Alan Hunter - Gently to the Summit

‘I thought you’d settled this business, Inspector. I didn’t expect you to lug me back to it from the public baths in Pompeii.’

Evans looked startled. ‘From where was it you said, sir?’

‘The public baths in Pompeii.’ Heslington pointed to the paper-strewn table. ‘I’d just written myself in. I write books, you know. And I was deep in the baths when Mrs Vincent came to announce you. But never mind, I’m out now; I’m busy towellingmy hair. So if the twentieth century has questions, let the second century hear them.’

He did it well, but not well enough to conceal his uneasiness, nor to control the challenging glance which he flashed at Gently. The twentieth century was probably closer than the second century liked to admit, and stood in danger of closing the gap with less than senatorial ceremony.

‘This is Superintendent Gently, sir. He’s assisting me in the case.’ Evans was curt. He stepped back a pace to leave no doubt who was the principal.

‘Really?’ Heslington surveyed Gently again. Now it was with a touch of boredom. ‘I hope I can do something for him besides repeating repetitions. Would you be interested in archaeological reconstruction, Superintendent?’

Gently hunched non-commitally. ‘I’m always interested in reconstructions.’

‘You stand on the site and in the triclinium of an Anglo-Roman villa. The Emperor Hadrian’s I maintain, though I fail to carry a majority.’

‘My reconstructions are more modern.’

‘After Rome the field is plebeian.’

‘All the same, it has its points. I’ve a present interest in cars.’

‘You’ve come to the wrong person, I’m afraid.’

Gently shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m wondering how you run an Austin-Healey in addition to the car you’ve officially taxed.’

Heslington’s eyes hardened a little but he gave no other reaction. He said: ‘I fail to see how that can interest you. I may have hired or borrowed the car.’

‘From whom did you borrow it?’

‘Is that really your business?’

‘I’m asking you because you’re handy. But I could put the same question to Sarah Fleece.’

Now there was a reaction, a burning spot on each cheekbone. After a moment’s silence Heslington turned from them and threw himself down on a stool by the table. His toga made the action dramatic, it was at one with the theatrical tone of the setting; a declamation in blank verse might with propriety have followed the move. Gently hesitated, then selected the bronze bench for a seat. Evans chose the couch with an equal diffidence.

‘Just precisely what are you after?’ His patronizing condescension had come to an end. His face was bitter. The lines to the mouth were drawn deep and tight. ‘I don’t have to answer your questions. I’ve given you my account of Monday. You’ve made an arrest, so what’s your object in coming scandal-mongering here?’

A smile loitered on Gently’s lips: that line of appeal was really getting too common! ‘You can call it routine,’ he replied. ‘We’re finding this an unusual case.’

‘It may be unusual, but it isn’t doubtful, so you’ve no reason to be offensive. Hound Kincaid if you want to, but don’t come here hounding me.’

‘You’re certain that Kincaid is our man?’

‘Isn’t it a fact that you’ve charged him with it? It’s an open and shut case, to use your questionable expression. And I’m sorry for it, too. He’s a remarkable man is Kincaid. The whole affair makes me sick and I’d like to forget it ever happened.’

‘You’re quite satisfied about the motive. About it’s being an act of revenge?’

‘Yes, I am. I was there. I know what happened on Everest.’

‘You knew that Fleece intended to get rid of him?’

‘I knew it after I’d heard his story. It made me remember a whole lot of things which I’d paid no attention to at the time. But I saw their significance after I’d talked to Kincaid. It made the whole thing as clear as daylight. I understood the delays and the switching of teams, and all Fleece’s little manoeuvrings to get Kincaid on his rope. You don’t have to worry about the poor devil’s motive.’

‘Why did Fleece do it, do you think?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t want to. Finding it out was like stumbling on a midden in your drawing room. Till then the affair had a certain nobility, it was tragic but left us with an inspiration; then it turned into an ugly mess which seemed to dirty us too. I always knew that Fleece was a blackguard but after that my soul loathed him. And I told him so to his face. I did have that satisfaction.’

‘In fact, it nearly came to violence.’

Heslington checked himself before replying. He said evenly: ‘You must have read my statement. I said there that I didn’t like him.’

‘That’s not quite the same is it? As loathing a man with your soul?’

‘It was sufficient for the occasion and the officialese of the document.’

‘Wouldn’t it be true to say that you’re glad he’s dead?’

‘It might or might not be true. But I don’t remember having said it.’

His eyes met Gently’s steadily and with the hint of a challenge again; it was the look of a man either conscious of his innocence or of the strength of his position. Which was it? With a man like Heslington it was not easy to tell. A bit of a crank he might be, but he was not without strength of character. Gently’s gaze strayed towards the conservatory.

‘I’ll put a hypothetical case,’ he said. ‘Suppose Kincaid told the truth in his statement. Suppose it wasn’t him you saw on the railway?’

‘But it was.’

‘Did you recognize him?’

‘I’m nearly certain. It was about his build.’

‘The supporting evidence is not strong. And this is the first time you’ve made an identification.’

‘But I didn’t know he was in the district, not when I made my statement. At the time nobody was further from my thoughts than Kincaid. But I remembered clearly what I’d seen, the height and build of the fellow, and after Overton had identified the cigarette-case I realized at once who it must have been. And I said so then.’

‘Wasn’t that wisdom after the event?’

‘Perhaps. I found it convincing enough.’

‘But would a jury find it convincing, when so much depends on your evidence? We’ll carry the hypothesis a stage further, as Kincaid’s Counsel will certainly do: suppose your statement was a false one, wouldn’t your identification seem a little convenient?’

‘Why should my statement have been a false one?’

‘Hypothetically, to avert suspicion.’

‘From me. You mean that?’

‘From the lover of Mrs Fleece.’

Again the tell-tale spots welled up over the areas below the eyes. Heslington jerked bolt upright, disarranging the flowing folds of the toga. ‘Who says… who dares…?’ He found it hard to check this time. It took him a struggle of several seconds before he succeeded in becoming calm.

‘I deny that allegation. I completely deny it.’

‘But taken as a hypothesis it could be useful to Kincaid’s Counsel. Suppose it were true: suppose it could be shown that Fleece had begun divorce proceedings: given that Fleece is a rich man, where would that line of reasoning finish?’

‘There are no grounds for such a hypothesis!’

‘But there were grounds for Fleece’s divorce. It was filed on 16th September. On the day when Mrs Fleece booked a room in the Suffolk.’

‘Oh… God!’

It was still theatrical. He slumped forward heavily over the table, a thrown-out arm scattering papers which floated gently to the stone floor. Evans collected and returned them, but Heslington held his pose unmoved. It was photogenic; it might have served for some dramatic historical painting.