Fault in the Structure

CHAPTER 10

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Afraid of honest men with honest minds.

Afraid, even, of an old woman like me.

‘That watch has turned up again, so the inspector informs me,’ said the Chief Constable, when Dame Beatrice telephoned him again after her return to the Stone House. ‘You’ve been to Blackpool, have you? Any news?’

‘A little, but, so far as the College porters are concerned, perhaps yours is better worthwhile. Could you spare the time to come over and have a chat? I should like very much to hear about the watch.’

‘And I should like a detailed account of your visit to Blackpool. You gave me an outline, so perhaps you would be good enough to fill it in?’

‘Most willingly. May we expect you to lunch tomorrow?’

‘Could it be the following day? The inspector is planning an identity parade, putting both porters in it. It will take a bit of arranging because for obvious reasons he doesn’t want to call upon local people to join in. Following the message which you telephoned on your way home – from Preston, I think you said – he’s putting Lawrence in the parade, too, I believe – not that I can see much point in it – the parade, I mean.’

‘Where is Lawrence now?’

‘Still in Sir Anthony’s old house. He owns it, of course, and, although it is on the market, it has not been sold yet.’

‘Can the inspector insist that he appear in a parade?’

‘Oh, well, I suppose that so long as he has nothing to hide, there is no reason why he should refuse to appear. A police car will be sent to bring him here and take him home afterwards. If he has a guilty conscience he will hardly dare to refuse the inspector’s request. I have had a talk with the inspector and he has suggested that if Lawrence seems reluctant to appear in the identity parade, he should tell him that the man dragging the sack was seen and that it is necessary for him to prove that he was not that man. I’m dubious about the ethics of this, but it’s the inspector’s case now. I could wish we hadn’t had to divert Nicholl to this bank robbery.’

‘As I am certain that Lawrence was that man, the procedure does not affront me as it might do under other circumstances,’ said Dame Beatrice, with an eldritch cackle which disconcerted her hearer at the other end of the line.

When the Chief Constable arrived he was able to report that the Mrs Lawrence case, as he called the murder of the second wife, had shown some interesting developments.

‘We photographed a similar sort of watch by permission of the horological section of the University Museum,’ he said, ‘and got the BBC and ITV to put it out on all networks.’

‘Not merely in case of its having been stolen, I assume,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Oh, no. We told them it was connected with a murder enquiry.’

‘And you obtained a result?’

‘Yes. An antique dealer in London rang us and said that he had purchased such a watch and gave us the date of the sale. It fitted well enough and it also fitted with the story told by the two porters when they were brought before the magistrates. Those, as you know, released them on bail while we continued our enquiries into the murder, for that, of course, far more than the theft of the watch, was the point of interest.’

‘And the porters’ reaction?’

‘They repeated what they had already told the magistrates: that they knew nothing about the watch. At last we believe them.’

‘What makes you believe their story now, whereas previously you doubted it?’

‘The identity parade. The antique dealer came along and scanned the ranks. He had, at our request, brought his woman assistant with him. The inspector had produced seven men and five women, let Lawrence and the two porters stand anywhere they liked in the line and then had in the dealer and, after him, his assistant. When the dealer had made his pick he was not allowed to meet his assistant until she, too, had made her choice. Do you want to make a guess, Dame Beatrice?’

‘I would not, for the world, anticipate the dénouement.’

‘I see that you have made a guess. Yes, without hesitation, each picked out Lawrence. He won’t admit it, but we rather think he obtained the watch when, instead of entering Coralie St Malo’s lodgings that evening, he went to those of his wife. Her landlady did not see him because she was already on holiday. We asked him how he had come by the watch. He said, “The watch? Good Lord! I thought you were sorting out my wife’s murderer! You won’t get the tabs on me for that! My dear old friend Sir Anthony gave me the watch, but it was much too ornate for me to wear. I much prefer a wristwatch, anyway. I was going on holiday with Sir Anthony the next day, so I sold the thing to get some holiday money, as I was a bit short. I didn’t tell the old boy what I’d done. I let him think my wife was minding the watch for me, as I thought he would be hurt to think I’d sold it.” Lawrence is certainly a cool customer, Dame Beatrice, and no mistake.’

‘I suppose he swiped the watch,’ said Laura. ‘What a specimen! Still, it lets out the porters, which is what the High Mistress wanted. I suppose you can’t arrest Lawrence for theft and so hold on to him until you can prove he’s a murderer?’

‘We can’t disprove his story about the watch, Mrs Gavin. The servant at Mrs Lawrence’s digs says that the lodgers always take in the post, so she has no knowledge of any parcels. In any case, to accuse a man of stealing from his own wife is a tricky business under any circumstances; impossible when she isn’t even alive to confirm or deny his account of the matter.’

‘I always thought that the theft, if it was a theft, took place at Sir Anthony’s own house,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘but I also think that Mrs Lawrence’s accusation against the porters was made, however wrongheadedly, in good faith. Sir Anthony’s covering letter describing the watch has not been found among her effects, I suppose?’

‘No. We looked – the inspector looked – most carefully at all her papers and correspondence.’

‘I have no doubt the letter was sent, or she could hardly have described the watch so exactly. However, one good thing has come out of all this, as Laura pointed out.’

‘Oh, yes, the porters are completely exonerated, so now we can turn all our attention to the murder. What impression did you get of the St Malo girl?’

‘Not an impression of a girl, but of a mature, tough, self-reliant young woman. According to her account, the quarrel with Lawrence at the Bicester public house was soon resolved. He appears to have planned to divorce the second Mrs Lawrence and to re-unite himself in matrimony with Coralie.’

‘I see. Could that constitute a motive for the murder?’

‘I hardly think so, for, if Miss St Malo is to be believed, she would have nothing to do with the proposition, so I do not think the question of divorce, whether the second Mrs Lawrence would have agreed to it or not, would have come up.’

‘But you still think Lawrence is our murderer?’

‘Failing any other candidates, I really think he must be. There is only one doubt in my mind.’

‘I know. He’s a devious, cowardly devil, as I read him, but not the type to go for the rough stuff.’

‘Exactly. He brought about old Sir Anthony’s death, I believe, but by a method which can hardly be held against him, since there is no proof that he did not do his best (as he saw it) for the old gentleman in what turned out to be a fatal illness.’

‘That is true. We shall never get anywhere on those lines.’

‘But if Mrs Lawrence had evidence that Lawrence had knowledge that a sudden shock would kill the old gentleman, especially if medical aid was not forthcoming as soon as the symptoms of a serious condition appeared…’

‘But we can never prove that Mrs Lawrence did have any such knowledge.’

‘And, of course, Coralie St Malo may have been lying when she told me that she had refused Lawrence’s offer of re-marriage. After all, he is now a very wealthy man.’

‘And you summed her up as a bit of a gold-digger, did you?’

‘No, but certainly not the reverse. She struck me as a woman who (to repeat a vulgarism) would know on which side the bread was buttered.’

‘Well, the inspector will just have to press on with his enquiries. But to return to a point we agreed on a little earlier; Lawrence doesn’t strike either of us as the type who would drag a woman’s head back and slit her throat.’

‘Quite. What is entirely out of character is unlikely to be the truth. On the other hand, Lawrence could still have been the prowler who buried the body. Another thing is that he has what seems to be a complete alibi for the time the doctors agree that the murder was committed, even allowing for the limits they suggest. He was either with Sir Anthony in Norfolk and still with him when the old man died, or in his College lodgings. His landlady is prepared to swear that once he had returned to his northern digs, he did not leave them again until well after the time-limit which the doctors say is the latest date on which the murder could have been committed.’

‘It looks as though we’d better lean pretty heavily on the St Malo woman, then, although throat-slitting hardly seems a woman’s crime.’

‘Unless in her formative years she had seen pigs killed,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘and in her part of the country that would hardly have been an uncommon occurrence, I dare say.’

‘Well, now that the High Mistress’s mission is accomplished without any help from us – for the porters are well and truly cleared – we may take up the even tenor of our way again and you can go off to visit Eiladh and her aunt and uncle in Scotland as soon as ever you like,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Well—’ said Laura dubiously.

‘You had better take my car instead of your own. I shall not be needing it while George has his holiday.’

‘Well—’

‘No, no. Your plans were made weeks ago and now that we can leave everything connected with the murder in the hands of the police, there is no reason whatever for changing the arrangements. Now that the porters are cleared, our interest in the murder of Mrs Lawrence is no longer anything but academic.’

She herself was not at all convinced of this, although the thought that she might be in danger of receiving a visit from Lawrence did not cross her mind. She did realise, later on, that it might have been as well if she had had the opportunity to familiarise herself with Lawrence’s features and general appearance, but there had been no opportunity offered her for this, neither had she sought one.

When, therefore, he rang her front-door bell a day or two after Laura and the chauffeur had left the Stone House and her elderly French housekeeper came to the library to announce that a Mr Randolph had called, Dame Beatrice merely asked:

‘What does he want? I’m busy.’

‘He wish to consult madame.’

‘What about?’

‘Le psychologie. Disturbances of ze mind. Les hallucinations, madame.’

‘Really?’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Well, tell him that I am no longer in private practice and that, in any case, I see no one without either a personal invitation or by appointment.’

‘Bien, madame.’ Célestine withdrew, but before Dame Beatrice could settle down to work again on a paper she was writing for a learned journal, Célestine was back, this time in a state of high indignation.

‘Imagine, madame! This assassin of whom I speak to you! He refuses to leave. He has tried to bribe me, madame! He offers me a pourboire – and a very small one, at that! – to show him in to you. It is insupportable!’

‘I hope you and Henri, between you, will make it clear to him that I can be of no assistance to him.’

‘He is indécrottable, that one, madame. Henri have to hold him en mer—’

‘At bay, not “at sea”.’

‘Bay is sea, no? Eh, bien, Henri have to hold him at bay with a big knife, so he does not force his way into the presence of madame.’

‘He appears to be a man of obstinate resolution. You had better show him in here if he is being threatened with a knife.’

‘Madame will receive this parvenu?’

The man who entered was tall and lean. He was clean-shaven, dark-haired and looked sardonic and ill-humoured. He bowed and took the seat Dame Beatrice offered him.

‘Perhaps I should have made an appointment?’ he said.

‘It would have been of no use,’ Dame Beatrice replied. ‘I am no longer in private practice.’

‘Oh, I had hoped – your son told me—’

‘My son?’

‘Sir Ferdinand Lestrange. When he knew I wanted to buy a New Forest property, he told me that you and I were to be near neighbours. I shall be moving to a property just outside the town of Chardle.’

‘That is not very near the village here.’

‘A mere matter of twenty miles. Nothing in a fast car.’

‘My son is not usually anxious to extend my circle of acquaintances. He believes that I am capable of doing that for myself.’

‘Oh, but people living in the same neighbourhood should be prepared to socialise, surely?’

‘I am afraid that my interests lie elsewhere.’

‘Oh, now, now!’ cried the visitor, wagging a playful finger. ‘We are all members one of another, we’re told. Doesn’t John Donne add that…’

‘My dear young man,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘you told my servant that you had come to consult me professionally.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, that is so.’

‘I sent a message to say that I am no longer in private practice. Even if I were, you would have had to consult me in London, not here. This is my private residence and I do not welcome—’ she eyed him straightly ‘—gatecrashers.’

‘Well, really!’

‘Also I happen to be very busy at this particular time, as, no doubt, you can see for yourself.’

‘Oh, well!’ He rose and stood looking down on her. His hat was in one hand, a pair of driving-gloves in the other. The knuckles of both hands, she noticed, were white.

‘I can see that you are under considerable strain,’ she said. ‘You would do well, perhaps, to consult a doctor.’

‘But not you? I could make it any time which suited you.’

‘I am sorry. And now, if you don’t mind —’ She indicated the books and papers on her desk.

‘Oh, but, hang it all! Well, look here, if you won’t have me as your patient, whom do you suggest I should go to?’

‘Professor Jericho is a very good man,’ said Dame Beatrice coolly. She rang the bell.

‘Go to—? Here, I say! I did expect to get at least a courteous hearing! I came here to—’

‘Célestine,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘show Mr Lawrence out.’

The Frenchwoman showed no surprise at the change in the visitor’s name, but having closed the front door behind him she returned unbidden to her mistress.

‘He asks me, that one, whether you are alone in the house except for your servants, madame.’

‘Oh? What did you tell him?’

‘Big lies.’

‘Good. That man, if I mistake not, is a murderer.’

‘Ciel! En vérité, madame? I go round with Henri tonight to be sure he lock and double-lock all doors. I am glad it is also windows which can be locked since the attack on the life of madame last year.’

‘Yes, Mrs Gavin insisted on the window fastenings. That will be all.’

‘I could wish,’ muttered Célestine, as she went to the door, ‘that the good Georges and Madame Gavin were here to protect madame.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Dame Beatrice, whose ears were keen, ‘I shall now load my little revolver and keep it handy, but I think our visitor, having proved my mettle, is most unlikely to return.’

She rang up the Chief Constable and told him of the visit.

‘What did he come for? What was his object, do you suppose?’ he asked.

‘I think he had been in touch with Miss St Malo and took fright at what she told him of my visit to her. He has much on his conscience and for that reason he probably takes fright very easily. I think he decided to come along and take a look at me and my establishment just to see how the land lay. He found it harsh and inhospitable.’

‘Well, apart from the telephone directory – you public figures ought never to allow your names and addresses to appear in that, you know – I suppose it’s easy enough to find out from Who’s Who where you live and all about you. Are you going to ask for police protection?’

‘Because a man calls on me and stays less than ten minutes?’

‘You say he gave a false name? How did you know it was Lawrence?’

‘I did not know. He answered to a description my son once gave me of Lawrence. Besides, like that son, I have a suspicious mind and I am always wary of strangers, especially of strangers who try to bribe my servants. For all these reasons, I guessed who my visitor was.’

‘Do you think you were wise to let him know you had recognised him?’

‘I did it deliberately. It will be interesting to find out how he reacts, if he reacts at all.’

‘It may be interesting, but it won’t be very pleasant if he cuts your throat,’ said the Chief Constable grimly. ‘Do, at least, let your village bobby know that a suspicious-looking stranger has called on you. If nothing more than your visit to Coralie St Malo has put wind up him, he must be in a rare old funk, and so am I, knowing that he’s on the loose in your neighbourhood.’

‘Very well. If it will ease your mind I will drive into Brockenhurst and acquaint the police with my fears.’

‘Your fears? That will be the day!’ said the Chief Constable.

Dame Beatrice had been placed under police protection once or twice before, although she herself had never asked for it; the safety measure had been taken either by Laura Gavin or by Sir Ferdinand Lestrange on his mother’s behalf. On this occasion, however, she kept her word to the Chief Constable and was assured: ‘We always keep an eye on your place, ma’am, the nature of your occupation being what it is with the Home Office. Some of your murderers have plenty of friends outside.’ So, having done what she could, Dame Beatrice dismissed Lawrence from her mind.

Some days went by, the little pile of manuscript (to be typed when Laura returned) grew a little bulkier, correspondence was dealt with and, for a change of occupation, Dame Beatrice paid visits to her rose-garden to snip off the dead blooms, and so time passed.

The Chief Constable wrote to tell her that Chief Superintendent Nicholl was back in charge of the Lawrence case, but, so far, had no progress to report, all further attempts to break Lawrence’s alibi having failed. As for Coralie St Malo and Mrs Lawrence’s brother, Bill Caret, all enquiries concerning them came to nothing.

So matters stood and so they remained. Laura and George returned to the Stone House and at the end of September the university’s Long Vacation ended. Routine of a pleasant, peaceful kind was re-established at the Stone House and the only surprise, if such it could be called, was that Lawrence had not returned to resume his northern university lectureship, but had resigned it on the grounds that he was now ‘a man of property’ domiciled in the south.