The Mind of Mr Soames (28 page)

‘I think he learned more in the wood than he ever learned in the Institute,’ she commented.

‘Possibly. But observation is not the same as participation. Perhaps what he saw, at some distance and under conditions of stress and fear, tended to localise the sex drive—in anatomical terms, I mean. I doubt whether the experience was as educational as you suggest. It would probably increase his confusion rather than clarify it. Just how did Mr Soames begin this act of rape?’

Embarrassed and uncertain she glanced from one to the other. ‘As soon as he awoke he started holding me and touching me. I was afraid.’

‘Holding you and touching you where?’

‘He gripped my arms and held me round the waist.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘I broke away, of course. I could sense what he had in mind.’

‘But you did not know at that time that he was Mr Soames.’

‘No.’

Conway raised his eyebrows. ‘Why didn’t you telephone the police, if you anticipated a sexual assault?’

She interlaced her fingers and rubbed her thumbs together uneasily. ‘I—I was terrified.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of... what we’ve been talking about.’

Takaito said: ‘You were terrified of the possibility of sexual assault so you did not call the police because you were terrified of the possibility of sexual assault. That hardly makes sense, Mrs Dewison.’

‘I just... didn’t know what to do,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Now let’s start again,’ Takaito suggested, ‘bearing in mind that Dr Conway is a psychiatrist and I am a psychoneurologist, and we do understand a little about the basic principles of human behaviour. At this moment we are not concerned with the behaviour pattern of Mr Soames—we are concerned with
you
.’ He paused, regarding her solemnly. ‘You are a normal, rational adult woman, Mrs Dewison. If I may make an assessment of your character, you are invariably calm and self-possessed, unlikely to panic unnecessarily, possessing a normal sexual appetite, if that is the word, and perhaps rather neglected by your husband, who, I understand, has an addiction for alcohol. My own feeling is that if Mr Soames terrified you, then you would either call the police or escape from the house in desperation and seek the help of neighbours.’

She sighed despondently. ‘Could I have a cigarette please?’ she asked.

Conway offered her a cigarette and lit it for her.

He said: ‘Don’t imagine we are interrogating you for any legal purpose. We are not policemen. Every word you say to us is in absolute confidence and will never be repeated.’

She gave him a long, cold look. ‘What are you trying to prove, doctor?’

It was Takaito who answered the question. ‘We are not trying to prove anything,’ he stated. ‘But we are trying to find out something.’

‘Well?’

‘We are trying to discover whether there is one person—just one—whom Mr Soames regards as a friend. I’m afraid the outlook is rather black, Mr Soames is a man hated, feared and pursued by the entire human race, but there might be one exception. If anyone ever needed a friend, it is Mr Soames.’

‘What makes you think I’m his friend?’ she demanded. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘No. That is—I don’t give a damn about him.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he means nothing, absolutely nothing, to me.’ Takaito smiled amiably. ‘For a woman who was allegedly raped you are remarkably detached and impersonal. Who is this man Soames? What do I care about him? I think if I were a woman who had been assaulted by Mr Soames I should feel much more strongly and personally about him. I should say—I do give a damn about him, and I want him to hang.’

‘You’re entitled to your opinion,’ she observed sullenly.

‘I put it to you,’ Takaito said, ‘that you may well have been slightly afraid when Mr Soames first began to make fumbling advances. At the time you did not know that he was Mr Soames. But I also suggest that at some point you realised his true identity, and that was when you were no longer afraid. In fact, that was the moment when you became, let us say, fascinated and intrigued by a man who knew nothing of women.’

‘No,’ she protested, shaking her head. ‘It was not like that.’

‘I also put it to you that you and Mr Soames were on friendly terms—that you tried to help him. For one thing, he would not steal money, because money has always been a meaningless concept to him You
gave
him the money.’

She said nothing, but just stared glumly at the floor.

‘And I think the same applies to the overcoat. It seems improbable that he would deliberately go through your husband’s wardrobe in search of an overcoat. He would hardly know what to look for, never having possessed one.’

‘Look, doctor,’ she said in weary appeal, ‘couldn’t we call it a day? What with the police, and now you...’

‘All I want to know is whether Mr Soames regards you as a friend—perhaps his only friend,’ Takaito insisted.

She shrugged helplessly. ‘Perhaps so. How can I understand what goes on in his mind.’

‘So it was not exactly a question of rape.’

‘He was very persistent, and it was really against my better judgement. He was much stronger than me, so what could I do?’

‘But it was not accomplished by violence or force.’

‘Well—if we are talking confidentially, perhaps not.’

‘And, in fact, you played a rather active part in what we might term the further education of Mr Soames.’

She nodded slowly, ashamedly. ‘I suppose you could put it that way, but you must understand...’

‘I understand perfectly, Mrs Dewison, and I am not criticising you in the least. I just wanted to be sure of the exact relationship between you and Mr Soames, because it may be that you will be able to help him before the night is out.’

For a moment she looked startled. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘I am guessing—trying to assess every possibility. It may be useful to know that there is someone whom Mr Soames regards as a friend—someone he can trust, I don’t know for certain, but it may be so.’

‘I don’t want to be involved,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m already involved too far.’

‘One always is when one lies,’ he pointed out. ‘The only real freedom is in truth.’

‘You may be right,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I haven’t the character or wisdom to face up to the consequences of honesty.’

‘Mrs Dewison,’ Takaito said, ‘I am sure you are underrating yourself. At least you have been honest enough with Dr Conway and myself...’

‘Very reluctantly, I’m afraid, and only because I’m sick of the whole business. It was all Richard’s fault, anyway...’ She broke off abruptly.

‘Go on,’ Conway invited.

‘I’ve nothing more to say.’

‘Takaito leaned forward. The important thing is that if we should need your help, I know we can rely on you.’

‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I really don’t know.’

Two
hours later an important message came over the radio channel, and the operator signalled to Detective-Inspector Bryce. Conway, who was pacing the length of the hall, chain smoking, walked towards the stage, hoping sleepily that this time there would be some positive development. Already there had been too many false alarms. Dr Takaito, who earlier in the night had gone out on a mysterious mission, returning later with a bottle of whisky, was sitting in a quiet corner drinking quick nips and playing patience with a pack of miniature cards of the kind they put in children’s stockings at Christmas. The police had raised their eyebrows at the whisky, but had asked no questions.

‘Heywards Farm report an intruder,’ Conway overheard the operator saying. ‘The dogs were barking and they thought they heard someone moving in the south barn.’

‘Which is the nearest patrol?’ Bryce asked.

‘Baker Blue—and possibly the Army number four.’

‘All right. Have them close in. Get on to HQ to telephone the people at Heywards to do nothing and keep the dogs under control. Soames is a potential killler, and this is our show.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Tell the patrols to cover the limits of the farm and stand by for further orders. They’re only to use the dogs if Soames tries to run for it.’

The operator returned to his radio equipment. Bryce rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes in a gesture of fatigue and came down from the stage to where Conway was standing.

‘You heard that, Dr Conway?’

‘Yes.’

‘This may be it, or it may be another false alarm. I think perhaps well be lucky this time. About a quarter of an hour ago one of the patrols saw a moving figure outlined in the headlamps of a car near the main road to Oxleigh—not far from Heywards Farm. They lost track of him after that, but there was a distinct trail in the wet grass and signs of damage to a hedge where he probably broke through.’

‘Always assuming it
is
Mr Soames,’ Conway pointed out.

‘At this time of night and in that particular area, I think we might reasonably take that for granted.’

Conway glanced at his watch. The time was nearly three a.m. ‘Added to which,’ said the quiet voice of Takaito from the rear, ‘it is pouring with rain again, and I doubt very much whether anyone other than Soames would be walking across open country under such conditions.’

Conway looked round. Takaito had abandoned his cards and whisky as if he had know intuitively, even from across the hall, that the moment of action had arrived, and in some subtle way he seemed to be seizing the initiative.

‘Taking high probabilities as certainties,’ he went on, looking straight at Detective-Inspector Bryce, ‘I think this is the moment where we should go to the operational centre, as one might call it. If we have run Mr Soames to ground, then it is most important that nobody should hurt him and that he should not be given the opportunity to hurt anyone in turn.’

‘Agreed,’ Bryce said crisply. ‘We’ll leave now. I’ll take two patrol cars.’

Takaito raised one finger in a silencing gesture.

‘There is one more thing, Inspector, and it is very important, We must take Mrs Dewison with us.’

Bryce looked surprised. ‘You mean...?’

‘There is a liaison between Soames and the woman which may be extremely useful. It may solve many problems.’

‘But she is a principle witness in the Soames case.’

Takaito smiled benignly. ‘There is no Soames case until Soames is caught—alive. We must take Mrs Dewison with us.’

‘Have you discussed this with the woman herself?’ Bryce asked doubtfully.

‘In a way. Naturally it would require a higher authority than mine to overcome her reluctance—an authority such as yours, for example.’

‘Well, may I ask what is the object of this move? What would Mrs Dewison be expected to do?’

‘Talk to Mr Soames—perhaps break down his stubborn defiance and open the way for Dr Conway and myself...’

‘But that was the very reason why I asked you and Dr Conway to come here tonight, as medical men with a deep understanding of his mind. The idea was that
you
should talk to him.’

Takaito shook his head. ‘We represent authority, and he is in rebellion against authority. He is against all men at present and he believes all men are against him.’

‘Why should he imagine a woman—Mrs Dewison in particular—would not also be against him?’

‘Because I have reason to believe that she gained Soames’s confidence—that the alleged assault was rather a matter of collusion, or, let us say, co-operation followed by a selfdefensive change of attitude on her part.’

‘Yes, you may be right,’ Bryce admitted. ‘At least, I had my suspicions. I’ll talk to her, but you must understand that I have no real authority to force her to come with us.’

‘Force is not required,’ Takaito said, smiling. ‘Just a little persuasion and a little flattery.’

‘We’ll see,’ Bryce said, and went off in the direction of the refreshment counter.

❖

Heywards Farm was on sloping ground at the foot of a bare hill gashed by quarries. In the darkness it was impossible to see the extent of the farm, which ranged modestly over some twelve acres, in the nature of a smallholding, devoted principally to beet, potatoes and salad vegetables. To the rear of the farm buildings was a chicken battery, a relatively new building with electrical facilities to produce marketable chickens on an automated basis. There were two small barns, mainly used to store equipment, and it was in the one to the south where Mr Soames was thought to have taken refuge.

The owner of the farm was not Mr Heyward, as one might reasonably have supposed, but Mr Caravel—a short, red-faced man with ginger hair and an embryonic moustache who seemed excessively nervous about the whole situation. His wife, equally short, but extremely dark and rotund in appearance, made coffee, said nothing, but listened intently.

They sat on hard wooden chairs, Detective-Inspector Bryce taking charge of the proceedings while Takaito, Conway and Mrs Dewison sat slightly to the rear, sipping enormous cups of black coffee. Takaito had brought his bottle of whisky with him and had poured a liberal quantity into the coffee, tacitly assuming that nobody else wanted any. It was an austere kitchen, quite large for its purpose, with distempered walls, plastic curtains across the window, a plain whitewood table, and in a corner near to a steel central heating boiler, a washing machine and spin dryer looking out of place in their pure white enamel coats.

‘We have two patrols already surrounding the perimeter of the farm,’ Detective-Inspector Bryce was explaining, ‘and three more will be in position within the half-hour. The only thing we have to be sure of is that he’s here—within the limits of the farm.’

‘He’s here right enough,’ Mr Caravel insisted, ‘though whether it happens to be Soames or not I couldn’t properly say. Happens he’s in the south barn—got in there when the dogs were chasing him. Then what does he do? Gets himself a pitchfork and kills one of the dogs with it—runs him right through and pins him to the ground, like.’

Bryce sighed. ‘You saw this happen.’

‘Yes, I saw it all right. Had a torch, but didn’t get too close, having heard this Soames is a sort of homicidal maniac. He goes back in the barn. Next thing the door closes and he’s in there with the pitchfork and the dog’s howling outside the barn and bleeding to death fair quick. When I try to pick him up he snaps at me, and he dies a few minutes later. Then I comes back and calls the police.’