No. I was as miserable as hell all night and most of the next day, that Monday. Finally I plucked up courage to go and see her again.
What time was that?
I dont remember. About tea-time. It was dark, but then it got dark even earlier than usual that December with the fog. I tapped on her door. There was someone inside, I could hear voices.
Her door? Which door? This one, said Marion surprised, pointing to the door of Landors former study.
Of course, said Dalziel. thought you might have meant her house.
Oh, she didnt have a house. The principals house was only built when Dr. Landor came. Miss. Girling had a suite of rooms here, through that door and up the stairs.
She nodded at the rooms other door which Dalziel had already tried and found to be locked.
What happened to the rooms?
Oh, theyre used for other things now. A library storeroom. The bursars office. That kind of thing.
Dalziel tried the door again. Still unsuccessfully.
Interesting, he said. voices did you hear?
When? Oh, you mean after Id knocked? I dont know. One was Miss. Girlings. The other was a mans. There may have been two. They all seemed to be talking very loudly. I dont think anyone even heard my knock, it was so timid. Anyway, it didnt seem a good moment, so I crept away.
Did you try again later?
I meant to. But as I was walking over about an hour later, her car went belting by me along the drive. It was going very quickly, I lifted my hand, but I doubt if she saw me. I just stood there in the middle of the drive, feeling quite miserable, watching the tail-lights disappear. I think Id have stood there for ever if another car hadnt come up behind me. I was almost knocked down. I dont think Id have minded much, she said with a wry grin.
Another car? said Dalziel. ?
I dont know. I jumped out of the way when he blew his horn and he went on up the drive almost as fast as Miss. Girling.
Another car? said Dalziel. ?
I dont know. I jumped out of the way when he blew his horn and he went on up the drive almost as fast as Miss. Girling.
I see, said Dalziel thoughtfully. that was all?
Yes. I went back to my room, then spent Christmas with my dull relations. I knew nothing about the avalanche till I came back to college in January. It was terrible news. I suppose I should have been relieved I hadnt gone. Disney certainly thought so. She alternated between the tragic bereaved bit and the I-savedyour-life line. I was too numb to take much notice. I just hung on till finals were over in the summer, then got out, rejoicing that Id never see the place again.
And here you are.
She shrugged.
Things change after a couple of years. You grow up. I saw the job, it was a good step career-wise, and I was a bit curious to see the old place. It was quite a surprise to be offered the post in fact. I hadnt really banked on it. But I said, why not? and here I am. Disney returned to the attack, but apart from that, it was very pleasant, till Dr. Landor decided to move the statue.
Miss. Disney bothered you again?
No, not bothered. She started by implying that her influence had got me the job, then began dropping in on me, going all girlish, isnt it nice that were colleagues now? and lets tell each other secrets and talk about Al, that sort of thing.
What happened in the end?
She laughed.
It was funny really. The others noticed, of course, and most of them sympathized. But it was only Sam Fallowfield who did anything about it.
I suppose in the end Id have worked my courage up to the point where Id have told her myself, but Im not a very bold person, Superintendent. So I was very pleased when Sam took a hand. All he did was join me as soon as Walt came and sat beside me. And he called to see me a couple of times just after shed arrived. He just sat and smiled at her, nodding sympathetically every time she spoke. After a couple of weeks, she gave up. I was delighted, of course. But she hated Sam. It was obscene to see how pleased she was after this trouble with the girl blew up. She went around saying it was no more than she had expected. I could have killed her. I see, said Dalziel, wondering if she was speaking purely figuratively.
You dont think there was any chance she could have put the girl up to it, do you?
This was obviously a brand-new thought to Marion. She gave it careful consideration.
I dont think so, she said slowly. was a nice girl, Anita. Im not saying she couldnt be influenced, but not by Disney. No, Im certain of that. It would need a very different kind of influence than a woman like Disney could bring to bear. Good, said Dalziel, standing up to show that the interview was over.
The move was abrupt, but, as Pascoe would have vouched, it passed for courtesy compared with many of his usual modes of dismissing people.
He watched with open pleasure as Marion uncrossed her legs and stood up.
Thank you for being so frank, Miss. Cargo, he said.
Im sorry you had to ask, she replied. was silly of me.
Not at all. Gallantly he opened the door.
Just one thing, he said as she passed through it. The other voice you heard when you knocked on Miss. Girlings door that night. It was definitely a man? Or men?
She hesitated, looking back into the study as if somehow projecting herself back in time to the point where she had stood outside this same door vainly waiting to be invited in.
Yes, she said. a man.
But you didnt recognize it?
Im not sure, she said slowly. was somehow familiar. But it was so distorted, I couldnt say.
Distorted? Yes, she said. anger.
The cricket match was almost over when Pascoe finally reached it. He had been delayed first of all by the task of getting hold of Marion Cargo and escorting her to Dalziel. She had come without hesitation or protest, almost as if relieved. But Halfdane, still nursing his earlier annoyance, had more than compensated for her easiness. It had only been Marions own insistence that prevented him from following her into the study.
Pascoe had been tempted to question him very roughly about his last sighting of Fallowfield, but remembering Dalziels invocation of his charm, decided he would leave it till later and start elsewhere. So, leaving Halfdane striding sentry-like up and down outside the study door, he set off on his delayed journey to the playing-fields.
He had missed the days main excitement, it seemed. Half-way through the afternoon one of the umpires, an elderly man with a gouty toe which made the time-lag between overs even longer than it usually is, had fallen into a kind of sun-induced trance at square-leg and had to be nursed back to consciousness with iced lemonade in the pavilion. Subsequently he had been weaned on to strawberries and cream and the prognosis seemed good. But his place had been taken by the portly figure of Henry Saltecombe who, determined not to suffer the same fate, protected his bald pate with an incongruous porkpie hat. The hat was the most interesting thing on the field as far as Pascoe was concerned. It would bear looking into, as the actress said to the conjuror, he thought.
His informant about the affairs of the day was George Dunbar who masochistically was hanging on to the bitter end, despite his expression of distaste for the game.
Perhaps he wants to establish exactly where he is, thought Pascoe, laughing at his own conditioned suspiciousness, but not dismissing the suspicion. . Fallowfield around? he asked casually.
Fallowfield? Hes got more bloody sense.
Oh. Whats he do at weekends then. Golf? asked Pascoe at random.
No, he hasnt got that much sense. Whyre you asking, eh? Dunbar glanced keenly at the sergeant who grunted noncommittally.
If hes wise, hell be at the quacks, Dunbar went on.
Quacks? doctors! said Dunbar exasperatedly. you see him yesterday? Man, he looked ill. All this business must have been a strain. I reckon hes heading for a crack-up, myself.
He spoke with some relish.
So you havent seen him today?
No. Not a sign. Now, why do
But Pascoe had already moved on.
He stopped trying to be subtle after a while, deciding that even if he just asked people what time it was, they would start wondering what this had to do with the investigation.
Only with the group of students round Franny Roote and Cockshut did he have any success. , I saw him this morning, going towards college, said a little square, ugly girl.
Time? I dont know. About half-nine, wouldnt you say, hey, Franny?
Whatever you say, lovey, whatever you say, chanted Roote melodiously, lying on his back still, smiling happily. Pascoe wondered if he was slightly drunk. you didnt see him later? he pursued.
Well played, sir! cried Roote, clapping his hands, his eyes fixed rapturously on the sky.
Christalmighty, youre a detective, go and detect. It was Cockshut of course. , why doesnt that fat crud come out and ask his own questions instead of sending the help?
A shout from the middle of the field and a ripple of applause round the perimeter drew his attention back to the match. The last wicket had fallen and the players were straggling off. Pascoe started heading for the pavilion with the intention of cutting off Saltecombe but someone called his name and he stopped. It was Halfdane.
But surprisingly Halfdane seemed to be in a much more conciliatory mood.
He was still far from apologetic, but at least he didnt open with too much aggression.
Not again! he thought with an inward groan. Whats he want? A fight? Ive been thinking, he said. business has got to be cleared up.
Its stupid for me to withhold information out of pique.
Whats he want? wondered Pascoe. Applause for acknowledging what nobody but a criminal or a moron would deny? Or perhaps hes just clearing the decks so that he can get down to disliking me with a clear conscience.
Mind you, said Halfdane, Ive got to say is probably irrelevant and I hope you wont want to do anything about it if it is.
Again Pascoe produced his noncommittal grunt.
Anita Sewell, said Halfdane, there any evidence that shed been taking drugs? Why do you ask? said Pascoe.
Its just that, well, occasionally Ive been to one or two student parties, or parties where there have been students. Theres usually pot available at these dos. Its just like another form of booze these days, and no more harmful.