The Paying Guests(131)
‘And Miss Wray and her mother,’ he went on, with a nod to Frances, ‘were also in bed at that time. Which is perhaps why Mr Barber went to the trouble of walking all the way round to the back lane? To avoid disturbing the house too much? Can you think of any other reason?’
Unable to answer, Lilian shook her head. ‘Well,’ he said, after a second, ‘it’s a great shame that he did, for he must have been killed more or less straight off. Mr Palmer says his body was lying in the lane for above eight hours. It’s possible that he disturbed a burglar; that was one of our first ideas. But given that his pocket-book remained untouched we’re ruling robbery out for the moment. Instead, we’re working on the theory that he was pursued or lured into the lane by a person or persons unknown, who either set on him with the intention of killing him, or hit out at him as the result of some altercation. The blow was a vicious one, we do know that, and struck from behind, by a right-handed assailant, someone not over-tall. Death must have been almost instant: the bleeding seems to have stopped very nearly before he hit the ground. The instrument was blunt – a pipe or a mallet, I’d say. We’ve been looking in gardens and storm-drains for it, without success so far. But we’ll turn it up, you mark my words; and it’ll lead us straight to our man.’
He said all this to Lilian, with occasional glances around the room to draw in and impress the rest of them, and Lilian returned his gaze as he spoke, as if mesmerised. But once he was silent she changed her pose, looking over at Frances as she shifted, and there was a flash of something between them – part apprehension, part bafflement. For why on earth, thought Frances, would Charlie Wismuth have said that he had been with Leonard until past ten? At ten o’clock Leonard was already dead, already out in the lane. At ten o’clock she was cutting up the grisly yellow cushion. Leonard had told Lilian – hadn’t he? – that Charlie had had to leave early; that they’d only had time for a couple of beers. But why would Charlie lie?
Again it was Mrs Viney who spoke first. ‘Poor Lenny! He didn’t deserve that, did he? Not to be hit from behind like that. No, nobody deserves that. And he wasn’t a quarrelling man! That’s what I don’t understand. Why would he have gone into the lane with a blackguard like that?’
‘He didn’t go in there with him,’ said Vera, in a brittle, patient way. ‘The inspector says that somebody must have followed him.’
‘Followed him?’
‘Gone in after him, quietly.’
Mrs Viney looked outraged. ‘Oh, now that’s a dirty trick!’
Inspector Kemp said again that that was one of their theories, at any rate. And he repeated his claim about the pipe or the mallet: that they were sure to turn it up, and then the case would be halfway solved.
‘A professional killer, you see,’ he said, ‘or a man used to violence: he knows how to dispose of a weapon. He has pals he can pass it on to. But we’re not looking for a professional killer. We think our fellow’s more steady than that. Someone with regular habits —’
‘Regular habits?’ cried Mrs Viney. ‘When he goes about murdering people in the dark? I thought it was some old soldier you was after. Wasn’t it some old soldier who set on Lenny that other time?’
‘Well, of course,’ said the inspector, ‘there was only Mr Barber’s own word about that. He might well have been mistaken. The fact that no robbery took place, either that time or this —’
‘The man might have meant to do a robbery,’ said Vera, ‘and got the wind up.’
‘Or he might,’ put in Netta, ‘have heard a noise – seen someone coming —’
‘Yes, it’s possible,’ the inspector answered, in the polite, patient tone he must, thought Frances, keep in reserve for thriller-enthusiasts. ‘But —’ He tapped his fingers on the brim of his hat. ‘I don’t know. There’s just something about this case. When you’ve been in the police force for as long as Sergeant Heath and I have, you develop a “nose”. And just now my nose is telling me that this wasn’t a cold-blooded act; that it was the work of a person with a grudge, or a score to settle, or some reason for wanting to get Mr Barber out of his way. And a person like that, with a used weapon in hand – his first thought is to get rid of it. His second thought is to get home as quick as he can. That works to our advantage, too. He has nowhere to hide, you see. He has neighbours, he has family, people seeing him come and go. Some of them might protect him for a time. He might have a wife, a girl, a lady-friend, someone who thinks it her romantic duty to keep quiet about what she knows. But she won’t think that for long, if she’s got any sense about her. She’ll come forward sooner or later – the sooner the better, of course, from the point of view of her own safety.’
Again he made gestures to Mrs Viney, to the sisters and to Frances as he spoke. But it was unmistakably Lilian to whom he was addressing himself, and now, leaning forward, he fixed his gaze on hers.
‘I’m afraid your thoughts weren’t quite in order yesterday, Mrs Barber. Nobody could have expected otherwise, in the circumstances. But you’ve had time, since then, to turn things over in your mind, and I have to ask you what I asked you once before, in case some new piece of information should have occurred to you. Do you have any idea who might have killed your husband?’