Damned by Logic (11 page)

‘Answer it,' Glover shouted.

Detective Constable Trent, downstairs, did so. Before he could speak, the female caller said, ‘Eileen, where on earth have you been? I've rung a dozen times and no reply. Have you decided that what's good for him is good for you and been having fun while hubby's up north?'

‘Who is speaking?' Trent asked.

‘Hullo! Hullo! Let me guess what you look like. Six feet, curly black hair, deep blue eyes, pearly white teeth, lips which caress like duck's down.'

‘Who is speaking?' he asked for the second time.

‘I promise I won't tell, so you don't have to worry.'

‘I am Detective Constable Trent.'

‘Good God!'

‘And you are who?'

‘Has someone stolen the family silver?'

‘I am very sorry to have to tell you that Mrs Ansell has died.'

‘Christ!'

He hoped she was not too shocked. One job that disturbed his cheerful life was to have to report a sudden death and know the listener was probably precipitated into mental darkness. ‘Presumably you're a friend of Mrs Ansell, so may I have your name and address, madam?'

‘Why d'you want to know them?'

‘Someone may need to have a word with you to help us work out what happened.'

‘Why.'

‘In order to make certain what was the cause of death and to contact her next-of-kin.'

‘It must have been heart failure.'

‘She was suffering from a problem with her heart?' DC Trent reached inside his jacket pocket to bring out his notebook.

‘As fit as a fiddle, but why else would she suddenly die?'

‘Your name and address, please?' he insisted again.

She gave them this time, finally overcoming the shock of what she'd heard.

‘Are you married?'

‘Yes ...?'

‘Is your husband with you?'

‘Not at the moment.'

‘An officer may soon be along to talk to you.'

He replaced the receiver, went upstairs, spoke to Glover. ‘The caller was a woman, sir, who gave her name as Barbara Morley. She did not know Mrs Ansell had died.'

‘Had she any particular reason for phoning?'

‘She'd tried several times before and got no answer.'

‘She's a friend?'

‘A close one from the sound of things. She thought I was Mrs Ansell's boyfriend and we were having fun because her husband was not at home.'

‘Having explained the unlikely mistake of that, what did you say?'

‘That an officer would probably be along to have a chat with her.'

‘What kind of person does she sound like?'

‘Bouncy.'

‘In ancient language?'

‘I'd say she's relatively young and full of fun.'

‘In your definition of “fun”? Did she mention where Ansell was, apart from not being there?'

‘I didn't like to rush things, sir. Shall I have a word with her now?'

‘Find Draper and tell her to go along.'

‘As I've already talked to her, wouldn't it be better if I went?' DC Trent said, an annoyed expression on his face.

‘She'll probably bounce less when talking to another woman.'

‘Do you know where Draper is?'

‘You failed to hear me detail her to question the inhabitants of the other houses along Bracken Lane?'

‘I meant, where precisely is she now?'

‘Unable to foresee the unforeseeable, I can't answer. Perhaps you might think it reasonable to question the occupants of houses in the road.'

He left number thirty-four and walked to the end of the road, turned into the house on his right-hand side.

An elderly man opened the door. ‘Yes?'

Trent introduced himself. ‘Hello, sir. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Unfortunately—'

He was interrupted. ‘There's a police car at number thirty-four.'

‘Just what I was about to explain to you, sir. Sadly, Mrs Ansell has died from—'

‘Not even half my age!'

‘Has Constable Draper already spoken to you?'

‘Len was here earlier and told me about the police car. But he didn't know what they was doing. I said, something's happened, mark my words. Likely some young hooligan broke in. Happens all the time and you blokes don't seem to bother ...'

Trent moved along one house further down the street. The woman who answered his question said a policewoman – not that she looked like one – had talked to her not long ago. As he entered the front garden of the next house – one of the few not turned into a parking space – Belinda came out through the front doorway.

‘Thank God I've finally caught up with you,' he said, trying not to show his irritation.

‘Content yourself with coincidence, not divine intervention,' Draper replied with a smile.

Trent had projected a relationship with her soon after she joined the CID, even while he had wondered why he was contemplating it. She was reasonably attractive, but no more, and had a sharpish character, that he found made him feel uncomfortable some of the time. He had been surprised when she had quelled his interest and, being unused to failure, had considered the possibility that she was a lesbian. Only gradually, after his rejection, had he understood why he'd been attracted to her in the first place. She enjoyed life as it was presented, not as she would wish it to be. On top of that, she had a quick sense of humour, honoured loyalty, possessed the mettle to accept without rancour or resentment the snide comments from colleagues and return them with interest, and she would condemn or console where another might lack the wish or the mental force to do so.

He brought his thoughts back to the present. ‘The guv'nor said to find you. I've been trying to discover where you'd got to.'

‘What's the panic?'

‘Barbara Morley rang number thirty-four. Thought I was Mrs Ansell's hobby, said she'd been trying to get through on the phone and was I enjoying the same fun and games as her husband had been. The guv'nor wants you to chat to her and find out what's the story. He seems to think you'll likely learn more than I would.'

‘Knows you'd have trouble keeping your mind on line,' she said with a knowing smile.

‘Some women are complimented by admiration,' Trent replied, trying to sound suitably nonchalant.

‘If they can distinguish that from expectation. Where does she live?'

‘Number ten, Elmers Road. That's the next one along.' He pointed in the direction of the street.

They parted. Belinda ignored her car and walked up to the T-junction, turned into Elmers Road. Here, houses were more imposing than in Bracken Lane, many suffering from – or gaining from, depending on one's taste – the advantage of architectural embellishments.

The bell ring by the front door was set in an elaborate brass depiction of something, although she couldn't decide what.

Barbara opened the door.

‘Mrs Morley?' Belinda asked.

‘Yes?'

‘I'm Constable Draper.'

‘You're here because of poor Eileen ... So sudden and unexpected, that so charming a person should be taken so early ...'

No tears, no sobs to underline her over-expressed distress, Belinda noted. ‘I should like to have a word with you, if that would be convenient, please.'

‘When there's been such shocking news, I feel ... I feel it is wrong to do anything but grieve.'

Belinda had not often seen fewer signs of grief. ‘I'm afraid it's necessary,' she insisted as she edged her way nearer the front door.

‘When I know nothing?'

‘We have to understand the background to her death and you may well be able to help us.'

‘Why?'

‘There is the possibility it was not due to natural causes.'

‘What are you getting at?'

‘She may have been the subject of a fatal assault.'

‘Oh, my God!' Barbara stepped back, holding onto the door frame in her distress.

‘May I come in?'

‘I ... I suppose so.' She finally backed away and allowed Belinda access through the front doorway and into her house.

The furnishings of the sitting room were expensive and lacked any sense of personality; professional interior decorator, Belinda judged. She sat on a chair which looked as if the designer had been confused, but was surprised to find it comfortable.

‘I suppose you'd like a drink' Barbara said.

‘No, thank you.'

‘I'll have one to try and overcome the terrible news.'

She crossed to an elaborate piece of furniture, pressed a button; bottles and glasses on three shelves came into view. ‘You won't change your mind, constable? If you like a malt, I've some Macallan-Glenlivet which is quite pleasant.'

And sufficiently expensive to impress. Belinda repeated her refusal.

‘As I said, I really can't think why you have come here.' Barbara sat, a well-filled glass in her hand.

‘I hoped that was obvious. I understand you were very friendly with Mrs Ansell?'

‘Quite friendly.'

‘You'd rung her several times and had no answer which worried you.'

‘Naturally.'

‘What was your reason to speak to her?'

‘There wasn't one. I just felt like having a chat.'

‘When your call was answered, you spoke to a policeman, but because he did not have the chance to identify himself, you mistook him for Mrs Ansell's lover.'

‘That's nonsense,' she said sharply.

‘You suggested her affair with him was a tit-for-tat for Mr Ansell's affair with a woman.'

‘I would never make such a comment.'

‘Constable Trent has quoted what you said to him.'

‘He obviously misunderstood me.' She stood, went over to the ‘bar', refilled her glass, returned to sit.

‘How do you know Mr Ansell had an affair?'

‘Not being his confidante, I don't.'

‘Constable Trent has testified that that is what you said.'

‘Look, whatever he mistakenly thought I meant, I never tittle-tattle. In any case, it's all in the past and poor, poor Eileen is not with us any more.'

‘We have to understand what happened.'

‘And I always look to the future, not the past.'

‘For once, you'll have to make an exception.'

‘When you insist like that, you make me feel you're going to try to arrest me.'

‘Only if there's cause. When did you last see Mrs Ansell?'

‘I can't remember exactly.'

‘Whenever it was, did she seem to be reasonably happy?'

‘She wasn't really what I'd call a happy person.'

‘Did you notice any change in her in the last few weeks?'

‘Well, yes, I did.'

‘In what way?'

‘She became very bitter.'

‘D'you know why?'

‘It was that monkey.'

‘Monkey?'

‘Well, David insisted it was called something else. He told Eileen he'd bought it as a memento of the cruise. She didn't believe him.'

‘Why not?'

‘Mementoes aren't his scene. He'd left it on his bed when Eileen and I went up to the bedroom. I picked it up and it smelled of scent that certainly wasn't Christian Dior's number something or other ... Did you know that's the most expensive scent in the world?'

‘No.'

‘Not interested?'

‘No, not really ...'

‘Being a policeman you have to focus your mind on what you people think are much less important matters? Well, anyway, Eileen would never have worn anything so mass market as the scent coming off that monkey. Then there were some blonde hairs on the monkey which couldn't have been hers.'

‘Why not?'

‘A different shade of peroxide.'

‘So what did you think this added up to?'

‘What any intelligent woman would. He'd been having a few free ones and the girlfriend had hugged the monkey as well as him.'

‘Did Mrs Ansell come to the same conclusion?'

‘Reckoned he'd been having fun on the cruise and was angry.'

‘Cruise?' Belinda repeated sharply.

‘Yes.'

‘Was he on his own?'

‘Not all the time, obviously. If you mean was Eileen there, the company wouldn't pay for her as well as for him.'

‘Why were they paying for him?' Belinda sensed she might finally be about to hear some significant information.

‘They'd been told to prepare a fresh advertising campaign for the shipping company.'

‘What ship was he on?'

‘Can't remember.'

‘The
Helios
?'

‘How d'you guess?'

‘Where did the cruise go?'

‘It was only a cheapie: the Mediterranean.'

‘Did Mrs Ansell ever suspect her husband was having an affair before then?'

‘She'd have had to be stupid not to wonder.'

‘Why d'you say that?'

‘She kept the oats locked up. He was bound to jump at the first opportunity.'

‘Their relationship was strained?'

‘Almost broken.'

‘I imagine you've a reason for thinking that'

‘Sometime back I was telling her I'd heard a certain gentleman's idea of pleasure was to ... Doesn't matter what. And when I chanced to mention that to her, she got all of a twitter and remarked that sex was so demeaning. Of course, I'd guessed how she thought about it when she decided they'd sleep in separate beds. Wouldn't have been long before it turned into different bedrooms.'

‘Did she accuse her husband of having had an affair?'

‘Yes.'

‘How did he respond?'

‘Denied it, of course. Have you ever met a husband with the courage to tell his wife he's been rodding around.'

‘It happens.'

‘I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.'

Belinda's response to the inference that she was gullible was weak and, because of her work, wrong. ‘But then I have so little contact with adulterous husbands.'