The Hangman's Row Enquiry (35 page)

Renata thought for a moment. “I don’t really remember,” she said, “except my mother said that there was a rumour that Caroline had been seen several times all dressed up, getting into a car driven by a good-looking man with a big moustache. The rumour died away, like they all do in the end, and eventually everything settled down.”

“I can see it must all have been a big shock to the Bentall family at the time,” Ivy said, trying to keep herself calm. “A bit like when my father died and we discovered he’d had at least three mistresses, all of whom came to the funeral!” And may God forgive me, she added to herself, for such black lies.

Renata laughed. “Do tell, but first you must have another sliver of cake. And you, Roy,” she added. “I do think we should be on Christian name terms, don’t you, Ivy? I am sure we’re going to be great friends.”

The rest of the visit passed very pleasantly, until at four thirty precisely there was a knock at the door, indicating the taxi had arrived. Ivy was irritated to see that they had a different driver, and although he was perfectly polite, more polite than the other man, she took an instant dislike to him. Oily, she said to herself, much too oily.

They drove away from Renata’s house and Roy waved enthusiastically until they were out of sight. “What a nice woman,” he said.

“And a very nice chocolate cake,” said Ivy. “Shall you manage your supper?”

Roy laughed. “You had just as much as me, Ivy,” he said. “All those tiny little extra slivers added up to my wedges, you know.”

Ivy did not answer. She was looking to left and right as they drove through the town. “Is this the right way?” she said. “I don’t remember that new supermarket over there. I am sure I would have noticed. Ugly great place, you couldn’t miss it!”

Roy peered out of the window. Ivy was right. They were definitely on a different route. “Hey, where are you going?” he said to the driver, tapping him on the shoulder. “This is the wrong way out of the town.”

“Got to make a call,” he said gruffly, all his politeness vanished.

“We aren’t paying you to make private calls!” Ivy said sharply.

The driver did not answer, but stopped the car and got out. They could see him making a call on his mobile, and it lasted a good five minutes. Roy said crossly that they did not need to stand for this, and he would walk back with Ivy and find another taxi. “Not far, Ivy,” he said, “I’ll give you a hand.” He took hold of the door handle. “It’s locked!” he said.

At that point the driver returned, and without looking at them or answering their questions about the locked doors, he drove off and switched on the radio at what sounded to them like full volume. Roy looked anxiously at Ivy, who was sitting up ramrod straight, with closed eyes.

“Ivy? Are you all right?” he said.

“I’m thinking,” she said. After a few minutes she turned to him and whispered behind her hand, “He’s one of them.”

“One of who?” Roy mouthed back to her.

The driver turned his head and said loudly, “Shut up, both of you!”

After that, they said nothing, and Roy wondered why Ivy was looking so fixedly at the back of the driver’s head. In fact, she was looking past his head and at his reflection in the driving mirror. It was obvious, and she was amazed Roy hadn’t noticed it. The eyes and mouth were Beattie Beatty’s. Even his voice had the same inflections, the same slight hesitation at the beginning of sentences. This was not surprising, she realised with horror, as the pair of them were twins.

THE TAXI WAS going very slowly, but the radio continued at full blast. Ivy and Roy sat motionless, holding hands in the backseat. The driver hummed to himself, and when he knew the words, joined in with the blaring music. Roy reckoned they were about halfway home, though he couldn’t be sure. It was an unfamiliar route, but he vaguely remembered that it ended up as a grassy track that led straight to the Hall.

Suddenly the driver switched off the radio. “Had a nice time this afternoon, did you?” he said, seeming more relaxed.

“Very pleasant, thank you,” Ivy said. To Roy’s amazement, she seemed quite calm and collected. “Now will you tell us why we are not taking the proper route back to Barrington. And why we are locked in?”

“Locked in for your own safety,” he said. “Company policy. Sorry you don’t like this way home,” he added. “It is a bit longer, but much nicer landscape. And anyway,” he continued, his voice changing back to its coarse rasp, “it’ll give you time to put your twos and twos together. What is it you call yourselves? Enquire Within, is it? Very subtle. I know what I’d call it.”

“We’d be grateful for any suggestions you have to make,” said Ivy, and the driver frowned. Why wasn’t the old bag looking scared? Well, give it time.

“Nosey Parkers Inc.,” he said. “Pity you couldn’t keep your nose out of our business. Still, we’ve got everything in hand. Just had to bring things forward a bit.”

“How clever, Keith,” Ivy said, and the driver twisted round sharply at her use of his name, causing the taxi to swerve dangerously into the path of an oncoming lorry. It hooted fiercely, and the lorry driver waved a clenched fist.

Keith laughed. “We get used to it in this job. Road rage, they call it, Miss Beasley. Beattie and me have a different kind of rage and have waited a long time to use it. Not you, nor your boyfriend there, nor Mrs. Tawny Wings Bloxham, nor the mysterious Mister Halfhide, are going to stop us.”

Ivy said coolly that he could do what he liked, so long as he dropped Mr. Goodman and herself off at Springfields, as he was hired to do.

“No can do,” he said, and switched the radio back on even louder. Nothing more was said until they bumped along over the rough track and arrived in the Hall stable yard. Ivy had signalled to Roy to keep silent, and now he glanced curiously at her. She had been rummaging about in her handbag, her hands busy inside its capacious interior. What on earth was she doing? Now she looked up, smiled at him reassuringly, and zipped up her bag. The car stopped, and Keith opened Ivy’s door.

“Out!” he said, and then did the same with Roy. “Both of you, inside,” he continued. “And don’t try any funny business.”

“Good God, what d’you think we shall do, man?” Roy exploded. “Do a runner down the drive? Disable you with a rugby tackle? You’re talking to two old people in their dotage! You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!”

“Hear, hear!” said Ivy, and added that actually Mr. Goodman was not very strong. She was sure, she said, Keith wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything serious that might happen to him. He ignored this and indicated that they should get out and go into the back door of the Hall, where Beatty stood waiting for them. He followed close behind.

“Good job you phoned to give me time,” Beattie said to her brother. “So it was okay with the other driver?”

He nodded. “All fixed,” he said. “Are the others here?”

Beattie nodded. “They think it’s a social occasion,” she said, and her laugh sent a shiver down Roy’s spine.

Gus and Deirdre sat in the long drawing room, tiny glasses of sherry on a small table beside them. As Ivy and Roy came in, with Keith prodding them from behind, Gus took one look at them and leapt to his feet. “Ivy! Roy! What on earth has happened? And who are you?” he added, seeing Keith following.

“Are you blind, Halfhide? Long-lost twin, that’s me,” Keith said. “Beattie, pour coffee for the old gent. Don’t want him snuffing it in the squire’s drawing room. Then we can start.”

“Start what?” Deirdre said. She had recognised the twin brother immediately.

“Start explanations,” Keith answered impatiently. Beattie gave Roy his coffee, but Ivy reached in front of him and waved it away imperiously. “Probably poisoned. Don’t drink it, Roy. Nor the sherry,” she added, seeing that Gus and Deirdre had scarcely sipped theirs.

“Good thinking,” said Gus. He admired the way Ivy had in those few words banded the four together. Four against two, Gus calculated. Should be child’s play, even though he didn’t like the look in Keith’s eye. The two of them had clearly been plotting something for a while, he reckoned, and Enquire Within had got in the way. His thoughts churned on as they waited for Beattie to sit down.

Deirdre had begun to shake, and Gus took her hand. “Get on with it, then,” he said angrily to Keith. “And anyway,” he added, looking round, “where’s the boss?”

“Out,” said Beattie shortly. “Not back until tomorrow.” Ivy noticed her glance towards the door in the corner, and did not believe her.

Gus unexpectedly began to laugh, and they all stared at him. “Blimey,” he said. “You’ve been reading too much Agatha Christie. Here we are, gathered together under duress at the Hall, waiting for all to be revealed. So who’s the murderer, and where’s the police inspector? This is a total farce, and I’m off out of here. Come on, gang, follow me.”

“Not s’fast, Mr. Halfhide,” said Keith, the phrase causing Gus to laugh again. “Typecast!” he said delightedly. He pulled Deirdre to her feet, and then she screamed.

“He’s got a gun!” she yelled, and the others froze.

“Keith!” Beattie said. “There’s no need for that. Give it to me.”

But he took no notice, and said they were all to sit down and listen. He added with a sneer that as they had not “enquired within” very far, he would oblige them by filling in the gaps in their investigations. “After all,” he said, “you’re not going to be around to do me any harm.”

He levelled the gun at each one of them in turn and Beattie stepped forward. “Keith!” she said. “Put that thing down. Where did you get it? This is not what we planned at all! For heaven’s sake let’s just get out of here, and forget the rest.”

Gus, completely serious now, motioned to Ivy and Roy to sit down, and helped Deirdre back into her chair. “Make it brief,” he said to Keith. “You have very little time.” His voice was quiet but authoritative, and Keith bridled.

“Bluffing will get you nowhere,” he said, and began his explanation in a strangely flat voice, as if reciting a prepared text from memory. It was a sorry story. Unkind foster parents and Beattie, his one comfort, taken back by their mother. He had been abandoned. As soon as he could, and still underage, he had left the foster home and made his own way, moving from place to place, sometimes living rough, and occasionally taking temporary jobs. “For a while, quite a long while, as a matter of fact,” he said with a twisted smile, “I was the guest of Her Majesty. To put it another way, I was in the nick.”

“And likely to go there again,” said Ivy. Gus shook his head warningly at her. He had seen a few madmen in his time, and knew they were not to be trusted to act rationally. You had to humour them.

Keith lifted the gun and pointed it at Ivy. “Shut up!” he said. “Or else you’ll be sorry.”

He then continued, taking them through the time when he discovered that his mother and other sister were living in seclusion and under false names at a house called Springfields in Barrington.

“All cunningly arranged by my beloved father,” he said.

“No need to mention that,” Beattie said. “For God’s sake hurry up, Keith.”

His voice became a self-pitying whine. “I was not allowed out to see them,” he said. “So I didn’t find out until weeks later that Mother had died and my other sister had overdosed and gone the same way.”

Beattie’s face was set hard. “They were cremated,” she said. “It was for the best.”

“Why are you telling us all this?” Deirdre said, regaining her confidence with her hand held tightly by Gus. “It’s nothing to do with us.”

“Oh yes it is,” Keith said. “Snoopers all, aren’t you? Amateurs, of course. I could teach you a thing or two. Especially you, Halfhide. You had no idea I was in your house, waiting to put you out of action. You were first on the list, and lucky for you, I was out of practice.”

“By what list and
why
?” Gus said. “Couldn’t we cut the life story and get to the point?”

Again the gun was waved in his direction. “Shut up and listen!” he said, and his twin frowned. “Keith,” she said gently, “would you like a drink? Don’t get too upset, my dear.”

Ivy took a deep breath. So the man was unhinged, she thought, and even Beattie was frightened of him. That was why he needed to tell us all this stuff, to show how clever he is. She crossed her fingers and hoped he was not as clever as he thought he was. Gus’s calmness was reassuring, but she dreaded there would not be enough time before Keith went completely off his head and pulled the trigger. She found herself looking at her watch every two minutes.

He shook his head, and then rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He seemed to sway a little, and Beattie said, “Perhaps I could take over from here. Give you a bit of a rest?”

He frowned, but reluctantly agreed, and Beattie began. Then, before she had said more than a couple of sentences the door in the corner burst open, and Theo Roussel stood there. Keith snapped to attention and aimed the gun. Unfortunately for him, he took his eye off the others, and Gus, well trained, was on him in seconds, knocking the gun out of his hand and overpowering him. Beattie screamed and ran from the room.