Elliot looked unhappy. “I don’t know that he’ll want to speak to you,” he said. “He was in late and he’s just started his dinner.”
Ramsay looked at his watch. “That’s all right,” he said easily. “There’s no hurry. I can wait. I’ll have a few words with you first.”
There was a silence.
“You musn’t mind Charlie,” Elliot said. “ He had a bad time in the army. He doesn’t like the police.”
Ramsay said nothing. Elliot stood by the boiler, arms by his side, a veteran at a British Legion parade showing his grief by respect.
“I’ll miss Alice Parry,” he said. “She was a good woman.”
“Was she a friend?” Ramsay asked.
Elliot seemed surprised by the question. “Aye,” he said at last. “I suppose she was. We were different, of course. Her folks had a big estate up on the border and she went away to some smart school in the south, but I think she would have thought me her friend. I hope she would.”
There was another pause, then he continued: “She was very kind to me when my wife died. Charlie wasn’t here then and I was on my own. Mrs. Parry saw to everything. I couldn’t have managed without her. That’s why the business with Henshaw was so upsetting.”
“Did you believe her,” Ramsay asked, “when she said she’d sold the land to be used for a small development of starter homes?”
“Of course,” Elliot said angrily. “ Everyone who knew Mrs. Parry believed her. She was an honest woman.”
“What about your son?” Ramsay asked quietly. “ Did he believe her, too?”
Elliot stared at him. “ Why do you want to know?” he demanded. “What have people been telling you?”
Ramsay shrugged. “ That he was angry about the housing development,” he said, “and that he blamed Alice Parry for it.”
Elliot looked tired and confused. “ He hasn’t settled since he left the army,” he muttered. “ I was proud when he joined up, and perhaps it was a mistake. It changed him. Then when he came home there was trouble with a woman.”
“I know,” Ramsay said. “ I’ve spoken to Maggie Kerr.”
Elliot looked up. “Have you?” he said. “ I try to tell myself it wasn’t her fault, but I can’t help thinking she led him on. He came home thinking she would marry him, then she wouldn’t have him. It’s made him a bitter man. It affects everything he does. If he hadn’t blamed Mrs. Parry for upsetting him, it would have been someone else. He’s a good mechanic, but he doesn’t get on with his boss. Tom Kerr’s choirmaster up at the church and he’s well respected, but there’s something hard about him. He’s not as flexible as he might be! Charlie needs careful handling at the moment. He was well trained in the army and thinks he knows best.”
“I’m surprised Mr. Kerr took him on,” Ramsay said, “ in the circumstances.”
“Perhaps he thought he had a responsibility,” Elliot said sharply. “Charlie packed up the army because of that girl.”
“All the same…” Ramsay said.
“I told you,” Fred Elliot said. “Tom Kerr’s a good church man. He will have seen it as his duty. But he’ll never let Charlie forget that he’s done him a favor by taking him on.”
“Is Charlie happy living here?” Ramsay asked.
“He’s happy with nothing at the moment. He thinks he deserves better than living with me. He’d like his own house. I don’t recognise him anymore. He’s not the boy who went away.”
The words poured out in an incoherent stream, released by shock and sadness. He looked towards the door that led into the rest of the house and Ramsay realised he was frightened of his son.
“What’s he like in the house?” Ramsay asked. He spoke gently, but he had the man’s attention. His eyes moved away from the door.
“He’s angry,” Elliot said. “All the time.”
“Do you think he needs a doctor?”
“I don’t know what he needs.” The words were sharp and unhappy, then he reconsidered. “Perhaps he should see a doctor,” he said, “but I’d never persuade him to go.”
“Is he violent? I heard there was a fight with Tom Kerr.”
“No!” Elliot seemed frustrated because Ramsay could not understand immediately. “Tom Kerr started that business. He’s got a wicked temper. Charlie wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially not Maggie Kerr. But he talks loud. He talks big. He doesn’t make the effort to be polite anymore.”
There was a silence. “He misses his mother,” he said. “ His mother understood him. I could never handle him. I never had the patience. I always lost my temper. My wife said we were too alike, but I never saw it myself.”
“Does he have any friends?” Ramsay asked.
“Not really,” Elliot said. “He goes to the Castle and buys drinks all round. They say he’s a grand lad then, but they’re laughing behind his back. They think he’s made a fool of himself over Maggie Kerr. Then Henshaw’s never been popular and they like it when Charlie’s rude about him. They haven’t the guts to say the things he says, but they cheer him on. They set him up.”
“Does he drink too much?”
“Aye,” Elliot said. “Probably.” He hesitated again, then went on in a rush. “ I talked to Mrs. Parry about him. I thought she might understand. She was a magistrate.”
“What did she say?” Ramsay asked.
“To give him time,” Elliot said. “And encouragement. She said he was bright. ‘He’s wasted at the garage,’ she said. ‘He should have a business of his own.’ I even thought of selling the post office to set him up. But then where would I live? It would have been different if Henshaw had decided to build the cheap houses. Mrs. Parry offered to talk to him, but when I told him he just laughed at me.”
From the other room there was a sudden, loud burst of music, then silence.
“Dad!” Charlie Elliot called. They heard his footsteps approaching the door. “What about some tea then?”
He pushed open the door and stood, just inside the kitchen, staring at Ramsay. His rudeness was deliberate and contrived, but it was the result, Ramsay thought, of insecurity. Throughout the interview the bravado hid considerable stress.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m a detective,” Ramsay said formally. “ I’m enquiring into the death of Alice Parry.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Charlie Elliot said. “ Someone’s been here already.” It was hard to tell that he had once been a soldier. He was overweight, unshaven. Ramsay was not surprised that Maggie found him unattractive.
“I know.”
“What are you doing here then?”
“Just a few more questions,” Ramsay said easily. “Routine.”
Fred Elliot had turned to the sink and was filling a kettle as his son had ordered. He clearly found the exchange embarrassing. Charlie sat on one of the chairs. “You’ll have to be quick,” he said. “I’ll have to be back at work soon. Tom Kerr’s a real slave driver.”
“Mrs. Parry received a threatening letter on the afternoon of her death,” Ramsay said. “ Did that have anything to do with you?”
“No,” Charlie Elliot said. “ I had my say at the meeting. What was in the letter?” He grinned unpleasantly and spread his stockinged feet towards the fire.
“It threatened to kill her.”
“She got what was coming to her then, didn’t she?”
“Charles!” Fred Elliot turned on his son. He was white-faced with anger. “I’ll not have that talk in my house. It’s indecent.”
The outburst shocked Charlie. He was unused to contradiction. He seemed confused and offended, like a spoilt child reprimanded in front of strangers.
“Where were you on Saturday evening?” Ramsay asked.
“I’ve already told that Hunter.”
“Tell me.”
“I was in the pub,” Charlie said. “ I always go to the pub on Saturday night. There was a darts match.”
“What time did you leave?”
“I don’t know. About quarter to eleven.”
“Wasn’t that unusual?” Ramsay asked.