Stephanie (17 page)

After tea, things livened up. Everyone
knew
what had happened, and after the early hesitation and silence it was as if everyone suddenly decided it was up to them to make the party go. Simon Perry, father of two of the girls, brought a large inflatable rubber fish from the boot of the car and launched it in the pool, challenging people to jump on it astride and try not to topple over. Of course it was pretty well impossible but there was lots of laughter and splashing. The fish wouldn't last long with people jumping on it, but Simon Perry said he had another in the car.

Janice had gone for more ice, so when the front door bell rang Suzanne said to Polly: ‘ You answer it, will you. But don't take the chain off.' Polly put a towel round her shoulders and padded wetly to the front door.

Presently she came back. ‘Daddy, it's for you.'

He looked up, eyes deep set under the knitted brows. ‘ Some reporter?'

‘No. It's a man on two sticks. Says his name is Locke.'

There was more than a touch of malice in her voice, for she thought her father had behaved like a creep, but Errol was too much on edge to notice. He paled and muttered a blasphemy, and got up. Fortunately at that moment Mrs Perry jumped on the fish, and she was no lightweight, so attention was on her. He spoke briefly to Suzanne, who shrugged. He was not bathing today but wore a brightly coloured beach shirt – one he had worn in Goa – and fawn slacks and sneakers.

He went to the door and peered through the gap allowed by the chain. James Locke always looked shorter than his real height these days, hunched as he was over his sticks.

‘Yes?'

‘I'd like a word with you if you have time.'

Errol's eyes travelled beyond his visitor, seeing the other parked cars, guessing that Locke had come in the estate car nearest the door.

‘What about?'

‘Need you ask?'

‘I don't think there's very much more to be said, is there?'

James said: ‘ I telephoned last week, you'll remember, but you made an excuse.'

Errol rubbed his forehead and shrugged. ‘I was ill. It was no excuse.'

A shout of laughter came from the pool.

‘My daughter's fourteenth birthday,' Errol said sulkily. ‘This is unwelcome to me but life has to go on.'

‘I remember my daughter's fourteenth birthday,' said James.

Errol's colour came and went. Without replying he took the chain off the door.

James followed him into a sitting room to the left of the hall, one of those small rather useless rooms that are a feature of some Georgian houses. The walls were full of enlarged framed photographs, chiefly of churches and picturesque foreign villages. Errol took up a stance by the window, with his back to the light.

‘Yes?'

Uninvited, James lowered himself into a chair, putting his sticks beside him.

After a minute Errol said: ‘Was it polio?'

‘What? Oh, this. No, I had an accident in France.'

‘Of course I remember now; Stephanie told me. You were quite the war hero.'

James's good-looking elderly face showed no change of expression. ‘ It was all a long time ago.'

‘Yes, two generations.'

‘In my case one. Stephanie, you'll remember, was my daughter.'

Errol was going to light a cigarette but knew his hand to be unsteady. He needed another little snort. ‘Look, Mr Locke, don't think I'm not upset by Stephanie's suicide. Good God, I was very, very fond of her! She was a delightful person. I blame myself bitterly for what has happened. But it never crossed my mind! Why should it? Good Christ, if every love affair ended that way! Of course I shouldn't have started it! I'm happily married. My daughter opened the door to you. When it came to the crunch, I decided that I didn't want to break up my home. All right, I should have thought of that first. Quite. But one doesn't always do what one should do. It's a sad world. An ugly world. The media has given me a drubbing. It's no more than I deserve. So there it is. It's happened and I can't do anything more, say anything more, to put it right.'

James said: ‘You may know that Stephanie came to see me in Hampshire the weekend after she got back from India. We naturally talked about the trip.'

Errol didn't say anything. He just stood and waited.

James said: ‘ She told me there was a likelihood that your affair was about to break up. But she gave me the impression it was to be her choice.'

‘Well, she would say that, wouldn't she.'

‘Why?'

‘Well … I think it's true, isn't it: women like to feel they are in control of their love affairs – that
they
should choose, not the man. After all it's the woman who always has to say yes in the first place. It's very hurtful to feel they are being – turned away from.'

‘She seemed to look on it as some sort of a major choice she had to make, something that went beyond terminating a love affair.'

There was a pause. Things had gone quiet by the pool.

Errol said: ‘She may – she just may have been considering – deciding whether to do what she finally did do.'

‘So you feel sure she took her own life?'

‘I'm certain she took her own life! I wish I could think it was for some reason other than a broken love affair!'

‘I just don't believe it,' James said. ‘Everyone who knows her well thinks it inconceivable. Everyone who knows her well – except you, that is.'

Errol got his lighter out at last. ‘I think, Mr Locke, you will have to excuse me now. My guests will be wondering what has become of me.' Aware of the ineptitude of such a remark, he went on: ‘Believe me, I very much wish I could –'

‘Tell me,' James interrupted, an edge on his voice, ‘if you had broken with Stephanie and wanted to avoid her, why did you go to the Maidment party?'

‘Lady Maidment is an old friend and client of mine. I wanted to be there.'

‘And what was it exactly that Stephanie said when you spoke to her there?'

‘
She
spoke to
me
. Asking me if it was my final decision … But I gave all this testimony at the inquest! I have no intention of repeating everything I said then!'

‘After you had first told her you were breaking off your affair, she then bombarded you with telephone calls and letters?'

‘Yes, that's true.'

‘Could you let me see some of the letters?'

‘I burned them! I didn't want my wife to lay her hands on them!'

‘What time did you arrive home after the Maidment party?'

‘Here? I've already told the police. It would have been about a quarter to two.'

‘Did anyone see you come in?'

‘Look, what is this? Are you implying that I saw Stephanie again after I left? For God's sake! –'

‘And did you?'

‘Did I what?'

‘See Stephanie after you left the party?'

‘I've told you, no! I would have driven miles to avoid her! My marriage was almost on the rocks. It's far from secure even now, for Suzanne blames me for this tragedy. As you do. As I blame myself!'

‘You know the verdict, I suppose?'

‘Of course. I couldn't be at the resumed inquest because I was too ill to come. But –'

‘Death by Misadventure. That's what it was called.'

‘Well, it's the kindest one there could be, isn't it? I could tell at the first hearing that the coroner didn't want to bring in a verdict of Suicide, which still carries a sort of stigma. I only wish to God I could believe he was right!'

James said: ‘ Stephanie's body was released to me on Wednesday. She was buried yesterday in the family grave in Somerset. A lot of people were there. She had many friends, who travelled a long way. Also the reporters and the photographers, the clicking peering intruders whose job it apparently is to pry into tragedy and grief. A pity you were not there. You deprived them of that pleasure.'

The cigarette got lighted at the third attempt. ‘ You'll do no good to yourself by inventing insults. I've accepted such blame as I carry, but –'

‘I'm implying nothing,' James said. ‘But my daughter was buried yesterday. I consider I have the right to put a few questions to the man who by his own admission bears responsibility for her state of mind at the time of her death. Was she on drugs?'

Errol stared. ‘What?'

‘Are you on drugs?'

‘What are you talking about? Drugs never came into this! Are you out of your mind?'

‘I suspect –' James began, and then the door opened. A dark, olive-skinned middle-aged man with a split left eyebrow came quietly into the room.

‘Excuse me,' he said. ‘Do please excuse me. I hope I am not interrupting, but Suzanne sent me to see if you were all right, Errol.' He smiled apologetically at James. ‘Excuse me. But Errol is only shortly out of bed, and his wife –'

‘I'm fine,' Errol said with an effort. ‘Everything's fine, Angelo, thank you. Mr Locke is just leaving.'

Sir Humphrey Arden said: ‘Well, I'm retired, old boy. Advice is free, of course, and you're welcome to any I have that seems pertinent. But what have you got to go on? As to facts, I mean. Do you know anything the police don't know? They're pretty thorough these days when it comes to a sudden death.'

They were lunching at the Hanover Club. Being midweek, the room was nearly full, but James had got his usual table in the window.

‘What do I know that the police don't know? A few little things. But mainly it's not a fact at all that I'm working on, just a tiresome emotional conviction, bred of knowing and loving a person for over twenty years. I'm sure you will tend to disregard it, as the police would – as they would be forced to do – being expected to be impartial and detached in such things. But it happens that I am unalterably convinced that Stephanie did not commit suicide.'

‘Well, yes, but that was not the verdict, was it? If she –'

‘If she what, Humphrey? That a girl should – no, not a girl, not any girl,
my
girl – that Stephanie, my daughter, who was a very bright young woman, should have allowed her faculties to become so muddled with drink that she swallowed about
twenty
sleeping pills
accidentally
? I ask you!'

‘Well, the coroner must have felt –'

‘The coroner was concerned to find the most favourable verdict he could, presumably in a wish to spare our feelings. And he didn't know Stephanie. Stephanie was very like her mother: wayward, temperamental, impulsive, hard to bridle, emotional; but under it there was a weighting of common sense that would allow her to sway quite a lot without the least risk of her toppling over. Stephanie would never topple over into suicide. All right, I can see you sighing patiently.'

Arden, who had been chief Home Office pathologist and had given evidence at most of the murder trials of the last twenty years, was a broadly built plump man with scanty hair and a hearing aid. He adjusted this.

‘My dear James, I am not sighing either patiently or impatiently, because I know you have not brought me here – pleasant as it is to see you! – without very good reason.'

‘The very good reason, Humphrey, is that I don't believe either of the explanations put forward. This has been both a gut reaction and a natural conclusion.'

‘So what are you implying?'

‘That she was in some way disposed of.'

‘Ah … Is that so?'

‘That is so.'

They paused while the sole was served. James had his off the bone, but Humphrey took the fish whole. One might have guessed his profession by the skilled way he treated it when it was put in front of him.

James told him as much as he could remember of Stephanie's conversation with him on her last visit.

‘In some way, probably in India, I can only suppose that she became involved in drug trafficking. Whether she was persuaded to carry some back, not knowing what it was, or had been told or had accidentally learned that Errol Colton was involved. It is all guesswork at present.'

‘Why Errol Colton?'

‘She went with him. These problems I've told you of were in her mind when she returned.'

‘So what are you implying?'

‘That Errol Colton is in some way involved in drugs, either in taking or carrying, and when he saw her revulsion he thought she would talk. So he got rid of her.'

‘How?'

‘That is what I have come to ask you.'

Arden helped himself to the tartare sauce. He had delicate, manicured hands that touched everything lightly. ‘Tell me what other reasons you have for suspecting Colton. You say that Stephanie did not actually link him with her talk about drugs?'

‘They were the two subjects uppermost in her mind the whole time she was with me. I don't think they could have been separate. Clearly she did not want to “ give him away” to me in so many words.'

‘This is all suspicion so far, James.'

‘Yes. Quite. I have been to see the people in the flat above Stephanie's. Of course, they have been interviewed by the police, but they seem to have heard nothing in the night at all. They did not even hear her come back.'

‘I expect most of the places you go, the police will have been there before you,' Arden said gently.

‘I have also seen the people in the flat below Stephanie's. They were away for the weekend. He's a Fellow of All Souls, and she teaches part time at the Dragon School. They have a cottage in Wales and were visiting it.'

‘Indeed.'

‘They were away', James said, ‘because a neighbour in Wales telephoned them to say that an arsonist had set fire to a nearby cottage and had tried to force a way into theirs. When they got down the neighbour said he had never telephoned them. Nor was there any damage.'

‘A hoax by the Welsh Nationalists,' said Sir Humphrey.