‘But that means it might have been him. If the problem with Abigail was lack of time.’
‘Be quiet, you just distracted me when I’d almost remembered something.’
‘Are you quite sure that he left before she did?’ I gave up chasing the thought that had brushed against me and drifted off again.
‘Absolutely certain,’ I said. ‘It was Jack leaving that made Abigail feel woozy – she had been holding on to him, you see. And when he went she said to her mother that she wanted to sit down or something and her mother told her to stay put. And that’s when Bella went away to get her a glass of water.’
‘Bella left too?’ Alec was looking at me as though I were an idiot of some interesting kind.
‘Yes, but Alec, it’s not the way it sounded. There wasn’t time. Jack went and then Bella went and we waited for the merest minute and then Mary got impatient and started things off and the Provost only spoke for a moment – that was long enough – and then he pulled the cord.’
‘And how long after that was the shot?’ said Alec. I had already told him every scrap of this, but he is not above treating me like a witness when he feels like it and so I told him again.
‘Instantaneous,’ I said. ‘Almost. The tiniest delay. I did tell you, darling; I thought pulling the cord had caused the bang.’
‘Maybe it did,’ said Alec. ‘No, listen. Maybe something was rigged. Maybe that’s why Mary Aitken did what she did that was so odd.’ I shook my head, not following. ‘She started the proceedings when two, possibly three, of the principals weren’t there. She deliberately went ahead when her sister-in-law and her son-in-law were nowhere to be seen and would be left having to account for themselves.’
‘But she tried to keep her daughter on the scene,’ I said, nodding. Then I tutted at him. ‘How could it be anything like that? How could pulling a gold cord three floors below make a gun go off?’
‘It could send a signal to an accomplice,’ Alec said. We pondered this in silence for a moment or two. Then Alec puffed his cheeks out and patted his pockets in the manner I knew so well. I coughed and pointed to a discreet sign requesting gentlemen to retire to the lounge bar to enjoy their pipes. I laughed at his face and tossed him over a cigarette.
‘Filthy habit,’ Alec said, lighting it. ‘Have you remembered your elusive titbit yet?’
‘I haven’t,’ I said. ‘But it’s interesting that you assume it’s a titbit and not a clue of great magnitude. Why don’t you fill me in on your visit to the Capulets?’
‘Montagues,’ said Alec. ‘Yes, I’m sure, before you shout me down again.’ He stuck his tongue out at me. ‘Because I always thought “Juliet Capulet” was proof that Shakespeare had a tin ear for poetry.’ He took a deep puff of his cigarette then frowned at it and stubbed it out. ‘There were two Hepburns in the directory, but I hit the mark first time.’
‘You got to speak to the boy himself?’
‘No,’ said Alec. ‘I mean, I hit his father. Also – briefly – his mother.’
‘And?’
‘Very interesting,’ Alec said, slowly and annoyingly. I waited. ‘The father was absolutely dead-set against the marriage.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ I said. ‘No one likes to push in where he’s not wanted and the Aitkens cannot stand the Hepburns. I wouldn’t have thought rivalry could be so fierce. I mean, companies are always amalgamating, aren’t they? Especially these days.’
‘I don’t think it had anything to do with the business as far as Robert Hepburn is concerned,’ Alec said. ‘It was more heartfelt than that. He looked – what’s that word – thoroughly scunnered when I made him talk about it.’
‘How did you make him anyway?’ I said. I could not imagine the scene: Alec rolling up at the man’s house, a perfect stranger, and asking him to explain such a private matter.
‘Easy,’ Alec said. ‘I told him Mirren was missing and he turned quite pale and rushed off to the telephone. It was while he was out of the room, incidentally, that I got a few words in with Mrs Hepburn. She came to see what the fuss was and she told me that Dugald was “away from home staying with friends”.’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘So his father had shot off to telephone these friends and check that the boy hadn’t disappeared too?’
‘Exactly. Or that Mirren hadn’t turned up there, I suppose. And when he got back, he was so relieved that he spoke quite freely. He said he would never consent to his son marrying “such a girl”, from “such a background”, with “such relations”. But here’s an interesting thing. Hepburn said his wife agreed with him, but while he was out of the room, she seemed to suggest that the objection was all hers and she had had to talk her husband round. She seemed surprised that she’d managed it.’
‘And was she any more forthcoming about what the problem was?’
‘No,’ said Alec, ‘but she wasn’t nearly as… visceral about it all. Ruefully amused, I’d say rather, as though the whole thing was a bit of a joke.’
‘A bit of a joke…’ I repeated, feeling a memory stir. ‘Ha-hah! That’s it. I remember. I remember why Jack Aitken was sent to close the doors. Mrs… I can’t recall her name, but she’s a senior member of staff at the Emporium… said she thought there had been an entente cordiale – except she made it sound fruit-flavoured – thought, and I quote, “them down by” were coming to the jubilee. Said it was just the sort of thing they might do and think it a great wheeze.’
‘What are you talking about, Dandy?’
‘Mrs Somebody who is a manager at Aitkens’ said that the girls in the Household Department had reported seeing Mr Hepburn in the store.’
Alec stared.
‘And where is the Household Department?’ he said.
‘It’s split into two, but at least some of it’s on the top floor.’
‘The top floor,’ Alec repeated. ‘Close to the attics in other words then.’
‘But Mr Hepburn was at home, Alec. You were there with him.’
‘I was with a Mr Hepburn,’ Alec said. ‘There is young Mr Dugald Hepburn to be accounted for as well. And I was there briefly. Ten minutes at most.’
‘We’re getting carried away,’ I said. ‘Yes, people were running around the store like mice and perhaps one of the girls did see an unexpected visitor, but Abigail Aitken killed her daughter. She had a smoking gun in her hand, almost literally. And she confessed. There’s no reason to doubt what I saw.’ On the last of these points, however, I was wrong.
Alec and I lingered over our coffee and then with no particular enthusiasm I stirred myself to go to the police station, find out whatever news I could and bear it back to the Aitkens. I hoped I could somehow soften the blow for them, I suppose, or at least tell them of Abigail’s demeanour and pass on my heartfelt belief that she had lost her mind that afternoon and was more to be pitied than reviled. Just as we reached the police station, however, we almost had our heels clipped by a small black motorcar emerging from a side lane at some speed and roaring off along the Maygate.
‘That was Abigail Aitken in the back seat,’ I said, stepping out into the middle of the road and staring after it. It was setting a tremendous pace for a narrow street in a busy town.
‘And it was definitely a bobby driving,’ said Alec. ‘Are you all right, Dandy? Did it brush you?’ I shook my head.
‘I wonder where they’re taking her?’ I said. ‘Good God, surely a hospital. Surely. Not a prison. Is there a women’s prison anywhere near here?’
‘Let’s go in and ask the sarge,’ said Alec. ‘I should think you can claim to be a representative of the family, don’t you?’
The front office of the station was fairly buzzing with news; clumps of constables standing around with their uniform jackets off and their hats on the back of their heads, reliving their uncommon afternoon. It was with some difficulty that they managed to stop gossiping when Alec and I appeared amongst them.