Landscape with corpse, p.15
Landscape with Corpse, page 15
‘Really, there’s no need—’
‘Something to do,’ he said stolidly.
‘Yes. Of course.’ How could I now dismiss him, when I’d been telling him to find something to do? ‘Come on, then.’
There was an old brass knocker on the door, shaped like a dolphin. It clacked like a pistol shot when 1 tried it. A light winked on beyond a square of inset glass, and the door opened.
‘Philipa? Well…hello. And you too, Paul. Thought you’d have been in the bar. You know…’
Paul said, ‘Getting stewed to the eyeballs? No. No thanks. Need all my wits.’
‘Well—come along in, both of you.’
The tiny hall was just about big enough to stand in, and possibly to turn around. Geoff backed away, and we were in his kitchen.
Not much in the way of modernisation had taken place. The sink was an ancient glazed pottery one, the chairs rather cranky-looking Windsors, the table a plain slab of pine, much scrubbed and battered. On it, he had spread out a map.
‘I was just working out where to take you all, tomorrow,’ he explained. ‘Certainly, nobody will want to go anywhere near the coast. You’d agree to that? And look—I’ve found a rather interesting old castle marked here…’ He put a finger on the spot. ‘And a bit of a lake. That seems a likely place.’ He turned back to face us, smiling.
‘Do you really think they’ll want to go out—’ I began.
He didn’t allow me to finish. ‘If I have to drive you all into the coach with a whip.’ He nodded, frowning severely. ‘It’s what it’s all about. Painting. But this time—nobody on their own. All together. For safety.’
‘You’re not really anticipating—’
Once more he cut me off. It was nerves, his words and actions straining for release from his forced restraint. ‘And to what do I owe this visit?’ Then he scanned from face to face. ‘You’re not a committee, I hope?’
‘Paul came along to show me the way,’ I explained.
‘Good for him. And to what—’
‘You’ve said that, Geoff. I’ve come for the keys.’
‘Keys? What—’
‘Oh, come on! Don’t be stupid. The keys you took from the Jag, after knocking out Len Farmer.’
He stared blankly at me. Then he smiled. ‘Try to find ‘em.’
‘Oh—don’t be a damned fool.’
‘He said he was going to take Elise home—’
‘All right. You can’t prevent him, if that’s what he wants to do. And if she’s willing—’
‘Willing! He hypnotises her, I think. And the bloody fool can’t see that he’d be landing her right into trouble, if he drags her off home. It’d look awfully bad. Now…wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes it would. And the man’s an idiot. But he’s her father. If she agrees…No! keep your mouth shut for a minute, Geoff. And let me try to get this over to you. He can charge you with assault—on Farmer. He can charge you with theft—of the keys. No…listen, damn you. Do you think, for one minute, that a man like Harcourt could be stopped for the sake of a paltry set of keys! He could be on the phone to the nearest Jaguar agency in the morning, and they would send somebody out. It’s the sort of service you get when you can afford that kind of car. And it’s no good you scowling. You’re only making things worse.’
‘They’ll pick on Elise.’ His voice was rising, running out of control. ‘The police. With the motive she’d got…Jennie... the painting.’
‘It wasn’t Jennie who slashed the painting, Geoff.’ I turned. ‘You tell him, Paul. Put him out of his misery.’
‘What?’ asked Paul, staring from one face to the other, as though not really understanding what we were talking about.
‘Tell him who slashed Elise’s wonderful painting. Go on. It doesn’t matter anymore who knows.’
‘Oh yes. That. It was my wife, Geoff. Pam. She did it.’
‘You can’t be—’
‘It was Pam,’ Paul cut in flatly. ‘And I know.’ There was so much personal distress in his voice that it could not be denied.
‘But the point is, Geoff,’ I carried on, ‘that Elise thought it was Jennie. Because you told her so. Think about that. You could yourself be responsible for Jennie’s death, if only incidentally. If Elise did kill Jennie, that is. No, no!’ I put up a hand. ‘It’s no good getting all worked up. These are facts. Pam slashed the painting. You told Elise it had been Jennie. And Jennie died. What a pity you gave Elise such a good motive. But, you’ll say, that’s all irrelevant, because Elise didn’t kill Jennie. You’ll say you’re quite convinced of that, because you can’t believe that Elise would have done such a thing.’
‘But…but…’
‘But nothing.’ I was somewhat impatient with him. ‘Now you’ve tried to stop Harcourt from taking her home, which, as we all know, would be exactly the action of somebody who believes she’s in danger of arrest. Her own father believes she’s guilty, in other words, and doesn’t give a damn. And he wants to protect her…take her home and surround her with a whole army of lawyers. And now…you’ve made it look as though you believe she’s guilty, but would be safer here with you. You complete idiot, Geoff, you’re making it worse. Harcourt’ll stop at nothing, now. He’ll see you as a threat. So give me those damned keys, and stop playing at Sir Lancelot.’
‘Who?’
‘Never mind. You know what I mean.’ I held out my hand, palm upwards. ‘The keys,’ I demanded.
Reluctantly, he produced them, and handed them over. ‘I’m telling you’, he said miserably, ‘that he’ll be taking her home.’
‘I realise that. At least, he’ll try. Haven’t you been listening? But damn it, Geoff, she’s a grown woman, past her age of majority. So she can do exactly what she likes with her own life. And what’s Harcourt going to do if she simply refuses to go with him? Use violence on her? I can’t see that, somehow. So why should she do as he says?’
He growled something that I couldn’t catch. ‘Pardon?’
‘Her mother died when she was born, I gather from what she’s said, and he’s ordered her around from the time she started walking. Oh…never a blow. Nothing like that. But all the same, he terrifies her.’
‘All right, all right. So what’s her great big protector doing about it? Tell me. I don’t see anything happening. You could have her here, living with you, and he couldn’t do a thing. You could marry her, and he couldn’t stop it. And…yes…yes. I know what you’re trying to say. He mustn’t be upset. Rubbish. It’s probably the weapon he’s used on her all her life. One thing or another. “You mustn’t upset your father, my love…now be good.” Be good! Oh…I’ll bet she’s had a lifetime of being good. It’s called emotional blackmail, Geoff. Worse than any other sort of blackmail, because, however much you pay, you can never get free from it. I bet she’s had a lifetime of blackmail. Don’t you think she’s paid enough? So what you’ve got to do is persuade her she now owes him nothing.’
He grimaced. ‘Small chance of that.’
‘So what d’you want to condemn her to?’ I asked, losing my patience with him. ‘The rest of her life devoted to looking after his welfare, and letting nothing upset him? Ah—but yes…I think I understand. He wants her to marry Len Farmer, and Farmer’s the one who looks after his business interests. Oh yes…it becomes very clear. Elise’s father is beginning to worry that he couldn’t run his business on his own. He needs Len Farmer, and he needs Elise, or his life will be in ruins—if you believe a word he says, and all the words he doesn’t say. Geoff, you’ll have to do something, if you’re going to save her from a miserable existence.’
And Paul said, condensing it all into one crisp sentence, ‘Marry her first, and argue afterwards.’
I had forgotten he was there, and turned to him. ‘Ah! The expert on married bliss!’
I was in a grand mood by this time, furious with both of them, for the way they had treated—or intended to treat—the women in their lives. Poor Paul! He had to bear the backlash of my anger at Geoff’s failure to make any decisive move. ‘Paul would do it, wouldn’t you, Paul?’
‘Do what?’ He was eyeing me warily.
I gestured widely, intending to embrace the whole cottage, the whole emotional background. ‘It’s called common-law marriage. Everybody’s doing it, these days, but they don’t use any fancy terms for it. She moves in with you, Geoff. Just like that. And if her father doesn’t like it, he can lump it, as they say where I was brought up.’
He gave me a soft, forgiving smile. ‘It wouldn’t do for Elise.’
‘Then sort it out for yourself,’ I told him, finally losing my temper.
Again that smile. ‘If you’ll be seeing the others, tell them: nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and we’re off into the mountains.’
‘Yes, Geoff,’ I said. ‘I’ll let them know.’ I could hear the mock humility in my voice.
Then we left, Paul and I. Our group would be somewhat depleted in the morning. Only six of us—seven if you included Geoff himself.
‘I think I could manage a drink, now,’ said Paul. ‘In fact, I’m dying for one. Let me buy one for you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Your husband will be in the bar, d’you think?’
‘Oh yes. I expect so.’
‘Hmm! Pity.’
‘There. You see,’ I told him. ‘All it needed was a bit of distraction, and you’re back to your old self.’
He hesitated in his step, and at first I thought he was going to stop, to reach out with his hand and stop me too. He said, ‘All what needed?’ It was said suspiciously.
‘Your misery. It’s gone. You’re picking up already.’
He stood aside for me to lead the way down the steps, and said as he followed me, ‘You’re being sarcastic. It doesn’t become you.’
I didn’t know whether he intended this as a compliment or a criticism. ‘It was not intended as sarcasm,’ I assured him over my shoulder.
‘You were implying that I didn’t feel a thing for either of them.’
‘Was I? I didn’t intend it so. I’ve told you that.’
I paused before we reached the door to the bar. It was a warm night, and the door was open, a great clatter of vocal noise coming from it.
‘Either of them?’ I asked, as we paused just beyond the spill of light. ‘You’re as good as telling me that your feelings—the ones on the warm side—were for only one of them?’
Someone must have nudged the door. Perhaps there was a draught. In any event, it began to swing shut, slicing the light across half of Paul’s features. His expression was hardening, setting into a twisted smile.
‘Is that the impression I gave?’ he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. ‘But surely—a person can have affection for only one other human being at a time.’
It was not completely valid. I had affection for both Oliver and Harvey Remington—but in different ways.
‘But you didn’t convey that impression,’ I assured him. ‘You were—what’s the word?—accommodating both Pam and Jennie at the same time.’
‘Not really,’ he said modestly. ‘I loved only one. Shall we go in?’
I caught his arm. ‘A minute. Just tell me, who was that, Paul?’
‘Jennie, of course.’
‘Why of course?’
He didn’t answer that, but took my elbow in his hand—gently, even caressingly—and eased me forward, then led the way to the bar.
But I didn’t need an answer. Jennie would have been more eager, and perhaps more expert than Pam in satisfying his sexual needs. Was that what he called love? Had that been the sum total of his emotional requirements?
Suddenly, I was deeply sorry for him, more sorry than I had been in respect of his loss of both women. But already he had his intentions levelled elsewhere. Me.
Oliver spotted me, and called out, ‘There you are, Phil. I’ve got a drink for you.’
I smiled at Paul, patted his arm as a gesture of dismissal, and managed to squeeze myself into a space beside Oliver. On the far side of him was seated, and looking lost in a group not of his own social choice, Len Farmer.
I leaned across Oliver and slipped the car keys on to the table under Farmer’s nose.
‘With the compliments of Geoff Davies,’ I told him. ‘He’s realised the error of his ways, and sends his apologies.’
That was not exactly the truth, but it did provoke a weak smile, which caused a wince. ‘No need to tell my boss, then,’ he said. It was a concern that had worried him.
‘Best left in ignorance, perhaps,’ I agreed.
Paul was already passing on the message from Geoff. It was to be business as usual in the morning. I didn’t detect any vast enthusiasm, but it was what they had come here for, so they might as well get on with it. Heads were nodded. Raised eyebrows were presented to me. I had to lift my voice in order to carry it over the general clatter.
‘This time, Geoff says, we’re going to stay together, not split up. And it’s inland—in the mountains. A lake, and with an old castle.’
That seemed to ease a few minds—the staying together and the lake. A change, it is said, is as good as a rest. With all the stress and action that we had encountered, this first day, everybody could do with a relaxing tomorrow. And, it seemed, an early bed. Very soon, goodnights were being called, fingers were wiggled, and the bar began to empty a little. The German linguists and the Chinese Brush painters were untouched by our double tragedy. But as each of our group departed, I noticed, the clamour died and eyes followed our departure.
There’s nothing so intriguing as a good murder. Unless it’s two, and that was what we had to offer.
13
Tuesday…and so much seemed to have happened in one evening and a day. We were dressed, and ready to go down to breakfast, a quarter of an hour too early.
‘It’s going to be a grand day,’ said Oliver, who was sorting and tidying his pastels.
‘It looks like it.’ I opened the windows and went out on to the balcony. The town and its estuary rested clean and bright in the morning sun. From that viewpoint I could just see the corner of the gravelled area, in which the Jaguar had been parked—and now was not.
‘He’s done it,’ I said. ‘The Jag’s gone.’
‘Huh!’ said Oliver in disgust. ‘The man’s a fool.’
The air was crisp at this time, the sky a cloudless blue. But I could always put in my own clouds. I like a few clouds in a landscape. ‘He’ll be back,’ said Oliver.
I closed the windows. ‘You sound certain of that.’
‘Because I am. With the case the superintendent’s got against Elise, I was surprised he didn’t take her in for interrogation yesterday. He’d have been justified.’
‘But Oliver…that would be terrible. Worse for Elise than for anybody else, of course.’
‘Yes. Perhaps that’s why Llewellyn held off. Well, he’s held off too long, and he’s lost her.’
‘Not lost, surely,’ I said.
‘Well, perhaps not. Wrong word. Was that the breakfast bell? Mislaid temporarily, rather.’
‘It was the bell. And—temporarily we must hope,’ I said.
We went down. Our group seemed very much diminished, and, like aliens, we tried to keep together. To have become involved with either of the other groups would have entailed having to dodge questions from right and left.
‘What’s this?’ asked Philip. ‘Something was said about heading inland.’
‘Yes,’ added Martin. ‘Nobody told us. Or perhaps we weren’t listening.’
‘It’s a lake with an island,’ I said. ‘And a bit of an old castle, and probably water birds, swans and the like. It sounds ideal to me.’
I had built up on the image in my mind, and all from a tiny indication on a map.
‘I wonder how many of us will come back,’ said Paul morosely.
Philip was quite short with him. ‘Don’t be an idiot. And where’s Elise?’ he asked. He was a little deficient in sense of humour, I decided.
‘I rather think that her father’s taken her home,’ I told him. Martin stared at me over his fork. ‘That’s surely not a good idea. In fact, it’s bloody stupid.’
I smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry. I think we’ll be seeing her again. Oh…I was forgetting to tell you…Geoff wants us to stay together, today. In one group. Just to play safe.’
‘Hah!’ Philip commented. He nodded his understanding.
Then we were silent until breakfast was over, and we all went along to the Glasshouse, in order to get our stuff organised.
I had expected to find Geoff waiting for us, but he wasn’t there. He must have breakfasted earlier, or in his own little cottage. Then he came striding in, looking harassed. ‘Ah—you’re all here.’ He didn’t mention Elise. ‘Good. Have you heard what we’re going to do? It’ll be a pleasant change for all of us. And productive, I hope. The coach is outside, so let’s get moving.’
He hadn’t said anything about the absence of Elise. Perhaps he had watched her leave. Perhaps he believed she would be back. Or even, if he had phoned Llewellyn, was certain.
The trip inland was more entrancing than I had anticipated. The rolling Welsh mountains seemed to loom all around us, the narrow roads creeping against their flanks and venturing down into deep valleys, across the fast-flowing streams and then up again to cling to the side of precipitous cliffs. Until…there it was.
We wound down towards the lake, which became more and more enticing every second, until we ran out of tarmacked surfaces, clung to our seats as the coach bucked over rudimentary paths, and finally halted a little short of the lake.
We clambered out, and stood and stared. It was beautiful, with grey purple slopes beyond, and rolling mountains behind those, with an island graced by a single tree two thirds of the way along the lake’s length, and with two swans, and mountain sheep speckled across the stubble grass and the gorse of the hillside.
‘Ah!’ said Geoff. The rest of us simply sighed.
In practice, it was not necessary that we should remain in one tight group. We spread ourselves around, but each of us within view of all the rest. It could hardly have been otherwise in that open expanse. We were becoming paranoiac on the question of safety. And, after a little while, silence settled around us as we each concentrated on our individual masterpieces. We could, too, expect with confidence that on the next day, and Thursday no doubt, we could return here.
