Untrimmed hedges prevented their view of anything beyond the lane's twists and turns. It led down to a shallow ford which they splashed through, breaking its fine shell of ice over the grass verge. Then a steep rise and they came on a dilapidated barn with an abandoned cartwheel leaning against its crazily hung timber door. They might have gone past but for the fresh, wet tyre tracks that led along one side and to the rear.
âWhat now?' his partner asked Silver in a low voice. There was too much risk of their being discovered and blowing the operation.
âWe report in, and come back when Allbright's returned to work. This could be just what we've been looking for.'
Back in the car DC Silver radioed in to Control and was put through to CID office where Beaumont had just come in. âBetter hang around until he emerges,' the DS advised. âSee if he's moving anything out. Then follow him back home. He'll need to turn up for the night shift at the warehouse.'
Â
Two of the six beds in ITU had come vacant, due to a death and a stabilized arrythmia. Alyson took advantage of the brief lull to ring Fitt's office from one of the public telephones in the hall. âWhat can I do for you, m'dear?' he asked.
She explained that the art evaluation expert might be able to
answer a question that had arisen about her missing care-worker. If Mr Fitt would give her the man's phone number she would make the enquiry direct.
There was silence at the far end of the line. Alyson waited. Surely she wasn't demanding a breach of legal discretion?
âA missing care-worker? So you are understaffed at present?'
âNo, Mr Fitt. I've found a substitute. Rather a better one, in fact. That's something else I wanted to talk to you about. But I'm not happy about what's happened to the helper I had before. Nobody seems to know where she's gone.'
âShe left without giving notice? There was no disagreement?'
âIt came completely out of the blue. And she wasn't paid up to date.'
âI see. That is disquieting.' He paused. âBut this art evaluation expert. Who was he?'
âHe's the one you wrote to me about.'
âMiss Orme, there appears to be some misunderstanding. I know nothing of any such person. Nor have I written to you recently. Am I to believe that someone claiming to have those credentials has actually visited Miss Withers?'
He sounded alarmed. But not as appalled as Alyson, gripping the phone so tightly that her hands started to shake. âYes,' she whispered. âThat is what happened. I believed you'd authorized the visit. And he was to visit on Sunday afternoon. The day Sheena Judd went missing!'
It was his wife's bridge evening, so Timothy Fitt would be dining out in any case. The sight of onetime allies engaged in cut-throat recrimination after a game had strengthened his determination never to be drawn in. There were still in his life a few whose friendship he valued unconditionally. One of these was Emily Withers, once so redoubtable but now needing his protection.
From Alyson Orme's alarming phone call it seemed that Emily's valuable paintings were attracting criminal attention. He would need to strengthen security at the penthouse. Any break-in could endanger Emily herself. It wasn't clear whether the incursion had been only exploratory or if a theft had already occurred. The collection would need fresh verification.
Recently there had been other suspicious happenings which couldn't be passed off as coincidental. Within his own office, loss of the key to Emily's strongbox, for one thing. And could not Emily's missing care-worker be connected?
Alyson had insisted that the art expert had authorization in writing. The forgery of Fitt's own signature on the firm's headed notepaper must surely involve someone inside Callendar, Fitt and Travis with access to their stationery; so too did the missing strongbox key which normally was kept in his own locked desk. It seemed unlikely that any client visiting the office would have the opportunity, or be sufficiently familiar with the internal layout.
He pondered what precautions he should take, while lifting the succulent white flesh off his sole grilled on the bone, and sipping a pleasing Montrachet at the Conway Restaurant. Perhaps the time had come when he should be more open with young Alyson regarding her family's quite appalling history. She had fulfilled his intentions regarding Emily's welfare, and he hoped the girl was well-balanced enough to accept the revelation of past scandals.
He took out a pen and notepad, to jot down from memory some of the relevant dates. It had all happened so long ago, and most of what he knew was hearsay, gleaned from his own father and the original Callendar who founded the firm.
Henry Withers, Emily's father, had considerable wealth inherited from his shipping forebears in Bristol. They had brought back treasures from the Far East, and were involved in the lucrative transport of slaves from Africa to the New World. He, a Victorian autocrat, had been equally callous towards his own kith and kin. Emily, the elder daughter, had been seventeen when she fled his roof, unaccountably pregnant. He had not allowed her name to be uttered in his presence again.
Timothy Fitt sighed, gently dabbed the linen napkin over his greying moustache and nodded to the waitress that he was ready to settle the bill.
Â
Although Mrs Judd had been unable to recall what her daughter had been wearing when she left the house for work on the Sunday, Zyczynski was able to pick up a recent photograph. It did away with asking the woman to identify the body at the mortuary. Sheena had been fleshy and big-boned with short, fair hair. According to Beaumont's description the dead woman was dark, thin and possibly older too. DI Salmon was going to spit blood when he couldn't connect this body with the missing care assistant.
Mrs Judd couldn't say what blood group her daughter belonged to, but she knew she had it written down somewhere, if only she was given time to search. It was with all that stuff about inoculations and so on. Maybe later on â¦
Zyczynski returned to base and reported direct to Yeadings while waiting for Beaumont to phone in Prof Littlejohn's preliminary findings from the post mortem. So far no similar missing person had been reported, and the college had failed to claim the dead woman as a mature student or member of staff, yet it was unlikely that a total stranger would walk in off the street for the purpose of jumping from the roof. Some knowledge of the building would be needed. She hoped that a press notice would bring a response from the public leading to an ID.
A call from Control switched her interest to the Micky Kane case. The two DCs detailed to keep a watch on Allbright's house had returned after tailing his Harley out to a farm building some eight miles north of the town. Informed of this, Yeadings began
organizing a team to examine the building after dark when Allbright would be on night duty. He dispatched DC Silver to a magistrate to obtain the necessary search warrant.
âAre we likely to get it?' Z doubted.
âIt depends whom we ask,' Yeadings said blandly. Which probably meant that he'd added his weight to the request.
When they met up with the DI, âI want to be in on the search,' Z insisted.
âJust myself, Beaumont, if he's back in time, and one of the DCs already involved,' Salmon said shortly. âYou stay with the college body, in case anything comes up.' It seemed she was to blame for supplying proof that the suicide wasn't Sheena Judd. âShoot the messenger,' she murmured under her breath.
She looked towards Yeadings for a reprieve, but he was gazing elsewhere. When she left the CID office he strolled after her. âI've just heard informally from the Prof,' he murmured, falling into step alongside. âIn advance of tomorrow's post mortem report, it seems your lady couldn't have jumped. Death was from manual strangulation. Which must have taken some finding, considering the state of the body. So we have another murder. It struck him we could make a move on that while he's tied up with cataloguing all the breakages and internal injuries.'
He cast a cautionary glance over his shoulder. âI suggest we visit the college.'
Getting a step ahead of the DI on this one, Z hid a smile. The Boss relished any opportunity to abandon his desk and get to the coal-face. And, for herself, there could be advantages in being sidelined from the other case.
Â
Mr Fitt had arranged to visit Alyson at half past eight. She came straight home off duty, checked that Emily was comfortable, then asked Ramón to stay on and meet the solicitor. After that he'd be free to go out if he wished.
Ramón picked up on the hint and decided he could afford to see the blockbuster film advertised at the Odeon. With this in mind he went to remove his coat from the airing cupboard where he'd left it damp with snow. The woollen scarf was still hanging there, which Nurse Orme had said was the doctor's. And towards
the back there was something else quite unaccountable. He stood staring, and puzzled over what it could mean. Then, as the buzzer sounded for the front door, he retired to his room to await being called in.
Emerging from the lift, Mr Fitt had his briefcase with him, and followed Alyson through to the lounge, declining her offer of a drink.
âBefore we talk business,' she told him, âI'd like you to meet the care assistant I've taken on in place of the woman who left. He's a Filipino and I've looked at his work permit. Everything seems to be in order, but you may like to check for yourself. As I said, he's very efficient, and Emily has taken to him well. In fact she's been quite talkative of late.'
âThank you. Certainly I should like to see the man, yes. And I'll look in on Emily, of course, before I leave.'
Ramón appeared to pass muster, having changed into a fresh uniform jacket for the interview. He was hesitant, as ever, in answering the solicitor's questions but gave a good account of himself, Alyson stressing the years he had worked for the two doctors in Manila.
âI hope he will prove as suitable as he appears,' Fitt said when he had been dismissed. âOne drawback is his limited command of spoken English, but his comprehension seems adequate. Now, my dear, tell me again, in as much detail as possible, about this bogus insurance man who claimed to have an introduction from myself.'
He examined the letter which Alyson produced, and hummed doubtfully over it. The signature was certainly false, but not the stationery. This was disquieting.
âAnd the only person who could describe him to us is the missing Miss Judd? How very inconvenient. What steps have been taken to discover her present whereabouts? Have the police been notified?'
Alyson explained how they assumed Sheena had gone off with a newly acquired man friend. âHer absence may have no connection with the other business,' she said. âI'm afraid she was very slack about some things, though this does seem the limit, even
for her.'
âI've been thinking,' Fitt said, broaching a new subject, âthat I should confide to you some of the background to Miss Emily's â er, unusual life. You are aware, I believe, of the circumstances of her leaving home as a young woman?'
âMy grandmother did mention it, but I doubt she ever knew very much, being just a child at the time.'
âAnd then being sent to live in Italy with her mother's sister until the outbreak of World War II.'
âFor so long? I'd understood it was no more than a prolonged holiday. But after she died I did come across her marriage certificate to my grandfather. On it her maiden name was given as Adriani. Elena Adriani. When she should have been plain Ellen Withers.'
âHer name was changed by deed poll. That, and the removal to Italy, was to shield her from the publicity of her father's tragic death.'
âI knew nothing of that. What happened?'
Fitt, clearly discomfited, gave a little nervous cough before embarking on the story. âI'm afraid he was murdered; in his home; bludgeoned with the base of a silver candlestick. Yes, quite shocking. The more so because the police believed it a family matter. For a while his widow, your great-grandmother, was thought to have been responsible. Then Emily, by then barely twenty, suddenly reappeared and claimed to have visited him that night in secret, been attacked and had killed him in self-defence. Whereupon her mother disputed it and pleaded guilty herself.
âIt was a very difficult case to investigate, with two independent confessions, no witnesses and no material evidence. The candlestick had been handled by the butler and the local constable first on the scene.
âEmily claimed that she had meant to heal the family breach, bringing photographs of her baby daughter, but her father had become violent and she struck him in fear for her life. Eventually her story was accepted. She was tried and found guilty of manslaughter, not murder, but sent to prison despite her tender age. She stayed there for over eight years, until her mother's
death when a servant came forward to testify that she'd overheard a passionate argument between the couple shortly before Henry was found dead in his study.
âThe case was reviewed, Emily was granted a royal pardon and released. One is left wondering how many were unjustly found guilty and actually executed in those days. Because of official embarrassment and the scandalous nature of the full story the matter was hushed up, as was possible then.'
âDo you mean the fact of Emily's illegitimate baby?'
Fitt paused, looking at her with weary eyes. âMore than that, I'm afraid. I hadn't intended telling you so much, but perhaps you have the right to know. It concerns the parentage of the child. It appeared that Teresa, Mrs Withers, discovered that her husband had been paying considerable sums of money every month into a secret account in his daughter's name, despite her supposed banishment from his life.'
âSo he had actually forgiven his daughter and was supporting her in her exile?'
The solicitor shook his head. âI'm afraid it was something much less charitable than that. Teresa became convinced that her husband had fathered his own daughter's child, and had been abusing her from childhood.'
âIncest?'
âAnd statutory rape. Emily has never denied it. I once was bold enough to ask, but she simply smiled and said, âI was a bad girl.'
âI suppose I shouldn't be astonished. We hear enough about child abuse today. But then! People appeared so proper.'
âHenry was a dyed-in-the-wool autocrat, incapable of seeing himself in the wrong about anything. He was raised in a period when hypocrisy was prevalent. No; if anything amazes me it is that Emily had given in to him. Such a firebrand rebel, as I remember her. She must have been very young when he first seduced her.'
âRigidly brought up to honour her father. And afterwards it would have taken enormous courage to run off as she did. To face everything alone and damned in the eyes of respectable people.'
âIndeed, such condemnation seems unthinkable in these days.
Her child, a daughter, Eunice, was a timid little thing with none of her mother's spirit. But undeniably beautiful. At twenty-five, in 1957, she became the second wife of a much older man, an art collector in Edinburgh where she had been at school and lived with Emily.'
Alyson nodded. âAnd their only child was Rachel, whom I met when she called here to see Emily. She told me there were a half-brother and half-sister, twins from her father's first marriage.'
âIt was a curious, extended menage, since Emily and Howard's first, divorced wife also made up the household.'
Alyson frowned, remembering. âRachel said the twins were cruel to Emily after the others died; that the boy, Martin, teased her and used to lock her in a dark cupboard. I'm inclined to believe that, because sometimes she remembers it and shouts to be let out.'