Original Sin (27 page)

Dalgliesh said: 'But neither, in fact, proved catastrophic.'

'As it happens, no. This last business with Hissing Sid seems to be in a different category. The others were directed against the firm, but stuffing the head of that snake into Gerard's mouth was surely an act of malice against him personally. To save you asking, I may as well say that I knew where to find Hissing Sid. I imagine most of the office did by the time Mrs Demery had finished her rounds.'

Dalgliesh thought that it was time to let him go. He said: 'How will you get to Hillgate Village?'

'I've ordered a taxi, it'll be too slow by launch to Charing Cross. I'll be in at half past nine tomorrow if there's anything else you want to know. Not that I think I can help. Oh, I may as well say now that I didn't kill Gerard, nor did I put that snake round his neck. I could hardly hope to persuade him of the virtues of the literary novel by gassing him to death.'

Dalgliesh said: 'So that's how you think he died?'

'Didn't he? Actually it was Dauntsey's idea, I can take no credit for it. But the more I think about it the more credible it appears.'

He left with the same unhurried grace as that with which he had entered.

Dalgliesh reflected that questioning suspects was rather like interviewing candidates as a member of a selection board. There was always the temptation to assess the performance of each and to put forward a tentative opinion before the next applicant was summoned. Today he waited in silence. Kate, as always, sensed that it was wise to keep her counsel, but he suspected that there were one or two pungent comments she would like to have made about Claudia Etienne.

Frances Peverell was the last. She came into the room with something of the docility of a well-trained schoolchild but her composure broke when she saw Etienne's jacket still hanging across the back of his chair.

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She said: 'I didn't think this was still here,' and began to rnovd towards it, her hand outstretched. Then she checked herself an0 turned towards Dalgliesh and he saw that her eyes had brimmed witP tears. He said: 'I'm sorry. Perhaps we should have taken it away.' She said: 'Claudia might have removed it, perhaps, but she's hac other things to think about. Poor Claudia. I suppose she'll have td cope with all his belongings, all his clothes.' She sat down and looked at Dalgliesh like a patient, waiting for d consultant's opinion. Her face was gentle, the light brown hair will strands of gold was cut in a fringe above straight eyebrows and blue/ green eyes. Dalgliesh suspected that the look of strained anxiety Ld them was more long-standing than a response to the present traumd and he wondered what Henry Peverell had been like as a father. ThJ woman before him had none of the petulant self-absorption of spoiled only daughter. She looked like a woman who all her life ha responded to the needs of others, more used to receiving implied criticism than praise. She had none of Claudia Etienne's self/ possession or de Witt's ddgagd elegance. She was wearing a skirt in d soft blue and fawn tweed with a blue jumper and matching cardigar/, but without the usual string of pearls. She could, he thought, have worn exactly the same in the 93os or 195os, the unexceptional da/ clothes of the English gentlewoman; unexciting, conventional, expert sive good taste, giving offence to no one. Dalgliesh said gently: 'I always think that's the worst job afte someone dies. Watches, jewellery, books, pictures; these can be give to friends and it seems fight and appropriate. But clothes are to intimate to be given as gifts. Paradoxically it seems that we can onl, bear to think of them being worn not by people we know, but b strangers.' t She said with eagerness as if grateful that he understood: 'Yes, I fei//

that after Daddy died. In the end I gave all his suits and shoes to that

Salvation Army. I hope they found someone who needed them, but 'J

was like clearing him out of the flat, clearing him out of my life.' "VVere you fond of Gerard Etienne?' s She looked down at her folded hands and then straight into hi eyes. 'I was in love with him. I wanted to tell you myself because I'rJ)e

sure you'll find out sooner or later and it's better coming from me. W

had an affair but it ended a week before he became engaged.'

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'By common consent?' 'No, not by common consent.' He didn't need to ask her what she had felt at this betrayal. What she had felt, and was still feeling, was written plainly on her face. He said: 'I'm sorry. Talking about his death can't be easy for you.' 'Not as painful as being unable to talk. Please tell me, Mr Dalgliesh, do you think that Gerard was murdered?' 'We can't be certain yet but it is a probability rather than a possibility. That's why we have to question you now. I'd like you to explain exactly what happened last night.' 'I expect Gabriel - Mr Dauntsey - has explained about the mugging. I didn't go with him to his poetry reading because he was adamant he wanted to be alone. I think he felt I wouldn't enjoy it. But someone from Peverell Press should have gone with him. It was the first time he'd read for about fifteen years and it wasn't right that he should be alone, if I'd been with him perhaps he wouldn't have been mugged. I received the telephone call from St Thomas's at about eleven-thirty saying he was there and would have to wait for an X-ray, and asking if I would be with him if they sent him home. Apparently he was more or less demanding to come back and they wanted to be sure he wouldn't be alone. I was watching out for him from my kitchen window but I missed hearing the taxi. His front door is in Innocent Lane but I think the driver must have turned at the bottom and left him there. He must have rung as soon as he got in. He said he was all right, that there was no fracture and he was going to have a bath. After that he'd be glad if I'd come down. I don't think he really wanted me, but he knew I couldn't be happy if I hadn't made sure he was all right.' Dalgliesh asked: 'You haven't a key to his flat, then? You couldn't wait for him there?' 'I do have a key and he has a key to my flat. It's a sensible precaution in case there's a fire or flood and we need to gain access when the other is away. But I wouldn't dream of using it unless Gabriel had asked me.' Dalgliesh asked: 'How long was it before you joined him?' The answer was, of course, of vital importance. It was possible for Gabriel Dauntsey to have killed Etienne before he set off for the poetry reading at 7-45. The timing would have been tight but it could have been done. But it seemed that the only chance he

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would have had to return to the scene was after one in the morning. He asked again: 'How long was it before Mr Dauntsey rang to call you down? Can you be fairly precise?' 'It can't have been long. I suppose about eight or ten minutes, maybe a little shorter. About eight minutes I'd say, just long enough for him to have a bath. His bathroom is under mine. I can't hear it when he runs his bath but I do hear the water running away. Yesterday I was listening for that.' 'And it was about eight minutes before you heard it?' 'I wasn't watching the time. Why should I have been? But I'm sure it wasn't unduly long.' She said, as if the possibility had suddenly struck her: 'But you can't really mean that you suspect Gabriel that you think he went back to Innocent House and killed Gerard?' 'Mr Etienne was dead long before midnight. What we are considering now is the possibility that the snake was put round his neck some hours after he died.' 'But that would mean that someone went up to the little archives office specially, knowing that he was dead, knowing that he was lying there. But the only person who knew that would be the murderer. You're saying you thought the murderer went back later to the little archives room.' 'If there was a murderer. We can't be sure of that yet.' 'But Gabriel was ill, he'd been mugged! And he's old. He's over seventy. And he's rheumatic. He usually walks with a stick. He couldn't possibly have done it in the time.' 'Are you absolutely sure of that, Miss Peverell?' 'Yes, I'm sure. Besides, he did have a bath. I heard the water running away.' Dalgliesh said gently: 'But you couldn't tell if it was his bath water.' 'What else could it have been? He didn't just leave his tap running, if that's what you're suggesting. If he had I should have heard it immediately. This water didn't begin running away until about eight minutes after he rang and said he was ready for me. I went down at once. He was wearing his dressing-gown. I could tell he had had a bath. His hair and face were damp.' 'And after that?' 'He'd already had some whisky and didn't want anything else, so I insisted that he went to bed. I was determined to stay the night so he

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told me where the clean sheets were for the spare bed. I don't think anyone had slept in that room for years and I didn't make up the bed. He fell asleep very quickly and I settled myself in the armchair in the sitting-room in front of the electric fire. I left the door open so that I could hear him, but he didn't wake. I woke before him, shortly after seven, and made a cup of tea. I tried to be quiet but I think he must have heard me moving around. It was about eight o'clock when he woke. Neither of us was in a hurry. We knew that George would open Innocent House. We both had a boiled egg for breakfast and went across shortly after nine o'clock.'

'And you didn't go up to see Mr Etienne's body?'

'Gabriel did. I didn't. I waited with the others at the bottom of the stairs. But when we heard that horrible high walling I think I knew that Gerard was dead.'

Dalgliesh could see that she was again becoming distressed. He had learned all he needed for the present. He thanked her gently and let her go.

After she had left them they were silent for a moment, then Dalgliesh said: 'Well Kate, we've been presented with more dis-interested and convincing alibis; Claudia Etienne's lover, de Witt's sick house-guest and Frances Peverell, who's obviously incapable of believing that Gabriel Dauntsey could be guilty of a malicious act, let alone murder. She's trying to be honest about the length of time between his coming home and calling her down. She's an honest woman, but I'd guess that her eight minutes was an underestimate.'

Kate said: 'I wonder if she realized that he was giving her an alibi as well as she providing one for him. But of course it isn't important, is it? She could have gone over to Innocent House and done that business with the snake any time before Dauntsey arrived home. And she had every opportunity to kill Etienne. She's got no alibi for earlier yesterday evening. She was quick to pick up that point about the bath

water, that he couldn't just have turned on the tap and let it rrm.' 'No, but there is another possibility. Think about it, Kate.'

Kate thought, then said: 'Of course, it could have been done that

way.'

'Which means that we need to know the capacity of that bath. And we need to test the timing. Don't use Dauntsey. Robbins will have to imagine he's a rheumatic seventy-six-year-old. See how long it takes to get from Dauntsey's door in Innocent Lane up to the little

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archives room, do what had to be done there, and get back.'

'Using the stairs?'

'Time it using both stairs and the lift. With that lift the stairs are probably quicker.'

As they began putting their papers together Kate thought about Frances Peverell. Dalgliesh had been gentle with her, but when was he ever brutal in interrogation? He had been sincere in that comment about the clothes of the dead. All the same it had been remarkably effective in gaining Frances Peverell's confidence. He was probably sorry for the woman, possibly even rather liked her; but no personal feelings would influence him in his investigation. And what about me? Kate asked herself, not for the first time. Wouldn't he show a similar detachment, a comparable ruthlessness, in all aspects of his professional life? She thought: he respects me, he's glad to have me in the team, he trusts me, sometimes I can believe that he likes me. But if I fell down badly on the job, how long would I last?

Dalgliesh said: 'I need to go back to the Yard now for a couple of hours. I'll meet you and Daniel at the mortuary for the PM but I may not be able to stay until it's completed. I've a meeting with the Commissioner and the Minister in the House of Commons at eight o'clock. I don't know when I'll get away from that but I'll come on straight to Wapping and we'll review progress so far.'

It was going to be a long night.

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It was two minutes to three and Blackie was sitting alone at her desk. She was oppressed by a listlessness which was partly the result of delayed shock, partly fear, but which made any action seem an intolerable exertion. She supposed she could go home, although no one had told her so. There was filing to be done, letters which Gerard Etienne had dictated still to be typed, but it seemed somehow indecent as well as pointless to file papers for which he would now never call and type letters his hand would never sign. Mandy had left half an hour earlier, presumably told that she was no longer wanted. Blackie had watched while she took her red crash-helmet from the bottom drawer of her desk and zipped up her tight leather jacket. Topped with that glittering dome, with her skinny body, the long legs clad in black ribbed leggings, she had been instantly transformed as always into the caricature of an exotic insect.

Her last words to Blackie, spoken with a trace of embarrassed sympathy, had been: 'Look, don't you go losing any sleep over him. I won't, and I quite liked him, what I saw of him. But he was a proper bastard to you. Are you going to be all fight, going home I mean?'

She had replied: 'Yes thank you, Mandy. I'm perfectly all right now. It was the shock. After all, I was his PA. You've only known him for a few weeks and as a temporary typist.'

The words, a clumsy attempt to restore her dignity, had sounded even to her own ears repressive and pompous. They had been greeted with a shrug and Mandy had left without another word, her loud goodbyes to Mrs Demery echoing across the hall.

Mandy had been notably cheered by her interview with the police and had immediately gone off to discuss it with Mrs Demery, George and Amy in the kitchen. Blackie would have liked to have joined them but had felt that it would be inappropriate to her status to be found gossiping with the junior staff. She knew, too, that they wouldn't have welcomed her intrusion into their confidences and speculations. On the other hand, she hadn't been invited to join the partners when they were closeted in the boardroom and had been seen by no one except