Death at Hallows End (9 page)

“What did they fall out about?”

“He's High. They're Low,” explained Puckett, “and you can't have it both ways.”

“Were you up at the church that Monday afternoon?”

“No. I had a bit to do in my garden. I grow the best parsnips there are hereabouts and even Stonegate here said my sweet peas this year were lovely. As for the asters …”

Carolus saw the danger of this diversion. It could last the rest of the evening.

“Can you see the road from your garden?”

“When I'm out in the front I can. But I was at the back that afternoon.”

“You don't remember my friend's car passing?”

“There was something passed about half past three,” said Puckett. “But I couldn't say what kind of a car it was. It's not my line, you see. If you was to ask me about Michaelmas daisies now I could very likely tell you something you didn't know. But all cars sound alike to me. All cars, that is, except Neast's old lorry. I can always tell that. I should know that anywhere by the sound of it. Sort of a ponkety ponk its got.”

“Did that pass that Monday afternoon?”

“I daresay it did about five o'clock when I was just going in to get my tea. Yes, I reckon I heard it. Can't be sure, mind you. I'm so used to it coming by, I can't be certain. But I think it did. I'd been busy with my dahlias. Lovely this year they are.”

“Yet you noticed one car and remember the time it passed?”

“Only because I happened to look at my watch just then. I thought that's too early for the Neasts to come home from market. It's a pity I didn't go and have a look over the hedge, but I'm not one to mind other people's business. I saw Stonegate go by on his bicycle though. Must have been about half an hour later.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“Just to pass the time of day. ‘You're early today,' I told him and he said yes, he wasn't feeling too well. That was all.”

“He didn't mention what he had seen?”

“What
had
he seen? That's what I'd like to know. A chap asleep in a car. It's not much to make all this fuss about.”

Stonegate heard this from the other side of the room.

“Not unless it's the last time anyone set eyes on the chap,” he said severely.

“Ah, but was it? How do you know no one else came down the road after you?”

“They'd have reported it.”

“What about the Neasts? They must have gone by?”

“Haven't they told the police they saw the car and didn't stop? They were on their way home and came on the car from behind.”

“We're not to know, are we?” said Puckett. “They may have got down from their car and done for him. I wouldn't put it past them. Or someone else might have.”

“Pigs might fly,” said Stonegate. Carolus felt the conversation was rapidly becoming unprofitable and that he had nothing else to ask for the moment. But yes, one very simple thing. He turned to Puckett.

“Where will I find Dr. Jayboard's house?” he asked.

He had forgotten the little man's proneness to irrelevance when asked for directions.

“Oh, you're going to see the doctor, are you? I don't know what you'll find out from him.”

Carolus turned to Stonegate and asked if he would mind telling him. But he had touched on another village animosity, it seemed.

“I don't know anything about it,” announced Stonegate. “I have Dr. Lucas from over at Swanwick.”

“You'll just about find him at home now,” Puckett reflected. “His surgery's six to seven.”

“Where is his house?” asked Carolus firmly.

“You know where the Institute is? You don't? Well, go right through the village and when you come to the crossroads, turn to the left past a lot of new council houses. Then up the hill a little way and it's on your right.”

Carolus thanked him and ten minutes later was ringing at the door of a nondescript house called Three Beeches. Dr. Jayboard himself came to the door and when Carolus explained that he was a friend of Lance Thomas, he was asked in to a rather shabby sitting-room.

“My wife's away so I hope you'll excuse the muddle,” said Jayboard. “I'm no good as a temporary bachelor.”

Carolus looked at him. and thought that if he was a contemporary of Lance's he had not worn very well. He looked an
elderly man, with a greyish face and thin hair. His clothes were far from new and had never fitted him well; he had a saddened expression and tired but hungry eyes. Not the man one would feel like reminding of “that night at Vine Street” that Lance Thomas remembered.

“I've come to see you, doctor, because I'm trying to trace Duncan Humby. As his disappearance may be connected in some way with Grossiter and the Neasts I thought I had better ask you about that.”

“Oh, yes. I see. In what way connected?”

“I frankly don't know yet. But I don't believe in coincidence. Humby had been summoned to Grossiter who had instructed him to make a new will. He was taking it down for the old man's signature. And within twelve hours of each other, Humby disappears and Grossiter dies of what Lance Thomas tells me to call a heart attack. It would take a credulous man to believe that was coincidence.”

“I see what you mean. I know nothing about Humby. But I can tell you about Grossiter. It was a perfectly natural death from heart failure. Lance Thomas—we always called him Tom—had attended him for years and knew his condition. He died in his sleep quite peacefully and of natural causes.”

“You are sure of that?”

“My dear chap, would I have signed the death certificate if I hadn't been? There is not the smallest doubt of it.”

“I'm sure you're right. But it doesn't seem to help much. Could you recall exactly the events of that Monday night?”

“It wasn't Monday night, really. It was early on Tuesday morning. When the telephone woke me, I looked at my clock and saw it was five-twenty. The worst possible time for an emergency call for a doctor.”

“It was one of the Neasts?”

“Yes. Holroyd, the elder of the two.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“I'll try to remember. ‘Could you come up at once, doctor?' Or it may have been ‘Please come up immediately.' I asked what's the matter and he said, ‘It's my uncle. I think he's had a stroke or something. I think he's dead.'”

“He
thought
he was dead? Didn't he
know?”

Jayboard, for the first time, smiled—a brief and uneasy smile.

“That really means nothing,” he explained. “People
think
their relatives are dead when they call the doctor. It's like saying they've passed on, or they're no more. Perhaps they're afraid the doctor will say that if the person is dead there is nothing he can do, so he's going back to bed. Whatever it is I've noticed that it's invariably used.”

“So you agreed to go up?”

“Yes. As soon as I could get dressed. It took less than five minutes. In a district like this, one gets used to night calls. It can't have been much more than half-past five when I reached the bungalow.”

“What impression did you get of the two brothers?”

“They seemed alarmed and genuinely distressed, I thought. There was another man there named Darkin. I understood he was Grossiter's manservant. He was more inscrutable—a very reserved type. Holroyd Neast took me into Grossiter's bedroom and I immediately began my examination. I won't give you the technical details of what I found, but if you wish you may have a copy of the notes I made later that morning. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that Grossiter's death was a natural one. I see no reason to think it had even been hastened in any way. Indeed, in his cardiac condition I am surprised that he had lived so long.”

“Thank you very much for those details, doctor. Now there is one point which seems important to me. How long had he been dead?”

“That is difficult to assess. The Neasts told me, and the man Darkin confirmed this, that Grossiter stayed in his room most of each day and was there when the Neasts returned from market. Holroyd Neast went up to him and he was already in bed. His evening meal was taken in to him at eight and at nine Darkin went to take the tray. Holroyd followed him to say good night to his uncle and remained with him some little time. Nothing more was seen or heard of him until five o'clock in the morning when Darkin went in as usual and found him dead.”

“As usual? Did he go to Grossiter every morning at five?”

“It appears so. The old man went to bed so early and slept so badly that he was ready for a cup of tea and a biscuit at five.”

“Was the bed much disturbed?”

“Not in the least. It seemed that Grossiter had been sleeping peacefully and died without waking up. Not at all unusual in his condition.”

“I see. But at what time do you think he died?”

“I can only say that everything was consistent with the times they gave me. Between nine and the small hours of the morning.”

“But if you had no information from them at all, would you still have said those were the limits?”

“Not necessarily. The limits are always wide. One of the things that irritates me most about detective novels is the way a doctor glances at a cadaver and says that the man died three and three-quarter hours ago. It is impossible to make such calculations. Had I been judging purely on the condition of the dead man, I would have contented myself by saying he had been dead for more than three hours.”

“But how much more? What is your earliest timing?”

“Practically no limit. Twelve hours anyhow, perhaps more. I challenge anyone to be accurate after five hours, say.”

“That's not very helpful.”

“But why should it matter so much what time Grossiter died? I've told you his death was natural.”

“Perhaps you're right. It's just force of habit. One gets in the way of thinking in terms of time with any death. But I'm of course absolutely satisfied with your assurance that death was from natural causes. I know you wouldn't have considered giving a certificate if you had had the remotest doubt. And if there had been any other cause you
would
have had some doubts. So I regard it as Q.E.D. and thank you very much for your information.”

“That's all right,” said Jayboard.

“You did not see the dead man again?”

“Oh, yes I did. A doctor does not hand out death certificates as easily as you seem to think. I returned later that day—Tuesday—for a final examination.”

“What time was that?”

Jayboard smiled. “I can't see how it can possibly matter, but as it happens I can tell you exactly because when I reached the farm, Holroyd Neast was just sitting down to tea and asked me to join him. ‘We usually have tea about five,' he said and I glanced at the clock. A few minutes later his brother and the man Darkin came in and to my surprise joined us at table.”

“Had you any doubt at all about Grossiter's death to suggest this second examination?”

“Oh, none whatever. It was just to clear up one or two technicalities. I told Holroyd that I was now entirely satisfied and left him the certificate.”

“Did he seem relieved?”

“No. He took it as a matter of course.”

“Thanks again, doctor.”

Jayboard nodded.

“How's old Tom?” he asked, but without much spirit, Carolus thought. They discussed their mutual friends for a few moments
before Carolus went back to the Falstaff where he found a reasonably comfortable room.

Next morning he drove back to Newminster and telephoned Thripp at his office.

“What have you found out?” asked the solicitor.

“Nothing directly helpful, I'm afraid. It's a somewhat complicated case, because I am at present going on the assumption, rightly or wrongly, that Grossiter's intended will and his death are directly connected with Duncan's disappearance.”

“I'm afraid all that means very little to me,” retorted Thripp rather sharply. “What I want to know and what Theodora wants to know is, where
is
Duncan?”

“Of course,” said Carolus mildly.

“Have you any reason yet to think he is alive or dead?”

“None yet, I'm afraid. But I daresay the police have. It's more in their line. They'll have examined the ground, and the car for fingerprints and brought all the resources of forensic science to bear. I can only theorise until I discover the explanation that fits
all
the circumstances. I'm not very near that yet. I haven't even seen the Neasts. I'm calling there tomorrow.”

“You
do
realise it's urgent, don't you, Deene?”

“Of course. I'm doing all I can as fast as I can.”

“Thanks. On my behalf and Theodora's. Now there is a small detail which has occurred to me since I saw you. Have you met the Rector of Hallows End yet?”

“Yes. Whiskins by name.”

“Well, Duncan and he were old friends. I knew him quite well, too, though I haven't seen him for some time. Is that in any way helpful?”

“I don't know yet. When were they last in touch, do you know?”

“Duncan sent Whiskins a wire to say he was coming down to Hallows End on business and hoped to call on him. That was telephoned early on Monday morning.”

“I only talked to the Rector for a few minutes,” said Carolus thoughtfully. “He showed me round his very interesting church. But he made not the slightest reference to Duncan. One would have thought that even in conversation with a stranger, something would crop up. After all, it must have caused a considerable sensation in Hallows End.”

“Oh, I don't know. Duncan spoke of him as an unworldly sort of chap. Wrapped up in his church and his responsibilities.”

“Unworldly is not the word I would choose for him. But then I scarcely know him. There has been no kind of sequel to that wire? He didn't ring up to say Duncan hadn't arrived, or anything like that?”