Gently in Trees (11 page)

Gently grunted. ‘So who was driving the car?’

‘Probably Lawrence,’ Keynes said, puffing. ‘He borrowed it to do some shopping in Latchford. Though of course, the dust may not be today’s.’

‘And the stain on the tyres?’ Gently said.

‘Has to be older,’ Keynes smiled. ‘We’ve had no rain here for above a week, and Warren Ride dries out quite quickly.’

‘But not the track that goes by Mogi’s Belt.’

‘A touch,’ Keynes smiled. ‘I know it well. But there are ruts enough in Warren Ride. No need to look further for the source of the stains.’

Gently stared at him. Keynes had a soft, cultivated, accent-less voice. His brown eyes were flecked with gold: they returned Gently’s stare amusedly. He nodded to the keys in Gently’s hand.

‘You’ll have no luck there, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘I happen to know Jenny washed the car yesterday. Shampoo and set. Very thorough.’

‘You seem to know so many things,’ Gently said.

Keynes nostrilled smoke. ‘That’s my profession.’

‘Perhaps they include who killed your cousin?’

Keynes laughed aloud and reached his hand for the keys.

Gently gave them to him. Keynes unlocked the padlock that secured the coach-house doors. He set them wide. Sun stabbed into the gloom and reflected from the panels and bumpers of a maroon Sunbeam Rapier. It had been not only washed but polished and leathered: the gear was standing on a bench by the wall; and a dribble of water lay beneath a coiled hose which was neither green nor ribbed, but clear plastic.

‘Done yesterday evening,’ Keynes grinned. ‘Lawrence gave her a hand. Shall I run it out for you?’

Gently shrugged. If the tyres had been stained, they certainly were not so now. Possibly there was deposit left in the tread, but it would need expert examination to discover it; and deposit in the tread was no indication that the car had been driven beyond Warren Ride. He opened a door. The carpets were immaculate. No helpful smears on door panels or seat backs. In the boot, the same: a virgin carpet, free of all marks from heavy objects.

‘Here – what about this?’ Keynes asked cheerfully, picking up a car vacuum-cleaner from the bench. He snapped it open, withdrew the bag, and held out the bag to Gently.

Gently eyed him, then took the bag. It contained fluff, dust, sand and a glass bead. Gently wet his finger and dipped it in the dust: black mud, with no hint of red.

Keynes was watching him, his eyes for once serious.

‘You see, I know what you don’t yet know,’ he said. ‘This car wasn’t used for the purpose you’re thinking of, and neither was mine. What a shame we can’t prove it.’

G
ENTLY USHERED KEYNES
into the house, where Metfield had continued to maintain the presence. Maryon Britton jumped up nervily and hastened to grab Keynes by the arm.

‘Oh Edwin! I’m so glad you’ve got here.’

Keynes glimmered a smile at her. ‘Steady on, Maryon.’

‘You don’t know. This man is terrible. He has just about accused me of murdering Adrian.’

‘That’s his job, my dear. He probably doesn’t believe it.’

‘But he
does
, Edwin. He
really
believes it. And there’s nothing I can say to defend myself – he won’t have it that I simply spent the night here with you!’

‘Then we’ll have to prove it to him,’ Keynes said.

‘But we
can’t
, Edwin! How can we?’

‘Oh, there’ll be a way,’ Keynes smiled confidently. ‘It’s what really happened, so it shouldn’t be impossible.’

He sat himself easily on the long sofa, and Maryon Britton dumped herself beside him. Jennifer Britton had been wandering restlessly about the far end of the room. Now she came back to stand by the sofa. She stared at Keynes.

‘Where’s Lawrence?’ she said.

Keynes ducked his head. ‘Fiddling with a painting. The water-meadows one, you remember? He’ll be along later on.’

Jennifer Britton sniffed and took her place on the sofa. ‘Lawrence is never around when he’s wanted,’ she said. ‘And soon the Superintendent is going to ask me about my movements. Because if Mother didn’t do it, it was probably me.’ She flashed a defiant look at Gently.

‘You didn’t, did you?’ Keynes said.

‘Well, I might have done,’ Jennifer Britton said. ‘I was out in that direction that evening, and I can’t even claim I was sleeping with someone. So I’m a dead duck, when he gets round to me. I can’t think why Mother is going off the deep end.’

‘Oh, be quiet, be quiet!’ Maryon Britton snapped irritably. ‘You’re just a silly little goose, and that’s plain to everyone.’

‘I think the Superintendent likes me, rather,’ Keynes said smoothly. ‘So let’s give him a chance, now, to put me through the mill.’ He hooked the coffee-table towards him with his feet, re-lit his pipe, and dropped the match into a Venetian glass ashtray. ‘Shoot,’ he said to Gently. ‘I’m longing to know how an expert goes about it.’

Gently folded his arms on the back of his chair, which he had reversed for greater comfort. He returned Keynes’s gaze mildly. ‘First, you can tell me about Mogi’s Belt.’

Keynes’s eyes twinkled through an issue of smoke. ‘I rather set that up for you, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘Well, it wasn’t worth my while to conceal it. After all, I have lived in this area for ten years.’

‘And you are familiar with that place?’

Keynes nodded. ‘With all the district round about. I know the Battle Area as well as the military, and I never did step on a bomb yet. I discovered Mogi’s Belt years ago, before the lock on the gate got conveniently broken. And I can guess well enough what Adrian was doing there. Though I’m hanged if I can guess how
he
knew about it.’

‘He could, of course, have been told,’ Gently said.

‘Only not by me,’ Keynes grinned. ‘I wouldn’t have told him, out of principle – I think badgers should have their privacy respected. But he was told by someone, that’s pretty plain. He would never have discovered it for himself. Adrian wasn’t the type to go vaguely rambling, to see what the fates had to offer. As far as I know, his only other safari into the forest was to photograph deer, and that was arranged for him by Larling, the ranger – whom I imagine you will have questioned.’

He paused. Gently said nothing.

‘No,’ Keynes said. ‘So he didn’t get it from Larling. Unlikely anyway, since the Forestry are very properly jealous about things like badger setts. Which leaves it something of a mystery. Outside the Forestry, there can be very few people who know of the sett – and none, I would have thought, who had it in for Adrian. Which I take it is the theory you have in mind.’

‘You seem familiar with the Forestry,’ Gently said.

‘You can’t live here and not be,’ Keynes agreed.

‘I understand they publish some excellent literature.’ Keynes let smoke trickle from his nostrils. ‘Are you referring to a certain Trail pamphlet?’

Gently hunched a shoulder, watching him.

‘Yes, it’s a possibility,’ Keynes said. ‘If one knew that Adrian had such a pamphlet in his possession. Did he?’ His eyes held Gently’s. ‘I see. You must have found one in the van. And it’s not the sort of thing one would have expected him to buy, so we assume it was given him by the murderer.’ He nodded slowly. ‘It could have been enough. Adrian was never short of shrewdness. But once more, you’re looking for a man with some small knowledge of Forestry matters.’

‘About whom you can make no suggestion,’ Gently said.

Keynes smiled. ‘Nothing helpful.’

‘A man so like you that he could be you?’

‘I don’t know such a man,’ Keynes smiled.

‘We did, of course, find a pamphlet,’ Gently said. ‘Exactly as your prescience suggests. It had been marked up for further guidance. Hand me that ballpen from your pocket.’

Keynes hesitated, his smile thinning. Then he unclipped the pen and passed it over. Gently sketched a line with it across his palm. The colour of the ink was royal blue. He handed the pen back.

‘Anything else?’ Keynes asked.

‘Yes. There was a latent fingerprint on the pamphlet. Have you any objection to us taking your fingerprints?’

Keynes’s smile broadened again; he shook his head.

‘Right, then,’ Gently said. ‘Perhaps now we can get to the real business. I want a full picture of what happened here on the evening of last Saturday. In fact, we’ll begin a little earlier than that. You can give me your movements for the whole of Saturday. And it will help us both if you can give me also the names of some independent witnesses. Am I making it plain?’

‘Too plain,’ Keynes grimaced. ‘Are you sure you shouldn’t be giving us a caution?’

‘Would you say that was necessary?’

Keynes rocked his shoulders. ‘Just my big mouth,’ he said. ‘I’m easy meat for you.’

He knocked out his pipe humbly and sat back, hands in the pockets of the jeans. Maryon Britton sat stiffly; Jennifer Britton with her leg swinging. From behind Gently, a faint rustle marked the turning of a page in Metfield’s notebook.

‘We’ll begin with you, Mrs Britton.’

Maryon Britton gazed at him stonily. ‘I’ve made one statement already,’ she said. ‘I don’t see why I should have to make another.’

‘Starting with Saturday morning,’ Gently said.

Maryon Britton pouted. ‘I had my bath. Breakfast. Mrs Nixon arrived. I took the car into the village, shopping. To the butcher’s, the baker’s and Hensman’s Stores, all of whom will remember me. Back to cook lunch. Eating lunch. Paying Mrs Nixon. Reading in the garden. Jenny was playing tennis at the sports ground; when she came in we had tea. Then we watched TV for a while, and after that Edwin came.’

‘Did you make any phone calls?’ Gently asked.

‘One to Edwin at lunchtime.’

‘Did you receive any?’

‘No. And the only letters were bills.’

Gently nodded. ‘Mr Keynes?’

‘I had a bath, too,’ Keynes grinned. ‘Also breakfast. But I’m afraid the rest of my day was not quite so well documented. I was writing reviews for the best part of it, which is a sad thing to be doing on a Saturday. Then I switched on the box and caught a bit of the second Test. Lawrence was with me in the morning – at least, he was working in his studio. But after lunch he was at tennis, with Jenny. So I could have been up to all kinds of devilment.’

‘Was your car in use?’

‘Not till the evening. Lawrence walked down to the sports ground.’

‘Did you make any phone calls?’

‘I rang Television Centre, to ask Ivan Webster if Adrian was coming down.’

Gently hesitated. ‘Then you know Ivan Webster?’

Keynes ghosted a shrug. ‘Only in passing. He’s been down here with Adrian a few times. I knew they were working together just then.’

‘You spoke to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he tell you?’

‘He told me that Adrian wasn’t happy with the script. Said they’d likely be working late. He didn’t know if Adrian was planning to come down.’ He paused. ‘I couldn’t very well ask him to ask Adrian. Adrian would have guessed who was wanting to know.’

‘And why did you want to know?’

Keynes glanced at Maryon Britton.

‘Oh, he’s had it out of me,’ she said huffily. ‘Adrian was bringing down the will with him to burn in front of us. That’s it in the briefcase.’

Keynes jingled some change in his pocket. ‘There you have it, then,’ he said. ‘Lots of motive. You have just to decide if we’re the sort of people who would kill for money. And naturally, we were wanting to know when the volcano would erupt, which was my reason for ringing Webster.’

‘Mrs Britton suggested it, when she rang you at lunchtime?’

Keynes shook his head. ‘My call was prior.’

‘Did you mention the reason for your inquiry to Webster?’

‘I did not. I scarcely know him.’

Gently paused. ‘Then wouldn’t it have seemed odd to him that you applied to him and not directly to Stoll?’

Keynes’s eyes were thoughtful for a moment. ‘Yes, you’d have supposed so. But in fact he behaved as though my inquiry was quite natural.’

‘As though, perhaps, he knew the reason for it.’

Keynes nodded. ‘Interesting, isn’t it? But of course, he’s a pal of Nina Walling’s, and she would’ve had the news from Adrian.’

Gently grunted. ‘Getting back to your movements. Can anyone place you at your cottage during the day?’

‘There’s Fred Bishop. He’s the milkman. He called to be paid, at about ten-thirty.’

‘Nobody else?’

‘No.’

‘In the afternoon?’

‘No.’

‘So you can prove nothing about your movements.’

‘Not a thing.’ Keynes grinned. ‘I’m the man you should really be going after.’

His flecked eyes rested on Gently’s, smiling, alert, poised. Mrs Britton was also watching Gently, but her handsome eyes were anxious. As she watched, her hands drew together, and a little white showed at the knuckles.

Jennifer Britton’s leg swung impatiently.

‘Don’t I get into this act?’ she demanded. ‘After all, I’m an unstable teenager, and thoroughly subversive. I could easily have done it.’

‘You foolish girl!’ her mother burst out. ‘Don’t you know better than to talk like that?’

Jennifer Britton tossed her ash-blonde locks and gazed expressively at the ceiling.

‘Very well,’ Gently said. ‘Now we’ll hear from you.’

‘Oh, how kind,’ Jennifer Britton said. ‘I took the car into Latchford before Mother had it, and, inter alia, bought some things at Leeks.’

‘Leeks . . . ?’

Metfield cleared his throat. ‘They’re the local iron-mongers, sir. Gardening requisites and the like. Also agents for a certain product.’

‘Gas,’ Jennifer Britton said promptly. ‘Bottles and bottles of glorious gas. A department that handles nothing else. Where we bought it during the power cut. And hoses too, all sorts of hoses – they’re sure to stock the brand you want. And I was there on Saturday morning, which that nice young assistant will certainly remember.’

‘You idiot!’ her mother hissed. ‘You went to buy some secateurs, and you know it.’

‘Shush, Maryon,’ Keynes smiled. ‘Let Jenny tell her story in her own inimitable way.’

‘Did you buy secateurs?’ Gently asked.

‘That was just my cover-up,’ Jennifer Britton said. ‘And there was nothing to stop me from buying gas and a yard or two of hose as well. In fact, I could have dropped it off at Mogi’s whatsit, all ready for Adrian later on. No reason why not. Adrian could have told me he was camping there that night.’