoulder of Mutton. Yes, she was alone there sometimes.”
“Did Gloria ever say anything to you about leaving?”
“She hinted at it once or twice, but I didn’t take her seriously.”
“Why not?”
“Her manner. It was as if she was joking. You know, ‘Some day my prince will come. I’m going to leave all this behind and run off to untold wealth and riches.’ Gloria was a dreamer, Chief Inspector. I, on the other hand, have always been a realist.”
“I suppose that’s debatable,” Banks said. “Given what you do for a living.”
“Perhaps my dreams are very realistic.”
“Perhaps. Even though she hinted, you didn’t believe Gloria would actually go?”
“No.”
“What were the circumstances surrounding her departure?” Banks asked. “Did you see her go?”
“No. It happened on one of the days when I accompanied Matthew to his doctor in Leeds. When we got back that evening, she was gone.”
“You accompanied him? Why not Gloria? She was still his wife.”
“And he was still my brother. Anyway, she asked me to, on occasion. It was the only respite she got. She looked after him the rest of the time. I thought it only fair she get some time to herself once in a while.”
“Did she take anything with her when she left?”
“A few clothes, personal items. She didn’t have much.”
“But she took her clothes?”
“Yes. A few.”
“That’s interesting. What did she carry them in?”
“An old cardboard suitcase. The same one she arrived with.”
“Did she leave a note?”
“Not that I saw. If Matthew found one, he never indicated it to me.”
“Would he have?”
“Possibly not. He wasn’t very communicative. In his condition, it’s impossible to predict what he would have done.”
“Murder?”
“No. Not Matthew. I’ve already told you, he had a gentle nature. Even his dreadful war experiences and his illness didn’t change that about him, though they changed everything else.”
“But Gloria’s belongings were definitely missing?”
“Yes.”
“And you and Matthew were in Leeds during the time she made her exit?”
“Yes.”
“So she never even said good-bye?”
“Sometimes it’s easier that way.”
“So it is.” Banks remembered that Sandra, once she had made her mind up, had given him little time for protracted good-byes. He paused for a moment. “Ms. Elmsley,” he asked, “knowing what you know now, why do you think her clothes and suitcase were missing? Where do you think they got to?”
“I have no idea. I’m only telling you what I witnessed at the time, what I thought must have happened. Perhaps someone stole them? Perhaps she interrupted a burglar and he killed her?”
“Were they particularly fine clothes? Minks, a few diamond necklaces perhaps? A tiara or two?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“It’s not me who’s being absurd. You see, it’s not often people get murdered for their clothes, especially if they’re ordinary clothes.”
“Perhaps they were taken for some other reason.”
“Like what?”
“To make it look as if she had gone away.”
“Ah. Now that would be clever, wouldn’t it? Who do you think would feel the need to risk taking time burying her body under the outbuilding floor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not a casual burglar, I don’t think.”
“As I suggested, perhaps someone wanted to make it appear as if she had gone away.”
“But who would want to do that? And, perhaps more important: Why?”
“To avoid suspicion.”
“Exactly. Which brings us back very close to home, doesn’t it? Why try to avoid suspicion unless you have some reason to believe suspicion will fall on you?”
“Your rhetoric is too much for me, Chief Inspector.”
“But you write detective novels. I’ve read one of them. Don’t play the fool with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I’m very flattered that you have read my books, Chief Inspector, but I’m afraid you attribute to me a far more logical mind than I actually possess.”
Banks sighed. “If someone took great pains to make it look as if Gloria had run away, I’d say that someone wasn’t likely to be a stranger just passing through, or a burglar. It had to be someone who felt suspicion was likely to fall on him or her: Matthew, Brad Szikorski or you.”
“Well, it wasn’t me. And I told you, Matthew never raised a finger to her.”
“Which leaves Brad Szikorski.”
“Perhaps. Though I doubt it. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“Why not?”
She allowed him a thin smile. “Because Brad Szikorski was killed in a flying stunt in the desert outside Los Angeles in 1952. Ironic, isn’t it? During the war, Brad flew on bombing raids over Europe and survived, only to be killed in a stunt for a war film seven or eight years later.”
“What about Charles Markleson?”
“Charlie. He would have had no reason at all to harm Gloria. Besides, he was killed in the war.”
“Edgar Konig? Billy Joe Farrell?”
“I don’t know what happened to them, Chief Inspector. It’s all so long ago. I only know about Brad because it was in the newspapers at the time. I suppose you’ll have to ask them yourself, won’t you? That is, if you can find them.”
“Oh, I’ll find them, if they’re still alive. Had either of them reason to kill Gloria?”