Wonder of wonders, she was one of those whom the grapevine reached only vaguely, because in her aristocratic solitude she merely received, never queried. She knew Rainbow was dead, but had not acquired the details. Doubtless she knew he had been found broken under the church tower, but the time was unknown to her, and the spectacle of a man driving home at a time when he had almost certainly been dead presented her with no problems. Here was one who could have confessed to his murder with absolute security, her guilt disproved within ten minutes.
‘Oh, really?’ said George cautiously. ‘Coming down from the head of the valley, was he? Which car was he using?’
‘The little sports job.’ Her voice was faintly disapproving. The Aston Martin was not what she would have expected of Rainbow. ‘Very handsome,’ she admitted, ‘as a work of art. Not his style, would you think? There was something so – orthodox and cautious – about him.’
Well, that was something definite. She knew the little sports job too well to be mistaken, and she had the incisive mind that is always scrupulous in reporting and accurate in timing. She had something else, too, the shrewdness to note their very slight stiffening, and the brief glance they had exchanged, and that was all it took to make her look again at what she had seen and said, and wonder exactly what had taken Rainbow up the valley towards Wales after choir practice, and above all, what had taken him back to the church at nearly midnight, since that was where he had been found. From that it was but a step to pondering whether the Aston Martin had been left in its garage or taken out again, and whether, in fact, it had actually been Rainbow driving it…
A remote and thoughtful stillness took possession of Miss de la Pole’s noble countenance, out of which concerned and steely eyes studied George and Sergeant Moon, and drew private conclusions.
‘His missus chose the Aston, I fancy,’ said Sergeant Moon with a face of bovine innocence, and paid for his Woodbines. ‘They both drove it, though. Thanks, Gwen, love!’
He led the way out, and George was aware, as he was, of the deep silence of the two women left behind them in the shop. Moon was grinning.
‘Whose side are you on?’ George wondered tolerantly.
‘Well, be interesting to see what results, won’t it? You going to get that pint and bite before you go and tackle the lady?’
‘I am,’ said George, and set course for the ‘Gun Dog’. ‘I’m going to need it!’
CHAPTER FOUR
« ^ »
Colin Barron’s car was out on the semi-circle of meticulously-raked gravel, a green SAAB, very dark and sleek and reticent; and Colin Barron was sitting in the small drawing-room with a whisky glass in his hand and restrained and chivalrous concern on his brow, looking very correct in the role of a would-be beau come to commiserate with his intended on her sudden bereavement. A very complex role indeed, but he was managing rather well. No doubt the discreet flowers in a vase on the coffee table, lilac and purple tinted, had come from him, the delicate hint of mourning combined with the suggestion of a tentative love-gift. He was a very presentable fellow, and no doubt they would make a handsome couple, if it ever came to that, but he wasn’t presuming on his hopes. When George appeared, Colin rose politely, greeted the visitor with an intelligent acceptance of his official status, as opposed to the social contact they had occasionally shared, cast a wistful glance at Barbara to see what she desired, and read her wishes with resigned good-humour.
‘I just dropped in to say what one does say in this sort of crisis. Not that it can do much for anyone, but at least it goes to show one is there in readiness. Barbara knows she has only to call on me.’ He looked at her again, but got no encouragement. ‘She doesn’t feel any need of me now, and I don’t feel any need to stand around to defend her against you, Superintendent. She’s as good as nodding me out of the door. And since she knows I’ll be back for less than a nod, I’m going.’
‘It was nice of you to come, Colin,’ said Barbara, ‘and I do appreciate it. I’m sure I shall need your help, if it comes to selling up, but it’s early days yet to think of that. But thanks, anyhow. I’ll be in touch.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said the young man rather ruefully. ‘Don’t I know it! But call me on any pretext, any time. I’ll be glad.’
He knew the place well enough by now to be allowed to depart unescorted, and doubtless he would be back just as informally if she neglected to call him. The silence closed in after his going.
‘Do sit down,’ said Barbara, eyeing George somewhat quizzically, and herself set the example. ‘Whatever it is, you’re never unwelcome, you know. I’d offer you a drink, but I have the feeling you wouldn’t take it, and that would be rather sad. So you speak first, and then we’ll see where the clues lead.’
She had plainly been relaxing after a bath when Barron arrived. The glow was still on her, she was without make-up, and swathed in a loose gown of heavy Indian cotton in a sumptuous flower-print in red and greens on black, with a padded yoke and voluminous sleeves. Her hair was a cloud about head and shoulders, coiled and moist from steam. She had a marvellously serene beauty. Maybe this was the first time Barbara had been alone, in the sense of her own person and responsible only to herself, for a long time.
‘I just wondered,’ said George mildly, ‘if you’d like to amend your story about how you spent yesterday evening.’
‘I wouldn’t really like to,’ said Barbara reasonably, and still smiling with that distant composure in which he had so little part, ‘but I can see I’d better.’ And the smile suddenly warmed into genuine intimacy. There was mischief in it, and sympathy. She was positively inviting him to connive at a friendly compromise.
Naturally, Moon’s guess had been right. Miss de la Pole had telephoned her as soon as the police were out of sight. Not taking sides, simply informing a possibly threatened neighbour of the accidental information lodged against her. How marvellous was the working of the conscience of Middlehope! And how simply, almost inadvertently, it had absorbed within itself this blatantly alien body. George respected the instinct that worked within so idiosyncratic a community, but reserved his options. Even Middlehope could be wrong.
‘Then suppose you tell me,’ he said, ‘as if we hadn’t been over this ground before, exactly how you spent yesterday evening.’
‘I did lie to you,’ she said, quite softly and serenely. ‘I told you I was home all the evening, waiting for Arthur. I wasn’t. I was here until he went off to practice, and he’d told me he was staying late, and I was here cooped up on my own, and that’s something I don’t always choose to be. About nine I took my car and went out for a drive. It was a nice, mild night, I knew he wouldn’t be back for some time, and I felt like being out and alone. And frankly, I didn’t care if he got back first. It wouldn’t have troubled him at all, you know. I had functions, and I performed them. He wasn’t worried about what I did on the side. I went quite a long way. It can’t have been far off midnight when I got back. He wasn’t home. I took it then that he wasn’t coming, but he had his keys, anyhow. I went to bed. And the rest is just as I told you.’ She reached for her drink with a hand steady as a rock. ‘And that’s all,’ she said, and looked him firmly in the eye.
‘You mean you were driving round for a matter of perhaps two and a half hours, alone?’ said George mildly.
‘I suppose I must have been.’
‘Nothing else to tell me?’
‘Nothing.’
And whatever he might think of that, it seemed to be agreed that she had driven in at the gates here at about a quarter to midnight, well after the probable time of her husband’s death, though not after the limit of possibility. And from the opposite direction. Driving someone else back out of the danger zone before returning home herself? The timing made it possible that she had guilty knowledge, even that she could have assisted at Rainbow’s demise, or at least connived at it, even if it seemed unlikely that she managed it alone. Rainbow had seemed to value her simply as one of the most advantageous of his investments, but there were plenty of other men who showed every sign of putting a very different value upon her. Which of them, if any, could she have been running home, or at least to a place of safety, up the valley?