The Young Widow (28 page)

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Authors: Cassandra Chan

BOOK: The Young Widow
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Gibbons felt as if the noose was closing about his own throat. He was numb with panic and unable to say anything.
“I still don't like it, sir,” he managed at last. “It's true that it all works out, but it's still completely dependent on Miss Wellman. If she'd said it was eleven when she saw McAllister, we'd be telling ourselves that Mrs. Berowne was definitely in the clear. Denford's statement isn't firm—he isn't certain whether or not he would have seen Mrs. Berowne the first time.”
“That's the damnable part of it,” agreed Carmichael. “They all have motive and opportunity. Still, this is the closest we've come to
making a case, and I do think the coincidence of the timing is notable.”
Gibbons swallowed. “Do you want to bring Mrs. Berowne in for questioning?” he asked.
“Let me just look over her statement,” answered Carmichael, shuffling the papers in his lap.
While Carmichael read, Gibbons sat in agitated silence. He could not quite believe the turn things had taken and his mind was filled with the horror of entering the house and taking Annette in for questioning without any opportunity of reassurance. He glanced sideways at Carmichael who suddenly looked like an enemy, solemnly reading Annette's statement and weighing her guilt. It was as if he could see the logic falling into place in Carmichael's brain, tipping the scales against Annette.
“There's nothing here to get hold of,” said Carmichael at last, frowning. “Her story's too simple to trip her up on any point. And unless I've lost my judgement of character altogether, she'll never confess. Still, I suppose there's nothing else for it. She might let out something. Yes, we'll take her in.”
Gibbons felt as if there were a weight pressing on his chest. He said nothing, but climbed out of the car slowly and followed Carmichael back to the house. His mind seemed to have gone numb.
Carmichael rang the bell and they stood on the steps until Mrs. Simmons opened the door. She looked surprised to see them.
“Is Mrs. Berowne in?” asked Carmichael. “We'd like a word with her.”
“No, sir,” Mrs. Simmons replied and Gibbons breathed again. “She's gone shopping in Town. I don't expect her back until after lunch.”
Carmichael frowned, disappointed, and glanced at his watch. “It's no good our waiting then,” he said. “We'll call again later, or perhaps tomorrow. Thank you, Mrs. Simmons.”
Gibbons was light-headed with relief as they returned to the car, but he knew it was only a temporary respite. His hands were shaking as he started the engine.
 
 
Carmichael decided to return
to the local CID headquarters and see if Chief Constable Gorringe or Commander Andrews had any advice on the questioning of Mrs. Berowne. They had, after all, known her well. While Carmichael was closeted with Gorringe, Gibbons, feeling as if he would burst from the conflicting emotions roiling inside him, found a quiet corner and rang Bethancourt. This time his friend was at home.
“Jack!” he said. “I've been waiting about, hoping you'd ring back. What's happened?”
Rapidly, Gibbons gave him a precis of the morning's events. “The vindictive old bitch!” he said, referring to Maddie Wellman. “I'm sure she's lying about the time, Phillip. Either she never noticed it at all, or she's changed it to suit herself.”
“That's possible, certainly,” said Bethancourt slowly.
“And what am I going to do?” continued Gibbons frantically. “Any moment now, Carmichael will come out and we'll go off to pick her up. She'll think I betrayed her, Phillip.”
“Nonsense,” said Bethancourt. “She'll be confused, no doubt, but you can reassure her later. She'll see there was nothing else you could do—you can hardly be of any help to her if you give yourself away to Carmichael.”
“That's true,” said Gibbons. “But I'm still dreading it, Phillip. I don't think I can stand to face her and tell her she's wanted for questioning.”
“It'll be all right,” said Bethancourt soothingly. “Worse in the anticipation than in fact, I should say. Does Carmichael expect her to confess?”
“No. Which is just as well, since she's innocent.”
“Of course,” said Bethancourt, but apparently there was something false in his tone, for Gibbons burst out, “I know you always doubted her, but I tell you she's innocent. She loves me, Phillip, I
know
it. I've never been so certain of anything in my life.”
“But, Jack,” said Bethancourt gently, “you're not thinking clearly. Just because she loves you doesn't mean she's innocent. Even murderers can fall in love.”
There was a long pause.
“No,” said Gibbons at last. “You're wrong. I could never fall in love with a murderer.”
“Not with someone you knew to be one, no.”
“Oh, God,” said Gibbons wildly, “you're just like everyone else. Why do you assume I think she's innocent because I'm in love with her? Why can't you understand that I fell in love with her because my instincts told me she was innocent? I don't know what to say to convince you.”
“You don't have to convince me,” said Bethancourt. “I am perfectly willing to entertain the idea that Annette is innocent. I'm just not as certain as you seem to be. Look, do you want me to do anything?”
“I can't think what to do,” said Gibbons, appeased by this offer of help. “Maybe you can think of something. If you can, by all means do it.”
“All right,” said Bethancourt. “I'll put my mind to it. Ring me later, will you?”
“Yes, of course. God, I hope she stays out shopping till the evening. Carmichael won't want to start then.”
“But he will in the morning.”
“Yes, but by then I can ring her and warn her.”
The was a startled silence at the other end of the phone.
“Do you really think you should, Jack?” said Bethancourt cautiously
after a moment. “I mean, if she gives away that she's been warned, it'll all be up for both of you.”
“I'll impress upon her that she must seem surprised. She'll be able to manage that. I'd better go, Phillip. Carmichael won't be much longer.”
“Yes, of course. I'll talk to you later.”
Bethancourt replaced the receiver slowly and stood staring at the phone. With this new information, he himself had no doubts that Annette Berowne was guilty, and he was relieved that it was over at last. Or he would have been, if Gibbons had shown the least doubt of her innocence. Once convinced of her guilt, he would get over this painful episode in time. But if he could not be convinced, he would never forget that the woman he loved was languishing in prison and that he had helped to put her there. It would certainly destroy his faith in his chosen calling; very likely he would end by quitting.
It could be even worse if she were acquitted, which was all too likely given the scant evidence against her. No one would ever believe her innocent, of course, and Gibbons would never forgive himself for not having solved the case successfully. Meanwhile, he would be married to a murderer.
Deeply disturbed, Bethancourt picked up the phone again to cancel the appointment he had made that afternoon with his broker. He did not think he could possibly concentrate on his finances.
 
 
A bar of sunlight
lay across Chief Constable Gorringe's desk; he frowned thoughtfully at it while Carmichael explained what they'd found.
“So Annette did do it,” said Gorringe solemnly when Carmichael had finished.
“It seems that way,” agreed Carmichael. “At least it does if Miss Wellman's word is to be trusted.”
Gorringe looked up, surprised. “Oh, I think you can trust whatever Maddie says,” he answered. “Honest as the day is long, that's Maddie for you.”
“She wasn't honest about the state of Paul Berowne's marriage,” said Carmichael dryly. “And I would feel surer about what she told me today if she hadn't previously displayed such a vindictive attitude toward Mrs. Berowne.”
“I suppose I expressed it poorly,” said Gorringe. “It's not that she wouldn't stoop to lying. It's just that she couldn't possibly pull it off.”
“She is a bad liar,” admitted Carmichael, but he still harbored doubts. In this case, Maddie Wellman could be telling the truth with only the smallest variant—that of the time. Even the worst liar might be able to manage that. “But that's neither here nor there. What I really need your help with is Mrs. Berowne. Can you think of anything that might induce her to confess?”
Gorringe ran his fingers along the edge of a file laying open on his desk, frowning thoughtfully. “It's going to be difficult,” he said. “My wife says she always knew Annette was self-centered—I never noticed that, myself. But if it's true, and if she murdered her husband for his money, then she must be one of those people whose worldview is completely warped, who believe absolutely nothing matters but themselves. I suppose all you can do is try to confuse her, or frighten her into making a mistake.”
Carmichael was annoyed, though he did not show it. He was an old hand at interviewing suspects, and he rather resented this obvious advice. “Yes,” he said. “What I want to know is what you think might frighten her.”
But Gorringe only shook his head. “I don't know,” he answered. “She's a charming woman, and I always liked her very much. But I haven't any insight into her character, especially not if she's a murderer. In that case, she's not the person I thought I knew.”
 
 
“It's remarkable,” said Carmichael,
settling into the car, “how virtually no one who supposedly knows her has any insight into Mrs. Berowne's character.” He glanced back at the church from whence they had just emerged. “The vicar gave us a very clear account of Geoffrey Berowne's character the other day, but he has nothing to say about Mrs. Berowne. He thought she was charming. Ha!”
“It's very discouraging, sir,” agreed Gibbons carefully. He was doing his level best to appear normal, and not as if he were particularly panicked about anything, and thus far Carmichael seemed to have noticed nothing.
“What about you, Sergeant?” asked Carmichael suddenly. “You've been spending the most time with her over this case. What do you think?”
The panic rose to new heights and Gibbons swallowed before answering while his thoughts raced.
“Well, I don't know, sir,” he answered. “I have to admit, I'd about made up my mind that she was innocent. The more I saw of her, the more I thought so. Obviously, I didn't form a very correct opinion of her,” he added, thinking he might have gone too far.
But his words did not appear to have rung any alarms in the chief inspector's mind. “If you say you thought she was charming, Gibbons,” he growled, “I'm going to demote you on the spot.”
Gibbons grinned. “Well, I did, sir. But aside from that, I thought she seemed very vulnerable, like a person who's lost their anchor. I never thought she was particularly devious, or even clever in that way. And as for being cold-blooded, frankly I found her just the opposite.”
Carmichael sighed. “If Berowne was her anchor, she'd never have killed him,” he said. “Not unless she had someone else ready to replace him. And there's no evidence of that at all—even those who think the worst of her don't seem to think she'd been having an af- fair.” He sat silently for a space while Gibbons's throbbing pulse
counted out the seconds. At last he drew a deep breath and said, “Well, let's get on, lad.”
“Yes, sir. Where to?”
“Back to London. There's no one else we can talk to without risking their alerting Mrs. Berowne. It's a pity she's not back yet, but we'll pick her up first thing in the morning. And maybe it's for the best. I won't be sorry to have the extra time to think. We'll take the rest of the day off and come at her fresh in the morning.”
 
 
Annette was waiting
for him when Gibbons arrived home. It had briefly crossed his mind that her shopping excursion might be an excuse to see him, but since in the normal way of things she could not expect to find him home until long past dinnertime, he had discounted the suspicion.
Gibbons was so preoccupied with how he was going to tell her what had happened that for a moment when he saw her, he did not believe it.
“Annette!” he exclaimed. “You're here!”
He was torn between exhilaration and the impending doom of the news he had to break, but she seemed to notice nothing, coming forward to take his hands and kiss him lightly. His hand cupped her cheek as she stepped back and he gazed down into her warm eyes, hating himself for what was to come.

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