The Gazebo

TWENTY

TED SHARP AND the Scotland Yard Inspector came knocking at Miss Cotton’s door next day. They had rung up, and she was fitting them in between the Thomas twins and old Mrs French’s back. Her cottage really was a cottage, standing much farther back from the road than the new council houses on either side of it, with a long narrow garden full of autumn flowers in front, and cabbages, Brussels sprouts and artichokes behind. There was a living-room and a kitchen on the ground floor, and two bedrooms above. Between the two wars a bathroom and a lavatory had been built up at the back. The front door opened directly into the living-room, which had a round table in the middle, an easy chair on either side of the fire-place, a corner-cupboard, and four chairs with their backs against the wall. There was a teapot and sugar basin, four cups and saucers and a milk-jug in copper lustre with a bright blue band and a pattern of raised fruits, in the corner-cupboard. And there was a vase with ‘A present from Margate ’ on it in the middle of the mantelpiece. It was full of bronze and yellow chrysanthemums, and so was the blue and white ginger jar on the table. The other things on the mantelpiece were a framed photograph of Mary Sharp in her wedding dress balanced on the other side by a snapshot of her at her christening, and at one corner one of those large shells flushed with pink, and at the other the reproduction of a woman’s hand in brass. It was about three inches long, and extremely elegant, with a ring on the third finger, and it was polished to the colour of pale gold. Everything in the room was as neat as a new pin, including Miss Cotton herself in a cheerful blue uniform with a white collar. She had a lot of grey hair, very blue eyes, and a hat worn rather on the back of her head.

She received them with composure, told them she was fitting them in, and came straight to the point with,

‘You’ve come about a statement I made last night.’

Ted Sharp said yes, they had. After which he said, ‘This is Detective Inspector Abbott from the Yard,’ and left it to him.

They sat round the table. Frank Abbott took out the paper which was Miss Cotton’s signed statement and laid it down in front of him. Then he said in his leisurely cultured voice,

‘I believe you made this statement last night, Miss Cotton.’

She sat there very composed with her grey hair, her blue eyes, and her cheeks like rosy apples. She said,

‘My niece was here to tea with me. She told me Mrs Graham had been murdered in the night at No. 1 Belview Road and I thought it was my duty to call in at the station and say what I knew about it.’ Then, as the colour came flooding up under Ted Sharp’s brown skin, she made haste to add, ‘My niece is Mrs Sharp, as I suppose Ted here has told you, but it wasn’t from him that she got anything she could tell me about the murder, it was from that Mrs Stokes that works at the Grahams’. And a real busy talker she is!’

Ted Sharp’s colour subsided. He didn’t look at her, but he was grateful in his heart. If he had ever thought that Mary ran round too much to her Auntie Ag, he took it back.

Frank Abbott went on.

‘Well, Miss Cotton, we are grateful to you. Now will you just forget about this statement and tell me the whole thing all over again in your own words?’

She gave him a quick appreciative nod.

‘They change things a bit when they write them down, don’t they? I told the young man that was writing it, and he didn’t like me saying what I did – said I needn’t sign it if I didn’t want to. But there wasn’t anything exactly wrong if you know what I mean, only it wasn’t just the way I’d have put it myself, so I signed it and came away.’

His smile had a humanizing effect upon the inherited features.

‘I know. Well now, suppose we have it just the way it comes.’

‘It began with Mr Burford calling me up. It’s a first baby and I thought it would be a false alarm, but of course you never can tell. I wasn’t undressed, which was a bit of luck, so I just had to get into my out-of-door shoes and put on my coat and hat and come away. I got my bicycle out of the shed and rode it until I came to the steep part of Hill Rise. It’s not worth riding to the top – takes more out of you than it saves you – so I got off and walked. Being a stranger, I don’t know if you know how the roads go, but Hill Rise runs into Belview Road just beyond the top of the hill, and No. 1 Belview Road is the corner house. The garden runs back along Hill Rise right to the top, and that’s where I was just going to get on to my bicycle again, when someone called out on the other side of the hedge.’

‘Man, or woman?’

‘It was Miss Graham. She called out, “Mother!” ’

‘How do you know it was Miss Graham?’

Miss Cotton maintained her composure.

‘Oh, I’ve nursed there more than once when Mrs Graham took a notion that she was going to die and they couldn’t get anyone else.’

‘All right, go on.’

‘There’s a sort of summerhouse at the top of the garden not so far from the hedge, and that’s where they were. There was a man’s voice that said, “Mrs Graham…” and I could hear her catching her breath. There’s quite a slope on that garden, and she never would walk up it, so I wondered what she was doing there. She got her breath and called out, “How dare you, Nicholas Carey – how dare you!” Miss Graham was trying to quiet her down.

She told her she would make herself ill, and Mrs Graham called out, “You wouldn’t care if I died! You wouldn’t care if you killed me! You only think about yourself!” Mr Carey said he was sorry but she wouldn’t let him come to the house, and he had to see Miss Graham. He called her Allie – her name is Althea, you know. He said he would go away and come back and talk to her in the morning. Mrs Graham was properly worked up, crying and carrying on. She said he mustn’t come and she wouldn’t see him if he did. She told Miss Graham to send him away – said she couldn’t stand it – “He’ll kill me – send him away!” ’ She paused and said with a shade of embarrassment, ‘It doesn’t sound very good me standing and listening like that, but it all seemed to happen so quickly, and if she had worked herself into an attack they might have been glad of my help. I didn’t feel I could just ride on and leave them.’

‘No, of course not, Miss Cotton. Please go on.’

‘Miss Graham said something about getting her back to the house. I didn’t catch it all, but I think she was asking Mr Carey to help her, because Mrs Graham called out, “No – no! Don’t dare to touch me – don’t dare!” After that I could just hear Miss Graham’s voice, but I couldn’t hear what she said, only at the end there was something about getting her mother to bed and making her comfortable. And that was all, except that I heard them going off down the garden together, and Miss Graham was having her work cut out.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, every way. Mrs Graham was crying and catching her breath, and by the sound of it I should say Miss Graham was three parts carrying her. So I waited to see if she could get her into the house, and when I heard the door shut I got on my bicycle and went on to the Burford’s, and it was a false alarm, just as I thought it would be, so I made her a cup of tea and had one myself and came along home.’

Frank Abbott was reflecting a little sardonically upon the difference between the living spoken word and the stiff dead stuff to which the average police statement reduced it. There was no actual discrepancy between what Miss Cotton had just been saying and what she had signed at the police station last night, but there was exactly the same difference between them as there is between a living person and a corpse. The paper lay on the table before him. His eye picked out a sentence – ‘As I was proceeding along Hill Rise upon my bicycle…’ He was prepared to bet that Miss Cotton had never proceeded anywhere in her life. He said,

‘Did you come back the same way as you went?’

‘Well, I did.’

‘You passed along the garden of No. 1 Belview Road – were you bicycling or walking?’

‘I got off my bicycle and walked. There’s quite a bit of a rise there.’

‘See anything – hear anything?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Any lights on in the house?’

‘Not that I could see. There would be one on the upstair landing – they used to keep it on all night.’

There was a pause. Then he said,

‘I take it you know that Mrs Graham was found dead in that summerhouse you spoke of, and that she had been strangled.’

‘That was what I heard.’

‘Miss Graham found her, but not until something after seven in the morning. She says she left her comfortably in bed, and that she had no idea she had gone out again. She searched the house, and when she found that her mother’s outdoor coat and shoes were missing she searched the garden. She discovered her mother’s body in the summerhouse and rang up Dr Barrington. That is her story. Now what I want to know is this – what sort of terms was Mrs Graham on with her daughter?’

Miss Cotton looked at him out of those very blue eyes.

‘Miss Graham did everything she could for her.’

‘Mrs Graham was trying?’

Miss Cotton nodded.

‘She was just about the most selfish person I’ve ever known. It was Thea do this and Thea do that, from the first thing in the morning till the last thing at night. I don’t know how the poor girl stood it, I’m sure. And it was common talk that Mrs Graham had got her engagement broken off.’

‘To Mr Nicholas Carey?’

‘That’s right – and a real shame too. Always about together from the time they were in school, and fond of each other – well, it stuck out all over them.’

‘So you would say that Miss Graham was a good daughter. Was she fond of her mother?’

‘It was a miracle if she was.’

‘Oh, well, miracles happen. The question is, was she?’

‘She did everything she could for her.’

‘I see. Now tell me – you say you heard Mrs Graham say a number of things like “You wouldn’t care if I died – you wouldn’t care if you killed me!” That was talking to her daughter. Did you hear Miss Graham say anything to account for that?’

‘No, I didn’t. She was telling her mother that she would make herself ill.’

‘It wasn’t said in any threatening way?’

‘Of course it wasn’t! She was doing her best to soothe her down like she always did.’

‘She always tried to soothe her mother?’

‘Yes, she did. Anyone will tell you that.’

‘I just wanted to know. Now with regard to Mr Carey. Speaking of him to her daughter, she said, “He’ll kill me – send him away!” And, speaking to him, “Don’t dare to touch me – don’t dare!” Did you hear him say anything that would account for her speaking to him like that?’

‘No, I didn’t. Mr Carey is a gentleman and he spoke like one – kept his temper and said he was sorry but she wouldn’t let him come to the house and he had to see Allie, meaning Miss Graham, and he would come back and talk to her tomorrow. There wasn’t anything to make Mrs Graham say what she did. She was right down hysterical, that’s all.’

‘And you are sure that Miss Graham took her mother back to the house?’

‘I heard them all the way down the garden, and I heard them go in and shut the door. When I got to the corner I looked down Belview Road and I saw the light go on in Mrs Graham’s bedroom.’

‘Then it seems as if Mrs Graham must have gone back to the summerhouse later on. Are you quite sure you didn’t see or hear anything on your return journey when you walked the length of the garden as far as the crest of the hill?’

‘I didn’t see anything or hear anything.’

‘And there was no light on in the house?’

She stopped for a moment before she answered that – looking back – trying to remember. Then she said,

‘If the landing light was on, I wouldn’t see it – there’s a thick curtain there. The house looked dark.’