Find the Innocent (7 page)

“What lurch?” demanded Jill. “You haven't told me anything about a lurch.”

“Don't pick me up like that! There's nothing special. It's just that I do feel frightfully alone. I suppose that's why I'm not howling for poor WillyBee. I don't feel anything except that he's somehow missing.”

Jill softened. These cushioned women, she thought, were unfairly treated. Men would share their possessions with them but not their wisdom.

“Don't worry about being left alone. I'll cope with the police and reporters and it'll probably be all right now that I know they can't spring anything on us.”

The Town Hall clock was chiming for half past three as Curwen walked the few yards back to headquarters. Those three men had had nearly four hours in which to think again about the comic alibi. He took the shiny new lift to his room.

Benjoy was waiting for him, looking deflated.

“Deceased's wife, sir. No trace after about eight-fifteen when she got out of the car the other side of Peasebarrow Wood—until she arrives at her sister's house in Salisbury assumed to be about eleven-fifty. Statement taken by Salisbury police on your desk.”

“What about that driver from Weston's Garage who took the girl from the lockhouse?”

“Driver Roach. From The Hollow Tree Garage acting for Weston's. He failed to recognise Mrs. Brengast when he was shown her getting out of her taxi, but said he thought he recognised her voice when she spoke to her friend. Trailer—the description of dress and deportment given by Driver Roach is substantially the same as that given by two railway men at Wheatley, and ticket collector at Salisbury, of a girl who made the same journey, beginning with the three-fifteen a.m. from Wheatley. But nobody except the driver heard the three-fifteen girl's voice.”

“A bit thin! Did you pick up anything at the lockhouse?”

“Couldn't make it, sir. I had to drive to Wheatley to get the statement from those men.”

“N'e'mind! Plenty of time for that. We'll see how we can get on without the girl. Bring in those three birds. One at a time.”

“Very good, sir! Stranack has a lawyer with him in his room.”

“He's the bouncy one. Take ' em alphabetically and he'll come last. Treat 'em soft—we don't want any sulks.”

When Benjoy returned he softened himself into the semblance of a parlour maid.

“Mr. Canvey, sir.”

“Ah, Mr. Canvey!” Curwen beamed and nearly shook hands. “I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting so long. If you'll sit here we may be able to tidy this up between us.”

“Thank you!” Canvey was wintry and he sat as one who would prefer to stand. “And thanks for your civility. But I can't see why you need detain me when the others will confirm that I was at the lockhouse at the relevant time.”

“Sorry, Mr. Canvey, but you've got the wrong end of it! They don't confirm your statement. They deny it. You say you were at the lockhouse. Eddis says Eddis was at the lockhouse. Stranack says Stranack was at the lockhouse. Each of you says the other two are liars.”

“How utterly loathsome!” cried Canvey. “No wonder you treat us like crooks!”

“I don't think you know much about how crooks are treated,” grinned Curwen. “The point is you're beginning to see how we look at it. That's what I want.”

“If I were in your position I wouldn't believe a word any of us said.”

“I don't! But that needn't worry you. If you want to know, the police never believe anything anybody says until they've checked it. You admitted that a woman was with you at the lockhouse. Begin there and give me something I can check.”

Canvey hesitated, frowned and was silent. Curwen waited.

“She was not a floozie,” said Canvey. “A woman of some position. So the problem will solve itself—though not this afternoon. When the case is in all the papers she will feel bound to come forward of her own accord.”

“And lose her position? D'you reckon that's a safe bet?”

“I don't know. But I have to take it. Sorry, Inspector! I understand now why you're detaining me and will have to go on doing so—until I win my bet.”

He stood up and was escorted from the room by Benjoy. When Eddis was ushered in, Curwen gave him the same little opening speech.

“First let me say, Inspector, I have pleasure in recording my appreciation of the treatment I have received at the hands of your staff.” There was a streak in Eddis that hankered after political life, which expressed itself in an impulse to chairmanship. “For my part, I hope I shall be able to reciprocate by helping you in your investigation.”

Curwen blinked, wondered what he was supposed to say and gave it up.

“This morning, Mr. Eddis, you told me that you were alone in the lockhouse last night.”

“Correct!” Eddis smiled approval and encouragement.

“Are you aware that each of the other two asserts that he was the one at the lockhouse?”

“I was not aware. But I have to confess that I am not unduly surprised. For my colleagues—as colleagues—I have nothing but praise. As individuals I know next to nothing about them.”

Curwen had had enough of it.

“You further told me this morning that no one came to the lockhouse while you were there. I am now telling you that we know for certain that, at around two in the morning, a woman spoke on the telephone in the lockhouse and ordered a car which came for her and took her away.”

“No comment!” said Eddis.

“Eh?” Again Curwen blinked. “That's a funny sort of answer.” Receiving no response, he continued: “What's the use, Mr. Eddis? You won't suggest that the girl slipped into the lockhouse while you were working the lock—and out again—without your knowing a thing about it? And that you didn't hear a car stop, turn and restart.”

“I offer you no suggestion at all about a girl or anything to do with a girl.”

“Good enough! You refuse to co-operate. If you change your mind, let me know. Benjoy, escort Mr. Eddis and then come back here.”

Curwen was making his own notes when Benjoy returned. For some minutes he wrote on.

“You've got a fresh mind, boy. Which of those two was the liar?”

“Not enough evidence to go on, sir. Each was using a manner as cover.”

“That's what I thought. What about the girl? I tell Eddis I know a girl was there and he says: ‘No comment.' That's a posh way of telling me I'm a liar. Did you get a B.A. before you joined the Force?”

“Yes, sir. I suggest he may not have meant that you were lying.”

“‘No comment,'” repeated Curwen. “I was only asking him to say yes or no.”

“It might have meant that he admitted the girl was there, but he refused to sacrifice her reputation to get himself out of a hole.”

“Cor!”
Curwen gaped, then shut his mouth and chuckled. “Fancy me not thinking of that! Took the missis to the pictures a while ago. Lovely girl turns to the judge and says: ‘He was in my arms,' she says. The missis cried. But in the end it turned out he wasn't—and that's what I think. I sprang the girl on Eddis. First he'd heard of her—and he stalled for time. And now we'll hear what Stranack thinks he can get away with—lawyer and all.”

Curwen's first impression of Mr. Higstock was that Stranack must have picked him blindly out of the directory. The solicitor was a spare, elderly man in a rusty black suit and a starched wing collar that was too large for him. He looked as if he were accustomed to advising old-fashioned farmers rather than criminals—probably a survival from the days when Renchester was a small market town. He bowed when Curwen offered him a chair.

Curwen began with the same general questions, expecting interruption from the lawyer but getting none. Some of the questions about Stranack's relations with deceased were very near the knuckle, being likely to incriminate him on the point of motive.

“Is there anything in your statement of this morning, Mr. Stranack, which you would now like to withdraw?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you aware that Eddis and Canvey both deny that you were at the lockhouse at the relevant time?”

“No, I'm certainly not! There must be a mistake somewhere. We tossed—”

“Each states that he himself took charge of the lock while you went in the Ford with the other.”

“One moment, please Inspector!” Mr. Higstock was very apologetic. “Mr. Stranack, you did not warn me of the possibility of this embarrassing development.”

“Because I didn't know it!” cried Stranack. “I'm trying hard to believe they said it, but I can't.”

“We may take it that the Inspector is not joking,” said Mr. Higstock. “I must confess that this completely destroys our defence, Mr. Stranack. Unless, of course, we can produce independent proof of your statement. Can we?”

Curwen was almost sorry for Mr. Higstock's client. Stranack was offering the bargees. When Curwen had disposed of this, Mr. Higstock again intervened.

“I don't know whether you feel inclined to answer a question of mine, Inspector? You will realise that I am at a disadvantage—you have sprung a veritable bombshell upon us. Did the other two gentlemen also claim to have enjoyed the society of a lady?”

“A girl was mentioned,” conceded Curwen. “But I don't see how it's going to help your client to claim her. He told me this morning he did not know her name and address.”

“What I told you, Inspector, was that I would not give her name and address. I still don't see that it's necessary.”

“Then let's have a description,” said Curwen.

“I'm a raw novice at this game, but here goes. She's good-looking. You can multiply that. Blonde. She's not frightfully tall and I don't suppose she's short, or I'd have noticed. Long eyelashes. Large eyes—dunno what colour. Nose straight, I should say, except for a tiny bit at the end which hardly counts. Altogether, it's what people call a soulful face, except for an expression that points to the other thing. Very expensively got up. I don't suppose all this is the least use.”

None at all, thought Curwen, but he found himself visualising Mrs. Brengast. Probably because she was the last good-looking woman he had seen—not counting Miss Aspland, who was a different sort.

“How did she come to the lock?”

“I don't know. As far as I'm concerned she just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Did she tell you why she was all alone on that lonely road at night?”

“Did I ask her the sort of questions a policeman would ask? I did not. I didn't care where she came from nor why. She doesn't know I know her name.”

“You say she was expensively got up. Evening dress?”

“No. One-piece dress, yellowish coat over it, the usual thing only better. Hat, straw, small, with flowers all round.”

“What time did she leave you?”

“I told you this morning and you've had time to check. Shortly after two—in a car hired from The Hollow Tree.”

“Was she wearing the hat when you put her into the car?”

“By that time I wasn't noticing things. I didn't put her into the car. She asked me not to. I say! Can't we leave her and go on to something else?”

Even Curwen was startled at what seemed a childishly silly remark, until Stranack added: “She won't let me down. If this wretched business is already in the papers, she's probably on her way here.”

“Indeed, I hope so!” said Mr. Higstock. “But I must remark that a woman who stays until that hour, alone in a house with a young man she has not met before, is unlikely to be burdened with a civic conscience.”

“You've got it all wrong!” Stranack turned angrily on his solicitor. “She's very well off. She's what your generation calls a ‘lady'!”

“We'll concede the girl was there,” said Curwen. “Now tell us something to show you were there with her.”

“How can I? We sat out in deck chairs for a bit and had a drink. She had gin and orange. I had rum. Then we went into the house and—well—eventually we had supper—soup, chicken and new potatoes, peaches—all out of cans. I can't think of anything else—Oh yes!—she dropped a hint that it would be pretty disastrous for her if our little secret became known. So when she had gone I used a wet towel on anything I thought she might have touched—including the telephone. If your men found any of her finger-prints it's my fault.”

“Any outstanding incident—something we can check?”

“While she was with me I was not thinking in terms of checkable acts,” grumbled Stranack. “Is this any good? I took her wedding ring off and bunged it into the lock.”

Curwen was slightly shocked.

“What was the sense of that?”

“There wasn't any sense. Haven't you ever made an ass of yourself with a blonde?”

“If we were to drag the lock—” Curwen paused as he again visualised Mrs. Brengast, who had been wearing no wedding ring “—a wedding ring in the mud wouldn't prove much.”

“Of course not! I was merely trying to gratify your passion for checking things.”

“She told you it would be disastrous for her and yet you believe she will show up?”

“She'll have to, now that I'm in the hands of the police. If she doesn't, I shall drag her in.”

“Better start dragging now!” snapped Curwen. “Until she clears you we shall have to keep you in custody on suspicion.”

From Mr. Higstock there came a nervous cough.

“Excuse me, Inspector,” he said. “May I ask? What are the grounds for suspicion?”

“They're as solid as we like them, Mr. Higstock. As you have no doubt had considerable experience in criminal cases, I think you'll agree with me.” He felt that the last was perhaps an unfair blow, so he relaxed. “Here's your set-up. These three men had a grievance against the deceased for harshly—as they maintain—withholding monies to which they believed themselves to be entitled. The other directors support the three men's claims, so that if deceased
were deceased
they would all three benefit by what I've been given to understand would be a considerable sum of money.