A Taste for Death (36 page)

'They were as usual. The lady is always gracious, most friendly. They were content that I was able to give them their usual table, in the corner by the window.'

'What time did they leave?'

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'At eleven or a little after. One does not hurry a good dinner.'

'And during dinner? They talked presumably.'

'They talked, monsieur. It is a pleasure of dining, to share good food, good wine and good talk with a friend. But as for what they said, we are not eavesdroppers, Commander. We are not the police. These are good customers you understand.'

'Unlike some of the customers you had here on the night Diana Travers drowned. You had time to notice them, I suppose?'

Higgins showed no surprise at the sudden change in

questioning. He spread his hands in a Gallic gesture of 'resignation.

'Alas, who could overlook them? They were not the kind of client we usually attract. At dinner they were quiet enough but afterwards, well, it was not agreeable. I was relieved when they left the dining room.'

'Sir Paul Berowne wasn't with his wife's party, I under-stand.'

'That is so. When they arrived, Mr Lampart said theft Sir Paul hoped to join them later, in time for coffee. But you may know, he telephoned at ten o'clock or a littlc later maybe and said that it would not, after all, be pos-sible.'

'Who took the call?'

'My doorman, Henry. Sir Paul asked to speak to me

and I was called to the telephone.'

'Did you recognize his voice?'

'As I have said, he was not here so very often, but I knew his voice. It was a voice, how you say, a distinctive voice, surprisingly like your own, Commander, if I may be permitted to say so. I cannot swear to these things, but

had no doubt at the time who was speaking.'

'Have you any doubt now?'

'No, Commander, I cannot say that I have.'

'The two parties for dinner, Mr Lampart's and the young people, did they mix, greet each other?'

'They may have done, on arrival, but the tables were

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not close.' He would have seen to that, thought Dalgliesh. If there had been the slightest sign of embarrassment on Barbara Berowne's part, or of insolence on her brother's, Higgins would have noticed it.

'And the members of Diana Travers's party, had you ever seen them here before?'

'Not that I remember, except for Mr Dominic $wayne. He has dined here once or twice with his sister, but the last time was some months ago. But for the others, I cannot be sure.'

'It was strange, surely, that Mr Swayne wasn't included in Lady Berowne's birthday party?'

'Monsieur, it is not for me to dictate which guests my customers should invite. No doubt there were reasons. There were four only in the birthday group, an intimate party. The table was balanced.'

'But would have become unbalanced if Sir Paul had arrived?'

'That is so, but then he was expected only for coffee and he was, after all, the lady's husband.'

Dalgliesh went on to ask Higgins about the events leading up to the drowning.

'As I have said, I was glad when the young people left the dining room and went out through the conservatory to the garden. They took two bottles of wine with them. It was not the best claret but for them it was good enough. I do not like to see my wine swung about as if it were beer. There was much laughter and I was wondering whether to send Henry or Barry to deal with them, but they moved along the bank out of earshot. It was there that they found the punt. It was tied up, wedged you might say, in a small inlet about eighty yards upstream. Now, of course, it has been removed. Perhaps it should not have been there, but how can I blame myself?. They were not children although they behaved like children. I cannot control what my patrons do when they are off the premises, nor indeed when they are here.'

He used the word blame but the regret was perfunctory. No voice could have held less concern. Dalgliesh suspected

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that the only thing Higgins ever blamed himself for was a spoilt dinner or poor service. He went on:

'The next thing I know is the chef beckoning me from the door of the dining room. That was unusual, you under-stand. Immediately I could see something is wrong. I go quickly out. In the kitchen is one of the girls crying and saying that this other girl, Diana, is dead, drowned. We go out to the riverbank. The night is dark, you understand, the stars high and the moon not full. But there is some light from the car park which is always brightly lit, and some from the kitchen wing of the house. But I take with me a torch. Monsieur may imagine the distress. The girls crying, one of the young men working on the body, Mr Swayne standing there with his clothes dripping. Marcel takes over the respiration - he has many talents, that one -but it is of no use. I could see she was dead. The dead

are not like the living, monsieur, never, never, never.' 'And the girl was naked?'

'As you no doubt have been told. She had taken off all her clothes and dived in for a swim. It was a great folly.'

There was a silence while he contemplated the folly. Then Dalgliesh put down his coffee cup. He said:

'It was convenient that Mr Lampart should have been dining that night. It was natural, of course, to call on him for help.'

The dark eyes, carefully expressionless, looked straight into his.

'That was my first thought, Commander. But it was too late. When I reached the dining room, I was told that Mr Lampart's party had only that moment left. I myself saw the Porsche as it turned out of the drive.'

'So Mr Lampart could have been fetching his car from the park shortly before you learned of the tragedy?'

'That is possible, certainly. I understand that the rest of his party waited at the door.'

'Surely an early, and somewhat hurried, end to the evening?'

'As to hurried, that I cannot say. But the party had been

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seated early, shortly after seven. If Sir Paul had been able

to join them, no doubt they would have stayed later.' Dalgliesh said:

'There has been a suggestion that Sir Paul may have arrived here that night after all.'

'I have heard that, Commander. There was a woman who came to question my staff. It was not agreeable. I was not here at the time but I would have dealt with her. No one saw Sir Paul on that night I assure you. And his car was not seen in the parking lot. It may have been there but it was not seen. And how can this concern his death I ask myself.' Dalgliesh could usually tell when he wasn't getting the truth or was getting only part of it. It was less a matter of instinct than of experience. And Higgins was lying. Now he decided to take a chance. He said:

'But someone did see Sir Paul Berowne that night. Who was it?'

'Monsieur, I assure you...'

'I need to know and I'm quite prepared to hang around until I do. If you want to get rid of us, a perfectly reason-able wish on your part, you'll succeed most quickly by answering my questions. The verdict at the inquest was accidental death. No one, to my knowledge, has suggested that it was anything else. She had eaten too much, drunk too much, she got caught in the reeds and panicked. It is of academic interest whether she died of shock or was drowned. So what are you hiding and why?'

'We are hiding nothing, Commander, nothing. But as you have just said, the death was an accident. Why then make trouble? Why add to distress? And one cannot be sure. A figure quickly walking, glimpsed in the darkness,

in the shadow of the hedge, who can tell who it was?' 'So who was it saw him? Henry?'

It was less a lucky guess than a reasonable assumption. Berowne almost certainly hadn't shown himself on the premises and the doorman was the member of staff most likely to have been outside.

'It was Henry, yes.' Higgins admitted the fact with a

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sad defeatism. The mournful eyes gazed reproachfully at Dalgliesh as if to say: 'I have been helpful, I have given you information and coffee, and look where it has led

me.'

'Then perhaps you'll send for him. And I'd like to speak to him alone.'

Higgins lifted the telephone receiver and dialled a single digit. It connected him to the front entrance. Henry answered it and was summoned. When he appeared, Higgins said:

'This is Commander Dalgliesh. Please tell him what you thought you saw the night that girl was drowned.' Then he gave him a half-rueful glance, shrugged his shoulders and left. Henry, unruffled, stood at attention. Dalgliesh saw that he was older than his confident, upright figure

would suggest. Certainly nearer seventy than sixty.

He said:

'You're ex-Army, aren't you?'

'That's right, sir, the Gloucesters.'

'How long have you been working here for Mr Higgins,

for Monsieur Jean Paul?' 'Five years, sir.' 'You live in?'

'No, sir. The wife and I, we live at Cookham. This place is handy as places go.' He added, as if hoping that a personal touch would demonstrate his willingness to co-operate frankly: 'I've got my Army pension but a little extra never hurts.'

And it wouldn't be so little, thought Dalgliesh. The tips would be good and most of them, given human frailty about the depredations of the Inland Revenue, would be

tax free. Henry would want to keep his job.

He said:

'We're investigating the death of Sir Paul Berowne. We'reinterested in anything that happened to him during the last weeks of his life, however unimportant and irrel-evant it might seem. Apparently he was here on the night of the seventh of August and you saw him.'

'Yes, sir, crossing the car park. One of our guests that

night was leaving and I was fetching his Rolls. We haven't valet parking, sir, it would take me off the door too often. But occasionally guests like to have their cars parked and they hand me their keys on arrival. Antonio, he's one of the waiters, gave me the word that my party was ready to leave and I went for the car. I was standing there putting the key in the lock when I saw Sir Paul cross the car park walking along the line of the hedge and out through the gate leading to the river.'

'How certain are you it was Sir Paul Berowne?'

'Pretty certain, sir. He isn't here often but I've a good eye for faces.'

'Do you know what car he drives?'

'A black Rover, I think. An A registration. I can't remember the number.' Couldn't or wouldn't, thought Dalgliesh. A black Rover would be difficult to identify; a

registration number was irrefutable evidence. He asked: 'And there was no black Rover parked that night?'

'Not that I noticed, sir, and I think I would have noticed.'

'And you said he was walking briskly?'

'Very briskly, sir, purposefully you might say.' 'When did you tell Monsieur Jean Paul about this?' 'The next morning, sir. He said that there was no need to tell the police. Sir Paul had a right to walk by the river if he chose. He said we had better wait until the inquest. If there had been marks on the body, any suggestion of foul play, that would be different. The police would want to know the names of anyone who had been here that night. But it was accidental death. The coroner was satisfied that the young lady had herself dived into the river. After that,

Monsieur Jean Paul decided we should say nothing.' 'Even after Sir Paul's death?'

'I don't think Monsieur thought the information would

helpful, sir. Sir Paul Berowne was dead. How could it matter if he'd taken a walk by the river six weeks earlier?'

'Have you told this story to anyone else? Anyone at all? Your wife, a member of the staff here?'

'To no one, sir. There was a lady came inquiring. I was

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off sick that day. But even if I'd been here, I would have said nothing, not unless Monsieur had told me it was all right.'

'And about ten minutes after you saw him walking across the car park, Sir Paul rang to say he wouldn't be

arriving after all?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did he say where he was ringing from?'

'No, sir. It couldn't have been from here. The only public telephone we have is in the hall. There's a telephone kiosk in Mapleton, that's the nearest village, but I happen to know that it was out of order that night. My sister lives there and wanted to ring me. There's no box nearer, not that I know of. That call was a proper mystery, sir.'

'When you mentioned the matter next day, what did you and Monsieur think Sir Paul might have been doing

here? I take it you discussed it.'

Henry paused, then he said:

'Monsieur thought Sir Paul might have been keeping

an eye on his wife.'

'Spying on her?'

'I suppose it was possible, sir.'

'By walking along the riverbank?'

'It doesn't seem very likely, not put like that.'

'And why should he have wished to spy on his wife?'

'I can't say, I'm sure, sir. I don't think Monsieur was serious. He just said: "It is none of our business, Henry

Maybe he is keeping an eye on her Ladyship."'

'And that's all you can tell me?'

Henry hesitated. Dalgliesh waited. Then he said: 'Well, there is something else, sir. But it seems daft whe I come to think about it. The car park is well lit, sir, bu he was walking quickly and in the shadow of the hedge at the far side. But there was something about the way his jacket was clinging, his trousers, too. I think, sir, he'd been in the river, and that's why I say it was daft. He wasn't walking away from the river, sir, he was walking towards it.'

He looked from Dalgliesh to Kate, his eyes puzzled as if

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the full peculiarity of it had only now struck him.

'I'll swear he was wet, sir, soaking wet. But like I said, he was walking towards the river, not away from it.'

Dalgliesh and Kate had driven separately to the Black Swan. She was returning directly to the Yard and he driving north-east to Wrentham Green to lunch with the Chairman and Vice-Chairman of Berowne's constituency party. They would meet at the Yard in the mid-afternoon to attend the brief formalities of the preliminary inquest before going on to what promised to be a more interesting appointment, to interview Paul Berowne's mistress. As Kate unlocked the door of her Metro he said: