With Paula he headed for the downstairs living room. As they entered the only occupant was Marshal Main, pacing briskly up and down in his sombre clothes. A glass of champagne, already used, was perched on a round drum table with a bottle resting in an ice bucket. A peculiar drink to be imbibing under the circumstances, Tweed thought. He started his interrogation without formality. `Mr Main, who discovered the body?' `Don't waste much time, do we,' Marshal said with a smile as he ushered them to chairs round the drum table and sank into an armchair, the champagne glass in his hands, his long legs sprawled out, crossed at the ankles. `Some refreshment,' he rattled on. 'Champagne may seem a trifle odd but Bella would have approved. She was never one to make a fuss in an emergency. Coffee instead?'
'Yes, please. For Paula too, I imagine.' `I'll bring a pot,' a voice said from the door. Tweed swung round and a serious-faced Lavinia was standing by the open door, which she closed. `Black as sin, if I remember rightly last time you were here. Well, the ultimate sin has been committed now,' he remarked cheerfully, raising his glass to Paula. `Who discovered the body?' Tweed repeated in a grimmer tone. `Well, as a matter of fact I did. About eight o'clock in the evening Bella used her desk box to ask me to bring up some accounts at ten o'clock.' `How did you carry up the accounts?'Tweed enquired. `How? In that blue folder on that desk over there.
The accounts are still inside it.' `What did you see when you entered her study?' `Gave me a bit of a turn, I don't mind admitting it. She had her desk lamp on so it shone on her. I knew quickly something awful had happened. I saw that beastly thing round her neck and it was dripping blood…' `You're sure the blood was dripping?' Tweed had leaned forward across the table. 'It's important because it helps to establish the time of the murder. Couldn't have been too long before you arrived when the murder was committed. What time did you arrive in her study?' `I told you. Ten o'clock. She liked people to be punctual. I actually checked my watch before I knocked on the study door. Ten o'clock. On the dot.'
At that moment Lavinia appeared with a silver tray and the coffee pot with all the accoutrements neatly arranged. Tweed looked straight at her. `Who discovered the body?' `Marshal, my father.'
She glanced at him as though surprised he hadn't already told them. Tweed thought the way she referred to her father, using his Christian name, was very odd. He smiled, thanked her for the coffee. She left the room, closing the door behind her. `Checking up on me, eh?' Marshal said savagely. `Part of my job. I'll be talking gradually to the rest of the family and I need to know if they're telling me the truth.' He changed the subject suddenly and Paula smiled to herself, knowing it was a technique he used to throw suspects off balance. `Bella was, I gathered, Chairman of the Main Chance Bank, so who controls it now?'
Marshal straightened up. 'Well, I am managing director.' `Co-managing director,' Tweed corrected him. `There is also Warner Chance. I need to know,' he said emphatically, 'who legally will take over.'
Well…' Marshal stroked his thick hair. 'After I had phoned the Yard and, eventually, been put through to a Commander Buchanan to report what had happened I then at once phoned Bella's solicitors, Hamble, Goodworthy and Richter in Threadneedle Street, to ask them to send her will here. It is being rushed to me by courier tomorrow morning. Then we shall know what arrangements she made in the case of her demise Good enough for you?' `I shall need to see that will before anyone else.' `I say!' Marshal's face had turned red. 'It will have my name on it.' `And probably Warner Chance's. Perhaps I'd better remind you I am in charge of this murder investigation.' `So?' Marshal snapped indignantly. `The will may well have a bearing on leading me to who was the killer of Bella Main.' `It's not good enough!' shouted Marshal. 'I am entitled to read what is addressed to me. Something I had the wit to ask for.' `Didn't waste any time, did you?'Tweed said quietly. `What does that mean, damn it!' `It means that within a very short period of time after you knew your mother had been foully murdered you were most anxious to see who inherited. That worries me,' he ended grimly. `You haven't the authority,' Marshal raved.
Tweed produced the document Buchanan had given him. He handed it to Marshal. Paula, watching him read it, saw his hands tremble. Eventually he gave it back to Tweed. `You are a big bug. Signed by the Assistant Commissioner.' `So, when the courier arrives you will hand the envelope to me unopened.' `I'm tired.' Marshal stood up. 'I think I will have my meal in my apartment.' `Are you married?' Tweed said suddenly.
Paula again suppressed a smile. Tweed had again thrown him off balance. Marshal paused in midstride, turned, returned to his chair. `Of course I was. You know Lavinia is my daughter.' `Past tense,' Tweed continued mercilessly. `So what did happen to her? I need to know everything about you.' `Don't see that it matters twopence. But as you insist. My wife was killed in a road accident when Lavinia was eighteen. That was sixteen years ago. Lavinia was very upset.' `As I suppose you were' `Oh, these things happen,' Marshal said airily. 'One copes.'
The door opened and Lavinia stood with an apron wrapped round her black dress. She waited to make sure no one was speaking. `Lunch will be served in the dining room in ten minutes. I am sorry we didn't consult you. I suppose it's because of what has happened. I've told Mr Newman.'
Marshal jumped to his feet, obviously glad of an opportunity to get away from Tweed. He hurried towards Lavinia. `I'll have mine in my apartment.' `Mr Main,' Tweed called after him. 'Have you ever heard of Mr Calouste Doubenkian?' `Sounds like one of those foreigners we keep letting in at Dover. Never heard of anyone with a name like that.' `What do you think?' Paula asked, keeping her voice down even though the door was now closed and they were alone. 'It's so often the person who discovers the body who turns out to be the murderer.' `That's a myth. When I was at the Yard I got someone to compute the statistics of murderers who had not found the body. They far outnumbered the type you mentioned. Was it my imagination or did Marshal look startled when I asked him about Doubenkian?'
11
Doubenkian's mobile buzzed. He looked at Max, answered it cautiously. `Dunfield, sales director, speaking.
The voice which spoke to him was again horribly distorted. They were using some kind of instrument: it wag impoggible to tell whether it was a man or a woman, which irked him. `Bella Main has died suddenly.' `Good. How did that happen?' `Also Tweed has arrived at Hengistbury with Paula Grey. He brought with him Robert Newman, Harry Butler and a man called Marler.' `You did my Newman?' Doubenkian enquired.
He swore. His informant had gone off the line. He was disturbed, looked round the interior of the cottage for a hammer. Knowing what he wanted, Max handed him the hammer he always kept for these occasions.
They had driven with Max behind the wheel from the second base in Norfolk that day. They were now ensconced in an isolated cottage, owned by Doubenkian, situated well outside Leaminster, also located within fifteen miles of Hengistbury Manor, just outside the edge of The Forest. Max expected they would soon be moving on.
He watched as Doubenkian, his back to him, removed his dark glasses and replaced them with a protective pair. On a large wooden table he then proceeded to smash the mobile phone to pieces.
Substituting his dark glasses for the protective version, he turned round to Max. `Isn't that going a bit far?' Max suggested. 'Once you have used a mobile you destroy the SIM card, then select from your collection a fresh one.' `The report regarding Hengistbury is good – and bad. You know that Bella Main controlled the Main Chance Bank. She mistakenly refused to sell it to me. She is dead.' `Murdered?' Max asked. `My anonymous informant didn't say. Now we have to wait and see who inherits.' `Who might that be?' `Either Marshal Main or Warner Chance.' `And supposing, whichever one it is, also refuses to sell?'