Out of the Past

CHAPTER 20

Frank Abbott went up to Cliff Edge in the morning, where he talked with Mrs. Field, Major and Mrs. Hardwick, the Trevors, Lady Castleton, Mrs. Maybury, and the domestic staff, which consisted of the butler Beeston and his wife, and Mrs. Rogers who came in by the day.

Running through these names later on with Inspector Colt, he had some comments to make.

“I suppose it’s natural to be agitated by a murder in your own beach hut, especially when the murderee is to some extent a connection of the family.”

Inspector Colt opined that it would be liable to shake you up a bit. “Mrs. Field now-she is said to have been very fond of him. Spoilt him by all accounts.”

“Oh, I’m not thinking of her. She’s normal enough. Nice woman-fond of a troublesome stepson, shocked at his death, but with just that hint of relief which people don’t always realize themselves.”

“I’m told she was very well thought of when they used to be down here a lot some years ago.”

“The Trevors, on the other hand, are not afflicted at all- at least Colonel Trevor isn’t. He makes no bones about it. Shocking thing of course, but the fellow was a waster and no great loss to anyone. Mrs. Trevor kept telling me how handsome dear Alan was, and how all the girls fell in love with him-but it was just blah! She hasn’t got any real feelings on the subject. People who have are Mrs. Field, Major and Mrs. Hardwick-their house of course, and she had been engaged to him-and, less understandably, Lady Castleton and Mrs. Maybury. They are the two who intrigue me, you know, because I can’t see why. Like everybody else they hadn’t seen him for three years, and as far as comes to light, they knew in the sort of way you know a mass of people who live more or less in the same set, but with whom you are not really intimate. Take Lady Castleton. Rather a hard type. Looks- she was quite a famous beauty-money, position-she has always had everything. And quite a place of her own in the philanthropic world-makes speeches, broadcasts, takes part in public discussions. I can’t for the life of me see why she should be all strung up about this Field affair.”

Inspector Colt suggested that great ladies sometimes took a fancy to a good-looking young man.

Frank Abbott shook his head.

“Oh, no, she’s not that sort. Besides, I don’t get at all the impression that she’s plunged in grief, or that there is any reason why she should be. It is just a general feeling of tension. Of course being mixed up in a murder would get her quite the wrong kind of publicity-it might be that. Or she might have something else on her mind. She seems to have been having headaches and taking something to get her off to sleep. Well, then there’s Mrs. Maybury-pretty, flighty creature, and apt to take things very much as they come. I’ve got a cousin married into the same regiment as Bill Maybury, and I’ve heard quite a lot of chat about Pippa. She’s a good-time girl with a solid husband who lets her have her head. She looks as if she has had a pretty bad shock. May not be anything in it, but I shouldn’t expect her to be a sensitive plant. Now Mrs. Hardwick is, and she was brought up with Alan Field and came within an ace of marrying him, but she doesn’t look as strained as Pippa Maybury.”

When they had finished discussing the people at Cliff Edge, Inspector Colt had a contribution to make.

“We’ve got some evidence about the number of that car,” he said-“the one the foreigner got into at the Jolly Fishermen. The fellow who saw him was with a girl. He didn’t say so at first, but I got hold of him last night and he gave me her address. She says the man was certainly a foreigner, because she heard him speak, and the girl he had with him looked like one, but she didn’t hear her say anything. They went past close to her to get into their car, and she noticed the number. There were three threes in a row, and another figure she wasn’t sure about because of being taken up with the threes. And she isn’t sure of the letters, but she thinks one of them was an O. I thought you would get your people to find out whether this chap Cardozo has a car, and what the number is.”

Frank considered for a moment. Quite possible that Ernest Pearson might know whether José Cardozo ran to a car. He had the type of mind which would automatically register a number, and it was possible that he might be available at his agency.

The luck was in, for the call came through quickly and a girl’s voice informed him that she was speaking from Blake’s agency, and that she believed that Mr. Pearson was on the premises. With the slightest of delays Pearson’s rather deprecating voice announced his presence.

“Hullo, Pearson-Inspector Abbott speaking. Look here, can you tell me, has Cardozo got a car?”

“Oh, yes, sir, a small Ford. It was parked outside when I went to take his instructions.”

“I suppose you didn’t happen to notice the number?”

“Oh, yes, Inspector. A dark green car with a narrow black line-OX.3339.”

Frank said, “Thank you very much, Pearson,” and rang off.

He repeated the information to Inspector Colt.

“Well, that’s that. Did your girl say anything about the colour of the car she saw?”

“She and the chap both say it was a small dark car. They don’t go beyond that, and they don’t specify the make. But it looks as if Cardozo would have something to explain.”

“We can get him down and see whether these two people identify him. Who are they, by the way?”

“The man is a young chap-porter on the railway-keen on darts. Name of Hosken. And the girl is Doris Hale-works in the Sea Bleach Laundry.”

Frank glanced at his wrist-watch.

“When is the next train to town? I’d better take it. As you say, José Cardozo will have quite a lot to explain.”