Gently in Trees (6 page)

Walling winced, and threw an apprehensive look towards the door.

‘I drove down after breakfast on Saturday. I didn’t arrive back till late on Sunday. Please, that’s the truth – Nigel can verify the times.’

‘Didn’t he go with you?’

‘No – no. This was a little trip on my own. Adrian had upset me very much, you know, and I wanted a quiet weekend to soothe me down.’

‘I see,’ Gently said. ‘All on your own. And of course, you can tell us where you stayed.’

Walling cast another look at the door. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. It’s just a little place I know.’

‘Then suppose you let us know it, too.’

‘Well, it’s a small place – very small.’

‘Too small to have an address?’

‘No – no!’ Walling swallowed. ‘It’s just – private. That’s all!’

He stared appealingly at Gently, who returned the stare stonily. Hastily Walling grabbed a pad and ballpen from the desk and scribbled something down. He tore off the sheet and handed it to Gently. It read:

‘Vivian Chance, Flat 3, Kyles Court.

PLEASE
don’t mention in front of
NIGEL
!!!’

Silently, Gently passed the sheet to Lyons, who glanced at it, then tucked it away in his wallet. Walling watched them eagerly, his pale eyes pleading.

‘So you are known at this – small place?’ Gently said.

‘Yes—yes. You’ve only to ask.’

‘You met several people who could identify you?’

Walling’s hand fluttered. ‘Well . . . the one.’

‘Just . . . the
one
?’

‘I-I didn’t go out much! I went down to soothe my nerves, you know. To relax. The sea air. This p-place has a marine view.’

‘And you think we’re going to swallow that?’

‘But please—it’s true! Nigel will tell you when I was away. And you can inquire at the—the hotel. Please! The m-m-manager will give his word!’

Lyons said casually: ‘I think it stinks.’

‘Oh, dear God!’ Walling wailed.

‘I don’t think the manager’s word is going to help much,’ Gently said. ‘The way you are placed, it will take more than that. Somebody followed Stoll out to the forest. Somebody put him to sleep for good. Somebody with a very strong reason. And we have one man’s word that you were in Brighton.’

‘It isn’t going to stand up,’ Lyons drawled.

‘It certainly won’t convince a jury,’ Gently said. ‘I don’t know what the Fraud Squad have in mind for you, but I think they’re probably wasting their time.’

Walling dragged agonizedly on his hair. ‘No!’ he cried, his reedy voice hitting sudden falsetto. ‘You can’t believe that – it’s too completely incredible! I would never have dreamed of killing Adrian.’

‘Then who would?’ Lyons asked boredly.

‘Who—who? There’s Maryon Britton! She had reason enough, hadn’t she? And she was on the spot, too.’

Gently gazed at him. ‘
Did
she have reason?’

‘Yes. Yes! He was going to ditch her. And he was going to change his will, cut her out. None of that crowd was getting a penny!’

‘And
you
knew that?’

Walling faltered. ‘Yes. Yes. Yes, I knew it.’

‘How, Mr Walling?’

Walling swallowed. ‘I was there when they had the row.’

Gently gazed at him a while longer, then began deliberately filling his pipe. Walling was trembling again; there was a tremble or tic at the corner of his mouth. Gently lit the pipe and looked round for an ashtray. Walling bobbed to his feet and fetched one. His eyes avoided Gently’s. He plumped down again; his mouth was still twitching.

Gently puffed. ‘When?’

Walling looked sulky. ‘The weekend before last.’

‘When you went down with Stoll?’

Walling nodded. ‘We were old friends. He often invited me.’

‘What happened?’

‘This row blew up. Adrian saw Keynes kissing Maryon. Not that there was anything special about that, because Adrian had known about it for a long time. But perhaps he hadn’t actually seen them kissing before – or perhaps he just wanted an occasion for the row.’

‘Was it a violent row?’

‘There was plenty said. It didn’t come to physical violence. They knew all about my daughter, of course, and that made splendid ammunition. Adrian didn’t show up very well, though naturally he held the whip-hand. I was horribly infra dig. They practically accused me of pimping my own daughter.’

‘Did Stoll tell Miss Britton she would have to get out?’

‘That was the message,’ Walling nodded. ‘Also he hinted about the will. Said he would have to revise his previous dispositions.’

‘The will was specifically referred to?’

‘Yes – yes! Though he didn’t actually say what he was going to do.’

‘What did he say, then?’

‘Well, he wanted them to sweat on it, so he said he would let them know the details when he’d talked to his lawyer.’

‘About the will?’

‘Yes, about the will. And about when Maryon would have to get out. Because there was no doubt about that, you know. Maryon and Jennifer were getting the boot.’

Gently puffed once or twice. ‘And after the row?’

Walling made a furtive snatch at his locks. ‘After the row we left for town. There was nothing to stay for, after that.’

‘You travelled with Stoll?’

‘Yes. Yes.’

‘Did he refer to what had taken place?’

‘No, he didn’t. He didn’t talk at all. He was in one of his brooding fits.’

‘He didn’t discuss other matters? Like filming wild-life.’

‘No. He scarcely said a word.’

‘Before the row, did he talk about that?’

Walling shook his head. ‘No. Nothing at all.’

‘So you, of course, wouldn’t have known his programme?’

Walling stared. ‘How should I?’

‘Being such an old friend,’ Gently said. ‘Often invited down to Brayling. Surely you’d have given Stoll a hand with his hobby?’

Walling’s eyes widened. ‘B-but no, I never did! Adrian rarely took anyone filming with him. It was something he did quite on his own – all we knew about it was the film show, afterwards.’

‘Have you never been in the Chase with him?’

‘No – scarcely ever! A picnic once, two years ago.’

‘At the Warren Ride site?’

Walling shook his head, stupidly.

‘Near Mogi’s Belt?’

Walling’s head continued shaking.

‘Still, you’ve had plenty of opportunity,’ Gently said. ‘You could have familiarized yourself with the forest. You could have discovered the attraction of Mogi’s Belt. It could have been you who sent Stoll there.’

Walling wailed and grappled with his hair.

‘We have only your word that you didn’t,’ Gently said.

‘It sounds like a case to me, sir,’ Lyons said blandly. ‘Especially with this package tour swindle in the background.’

Gently puffed. ‘Well?’ he asked.

Walling got up from his chair. He was shaking. ‘I want my lawyer!’ he quavered. ‘I’m not saying any more. You haven’t been fair. I want my lawyer.’

‘He can’t alter the facts,’ Gently said.

‘I want him,’ Walling said weakly. ‘I want him!’

Gently considered the financier through an issue of smoke. ‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘That will do for now.’

‘That will d-do . . . ?’

‘For now,’ Gently said. ‘Which doesn’t mean we shan’t be back later.’ He trailed another thoughtful ribbon of smoke. ‘Send in Messiter, will you?’

Walling gaped, and his eyes rolled. For a moment it seemed he was going to speak; then his twitching mouth closed, and he wobbled unsteadily to the door.

Messiter answered questions flatly, standing before Gently with quiet poise. Walling had departed on Saturday at ten-thirty a.m. and returned at nine p.m. on Sunday. Messiter had packed him a weekend bag. Walling had stated he was visiting a relative; he had a married sister living in Hove with whom he occasionally spent a weekend. Messiter recalled no visit from Stoll on Thursday, but added that he was absent during the afternoon.

‘And where did you spend your weekend?’ Gently asked.

Messiter didn’t flicker an eyelid. ‘After Mr Walling left I tidied the flat, then I went up town to do some shopping. I had lunch at the Isola Bella, in Frith Street. In the afternoon I visited the Museum. I returned here to have my tea, and in the evening I practised a violin part. When Miss Nina came in from the theatre I made her a light supper. On Sunday I visited friends at Hampstead, walked on the Heath, then played music with them.’

‘You remember it very well,’ Gently said.

Messiter accepted the compliment without comment.

‘How much did you see of Stoll?’

‘Mr Stoll was a frequent visitor.’

‘But what sort of terms were you on?’

‘Mr Stoll was a close friend of Mr Walling’s.’

‘Didn’t he ever talk to you about his hobby?’

‘I had few conversations with Mr Stoll.’

It was stony ground; Gently gave up, and they left the overcrowded, aromatic flat. Lyons produced the keys of Stoll’s flat and let them in through a gilt-ornamented door. Inside, he turned eagerly to Gently.

‘What do you think, sir?’ he asked.

‘I think you’d better check Walling’s alibi, and leave him to the Fraud Squad for the moment.’

Lyons’s face fell. ‘I’d like to pull him in, sir.’

‘Then you’ll be pulling in his lawyer as well. Check the alibi. Walling isn’t going to run. If the alibi is punk you’ll have something to hit him with.’

‘Sir, I’ll take a chance that he’s chummie.’

Gently shrugged and pushed past him into the flat.

It was a smaller flat than Walling’s, but it contained one considerable room. By contrast it was sparsely furnished, mostly with expensive reproduction pieces. The suite in the large lounge was Adams; the chairs tended to be grouped at one end. Immediately one got the impression of a projection room, and the projector was there, in a mock-period cabinet. In place of Walling’s litter of sheet-music and books was a tidier litter of duplicated scripts. They were strewn on the carpet around the Adams sofa, on which one lay open, its face to the cushions. Lyons picked it up.

‘ “The Romantic Painters”,’ he read. ‘ “5. Parkes Bonington. By Ivan Webster.” That’s what Stoll was working on, sir, on Saturday. It’s a new TV series for the autumn.’

‘Then he must have called in here after he left Television Centre.’

‘Yes, sir. He had his Bentley at the Centre. He’d have come back here to pick up the van. He rents two garages in the mews.’

Gently took the script. It was cut and annotated in slashing red pencil. The notes were scribbled in a semi-legible hand that combined flaring capitals with inchoate minuscules. ‘No! No! ! !’ ‘Cut to 76! ! !’ ‘All ref. to S. OUT! ! !’ At first sight it seemed virtually impossible to pick up what thread of the script was left. Gently dropped it back on the sofa.

‘Did Stoll mention his plans to anyone at the Centre?’

‘Nobody I’ve spoken to,’ Lyons said. ‘You get the impression that Stoll wasn’t a chatterer.’

‘Comment on his manner?’

‘Nothing useful. He blew his top on two occasions. But that was how he used to work, how most directors carry on.’

‘When did he leave?’

‘Six-thirty.’

‘He would have to have eaten somewhere.’

‘Out,’ Lyons said. ‘He didn’t eat here. His daily woman found it tidy.’

‘Try to trace the restaurant,’ Gently said. ‘His contacts that evening are top priority. Anyone Stoll may have dropped a word to. We must know how chummie tracked him out there.’ He brooded. ‘Allow an hour for the meal. Then he dropped off the script and perhaps collected some gear. That would make it around eight when he set out. Which means he reached Latchford at about ten.’

‘When it was getting dark, sir.’

Gently nodded. ‘Probably quite dark, when he got to the forest. Meaning any picnickers or visitors had left, and not a soul around to see. Like Metfield, I think Stoll wasn’t followed in there, because following lights would be too conspicuous. So chummie had to
know
where Stoll was heading – and if Walling is chummie, we’ll have to show how he knew.’

‘Understood, sir,’ Lyons said bleakly.

‘And that’s just a beginning,’ Gently said. ‘Because unless we can also show him buying a bottle of gas, there’ll be little bonus in setting up Walling.’

Lyons chewed his lip disconsolately: this really did sound like the thumbs down! But then his attention was attracted by a Volvo which was trying to park at the kerb outside.

‘Sir – that’s Nina Walling!’

Gently turned to regard the Volvo. It was being manoeuvred by a dark-haired young woman with pale, dolly-bird features.

‘Ask her to step in.’

‘Yes, sir!’

Lyons promptly slipped out of the room. Along with Nina Walling sat a yak-haired young man, and in the rear of the car, another trendy couple.

Lyons returned not only with Nina Walling, but also with her attendant Struwwelpeter. The latter, viewed at closer quarters, seemed less youthful; he was probably about thirty-five. Nina was tall, and looked strangely sexless in a flowing, ankle-length gown: a small face on a long neck over a draped, stick-like figure. She had Walling’s nose, in a more delicate form, but otherwise her features were fine and sharp. Her eyes were pale violet. They observed Gently with contemptuous hauteur.