The Clock Strikes Twelve

Chapter 19

Superintendent Vyner sat in a solid armchair and faced the Chief Constable across a comfortable hearth. The Chief Constable was Colonel Bostock, a wiry little man with a brown wrinkled face, bright twinkling eyes, and a cheerful expression. He was sixty years old, and had the air of having enjoyed every minute of them. Since he was a widower, it is to be supposed that this was not quite the case, but Mrs. Bostock had been dead for so many years that any sad memories must long ago have been obliterated. His three daughters, at present serving their country, were healthy and pleasant young women who had never given him a moment’s anxiety. One of them was overseas, but the other two had seven days’ leave and were spending it at home. Vyner had just used the word murder. Colonel Bostock was regarding him with the cocked head and bright attention of a terrier to whom someone has just said “Rats!”

“You don’t say so!”

“It’s not me, sir-it’s Dr. Frith. And Dr. Horton couldn’t contradict him, though he’d have been glad enough if he could. Of course if you put it to me, I’d say that Dr. Frith was in the right of it. It was murder all right. He was pushed, and I’d say he was pushed by someone who knew that he’d got the habit of standing by that parapet and having a look at the view. The butler says he did it every night as regular as clockwork before he went to bed.”

“That’s all very well, but who was to know what time he’d go to bed? Or did that go by clockwork too?”

“Oh, no, sir. But last night, you see, all those ten people who had dinner with him, well they’d heard him say he’d be sitting up in his study till twelve o’clock. He’d brought a serious accusation against one of them and he was going to wait in the study for that one to come and confess. Well, there’s the motive. We don’t know just how serious it all was. The offence may have been a criminal one for all we know. There’s no doubt the family were pretty hard hit, and there’s no doubt they meant to keep their mouths shut. You’ve got Miss Paradine’s statement there- well, she denies the whole thing. She wouldn’t have done that if she hadn’t thought the others would back her up. What they hadn’t reckoned with was my getting hold of Mrs. Ambrose before they’d the chance of telling her what to say.”

Colonel Bostock gave a short, dry sniff.

“Mrs. Ambrose? Let’s see-she’s Irene. Lydia ’s the red-haired one. Old Pennington’s daughters. The mother’s dead too. Very pretty woman Mrs. Pennington. Danced like an angel. Neither of the girls a patch on her for looks. The red hair comes from the Pennington side. Nice chap old Pennington, and a damned good shot. Red as a scraped carrot. The girls went to school with mine. Wait a minute-there was something about one of them… Not Lydia -no. Shouldn’t have been so surprised if it had been the red-headed one. Never trust a red-headed woman. No, it was the other one, Irene-girl who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.”

Vyner considered it time to recall his Chief Constable from these reminiscences. He did so with respect, but firmly.

“Well, sir, you see, once I had got that statement from Mrs. Ambrose it wasn’t any good the others holding out. I had the sister in next, Miss Lydia Pennington-a very intelligent young lady, if I may say so-and she saw at once that the game was up. I read her what Mrs. Ambrose had said, and she agreed that it was correct so far as it went. Only she tried very hard to get it across that Mr. Paradine mightn’t have meant very much after all-said she was very fond of him and all that, but there was no denying he was very strict and old-fashioned, and that he expected everyone in the family to do just what they were told.”

“Well, that’s true enough. Everyone knows that. Very able man-very able indeed. Bit of an autocrat. Bit of a tyrant, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Yes, sir-that’s the impression Miss Pennington wanted to give. She did it very well. There’s her statement.”

Colonel Bostock ran his eye over it.

“Yes-yes. Well, it’s all quite true. Who did you have next?”

“Mr. Ambrose. You’ve got his statement there. Very short and to the point. But he didn’t like making it. Looked like fury when I read him what his wife had said. She’ll be hearing about it, I expect. But he didn’t deny it-said he had no idea what his stepfather meant, but thought there wasn’t much in it- said Mr. Paradine had been overworking, and considered he’d gone off the deep end about something that was probably not very important. When I asked him whether he was out again after he got home, he said yes, he went out to look for his wife. When I asked him how he knew where to look for her he said he didn’t, but she might have gone round to the doctor’s because she was always getting into a state about the children and the telephone was out of order. It sounds a bit thin, you know, sir.”

Colonel Bostock said, “Oh, I don’t know.” And then, “Good lord, man, what are you suggesting- that Ambrose trekked all the way back to the River House to push old Paradine off?”

Vyner looked up quickly.

“Well, sir, when you say all the way back-it’s not that far.”

“Took them a quarter of an hour to drive it.”

“Yes, sir-to drive it. But it wouldn’t be more than six or seven minutes by the foot-bridge and along the river path.”

Colonel Bostock gave a long whistle.

“The foot-bridge! No more it would! Of course the Ambroses are in Meadowcroft. It’s no distance at all by the foot-bridge. Did he say how long he was out, or when he came in?”

“He said he couldn’t say-said he didn’t look at his watch. And that doesn’t sound natural to me, sir, because when a man’s waiting for a woman, and especially if he’s a bit worked up, why, he’d keep looking at his watch all the time-I’ve done it myself.”

“Mightn’t have a luminous dial,” said Colonel Bostock reasonably. “You’re forgetting the blackout.”

“Very bright moon, sir, till a quarter before midnight.”

“H’m! Let’s have a look at what the fellow says. Short and sharp. Well, thank the Lord for that.” He scanned the statement and put it down again. “Well, you know, Vyner, it might have happened just as he says. That girl Irene-Mrs. Ambrose-how did she strike you? Is she the sort to go rushing off for old Horton in the middle of the night like she says? A lot depends on that, you know.”

Vyner had allowed himself to smile.

“Well, yes, sir-she struck me that way.”

“Not much of a head on her shoulders? She used to come about the house when my girls were at home, but I don’t know that I’ve said three words to her since she married. Nice people the Penningtons. But there was something about this girl Irene-I must ask my daughters when they come in. So you think she’s a bit of a fool?”

The smile lingered for a moment in the Superintendent’s eyes.

“Well, yes, sir.”

“All right-there you are. If a woman’s a fool she’s a fool. Might do anything.”

The Superintendent abandoned Mrs. Ambrose.

“Yes, sir. I saw the other four men after Mr. Ambrose-Mr. Mark Paradine, Mr. Richard Paradine, Mr. Pearson, and Mr. Wray. I didn’t get anything that you could add to the Ambrose statements. You’ll see if you look at them, the wording varies a little, that’s all. There isn’t any doubt that Mrs. Ambrose gave a pretty fair account of what took place. I didn’t read them her statement, and they’d had no opportunity of seeing either her or her husband again before I had them in-one at a time of course. So they’d no means of knowing what she had said. I just told each of them that both she and Mr. Ambrose had described a painful incident which took place at the dinner table last night. I indicated the nature of the incident, and I invited each of them to give his own version of what had occurred. Well, none of them wanted to do it, but none of them wanted to be the one to refuse. They cut it down as much as they could, and they didn’t say more than they could help, but there isn’t much in it between what they say, as you’ll see. I think they’re all telling the truth as far as they go, but of course they’re not saying anything they don’t have to.”

“Quite-quite. Painful predicament for a family.”

Vyner said drily,

“Yes, sir-especially if one of them pushed him over that parapet.”

Colonel Bostock appeared to be shocked.

“Bless my soul, Vyner-that’s a dreadful thing to say!”

“Yes, sir, but that’s what it looks like. To get back to those statements-if you’ll just run your eye over them you’ll see Mr. Mark Paradine and Mr. Elliot Wray have got the least to say about it-cut it down all they could. Mr. Richard, he talked quite a lot- rather fell over himself trying to explain it away. And Mr. Pearson-well, very discreet.”

“Hold on, let’s get these people straight. Mark and Richard are the nephews. Which is the tall, dark one?”

“Mark, sir.”

“That’s it. Someone was telling me about him. Wanted to go into the Air Force, but they wouldn’t let him. In the Research Department-can’t be spared. The other one-my girls know him. Lively- bit of a ladies’ man. By way of making up to Lydia Pennington.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Elliot Wray-he’s the fellow who married the adopted daughter-what’s her name-Phyllida. Marriage broke up before the honeymoon was over. Extraordinary thing. Nice young fellow-pretty girl. Can’t think what young people are coming to. Shouldn’t be surprised if somebody had meddled. Grace Paradine for choice. Old maid’s daughters- something unnatural about it to my mind. Pity she didn’t marry Bob Moffat and have half a dozen. Never could make out why she didn’t. All over him one minute, and a flourish about the engagement- everyone as pleased as Punch. And then the whole thing broken off and the families dead cuts. Damned awkward thing to happen with your business partner.”

Vyner said, “Yes, sir.”

Colonel Bostock picked up Albert Pearson’s statement, glanced it through, and said,

“Who’s Pearson? How does he come into it?”

“Secretary, sir. Some kind of a cousin as well. Lives in.”

Colonel Bostock rubbed his forehead.

“Pearson-Pearson-yes, of course, he’d be Milly Paradine’s son. Big, gawky girl. Some kind of a second cousin. Used to come and stay with the Paradines. Ran away with old Pearson the jeweller’s son-made a lot of talk. Old Pearson cut ’em off, and the Paradines cut ’ em off. Obstinate girl-very. Pearson got a job-died some years later. I’ve got an idea that the boy was apprenticed to his father’s trade… Wait a bit, I’m getting there. Bless my soul, now who was it was talking about Milly Paradine not so long ago? Campion-no, it wouldn’t be Campion. Mrs. Horton-might have been Mrs. Horton. Reminds me of the elephant-she never forgets. That’s who it must have been! And she was saying what a good son that young Pearson had been-praiseworthy fellow-worked hard, ambitious-the virtuous apprentice-took night classes-languages, typing, shorthand, all that kind of thing. Mother died a year or two ago. That’s him!” He returned with satisfaction to the restrained statement of Albert Pearson.

“You see, sir,” said Vyner, “Pearson did see Mr. Paradine after he went to his study. He was in the drawing-room with the others until first the Ambrose party and then the two Mr. Paradines went away. He then went back to the drawing-room, said goodnight, and proceeded to the study to see if his services were required by Mr. Paradine. He found the butler there setting out a tray of drinks. Lane corroborates this. Pearson says he was told he wouldn’t be needed, but that Mr. Paradine called him back as he was following the butler out of the room and suggested a slight alteration to a letter which he had dictated earlier in the evening. He says Mr. Paradine didn’t keep him a moment, and that he was about to go up to his room, when it struck him that he was, as he puts it, in a very invidious position. He says he stood there thinking about this, and thinking that it would be a good thing if he could be in company with someone else during the time that Mr. Paradine had set for being in his study in case anyone should be wanting to confess. He says he was on the point of going back to the drawing-room, when he saw Mr. Elliot Wray come through the baize door from the hall. Mr. Paradine’s rooms are on the ground floor- bedroom, bathroom, study, and his late wife’s room which is not in use. Mr. Pearson was along the passage from these rooms on his way to a back stair which comes out near his own bedroom. He saw Mr. Wray go into the study, and made up his mind to wait. After no more than about two minutes Mr. Wray came out again. Pearson then addressed him, telling him frankly that he would like to be in his company till after midnight. After which they went up to Mr. Wray’s room, which is just across the passage from Pearson’s, and stayed there until after half past eleven, when they went down to the dining-room and had a drink. When they got back again it was eight minutes past twelve. Mr. Wray went and had a bath, and Pearson went to bed. Their statements corroborate each other, and this puts them both out of court as far as the murder is concerned, because Mr. Paradine was dead by twelve o’clock. It’s an undisputed fact and no getting away from it that a heavy shower of rain started at that time. I can vouch for that myself. We were sitting up to see the New Year in, and we’d the wireless on. With the last stroke of twelve you could hear the rain against the window, and that’s when it started, for I’d only just let the dog in, and it was dry then. The ground under Mr. Paradine’s body was dry. So there you’ve got it, sir-he was dead just after the last stroke of twelve.”

Colonel Bostock made the grimace which accounted for his network of wrinkles.

“You make it sound like a damned detective novel. Who says it was eight minutes past twelve when Wray and Pearson got upstairs?”

“Both of them, sir.”

The Chief Constable grunted.

“Very noticing of them. Fellows don’t generally look at the clock every time they go into a room.”

“Well, sir, it was New Year’s Eve. And Pearson makes no bones about it, he wanted to cover himself over this confessing business-says right out he’s the one the family would be glad to pick on if they could.”

“What’s he mean-the confessing, or the murder?”

Vyner said, “Both,” rather drily, and then, “I’m not going to say he’s wrong either. He’s only what you might call on the edge of the family, as you may say. But Mr. Wray bears him out over the matter of the clock-says it was all of eight minutes past before they separated.”

Colonel Bostock said, “H’m! What about the clock being wrong?”

“Well, sir, Mr. Paradine was very fussy about that-used to have a man up once a week to wind and set the clocks, until labour got scarce, then he did it himself. The butler says he’d have a fit if any of the clocks was half a minute out. I checked them over myself, and they were all the same, and all dead right.”

“All right, let’s get on. What about the nephews? Let’s see-they went off early too, didn’t they?”

“Yes, sir-at about a quarter to ten.”

“Together?”

“Yes, sir-on bicycles. Mr. Mark, he’s got a service flat in that new block, Birleton Mansions, just as you get into the town. He says he stopped there. Mr. Richard lodges farther on, in Lennox Street. Both of them say they left without seeing Mr. Paradine. Mr. Richard says he didn’t go out again. Mr. Mark says he went for a walk. As a matter of fact the policeman on duty on the bridge says he saw him. It was bright moonlight up to the time the rain came on. He says Mr. Mark passed him, going back in the direction of the River House. He puts the time at 10:20 or so- says he looked at his watch within a few minutes of seeing him, just to see how the time was getting on. I’ve only just had that, so I’ve not had the opportunity of putting it to Mr. Mark. Well, that’s as far as I’ve got with the nephews. Then there’s Mr. and Mrs. Wray. He’s here on business. He and his wife were occupying rooms on different sides of the house.”

Colonel Bostock nodded.

“Marriage broke up. Pity. Surprised he should be staying there. Awkward-very.”

“Well, sir, he says urgent business cropped up, and Mr. Paradine insisted. Government business, I understand-confidential.”

Colonel Bostock nodded again.

“Yes, yes-he’s in with Cadogan. Bomb sights- all that kind of thing. Very able fellow, I’m told.”

“Yes, sir. He wasn’t giving much away-just said he looked in on Mr. Paradine to say goodnight. And then corroborates Pearson. But Mrs. Wray-well, sir, she admits to having had a conversation of some length with Mr. Paradine after the others had gone to bed.”

“What?”

“I don’t think there’s anything in it, sir. In point of fact she needn’t have told me. I just asked her as a matter of form whether she’d seen him again, and she said at once that she had-says she went up to her room and got thinking of something she wanted to discuss with Mr. Paradine, so she went down and had a talk with him. She says it lasted about twenty minutes. It was a very friendly talk, and it had nothing to do with what had been said at dinner. She wouldn’t say any more than that, but I got the impression that she hadn’t expected to meet her husband like that-the butler said none of them expected him-that it upset her a good bit, and that she wanted to talk to her uncle about it.”

“That’s natural enough.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what I thought-but of course you never can tell. I’ve left Manners and Cotton taking statements from the staff. I did Lane the butler myself-you’ve got his statement there. He found the body. Then there’s his wife-she’s the cook, Mrs. Lane-Louisa Holme, housemaid-she’s been there fifteen years-and two young girls, Polly Parsons, under housemaid, and Gladys Huggins, kitchen-maid. None of them in the way of knowing anything, I should say. Miss Holme was waiting at dinner with Lane, but no nearer the study than that. The others wouldn’t have any business there either. All their rooms are in the kitchen wing, on the other side of the dining-room. None of their windows open onto the terrace. The only occupied bedrooms whose windows do look out that way are Mr. Wray’s at one end of the house, more or less over the study, and Mrs. Wray’s at the other end. Mr. Wray would have been in the dining-room, which looks the other way, at the time of Mr. Paradine’s fall. But Mrs. Wray says she woke up with a feeling that she had heard someone cry out. She says she can’t be sure just what she heard because she was dreaming, but she woke up with the feeling that she had heard something. She put on the light and looked at the time, and it was just after twelve. I think there’s very little doubt that she heard Mr. Paradine cry out as he fell.”

Colonel Bostock made a very pronounced grimace.

“Good lord, Vyner, what a girl hears in a dream isn’t evidence!”

“No, sir. Well, that’s all the statements, except the one we got from Miss Brenda Ambrose. I left her to the last, and I didn’t expect to get anything out of her. And now I don’t know whether I did or not.”

Colonel Bostock pricked up his ears.

“How’s that?”

“Well, sir, you’ve got what she’s put her name to. But there’s more to it than that. She’d a kind of a manner with her every time she mentioned her sister-in-law, Mrs. Ambrose-and it’s my opinion she went out of her way to mention her.”

Colonel Bostock whistled. He rummaged out Brenda Ambrose’s statement and went through it.

“Not so much the things she says as the nasty way she says ’em.”

“You’ve got it, sir.”

Colonel Bostock whistled again, softly.

“Well, there was something about that girl Irene-” he said.