The More Deceived (29 page)

Weybridge was Edward’s destination but he slowed when he saw the signpost indicating that he was only three miles away. The Lagonda was so easy to drive fast that he sometimes found himself somewhere he did not want to be before he was aware of it – and he certainly did not want to be visiting Mrs Westmacott. Nothing he could do or say would bring back her husband or wipe away the memory of how he died, grotesque and undignified. It was this, almost more than the murder itself, which made him so angry. She did not deserve to have her memory of her husband sullied in this way. He would have liked to wave a magic wand and bring relief to the widow and her child but he had no magic wand.

He had discussed his theories with Pride and been listened to in silence until he proffered the powder compact at which point the Chief Inspector had exploded with anger. Edward heard him out, admitting his guilt and the justice of the Chief Inspector’s tongue lashing. At last Pride ran out of expletives and he was asked to report on his investigations. He had questioned the tobacconist nearest to the Foreign Office, in Cannon Row. Lyall had been a regular customer, buying once a week several boxes of his favourite cigarettes. McCloud and Younger also patronized the shop.

Edward asked Pride to run further checks on the background of each member of the department and on Jane Williams’s boyfriend, Mervyn Last. They discussed all the evidence and Edward put forward his theory, which the Chief Inspector was good enough to admit was plausible. Edward explained that he was going to Weybridge to interview Mrs Westmacott and her sister and, grudgingly, the Chief Inspector gave him what might pass for his blessing.

Before going to Weybridge, he also called in on the Hassels to find Verity very much better though easily tired and not very mobile. She was eager to be briefed on the investigation and Edward went over with her all he had learnt. Predictably, she was unconvinced by his theory as to who had committed murder and he knew her well enough to take her criticisms seriously. She had a sharp mind and, not being as close to the evidence as he was, she was able to be more objective.

‘It would never stand up in a court of law, you know, Edward. Anyway, I think there is something fundamentally wrong with your theory which I admit I cannot quite put my finger on.’

‘I was reading
Our Mutual Friend
on the Blue Train on my way to Spain and I was struck by something Mr Inspector said, that it was always more likely that a man had done a bad thing than he hadn’t.’

‘Oh, that’s nonsense. Dickens was always talking nonsense.’

‘I wish you could come with me to Weybridge,’ he said, holding her hand.

‘I wish I could, too. Next week perhaps. The doc says I’m making progress.’

‘You are,’ he said fervently. ‘But you must take care. I can’t forget how near I was to losing you.’

Verity looked suddenly stricken. ‘Gerda had no guardian angel to save her. I’ve had a lot of time to think, you know, and I am beginning to believe we are fated to . . . to look after one another. Whatever it was that drew you to Spain . . . your premonition that I was in special danger . . . that’s something between us, isn’t it? A tie . . . a rope. Do I make sense? Or am I just being sentimental?’

‘It’s not sentimental to say what we think. We don’t do it often, do we, V?’

‘I do,’ she said tartly. ‘I may be wrong but I say what I think.’

‘You’re the most honest person I have ever met.’

‘But wrong?’

‘Not often but . . .’

‘But sometimes . . . ?’

‘It’s just that you see black and white where I see grey.’

‘Huh! Well, we won’t get into that. You’re wrong about this murder, I think. Or, if not wrong, then not wholly right.’

‘Well, I had better get it right, hadn’t I?’

‘You go off then. James is coming in to see me in a few minutes. He wants to discuss Spain. Unlike you, he has a – possibly exaggerated – respect for my views. He seems to be suffering from some sort of crisis of confidence and thinks I can help straighten him out.’

As he drove slowly into Weybridge, Edward thought about the two murders – so obviously linked but so different from each other – and sighed. He thought back to the other investigations he had conducted with Verity and missed her badly. He had an idea she and Alice would get on well together. The little girl seemed to have something of Verity’s intelligence, laced with common sense, and she was certainly determined, not to say obstinate.

Alice opened the door to Edward. ‘Have you found out what happened to my father?’ she demanded, without giving him a chance to catch his breath. ‘Mummy is so unhappy. I think it would do her good to know but . . .’

‘I am not quite sure, Alice,’ he said, looking her straight in the eye, ‘but I believe I do know who was wicked enough to kill your father. It may be a week or two before I can prove anything. I’m afraid you will have to patient with me a little longer.’

‘I understand,’ she said very seriously. ‘But when you do know for sure . . .?’

‘Then I’ll tell you and your mother but you will have to go on being brave. I may be able to tell you why your father was killed and who the wicked person was who did it but that won’t necessarily make everything better. It may not even be possible to punish the person who did it.’

‘I know that. I’m not a child,’ she said scornfully. ‘It won’t ever be better but it will help mummy and me if we can understand why.’

‘Of course. I know you’re not a baby and I won’t treat you like one. I just wanted to warn you. When are you going home? I think it would be safe for you to go back now. The newspaper men have gone away, the Chief Inspector says.’

‘We’re going home after Aunt Georgina’s race. I want to go back to school.’

‘Your aunt’s race?’

‘Oh yes, didn’t you know? It’s a special one and she’s going to win it. She’s driving a Napier Railton. It’s absolutely wizard. She let me sit in the driving seat.’

Miss Hay came in at that moment and looked pleased to see him. ‘Lord Edward, how kind of you to come and see us. I read in the papers all about your terrible time in Spain. How is Miss Browne? I do admire her. We women who take on men on their own turf must stick together. Perhaps you could bring her to the race meeting on Saturday?’

‘It’s very kind of you but she is still recovering from her injuries. The doctor says she must not do very much for another week or so.’

‘Oh, but that’s such a shame. She must be dying of boredom. I know I would be. I have quite a pull at Brooklands, though I say it who shouldn’t. I’m sure we could fix her up somewhere to watch the race in comfort – VIP treatment, you know?’

‘It is very good of you,’ Edward said dubiously. ‘She
is
bored and I’ll certainly discuss it with her but . . .’

‘Good! That’s settled. Now, Lord Edward, I expect you have come to see Tilly. I’ll call her. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

Mrs Westmacott seemed calmer than when he had last seen her but she was still nervous – her handkerchief, with which she repeatedly dabbed her mouth, was wrapped tightly round her fingers.

‘I am so sorry to have missed the funeral,’ Edward began. ‘It must have been a terrible ordeal for you.’

‘Everyone was very kind,’ she said vaguely. ‘The church was full, you know,’ she said, almost aggressively.

‘I am sure it was. I know all the people who worked with your husband thought very highly of him.’ It wasn’t quite a lie and it pleased the widow.

‘Yes, they were all there. Mildred, of course, and that Mr McCloud. He’s a painter, he told me. Sir Robert was abroad but he sent a representative – Mr Caddick. They’ve given him Mr Lyall’s job. Did you know? He said Charlie would be sorely missed. He said his work was . . . what was the word he used? Ah! I remember, “impeccable”. He said his work was impeccable.’

Edward feared she would begin to cry so he said hurriedly, ‘Who is Mildred?’

‘Miss Hawkins, Georgina’s friend.’

‘I didn’t know Miss Hawkins knew your sister.’

‘Oh, yes, they are great chums. They’ve been together for years.’

‘Together? They don’t live together, do they?’

‘No, but they . . . they go about together. They are old friends. They met at . . . where was it? Georgina was taking a Pitman’s course just after the war – you know, shorthand and typing. She thought it would be useful so she could earn some money as a secretary. She always wanted to be a racing driver but she was never silly enough to think of it as a job. It wasn’t until Sir Vida agreed to support her that she was able to live out her dream. We said she was mad to do it but she was obstinate. Even when she was a child, she always did exactly what she wanted whatever anyone said.’

Edward had still not fully recovered from learning that Georgina and Miss Hawkins were old friends. Now there was this new information to take in: Georgina Hay was being sponsored by Sir Vida Chandra. He cursed himself. For all his clever questioning – and Pride’s, too – this had never come out; not that there seemed to be any secret about it. He had just failed to ask two obvious questions. Still, it was odd that neither woman had volunteered the information. But how did it affect anything? He tried to add this new information to the pattern in his mind and suddenly he saw how it must fit in.

‘I had no idea Sir Vida was financing your sister’s racing career.’

‘Yes, didn’t she tell you? Do you know Sir Vida? He is the most wonderful man. He has been kindness itself to all of us.’

‘How did you meet him?’

‘With Georgina. He likes car racing and all those other things rich men enjoy like horse racing and even . . . what do they call it? – power boats, I believe.’

Edward decided not to pursue the connection until he had had time to mull over its significance. Instead, he returned to Miss Hay’s friendship with Miss Hawkins.

‘You said Miss Hawkins was also doing a Pitman course when she met your sister. How long ago was this?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Georgina. Shortly after the war, as I said. Fifteen years ago? More, probably. Charlie and I weren’t married then. Georgina’s four years younger than me.’

She saw the expression on his face and said accusingly, ‘You thought it was more?’

He couldn’t deny it. Mrs Westmacott had aged even since he had seen her last. Her husband had been her rock and anchor. Now she was adrift in hostile waters and he feared she would find it very difficult to weather her loss.

‘You have suffered, Mrs Westmacott. It is natural that it has taken its toll on you. I know it’s easy for me to say but time may heal, or at least deaden, the pain. You have got Alice to think of.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ she said sharply and, once again, he wished Verity had been with him. She would have found the right words to say. ‘And it will help if you and the Chief Inspector can tell me why Charlie had to die. The muddle . . . it all seems so meaningless. If I could think he died for . . .’ he thought she was going to say ‘for his country’ but in fact she said, ‘for some reason, then it would be easier to bear.’

‘I promise you I will find the reason your husband died but I wish I could promise it will make it easier for you.’

She looked at him and did not like what she saw in his face. Stubbornly, she said, ‘I won’t believe Charlie did anything to be ashamed of. I knew him better than anyone and he was honest to a fault.’

Georgina returned with tea and they talked over the progress of the investigation. Edward asked whether the Foreign Office was looking after them properly.

‘I’ve got nothing to complain about,’ Mrs Westmacott said, sounding as though she was complaining. ‘They paid Charlie’s salary up until the day he died and then I get the widow’s pension. It’s not much but I suppose I should be grateful. The man who came to see me said I might lose the pension if it is proved that Charlie was . . . I don’t know, betraying secrets or something. He didn’t betray any secrets so they can’t prove anything, can they, Lord Edward?’

‘I shall talk to Sir Robert myself, Mrs Westmacott. I can assure you,’ he said grimly, ‘there would be the most awful stink if they tried to do you out of your pension. I’m sure it won’t happen.’

He had a vision of Verity writing indignant articles in the
New Gazette
. It seemed amazing to him that the Foreign Office had not been more understanding of the poor woman’s position but that was typical, he supposed, of any institution of its size run by men for men. He checked himself. He must remember to tell Verity that she really
had
influenced the way he saw things.

With tea over, Edward made ready to depart but Georgina suggested he might like to run down with her in the Lagonda to look at the course and view the car she was going to race. He was going to refuse but then thought it might be interesting and perhaps Georgina wanted to say something to him without her sister hearing. Alice wanted to come but rather meanly, Edward thought, her mother insisted she stay behind and do her school work.

‘When you go back next week, I don’t want the school to say that you are so far behind you’ll never catch up.’

Alice went into a sulk but Mrs Westmacott was adamant. He wondered if perhaps he had been wrong about her. Beneath her air of fragility and vagueness, she might, after all, be tougher than he had imagined. With her husband gone, she seemed to realize she was going to have to fight her own battles.

As they swung out into the road, Edward said, ‘Alice told me that it’s a special race. Did I read something in
The Times
about a new circuit?’

‘Owning a Lagonda Rapier, you have no excuse not to know about it,’ Georgina Hay rebuked him. ‘Is it really possible you haven’t been to Brooklands before?’

‘I’m afraid it is. It must be terribly expensive – racing cars. Did your sister say you were helped financially by Sir Vida Chandra?’

‘Yes, do you know him?’

‘I’ve met him. Without wishing to be rude, why did he choose you to sponsor?’

‘He loves racing. He’s involved in a lot of sports, you know. He owns racehorses and he fences up to Olympic standard.’

‘Yes, that was where I met him – at the London Fencing Club.’