The Murder Room (50 page)

“I haven't been to the museum this morning but I haven't heard that he's back.”

“I suppose he's not really important while there's so much else to worry about. If he doesn't come back I hope he finds someone to take him in. He's not an engaging cat. He can't rely on charm. It was horribly cruel what Muriel did to him. And why? She could have knocked on the cottage door and I'd have let her in. And she wouldn't have had to worry about my recognizing her. After all, I'd be dead. I would be now if you hadn't come.”

He said, “She had to kill you in the sitting-room to make it look like a copycat murder. And she couldn't be sure that you'd open the door to her if she had knocked. I think she may have overheard you ringing us from the museum. Knowing what you did, you might well have refused to let her in.”

Hoping to turn her mind to other things, he said, “Your flowers are lovely.”

Her voice brightened. “Yes, aren't they? The yellow roses are from Mr. Marcus and Miss Caroline, and the orchid from Mrs. Strickland. Mrs. Faraday and Mr. Calder-Hale have telephoned and they're coming to visit me this evening. The news got round quickly, didn't it? Mrs. Strickland sent me a note. She thinks we ought to get a priest to visit the museum. I'm not sure what exactly for, to say some prayers, sprinkle some holy water or carry out an exorcism. She writes that Mr. Marcus and Miss Caroline are happy about it provided they don't have to take part. They say it won't do any good but it can't possibly do any harm. That's a surprising thing for Mrs. Strickland to suggest, isn't it?”

“A little surprising, perhaps.”

She was looking very tired now. He said, “I think I'd better go. You mustn't exhaust yourself.”

“Oh, I'm not exhausted. It's such a relief to talk. Miss Caroline came in to see me early this morning and she was very kind. I don't think I really understood her. She wants me to stay on in the cottage, and to take on part of Muriel's job. Not the reception or the accounts, of course, they're advertising for someone qualified to do that. We're going to need a lot of extra help now. No, I'm to help by cleaning the flat for her. She says she may be there more often in future. It's very light work, mostly dusting, clearing out the refrigerator, putting sheets in the washing machine. She has a number of friends to stay, people who need a bed for the night. Of course I'm happy to take it on.”

The door opened and a nurse came in. She looked at Dalgliesh. “There's a few things I need to do now with Mrs. Clutton,” she said. “Perhaps you'd like to wait outside.”

Dalgliesh said, “I think it's time to leave anyway.”

He bent to shake the hand lying limply on the coverlet, but her clasp was firm. Under the bandages the eyes which met his had none of the questioning anxiety of old age. They said goodbye and he walked back down the anonymous sterile corridor. There was nothing he had needed to say to her, nothing that would have helped. To tell her what the job could really entail would almost certainly mean she wouldn't take it. She would risk losing her cottage and her livelihood, and for what? Already she was falling under Caroline Dupayne's extraordinary spell. But she wasn't as naÏve as Muriel Godby. She was too secure in her own personality to become besotted. Perhaps in time she would realize what was going on in the flat. If that happened she would make her own decision.

He met Kate coming down the corridor towards him. She was there, he knew, to arrange for the transfer of Muriel Godby.

She said, “The consultant thinks she's perfectly fit to be moved. Obviously they'd like to get rid of her as soon as possible. Public Relations have phoned, sir. They'd like a press conference later today.”

“We can issue a press statement but, if they want me there, the conference can wait until Monday. There are things I have to do in the office and I need to leave early this evening.”

She turned her face from him, but not before he had glimpsed the cloud of sadness. She said, “Of course, sir, you told me. I know you need to leave early this evening.”

11

By half-past eleven the backlog of urgent matters awaiting Dalgliesh's attention had been dealt with and he was ready to write his report on the investigation. It was one that both the Commissioner and the Minister of State had asked to see. It was the first time that he had been asked to submit a detailed report on an investigation to the Minister and he hoped that it wouldn't set a precedent. But first there was some still unfinished business. He asked Kate to ring Swathling's and tell Caroline Dupayne that Commander Dalgliesh wished to see her urgently at New Scotland Yard.

An hour later she arrived. She was dressed for a formal luncheon party. The dark green coat in a heavy silk hung in dramatic folds and the winged collar framed her face. Her lipstick was stark against the pale skin. She took the proffered chair and looked at him. The eyes which met his were frankly appraising, as if this were their first meeting and she was assessing him sexually, toying with possibilities.

She said, “I suppose I should congratulate you.”

“That's neither necessary nor appropriate. I've asked you to come here because I have two more questions.”

“Still on the job, Commander? Ask, and if I can I'll give you an answer.”

Dalgliesh said, “On or after last Wednesday, did you tell Muriel Godby that you were sacking her, that you no longer wanted her at the museum?”

He waited. She said, “The inquiry is over, Muriel is under arrest. I'm not trying to be offensive or uncooperative, but is that any longer your business, Commander?”

“Please answer.”

“Yes. I told her on Wednesday evening after we'd been to the flat. Not precisely in those words, but I told her. We were in the car-park together. I consulted no one before I spoke and the decision was mine alone. Neither my brother nor James Calder-Hale thought she was the right person for the reception desk. Earlier I'd fought to keep her—efficiency and loyalty count for something. By Wednesday I'd decided they were right.”

One more piece of the puzzle clicked into place. So that was why Godby had returned to the museum on Thursday night and was in the office when Tally made her call to the police. When questioned, Godby had said that she wanted to catch up on the backlog of work; but if that were true, why leave and return, why not just stay on?

He said, “She'd gone to clear her desk. She couldn't do it while people were around. For her that would have been an intolerable humiliation.”

Caroline Dupayne said, “To clear her desk and something else: to leave me a list of outstanding things to be done and to tell me how the office should be run. Conscientious to the last.”

She spoke without pity, almost with contempt.

He said, “Your colleagues may have thought her unsuitable for the job, but that wasn't the reason you sacked her, was it? By Wednesday night you knew beyond doubt that she had killed your brother and Celia. You didn't want her on the staff of the museum when I made the arrest. And then there was the link with Swathling's. It's always been important, hasn't it, to keep the school unsullied by association with murder?”

“These were minor considerations. With any luck I shall inherit Swathling's. I've built up the school. I don't want it to begin the downward path before I get the chance to take over. And you're right about the museum. It was expedient to get rid of Muriel before you made the arrest. But that wasn't the main reason why I told her to go. When the truth comes out, neither Swathling's nor the Dupayne can escape some contamination. The school won't be much harmed; she left too long ago. I doubt whether the museum will be harmed at all. Already people are clamouring to know when we plan to reopen. The Dupayne Museum is at last on the map.”

“And when did you come to the conclusion that she was responsible?”

“About the same time as you did, I imagine, when I learned that someone had bolted the door from the flat into the Murder Room. Only Godby and I had keys. The difference between us was that you had to find the evidence, I didn't. And now I have a question for you. As she's confessed, we're spared a trial, but how much of my private life is likely to come out? I'm talking, of course, about the 96 Club. It isn't relevant to how either victim died. Isn't that what a coroner's inquest is concerned with, the cause of death? Need it be mentioned?”

The question was as calmly asked as if she were inquiring about the date. She showed no concern and this was no appeal. He said, “Much will depend on which questions the Coroner decides to ask. There are still the two adjourned inquests.”

She smiled. “Oh, I think you'll find that the Coroner will be discreet.”

Dalgliesh said, “Did you tell Muriel Godby that you knew the truth? Did you challenge her?”

“No. She knew about the 96 Club of course, or at least had her suspicions. After all, she dealt with the bed linen; she put out the empty champagne bottles. I didn't challenge her and when I got rid of her I made no direct mention of the murders. I merely said that I wanted her to clear her desk and be gone as soon as our keys were returned. In the meantime she should keep out of my way.”

“I want to know exactly what was said by both of you. How did she take it?”

“How do you think? She looked at me as if I were condemning her to life imprisonment. I suppose it's possible that I was. I thought for a moment that she was going to faint. She managed to speak but the words came out as a croak. She said, ‘What about the museum? What about my job?' I told her not to concern herself, she wasn't indispensable. My brother and James Calder-Hale had been wanting to get rid of her for months. Tally would take over the cleaning of my flat.”

“And that was all?”

“Not quite. She cried out, ‘What will happen to me?' I told her that her best hope was that the police would see the deaths as copycat killings. That was my only reference to the murders. Then I got into my car and left.”

And with those last words, thought Dalgliesh, Tally Clutton was condemned to die. He said, “The murder of your brother was her gift to you. It was for you she wanted to save the museum. She might even have expected you to be grateful.”

And now her voice was hard. “Then she didn't know me, and neither do you. You think, don't you, that I didn't love Neville?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“We Dupaynes don't show emotion. We were trained not to and in a hard school. We're not sentimental about death, our own or anyone else's. We don't go in for that neurotic hugging and slobbering which people use as a substitute for the responsibilities of real compassion. But I did love Neville. He was the best of us. Actually he was adopted. I don't think anyone knew who the mother was except our father. Marcus and I have always assumed that the child was his. Why otherwise would he adopt? He wasn't a man given to generous impulses. My mother did what he wanted; that was her function in life. Neville was adopted before I was born. We quarrelled often. I had little respect for his job and he despised mine. He may have despised me but I didn't despise him. He was always there, always the accepted elder brother. He was a Dupayne. Once I knew the truth I couldn't bear to have Muriel Godby under the same roof.” She paused, and asked, “Is that all?”

Dalgliesh said, “All I have a proper right to ask. I'm wondering about Tally Clutton. She says you've offered her Muriel's job looking after the flat.”

She got up and reached down for her handbag, then smiled. “Don't worry. The job will be strictly limited. A little light dusting, vacuuming the floors. I know how to value goodness even if I don't aspire to it myself. And if the 96 Club is reconstituted, it won't meet at the Dupayne. We don't want the local fuzz breaking down doors and roaring in on the excuse that they've been tipped off about drugs or paedophiles. Goodbye, Commander. It's a pity we didn't meet in different circumstances.”

Kate, who had remained silent, left with her and the door closed behind them. Within minutes she was back. She said, “My God, she's arrogant. And then there's the family pride. Neville was valued because he was half a Dupayne. Do you think she was telling the truth about the adoption?”

“Yes, Kate, she was telling the truth.”

“And the 96 Club, what was she getting out of that?”

“Some money, I imagine. People would have left gifts on the excuse they were helping to pay for the cleaning or the drinks. But mostly she enjoyed the power. In that she and Godby were alike.”

He could imagine Godby sitting there at the reception desk secretly hugging the knowledge that, except for her, the museum would have closed, wondering perhaps if and when she might dare to confess to Caroline what she had done for her, that exorbitant gift of love.

Kate said, “Caroline Dupayne will keep the club going, I imagine. If she takes over Swathling's they could meet there safely enough, particularly in the holidays. Do you think we ought to warn Tally Clutton?”

“It isn't our business, Kate. We can't put people's lives in order for them. Tally Clutton isn't a fool. She'll make her own decisions. It's not for us to face her with a moral decision she may never have to resolve. She needs her job and the cottage, that much is plain.”

“You mean she might compromise?”

“When there's a lot at stake people often do, even the virtuous.”

12

It was five o'clock and the final seminar of the week was over. The girl student sitting opposite Emma beside the fire had been on her own. Her companion had gone down with flu, the first victim of the new term. Emma devoutly hoped that it wasn't the beginning of an epidemic. But Shirley seemed reluctant to leave. Emma looked across at the girl, huddled in her chair, eyes down, the small, rather grubby hands twisting in her lap. She could read distress too clearly to ignore it. She found herself silently praying,
Oh God, please don't let her ask too much of me, not now. Let this be quick.