Patricia Wentworth - She Came Back

“You’ve got it wrong. I wasn’t speaking about Annie Joyce. I didn’t know that she was dead-she wasn’t in my mind at all. I was thinking about my wife.”

“Your wife?” The Chief Inspector’s voice sounded solidly unconvinced.

Philip felt a cold rage. Why should anything that was true sound as thin as what he had just said? Even to himself it carried no weight. He said,

“That’s true. If this woman was Annie Joyce, my wife was dead-had been dead for three and a half years. The fact that my case had been tampered with was an absolute proof of that as far as I was concerned. When I walked into Mrs. Jocelyn’s flat I didn’t know that there were other people there-I said what was uppermost in my mind. When I found that we were not alone I walked out again. It wasn’t the sort of thing I could discuss in front of strangers.”

Frank Abbott wrote. The words were down in his notebook now. As his hand travelled, his slightly cynical expression became modified. “Might be-you never can tell,” he concluded. “The Armitage girl comes into it somewhere. The old game-spot the lady. He was in a bit of a hurry to tell her his wife was dead. And he hasn’t mentioned her now. I suppose the Chief is on to that-he doesn’t miss much.”

He shut up his notebook as the telephone bell rang.

Frank Abbott removed the receiver from his ear, covered the mouth piece with his hand, and said,

“It’s Miss Silver, sir.”

The Chief Inspector’s colour deepened, his eyes bulged. The simile of the peppermint bull’s eye recurred irreverently to his Sergeant.

“Miss Silver?” His voice had a note of exasperation.

Frank nodded.

“What do I say?”

“Who did she ask for?”

“Lady Jocelyn.”

The deepened colour became purple.

“What’s she doing in this? You can’t move for her! I suppose she’s recognized your voice! Ask her what she wants!”

“Do I tell her what’s happened?”

Lamb grunted.

“Ask her first!”

Frank addressed himself to the telephone mellifluously.

“So sorry to keep you waiting. The Chief wondered whether you would mind telling him what you wanted with Lady Jocelyn.”

Miss Silver’s slight reproving cough came to them distinctly. The words which followed were only a murmur as far as Lamb and Philip were concerned.

Frank said, “Yes, I’ll ask him.” He turned again. “She wants to come and see you, sir.”

Lamb jerked his big head.

“Well, I haven’t got time to see her-just tell her that! You needn’t wrap it up too carefully either-I haven’t got time. You can tell her it’s a murder case. Genuine this time. None of her mare’s nests, and I’ll be glad if she’ll keep out of my way and let me get on with the job.”

Trusting that his palm had been sound-proof, Sergeant Abbott proceeded to translate.

“The Chief’s very busy. The fact is there’s a bit of a mess-up here. She’s been shot… Yes, dead… No, not suicide… Yes, we’re up to our necks in it. So you see-”

At the other end of the line Miss Silver coughed in a very firm and determined manner.

“I have something of the utmost importance to communicate. Will you tell the Chief Inspector that I hope to be with him in twenty minutes?”

Frank turned back to the room.

“She’s hung up, sir. She’s coming round. She says she’s got something important. She generally has, you know.”

The Chief Inspector came nearer to swearing than he had done for a good many years. He was a chapel member in good standing, but the strain was considerable.

Nevertheless when Miss Maud Silver arrived the meeting between them was attended by all the rites of old acquaintance and mutual respect. They shook hands. She enquired after his health, after Mrs. Lamb’s health, after his three daughters, for whom he had a heart as soft as butter. She remembered which of them was in the A.T.S., the Wrens, the W.A.A.Fs. She remembered that it was Lily who was engaged to be married.

Under this soothing treatment Frank Abbott observed his Chief relax. “And the marvellous part is that it isn’t put on. She’s really interested. She really wants to know about Lily’s young man, and whether Violet is going to get a commission. He’d see through it like a flash if she was putting it on. But she isn’t, she doesn’t-she really wants to know. Astounding woman, Maudie.”

Lamb put a period to the compliments by saying,

“Well, I’ve got my hands rather full, Miss Silver. What did you want to see me about?”

They were alone in the flat. Philip Jocelyn had gone back to the War Office. Miss Silver selected a small upright chair and sat down. The two men followed her example.

Frank Abbott, who could make himself a great deal more useful than anyone would have supposed, had tidied up the hearth. He had also lighted the fire. Miss Silver regarded it with approbation, and remarked that the weather was really very cold for the time of year, after which she coughed and addressed herself to Lamb.

“I was very much shocked to hear of this new fatality. I feared that she was in danger, but I had, of course, no idea that a catastrophe was imminent.”

“Well, I don’t know about a catastrophe, Miss Silver. She wasn’t up to any good, you know. Or perhaps, for once, there’s something you don’t know. Just between you and me and Frank here-I know I can trust you not to talk-she was an enemy agent.”

“Dear me! How extremely shocking! I suspected something of the sort, but of course there was no proof.”

“Oh, you suspected it, did you? Why?”

To Frank Abbott, Miss Silver’s manner indicated that she considered the Chief Inspector to be lacking in what might be called the finer shades of courtesy. She said a little primly,

“It is difficult to say just how an impression is received. As I said, there was no proof at all, but I thought she must have had some guilty knowledge in the matter of poor Miss Collins-”

“Accident,” interjected Lamb-“pure accident.”

Miss Silver coughed.

“I think not. It occurred to me that Lady Jocelyn-”

Lamb interrupted again.

“Sir Philip says she wasn’t Lady Jocelyn-says she wasn’t his wife-says she was the other woman there was all the talk about, Annie Joyce.”

“That does not surprise me. Lady Jocelyn could have no interest in the death of Nellie Collins. Annie Joyce might have had a very vital interest. Miss Collins undoubtedly knew of some distinguishing mark which would have enabled her to recognize the child she had brought up. This would give Annie Joyce a very strong motive.”

Lamb gave one of his grunts.

“I don’t know-you may be right. I’ll tell the police surgeon to look out for distinguishing marks. Well, you haven’t said how you got your ‘impression.’ ”

“From the whole circumstances, I think. I formed the opinion that an impersonation was probably taking place, and it struck me that it would have been very difficult for Annie Joyce to have planned it and carried it out without assistance. How did she know that Sir Philip was in England? She did know, because she rang up Jocelyn’s Holt from Westhaven and asked for him. After Miss Collins’ death I looked up the accounts in the Press again. I was struck by the coincidence of a lost wife turning up from occupied France just as Sir Philip was about to take up a confidential post at the War Office. His work is, I believe, very confidential.”

“And who told you that?” said Lamb.

Miss Silver smiled at him.

“You do not really expect an answer, do you?… To return to what I was saying. I could not help thinking that it would be very useful to the Germans if they could plant an agent in Sir Philip Jocelyn’s household. In fact, I thought her appearance a little too well timed.”