The Hangman's Row Enquiry (38 page)

She saw his face, pale, thin and haggard. He was obviously not a healthy man. She had realised that as soon as she set eyes on him. Judging from his perpetual cough, years of living rough and an addiction to nicotine and God knows what else had weakened his lungs.

Savouring the last potato chip, she thought of the future, of the time when she would have to testify. It would not be difficult to recall what had happened. The scene was engraved on her memory. Winifred Blake, standing there with a bread knife in her hand, fear in her eyes but on the defensive, threatening to call the police if they didn’t leave her house. Then Keith had stepped forward and the old woman retreated until she caught her heel in the edge of the rug and fell backwards.

The worst thing had been Keith’s bloodcurdling laugh. She recalled her horror as he turned the bread knife round and plunged it into Mrs. Blake’s scrawny chest.

That wasn’t what they had planned at all! They had meant to frighten the old woman into giving up all her claims on Theo, so that she would leave the field clear for them. At least, that was what Keith had led her to think they would do. She had realised then in terror that her twin brother was unhinged, unpredictable and dangerous. When he had calmly suggested they get out of the cottage as soon as possible, she had feared for her own safety, and had allowed Keith to push her out into the lane. He had disappeared then, off towards the woods, and she had returned to the Hall, like a terrified rabbit scuttling back into its burrow.

Then had come the lies to the police, protecting herself and her mad brother. She was good at telling lies, always had been, but from now on she intended to tell the truth. She had no moral principles, just a strong sense of what was expedient. Looking after number one, her horrible stepfather had called it.

“Dear God,” she said aloud. “Help me now. Keith is past help, so you might just as well concentrate on me. If I tell the honest truth, and they believe me, I could get off lightly. Is that too much to ask?”

She thought she heard a small voice saying, “But what about the poisoned biscuits?”

“Not meant to kill,” she muttered, and walked over to the narrow bed. She stretched out and closed her eyes. “Not fair,” she said quietly. “But then, it never has been fair.”

When they came in to collect her plate, she appeared to be fast asleep.

 

SITTING COMFORTABLY IN a last shaft of sunlight slanting into Springfields’ lounge, Ivy and Roy had been silent for several minutes. Then Ivy said, “Well, that’s that, then. Do you feel the same as me, Roy? Sort of flat?”

Roy said he was sure it wouldn’t be flat for long. “Shouldn’t we have an Enquire Within meeting with Gus and Deirdre to wrap up the case?” he asked.

Ivy nodded. “Ah yes, that’s it. No time like the present,” she said and took out her mobile from her handbag. “Hello? Gus? What’s that noise? Oh, Deirdre sniffing. I see. Anyway, this call is for her, too. Can you both be here for a meeting in fifteen minutes? Well, you can go to the pub afterwards! Good. Roy and me will be waiting in my room. Bye. Oh, and tell Deirdre to pull herself together, silly girl.”

The meeting began with a brief roundup of the recent happenings, and then Ivy said firmly that it was time to put the Beatty case behind them, and start planning for the future. “And don’t look at me like that, Deirdre,” she added. “You’ll soon get used to it. If you ask me, we’ve learned a lot on our first case, and I for one can’t wait to get going on the next.”

“Hear, hear!” said Roy, taking Ivy’s hand.

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Gus said, seating himself more safely on the edge of Ivy’s bed, “I had a call before we left the cottage, and if I’m not mistaken, Enquire Within is back in business. . . .”