‘Almost as soon as you left the box, that call came through. It was answered by an impartial witness who had gone to the public call-box on his own account, and accidentally received Miss Faintley’s message. When he heard of her death he went to the police.’
‘My God, then, I’m glad I wasn’t there to take it myself!’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It wouldn’t do for the police to know I’d telephoned Faintley. They always suspect the worst! I’ve never been in any kind of trouble.’
‘Didn’t you think it odd that a fellow-member of your school staff should offer you five pounds for answering a telephone call?’
‘She said it was a matter of life and death. I took it that some near relative was ill.’
‘And during a matter of life and death, Miss Faintley was at a school party! It won’t do, Mr Trench. You are not doing yourself justice. You are an intelligent man… a professional man. Do you seriously tell me that that is what you thought?’
‘I didn’t trouble to think at all. I needed the money badly, and I was terribly disappointed not to get it. After all, it was no business of mine to worry about what Faintley was up to. I didn’t give a damn! And I’m not answering any more of these questions without a lawyer! Excuse me. I have to get back to my boys.’
‘One moment, Mr Trench,’ said Mrs Bradley; and so formidable was the strength of her personality and so persuasive her beautiful voice that the harassed man halted half-way to the door and turned round. ‘I am not a police officer. I am a psychiatrist and a doctor. Why have you allowed your wife to arrive at her present deplorable state? Why don’t you take her away from Kindleford to some larger, more interesting place? She’s killing herself. You must know that. She has no friends, no interests, here, and that is why she drinks as she does. You don’t even take her on holiday.’
She half-expected a vituperative outburst from Trench. He did open his mouth and he flushed angrily. But then he regained control of himself, stared at the carpet, and said, with difficulty:
‘She’s ruined my life. Why should I do anything for her?’
‘I don’t need to answer that question. Look here, man, you cannot allow her to commit slow suicide. If you do, you are as much of a murderer as the man who killed Miss Faintley. Get her away! Show her some affection instead of the pious horror which you affect! Take her out of herself! If she wants to drink, have people in, and all get drunk together!’
Trench looked up. He had had enough of it.
‘She’s hopeless,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen her, of course, and you know. You’re a — snooper! Keep your — nose out of my affairs, or I’ll…’
‘Yes?’ said Mrs Bradley calmly. She measured him with a mild, professional eye. ‘How many times did you work with Miss Faintley? How convenient has it been to have a wife who was seldom in a condition to ask any questions? What were you doing on all those occasions when you did not attend school functions on the excuse of having an invalid at home?’
There was no doubt about the effect of these questions on Trench. All the hysterical bluster had disappeared. He looked older. His weak chin was shaking with horror. His eyes, as they caught hers, were begging for mercy.
‘I swear,’ he stammered, ‘I swear I had nothing to do with Faintley’s death. I swear it by…’
‘No, don’t trouble,’ said Mrs Bradley briskly. ‘What you had better do is to go straight to the police as soon as school is over, and tell them everything you know. One thing in particular you must tell them. You must tell them that you are the person who met Miss Faintley in the cathedral city of Torbury, and you must explain to them the reason for your visit. I do not say confess to the murder. That might, at this stage, be going a little too far. By the way, I have a little present for you.’ She took out an envelope and produced a small piece of fern. Trench gave a horrified moan. She gave the sagging man a kindly pat on the arm and watched him stumble out of the room. The chisel he flung, as he turned round suddenly at the door, stuck in the wooden window-frame before it fell to the floor. Mrs Bradley darted to the door, slammed it shut behind him, shot the bolt which protected Miss Golightly from unauthorized visitors (especially from members of the staff who brought recalcitrant children to her or complaints against one another) and rang up the police.
Chapter Twelve
CROMLECH DOWN BAY
‘Look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under’t.’
shakespeare – Macbeth
« ^ »
‘But how could you possibly know?’ demanded Laura, when, after Trench had been arrested for intent to cause bodily harm, Mrs Bradley was back at the Stone House.
‘I did not know, child, but I interpreted a remark made by Mrs Trench.’
‘You’ve told me what she said. I don’t see anything to suggest that Trench was the person who caused Miss Faintley to “lose” Mark in Torbury, let alone that he murdered her at Cromlech.’
‘Mrs Trench said that she had never had a holiday since the war, but she indicated that her husband had had a good many. She mentioned his excuse of attending the conferences organized by his professional association. I made a shot in the dark on the strength of this, and jockeyed Mr Trench into confirming that I had hit the target. Then, of course, he nearly hit me.’
‘You know,’ said Laura, shaking her head, ‘you’re the most immoral person I’ve met.’
‘Murder is an immoral action, child.’
‘All right. Where do we go from here?’
‘Back to Cromlech to-morrow. Now that we know Miss Faintley’s reason for taking Mark out and for being obliged to abandon him, we shall be able to check Mr Trench’s account of his actions in Torbury, I hope. We have taken a big step forward, and I am happy to compliment you upon your efforts and to thank you for your co-operation.’
‘Bow-wow-wow!’ said Laura crudely. Mrs Bradley cackled, but added seriously:
‘As a matter of fact, I mean it. We should not have arrived at this stage in the investigation unless you had taken a post at the school and given us the benefit of your knowledge of the staff.’
‘Did Trench come across with anything valuable, then, when you went with him to the police?’
‘Valuable, and interesting too, although some of it was lies, I fancy. He declared that he had had no outside-school dealings with Miss Faintley until she asked him to answer that telephone call. That I cannot believe because of what follows. He went on to say that he left the telephone-box not because he got tired of waiting, as the call was overdue (which was what he told me in Miss Golightly’s room at school), but because a man had already rung him up in Miss Faintley’s name and had told him not to wait any longer, as Miss Faintley was able, after all, to attend to the business herself. Asked what the business was to be, he said he had no idea. He was to be told over the telephone. Then he went on to the subject of his visit to Torbury. He admitted that he had met Miss Faintley there, but declared that the meeting was accidental. He explained that Miss Faintley thought it well to “lose” Mark because she was not anxious to be the subject of a boy’s gossip at school, for she supposed that Mark would inevitably detail to his fellows that a man and a woman teacher had met during the holidays, at a town a considerable distance from their homes, and that the boys would perceive something disingenuous in the encounter.’
‘Yes, they’re all nasty-minded little brutes,’ volunteered Laura, with no note of criticism in her voice. ‘Can’t quite see why you don’t accept the innocent beginnings of his evidence, though. I should have thought it would have been safe enough to stick to it that he’d got tired of waiting in the telephone-box, but highly dangerous to admit that he’d met Faintley in Torbury, so near the scene of the murder, and only the day before it happened. Damn silly, too, to have chucked that chisel at you.’