The Murder Room (19 page)

“Free-range will do. No, don't move. I expect I'll find what I want.”

How odd it was, thought Tally, to be feeling relieved at such a time that her kitchen was immaculate, that she had put out a clean dishcloth that morning and that the eggs were fresh. She was overcome with an immense weariness of the spirit that had nothing to do with tiredness. Leaning back in the fireside chair she let her eyes range over the sitting-room, mentally noting each item as if to reassure herself that nothing had changed, that the world was still a familiar place. The comfort of the small noises from the kitchen was almost sensually pleasurable and she closed her eyes and listened. Muriel seemed to be gone a long time, and then she appeared with the first of two trays and the sitting-room was filled with the smell of eggs and buttered toast. They sat at the table opposite each other. The scrambled eggs were perfect, creamy and warm and slightly peppery. There was a sprig of parsley on each plate. Tally wondered where it had come from before remembering that she had placed a bundle of the herb in a mug only the day before.

Muriel had made tea. She said, “I think tea goes better than coffee with scrambled eggs but I can make coffee if you'd prefer it.”

Tally said, “No thank you, Muriel. This is perfect. You're very kind.”

And she was being kind. Tally hadn't realized that she was hungry until she began eating. The scrambled eggs and hot tea revived her. She felt a comforting reassurance that she was part of the museum, not just the housekeeper who cleaned and cared for it and was grateful for the refuge of her cottage, but a member of the small dedicated group to whom the Dupayne was their shared life. But how little she knew of them. Who would have supposed that she would find Muriel's company such a comfort? She had expected Muriel to be efficient and calm, but the kindness surprised her. Admittedly Muriel's first words on arriving had been to complain that the shed with the petrol should have been locked; she had said so to Ryan more than once. But she had almost immediately put that grumble aside and had devoted herself to hearing Tally's story and taking control.

Now she said, “You won't want to be here alone tonight. Have you any relations or friends you can go to?”

Until now Tally had given no thought to being alone after everyone had left, but now it burdened her with a new anxiety. If she rang Basingstoke, Jennifer and Roger would be glad enough to drive to London to collect her. After all, this wouldn't be an ordinary visit. Tally's presence, this time at least, would prove a lively source of excitement and conjecture for the whole crescent. Of course she would have to telephone Jennifer and Roger, and sooner rather than later. It wouldn't do for them to read about the death in the newspapers. But that could wait until tomorrow. She was too tired now to cope with their questions and concern. Only one thing was certain: she didn't want to leave the cottage. She had a half superstitious fear that, once abandoned, it would never receive her back.

She said, “I'll be all right here, Muriel. I'm used to being alone. I've always felt safe here.”

“I dare say, but tonight is different. You've had a terrible shock. Miss Caroline wouldn't hear of you staying here without someone with you. She'll probably suggest you go back with her to the college.”

And that, thought Tally, was almost as unwelcome as the prospect of Basingstoke. Unspoken objections swarmed at once into her mind. Her night-dress and dressing-gown were perfectly clean and respectable, but old; how would they look in Miss Caroline's flat at Swathling's? And what about breakfast? Would that be in Miss Caroline's flat or in the school dining-room? The first would be embarrassing. What on earth would they say to each other? And she felt she couldn't cope with the noisy curiosity of a room full of adolescents. These worries seemed puerile and demeaning in the face of the horror outside, but she couldn't banish them.

There was a silence, then Muriel said, “I could stay here tonight if you like. It won't take long to drive back for my night things and toothbrush. I'd invite you home but I think you'd prefer to be here.”

Tally's senses seemed to have sharpened. She thought,
And you'd prefer to be here than have me in your house.
The offer was meant to impress Miss Caroline as well as to help Tally. All the same, she was grateful. She said, “If it's not putting you out too much, Muriel, I'd be glad of company just for tonight.”

Thank God,
she thought,
the spare bed is always freshly made up, even though no one is ever expected. I'll put in a hot-water bottle while Muriel's away, and I could move up one of the African violets and put some books on the bedside table. I can make her comfortable. Tomorrow the body will be removed and I shall be all right.

They carried on eating in silence, then Muriel said, “We need to keep up our strength for when the police arrive. We have to prepare for their questions. I think we should be careful when talking to the police. We don't want them to get the wrong impression.”

“How do you mean careful, Muriel? We just tell them the truth.”

“Of course we tell them the truth. I mean that we shouldn't tell them things that aren't really our concern, things about the family, that conversation we had after the trustees' meeting, for example. We shouldn't tell them that Dr. Neville wanted to close the museum. If they need to know that, Mr. Marcus can tell them. It isn't really our concern.”

Troubled, Tally said, “I wasn't going to tell them.”

“Nor shall I. It's important they don't get the wrong idea.”

Tally was appalled. “But Muriel, it was an accident, it has to be. You're not saying that the police will think the family had anything to do with it? They couldn't believe that. It's ridiculous. It's wicked!”

“Of course it is, but it's the kind of thing the police may seize on. I'm just saying that we ought to be careful. And they'll ask you about the motorist, of course. You'll be able to show them the damaged bicycle. That'll be evidence.”

“Evidence of what, Muriel? Are you saying that they'll think I might be lying, that none of it happened?”

“They might not go as far as that but they'll need some proof. The police believe nothing. That's the way they're trained to think. Tally, are you absolutely sure you didn't recognize him?”

Tally was confused. She didn't want to talk about the incident, not now and not to Muriel. She said, “I didn't recognize him, but thinking about it now, I have a feeling I must have seen him before. I can't remember when or where, except that it wasn't at the museum. I'd have remembered if he came here regularly. Perhaps I saw his picture somewhere, in the newspapers or on TV. Or perhaps he resembles somebody well known. It's just a feeling I have. But it doesn't really help.”

“Well, if you don't know, you don't know. But they'll have to try to trace him. It's a pity you didn't get the number of the car.”

“It was so quick, Muriel. He'd gone almost as soon as I got to my feet. I didn't think about taking the number, but I wouldn't anyway, would I? It was just an accident, I wasn't hurt. I didn't know then about Dr. Neville.”

They heard a knock on the front door. Before Tally could get up Muriel had moved. She came back with two people following her, a tall, dark-haired man with the woman police officer who had talked to them earlier.

Muriel said, “This is Commander Dalgliesh, and Detective Inspector Miskin is back.” Then she turned to the Commander. “Would you and the Inspector care for some coffee? Or there's tea if you'd like it. It won't take long.”

She had begun piling up plates and cups on the table.

Commander Dalgliesh said, “Coffee would be very welcome.”

Muriel nodded, and without another word carried out the laden tray. Tally thought,
She's regretting the offer. She'd rather stay in here and listen to what I say.
She wondered whether the Commander had only accepted the coffee because he preferred to speak to her alone. He sat down at the table on the chair opposite while Miss Miskin seated herself by the fire. Astonishingly Tomcat took a sudden leap and settled himself on her lap. It was something he rarely did, but invariably to visitors who disliked cats. Miss Miskin was taking no liberties from Tomcat. Gently but firmly she rolled him off on to the mat.

Tally looked across at the Commander. She thought of faces as being either softly moulded or carved. His was carved. It was a handsome, authoritative face and the dark eyes that looked into hers were kindly. He had an attractive voice, and voices had always been important to her. And then she remembered Muriel's words.
The police believe nothing. That's the way they're trained to think.

He said, “This has been an appalling shock for you, Mrs. Clutton. Do you feel able to answer a few questions now? It's always helpful to get the facts as soon as possible, but if you'd rather wait we can return early tomorrow.”

“No, please. I'd rather tell you now. I'm all right. I don't want to wait overnight.”

“Can you please tell us exactly what happened from the time the museum was closed this evening until now? Take your time. Try to remember every detail, even if it seems unimportant.”

Tally told her story. Under his gaze she knew that she was telling it well and clearly. She had an irrational need of his approval. Miss Miskin had taken out a notebook and was unobtrusively making notes, but when Tally glanced at her, she saw the Inspector's eyes fixed on her face. Neither of them interrupted while Tally was speaking.

At the end, Commander Dalgliesh said, “This fleeing car driver who knocked you down, you said you thought his face was vaguely familiar. Do you think that you might remember who he is or where you've seen him?”

“I don't think so. If I'd actually seen him before I'd probably have remembered at once. Not perhaps his name, but where I'd seen him. It wasn't like that. It was much less certain. It's just that I have an impression that he's quite well known, that I may have seen his photograph somewhere. But of course it might just be that he resembles someone I've seen, an actor on TV, a sportsman or a writer, someone like that. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.”

“You have been helpful, Mrs. Clutton, very helpful. We'll ask you to come to the Yard sometime tomorrow when it's convenient for you to look at some photographs of faces and perhaps speak to one of our artists. Together you might be able to produce a likeness. Obviously we have to trace this driver if we can.”

And now Muriel came in with the coffee. She had made it from fresh beans and the aroma filled the cottage. Miss Miskin came over to the table and they drank it together. Then, at Commander Dalgliesh's invitation, Muriel told her story.

She had left the museum at five-fifteen. The museum closed at five and she usually sat finishing her work until five-thirty except on a Friday when she tried to leave a little earlier. She and Mrs. Clutton had checked that all visitors had left. She had given Mrs. Strickland, a volunteer, a lift to Hampstead tube station and had then driven home to South Finchley, arriving there at about five forty-five. She didn't notice the precise time of Tally's call to her mobile but she thought it was about six-forty. She had come back to the museum at once.

Inspector Miskin broke in here. She said, “It seems possible that the fire was caused by igniting petrol. Was petrol kept on the premises, and if so, where?”

Muriel glanced at Tally. She said, “The petrol was brought for the lawn-mower. The garden isn't my responsibility but I knew the petrol was there. I think everyone must have known. I did tell Ryan Archer, the gardening boy, that the shed should be locked. Garden equipment and tools are expensive.”

“But as far as either of you know, the shed never was locked?”

“No,” said Tally. “There isn't a lock on the door.”

“Can either of you remember when you last saw the can?”

Again they looked at each other. Muriel said, “I haven't been to the shed for some time. I can't remember when I last had occasion to.”

“But you did speak to the gardener about keeping it locked? When was that?”

“Soon after the petrol was delivered. Mrs. Faraday, the volunteer who works in the garden, brought it. I think it was in midSeptember, but she will be able to give you the date.”

“Thank you. I'll need the names and addresses of everyone who works in the museum, including the volunteers. Is that one of your responsibilities, Miss Godby?”

Muriel coloured slightly. She said, “Certainly. I could let you have the names tonight. If you're going to the museum to speak to Mr. and Miss Dupayne, I could go with you.”

The Commander said, “That won't be necessary. I'll get the names from Mr. Dupayne. Do either of you know the name of the garage where Dr. Dupayne's Jaguar was serviced?”

It was Tally who replied. “It was looked after by Mr. Stan Carter at Duncan's Garage in Highgate. I used to see him sometimes when he returned the car after servicing, and we'd have a chat.”

That was the final question. The two police officers got up. Dalgliesh held out his hand to Tally. He said, “Thank you, Mrs. Clutton. You've been very helpful. One of my officers will be in touch with you tomorrow. Will you be here? I don't expect it will be pleasant to stay in the cottage tonight.”

It was Muriel who spoke. She said stiffly, “I've agreed to spend the night with Mrs. Clutton. Naturally Miss Dupayne wouldn't dream of letting her stay here alone. I shall be at work as usual at nine on Monday, although I imagine Mr. and Miss Dupayne will wish to close the museum, at least until after the funeral. If you need me tomorrow, I could of course come in.”

Commander Dalgliesh said, “I don't think that will be necessary. We shall require the museum and the grounds to be closed to the public, at least for the next three or four days. Police constables will be here to guard the scene until the body and the car have been removed. I had hoped that this could be tonight but it seems that it may not happen until first light tomorrow. This motorist seen by Mrs. Clutton, does her description of him mean anything to you?”