‘That’s all you can prove?’ Her question came like a whip-crack.
‘Yes… just for the moment. Though there are a few subsidiary points — like your fingerprints being on the drawer that contained the gun.’
‘That is readily explainable.’
‘I know. But it’s still evidence.’
‘I am prepared to admit everything you have found out.’
‘It would be hard to do otherwise.’
‘Nor do I agree with you that it is particularly serious — I am quite certain that you wouldn’t venture to base a charge upon it.’
‘Is that to be your answer?’
‘Do you really expect any other?’
‘I think it’s reasonable to expect you to bring your statement up to date… since you’re admitting that it’s substantially untrue.’
Mrs Lammas reached for her bag and took out a fresh cigarette. A jewelled lighter no larger than a walnut clicked and flamed. This time the cigarette was blue… its aroma was subtly different, Gently noticed.
‘It’s the evening you want to know about, isn’t it?’ she breathed.
‘Naturally…’
‘If I was looking for my husband, then I might conceivably have found my husband — and put him out of the way.’
‘As you say… conceivably.’
‘But that isn’t what you think.’ There was scorn in her tone. ‘You’re the sort of fool who’d warn me, according to the rules. You’re too sentimental to be a good policeman, Chief Inspector Gently.’
‘It’s the good policeman who sticks by the rules… but we won’t go into that! Where did you go from Halford?’
‘Is that where I admitted I went?’
‘The petrol-pump attendant recognized you.’
‘Then I certainly wouldn’t bother to deny it.’
She paused deliberately to puff and exhale, her brown eyes examining him with unfeigned calculation.
‘Where do you say I went, inspector — even though you can’t prove it? You said our conversation was to be informal.’
‘I’m not sure of my evidence… that’s why I’m asking. But it might impress a jury more than it does me.’
‘How very intriguing! Then it would make up your charge for you?’
‘It might form the basis of one, unless I hear something different.’
‘And I won’t tell you different, will I, because I’m not impressed with your secret evidence. We seem to have reached an impasse, inspector — or shall we say you are being a little clumsy?’
Gently looked at her woodenly. She was feeling well on top now! It wasn’t even worth being angry with him when she could lead him on so adroitly. And she knew where she stood, this diamond-sharp little woman — she wasn’t to be frightened by talk of charges or long faces!
‘We’re not getting far.’
He grunted and got off the desk.
‘We aren’t, really, are we?’
‘No… so it’s time we had some help!’
Dramatically he strode across the room and threw open the dividing door. A tall, dark-haired man sitting on a chair immediately opposite quickly looked up. And for the second time in two days Gently’s ears rang to the blood-curdling shrill of Mrs Lammas’ scream.
‘This is completely illegal!’
Henry Marsh was trying to establish his dignity, while Mrs Lammas clung whimpering to his arm.
‘You had no right to bring me here to play this trick on Mrs Lammas!’
He was a good-looking man, though his grey eyes ran a little close. He had a large, straight nose, a broad, curving jaw, a sharp chin and small, neat ears. He wore a clipped moustache and a lot of long hair brushed straight back.
‘I shall consider whether it is actionable — I assure you there will be some very unpleasant repercussions!’
Gently shrugged and took his seat, this time behind the steel desk.
‘There are other things which have unpleasant repercussions, Mr Marsh… withholding evidence is one of them, especially for gentlemen in your profession.’
‘Withholding evidence! What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean that certain information has been received concerning yourself and Mrs Lammas and the events of Friday night… information which, in the light of the interlude you are at present acting, I believe to be correct.’
‘Sir… I warn you to be careful!’
‘I assure you, Mr Marsh, that I shall be most careful.’
‘You are dealing with a solicitor now!’
‘The point had not escaped my notice.’
Marsh glanced down at Mrs Lammas as though he would rather have liked to free himself from her handicapping grapple, but she was much too firmly ensconced. He resigned himself to a part of injured nobility. Gently stubbed the bell-push on the desk.
‘I take it you will make a statement?’
‘I could refuse, sir, without the slightest prejudice.’
‘Naturally, I shall divulge the extent of my information.’
‘You can scarcely expect a statement unless you do.’
Mrs Lammas moaned faintly and disengaged her head from Marsh’s waistcoat.
‘Let me tell him, Henry… I’m the only one he cares about.’
‘No, Phyllis! You must say nothing further unless I advise it.’
‘He’s a devil, Henry… for God’s sake let me get it over with!’
‘We are not obliged to tell him anything except in explanation of this alleged information.’
There was a tap at the door and there entered a shorthand Constable and a plain-clothes man. They took up their positions obsequiously, although the plain-clothes man indulged in a hard, police-issue stare with its faint overtones of penal servitude. Mrs Lammas suddenly separated herself from her protector and went back to her chair. Marsh hitched up his trousers, looked round and took a seat nearer to the desk.
‘Your full name and address?’
Marsh rattled off particulars without the slightest need of prompting.
‘Now… the information is this. You, Henry George Marsh, have, since about Christmas of last year, enjoyed an intimate relationship with Phyllis Thais Lammas. Would you like to comment on that before I go any further?’
Marsh shook his head briefly and Gently continued:
‘On Friday, June 23rd, Phyllis Lammas went to her husband’s place of business in Norchester and there learned that he had realized his assets, that he had hired the yacht Harrier from June 17th till June 24th, that he was on terms suggesting intimacy with his secretary Linda Brent, and that Linda Brent had been absent from the office since she left it on June 17th midday. Following this discovery Phyllis Lammas made a telephone call of twenty minutes, which she attempted to conceal. It is suggested that she made the call to you.’
Gently paused again, and again Marsh confined himself to a shake of the head. Mrs Lammas, however, gave a little start and her small mouth shaped the word ‘Paul!’ Marsh made a gesture to her.
‘On Friday evening Phyllis Lammas drove from her home at “Willow Street”, Wrackstead to Halford Quay, where she made inquiries after the whereabouts of the yacht Harrier, her husband and Linda Brent. She then drove to your private house, “High Meadows”, at Ollby. She was alleged to be there from just after half-past seven till just before half-past nine p.m. I will not have to remind you that during that time her husband, James William Lammas, was shot and killed at a distance of not more than half a mile from “High Meadows” and an attempt made to dispose of his body.
‘This is my information as it affects you… I think you will see the necessity of giving a complete and accurate statement of all that took place that evening.’
Marsh took his time. He was clearly not a person to be rattled. With his fingertips placed together he had listened intently to what was said and now he was examining it, testing it and adding up its implications.
A tough nut he’d be for a prosecution to crack.