The Case Is Closed

CHAPTER NINE

Mrs. Ashley looked frightened to death. Hilary thought she had never seen anyone so ridiculously frightened in her life. Ridiculously because – well, really, there wasn’t anything for her to be frightened about. You don’t need to look like a rabbit in a trap just because you once worked in a house where there was a murder and someone comes to ask you a few quite harmless questions about it. All the same, there was Mrs. Ashley with her mouth open in a pale O and her eyes staring with terror.

‘I’m Mrs Grey’s cousin,’ repeated Hilary firmly.

Some kind of a sound came out of the pale O, but it didn’t make any sense.

Hilary tapped with her foot. She really could have shaken the creature.

‘Mrs. Geoffrey Grey – Geoffrey Grey’s wife. I’m her cousin. I only wanted to ask you one or two questions – Mrs. Ashley, why are you so frightened?’

Mrs. Ashley caught her breath. Her chin trembled. She put up a hand to cover her mouth.

‘I don’t know anything – I can’t say anything.’

Hilary restrained herself. If she lost her temper, it would be all up. She said in the careful, gentle voice which she would have used to someone who was not quite right in the head:

‘There’s nothing to be frightened about. I really only wanted to ask you something about Mrs. Mercer.’

This seemed to have a soothing effect. Mrs. Ashley took her hand away from her mouth, moistened her lips with a pale tongue, and said in a faint, gasping voice:

‘Mrs. Mercer?’

‘Yes. You were helping her at Solway Lodge, weren’t you? Did she tell you she had a toothache the day Mr. Everton was shot?’

‘Oh no, miss, she didn’t.’

It was obvious that the question was a relief, and the answer an easy one.

‘Did you know that she’d been having toothache?’

‘Oh no, miss, I didn’t.’

‘You didn’t know she’d had trouble with her teeth?’

‘Oh no, Miss.’

‘But I suppose she used to talk to you a good bit?’

‘Sometimes she would and sometimes she wouldn’t,’ said Mrs. Ashley – ‘not if Mr. Mercer was anywhere about. But if we were by ourselves in the bedrooms as it might be, she’d tell me how she’d lived down by the sea when she was a girl the first time she was in service. She thought a lot about that place Mrs. Mercer did. There was a lady and a little boy, and the gentleman a lot away from home. There was a baby too, but it was the little boy she thought the world of.’ Mrs. Ashley paused for breath. The topic seemed to have reassured her, and she had stopped looking like something in a trap.

Hilary brought her firmly back from Mrs. Mercer’s reminiscences to Mrs. Mercer herself.

‘Then you didn’t know she had a toothache?’

‘Oh no, miss.’

Hilary let the toothache go.

‘What time did you leave – on the 16th, I mean?’

The frightened look came back into Mrs. Ashley’s face. She showed the whites of her eyes like a nervous horse as she said:

‘I had my tea and went same as usual.’

Now what was the matter with her?

‘And what time was that?’ said Hilary.

Mrs. Ashley’s mouth opened and shut. She looked dreadfully like a fish on a hook.

‘Six o’clock,’ she said on an almost inaudible gasp.

‘And you didn’t sec anything out of the way?’

Mrs. Ashley shook her head.

‘Or hear anything?’

Mrs. Ashley turned the colour of a tallow candle and her eyes bolted, but she shook her head again.

Hilary, exasperated, took a step towards her and said with all the severity of her twenty-two years:

‘Mrs. Ashley, you did hear something. It’s no good your saying you didn’t, because I can see that you did, and if you won’t tell me what it is, I shall just have to think about going to the police.’

It wasn’t possible to look more frightened, but it was possible to shiver. Mrs. Ashley shivered, and clutched at the table for support.

‘I went away at six o’clock – gospel truth I did.’

Hilary came darting at her with, ‘But did you come back again, Mrs. Ashley -did you come back?’ And then and there the woman collapsed, going down on her knees by the table, sobbing and weeping, her hands pressed over her eyes and her tongue stumbling and failing under a landslide of words.

‘I told her I wouldn’t tell, and I never. I promised her sure and certain I wouldn’t tell. I told the police I went away at six like I always done and no reason why I shouldn’t and take my gospel oath on it for true’s true and I went away like I said and no one never arst me nothing more except that pore lady and I promised her faithful I wouldn’t tell and I never.’

Hilary felt a little cold and bewildered. The sound of Mrs. Ashley’s sobs filled the room. She had let go of the table and was crouched in a sort of heap against one of the rickety legs, rbcking herself to and fro and crying.

‘Mrs. Ashley – listen to me! What are you talking about? Who made you promise not to tell?’

‘I never!’ said Mrs. Ashley with a rending sniff. ‘The police come, and I don’t know how I kep’ myself, but I never.’

‘Who did you promise? You must tell me who you promised.’

Mrs. Ashley’s sobs redoubled.

‘She come here, and I told her. And she sat in that chair and she arst me to promise. Not three months off her time she was. And I promised, and I kep’ my promise.’ She pushed the hair from her face with a trembling, dabbing hand and stared at Hilary in a sort of weak pride. ’I didn’t tell the police – I didn’t tell no one – only her-only Mrs. Grey.’

Hilary knelt down on the shabby floor so that she could face her eye to eye.

‘What did you hear?’ she said in a young, small voice.

Mrs. Ashley rocked and sobbed. Hilary’s voice went down into a whisper.

‘Tell me – Mrs. Ashley, tell me – I’ve got to know. It won’t hurt anyone now – Geoff’s in prison – the case is closed. I’m Marion ’s cousin – you can tell me. You see, I know that you came back. I’ve got to know what happened – I’ve got to know what you heard.’ She put out a hand and took the woman by the wrist. ’Mrs. Ashley, why did you go back?’

‘I dropped my letter.’

‘What letter?’

‘I’ve got a boy that went for a sailor. He’s seventeen – and it’s his first trip – and he wrote to me from India -and I took the letter for to show Mrs. Mercer -she and me used to talk about my boy, and about the one she set such store by in her first place – and when I got home I hadn’t got my letter, so I come back – ’

‘Yes?’ said Hilary.

Mrs. Ashley pushed back her damp hair.

‘Mr. Mercer he’d have burnt it or tore it up, Mr. Mercer would. No feelings for a mother, Mr. Mercer hasn’t – many’s the time me and Mrs. Mercer have said it when he wasn’t by. So I dursn’t leave it over till next day and I come back. I knew where I must have left it for certain, because it was when Mr. Everton was out and I was doing the study, and Mrs. Mercer come in aud I read her the letter. And I put it back in my pocket in a hurry because we heard Mr. Mercer, and it must have slipped out and seeing I was tight up against the curtains I’d good hope no one ’ad seen it. So I waited till I thought Mr. Everton ’ud be at dinner and I come along.’

‘Yes!’ said Hilary – ‘yes?’

Mrs. Ashley had stopped crying. She sniffed and gulped, but she was fairly launched.

‘I come back and I thought no need to let anyone know. And I thought a fine evening like this the study window’ll be open right down to the ground, and no more than to put my hand inside and take my letter if it was there, and if not I must just leave it and take my chance of a word with Mrs. Mercer.’ She paused and rocked herself, and stared at Hilary with frightened eyes. ‘I made sure Mr. Everton ’ud be at dinner, but I come along tight up to the wall and I hadn’t got to no more than a yard or two from the study window than I heard Mr. Everton call out and there come the sound of a shot, and I turned around and I ran.’ She choked on a sob. ‘I didn’t see no one, and no one didn’t see me. I don’t know how I get home – I don’t indeed.’

Hilary felt exactly as if someone had dashed cold water in her face. She was braced, eager, and steady. Something in her mind kept saying, ‘The time -the time that she heard the shot – that’s what matters – the time – the time of the shot.’ She said it aloud in a clear, firm voice.

‘What time was it? What time did you hear the shot?’

Mrs. Ashley stopped rocking. Her mouth fell open. She seemed to be thinking.

There was a clock struck when I come along Oakley Road- ’

‘Yes – yes?’

‘Eight o’clock it struck.’

Hilary drew a long joyful breath. It was only five minutes walk from Oakley Road to Solway Lodge. That is to say, Geoff had made five minutes of it. A woman would probably take seven or eight minutes, and a dreep like Mrs. Ashley might take ten. But if Mrs. Ashley had heard that shot fired at ten minutes past eight, it couldn’t have been fired by Geoffrey Grey. Geoff couldn’t possibly have reached Solway Lodge before a quarter past eight, and even then you had got to allow time for him to meet his uncle and quarrel with him if you were going to believe the Mercers’ evidence. She said in an eager, trembling voice:

‘Then it couldn’t have been later than ten past eight when you heard that shot?’

Mrs. Ashley sat back on her heels and stared. Her hands had fallen palm upwards in her lap. She said in a flat voice:

‘No, miss – it would be later than that – a good bit.’

Hilary’s heart gave a jump.

‘It couldn’t be! You couldn’t take more than ten minutes from Oakley Road – nobody could.’

‘Oh no, miss.’

‘Then it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes past eight.’

Mrs. Ashley opened and shut her mouth exactly like a fish. Then she said, ‘It was a good bit later than that,’ in her meek, flat voice.

‘How could it be?’

She moistened her lips again.

‘A good ten minutes out that clock have been ever since I been going to the house.’

‘Which way out?’

Mrs. Ashley blinked.

‘It must have been getting on for the half hour.’

‘You mean the clock was slow?’

‘A good ten minutes out.’

Hilary’s heart sank. The joy went out of her. No wonder Marion had asked this woman to hold her tongue. If she had really heard the shot at twenty past eight, her evidence would just about have finished Geoff. She winced sharply away from the picture of Marion -fine, proud Marion -going down on her knees to this woman to ask her to hold her tongue and give Geoff a chance, a bare chance, of escaping the hangman. She stood for a moment pressing her hands together. Then she said:

‘Mrs. Ashley – you’re quite sure about that clock being ten minutes slow?’

‘A good ten minutes, miss. I used to pass the remark to Mrs. Mercer many and many a time. “Nothing to go by that church clock of yours,” I used to say. “And all very well for you that’s got a watch, but many’s the time it’s given me a turn, and all for nothing.” They’ve put it right since, someone was telling me, but I don’t go that way now so I couldn’t say for sure.’

‘Did you hear anything besides the shot?’ Hilary was dreadfully afraid of this question, but she had to ask it or be a coward. And immediately she knew why she had been afraid. Panic looked at her out of Mrs. Ashley’s eyes and a trembling hand went up and covered her mouth. Hilary shook too. ‘What did you hear? You did hear something – I know you did. Did you hear voices?’

Mrs. Ashley moved her head. Hilary thought the wavering movement said ‘Yes.’

‘You heard voices? What voices?’

‘Mr. Everton’s.’ The words were stifled against the woman’s palm, but Hilary caught them.

‘You heard Mr. Everton’s voice? You’re sure?’

This time the movement of the head was almost a jerk. As far as Mrs. Ashley could be sure of anything she was sure that she had heard James Everton’s voice.

‘Did you hear any other voice?’

Again the wavering movement said ‘Yes.’

‘Whose voice?’

‘I don’t know, miss – not if it was my last word I don’t, and so I told Mrs. Grey when she came and arst me, pore thing. It was only just so I could say there was someone there quarrelling with Mr. Everton.’

Quarrelling… Hilary’s very heart was sick. Damning evidence against Geoff – damning corroboration of Mrs. Mercer’s evidence. And not bought, not cooked up, because this woman had nothing to gain. And she had held her tongue. She had been sorry for Marion, and she had held her tongue.

Hilary drew in her breath and forced herself on.

‘You didn’t hear anything the other person said?’

‘Oh no, miss.’

‘But you recognised Mr. Everton’s voice?’

‘Oh yes, miss.’

‘And you heard what he said?’ Hilary was pressing her hard.

‘Oh yes, miss.’ And at that her voice broke, in choking sobs and her eyes rained down tears.

One bit of Hilary wondered furiously how anyone could produce such a continuous water flow, whilst another bit of her was cold and afraid on the edge of knowing what James Everton had said. She heard herself whisper:

‘What did he say? You must tell me what he said. ’

And then Mrs. Ashley, with her face in her hands, choking out:

‘He said – oh, miss, he said, “My own nephew!” Oh, miss, that’s what I heard him say – “My own nephew!” And then the shot, and I ran for my life, and that’s all. And I promised pore Mrs. Grey – I promised her faithful that I wouldn’t tell.’

Hilary felt perfectly cold and stiff.

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she said. The case is closed.’