“They don’t say it in so many words.”
“What do they say? It doesn’t matter how many words.”
“They hint.”
“What do they hint?”
“That Syd egged her on. To jump. Hoping.”
“I see,” said Alleyn.
“And then, of course, your arriving on the scene—”
“I only arrived last night.”
“Nanny was at a whist-drive last night. The W.I. Some of the husbands picked their ladies up on the way home from the Cod-and-Bottle where they had been introduced to you by Sergeant Plank.”
“I see,” said Alleyn again.
“That’s what I hoped you wouldn’t mind: the whist-drive ladies all saying it looked pretty funny. It seems nobody really believes you merely came to give Sergeant Plank and the boys in blue a new look. They’re all very thrilled to have you, I may say.”
“Too kind.”
“So are we, of course. Here they come. I expect you’d like to have your word with Louis, wouldn’t you? I’ll pay Ricky a little visit.”
“He’s got a black eye and will be self-conscious but enchanted.”
Alleyn, a quick mover, was out of the car and had the door open for her. She gave him a steady look. “How very kind,” she said and left him.
The presence of Louis Pharamond on the front had the effect of turning it into some kind of resort — some little harbor only just “discovered,” perhaps, but shortly to be developed and ruined. His blue silk polo-necked jersey, his sharkskin trousers, his golden wristwatch, even the medallion he wore on a thin chain were none of them excessive but one felt it was only by a stroke of good luck that he hadn’t gone too far with, say, some definitely regrettable ring or even an earring.
Bruno, who trailed after Louis with his hands in his denim pockets, turned into the shop. Louis advanced alone and bridged the awkward gap between himself and Alleyn with smiles and expressions of pleasurable recognition.
“This is a nice surprise!” he cried with outstretched hand. “Who’d have thought we’d meet again so soon!”
There was the weather-worn bench close by, where Ricky had sat in the early hours of the morning. Village worthies sometimes gathered there as if inviting the intervention of some TV commentator. Alleyn, having negotiated Louis’s effusive greetings, suggested that they might move to this bench and they did so.
“I gather,” he said, “you’ve guessed that I’m here on a job.” Louis was all attention: appropriately grave, entirely correct.
“Well, yes, we have wondered, actually. The riding-school girl, isn’t it? Rotten bad show.” He added with an air of diffidence that one didn’t, of course, want to speak out of turn, but did this mean there was any suspicion that it wasn’t an accident?
Alleyn wondered how many more times he was to say that they were obliged to make sure.
“Anything else,” said Louis, “is unbelievable. It’s — well, I mean what could it be but an accident?” And he rehearsed the situation as it had presented itself to the Pharamonds. “I mean,” he said, “she was hell-bent on doing it. And with her weight up — she was a great hefty wench, you know. Not to put too fine a point on it. I’d say she must have ridden every ounce of eleven stone. Well, it was a foregone conclusion.”
Alleyn said it looked like that, certainly.
“We’re trying to find out,” he said, “as closely as may be, when it happened. The medical report very tentatively puts it at between four and five hours of when she was found. But even that is uncertain. She may have survived the injuries for some considerable time or she may have died immediately.”
“Yes, I see.”
“When did you arrive back at Leathers? I know about the cramp.”
Louis sat with his lightly clasped hands between his knees. Perhaps they tightened their grasp on each other; if so, that was his only movement.
“I?” he said. “I don’t know exactly. I suppose it would have been about three o’clock. I rode back by the shortest route. The cramp cleared up quite soon and I put on my boot and took most of it at an easy canter.”
“When you arrived was anybody about?”
“Not a soul. I unsaddled the hack and walked home.”
“Meeting anybody?”
“Meeting nobody.”
“Did you happen to look across the horse paddock to the hedge?”
Louis ran his hand down the back of his head.
“I simply don’t remember,” he said. “I suppose I might have. If I did there was nothing out-of-the-way to be seen.”
“No obvious break in the gap, for instance?”
He shook his head.
“No sign of the sorrel mare on the hillside?”
“Certainly not. But I really don’t think I looked in that direction.”
“I thought you might have been interested in young Bruno’s jump.”
“Young Bruno behaved like a clodhopper. No, I’m sorry. I’m no good to you, I’m afraid.”
“You know Miss Harkness, didn’t you?”
“She came to lunch one day at L’Espérance — on Ricky’s first visit, by the way. I suppose he told you.”
“Yes, he did. Apart from that?”
“Not to say ‘knew,’ ” Louis said. He seemed to examine this remark and hesitated as if about to qualify it. For a second one might have almost thought it had suggested some equivocation. “She came into the pub sometimes when I was there,” he said. “Once or twice, I wouldn’t remember. She wasn’t,” Louis said, “exactly calculated to snatch one’s breath away. Poor lady.”
“Did you meet her on a Thursday afternoon near the foot of a track going down the cliffs?”
The movement Louis made was like a reflex action, slight but involving his whole body and instantly repressed. It almost came as a shock to find him still sitting quietly on the bench.
“Good Lord!” he said, “I believe I did. How on earth did you know? Yes. Yes, it was an afternoon when I’d been for a walk along the bay. So I did.”
“Did you meet by appointment?”
That brought him to his feet. Against a background of sparkling harbor and cheerful sky he stood like an advertisement for men’s wear, leaning back easily against the seawall. An obliging handful of wind lifted his hair.
“Look here,” Louis said, “I don’t much like all this. Do you mind explaining?”
“Not a bit. Your note was in the pocket of her hacking jacket.”
“Damn,” said Louis quietly. He waited for a moment and then with a graceful, impetuous movement reseated himself by Alleyn.
“I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world,” he said.
“No?”
“On several counts. There’s Carlotta, first of all, and most of all. I mean, I know I’m a naughty boy sometimes and so does she but this is different. In the light of what’s happened. It’d be horrid for Carlotta.”
He waited for Alleyn to say something but Alleyn was silent.
“You do understand, I’m sure. I mean it was nothing. No question of any — attachment. You might say she simply happened to be damn good at one thing and made no bones about it. As was obvious to all. But — well, you’ll understand — I’d hate Carlotta to know. For it to come out. Under the circs.”
“It won’t unless it’s relevant.”
“Thank God for that. I don’t see how it possibly could be.”
“Was this meeting at the cliffs the first time?”
“I’m not sure — yes, I think it might have been.”
“Not according to the note. The note said ‘Usual time.’ ”
“All right, then. It wasn’t. I said I wasn’t sure.”
“One would have thought,” Alleyn said mildly, “you’d remember.”
“Basically the whole thing meant so little. I’ve tried to explain. It was nothing. Absolutely casual. It would have petered out, as you might say, without leaving a trace.”