Alan Hunter - Gently to the Summit

Gently was cautious with his opening.

‘I’m trying to complete our knowledge of the case. We still need some details about Fleece and Kincaid with reference to the time when you engaged Paula Kincaid. I thought you’d be the person best able to help us.’

‘I see. But what has this to do with my foolish son?’

‘Your son has been helping us, Mrs Askham. He had some information to give.’

‘About Kincaid?’

‘About Kincaid. And a few collateral matters.’

‘My son is imaginative, Superintendent.’

‘We have had occasion to notice that.’

Her eyes had their usual frigid boldness but it was now a little icier, a little harder. They had been fencing from the outset and she was perfectly aware of it. She had no nerves. She knew her strength. She was a perfect mistress of her weapon.

‘Very good. Then what are your questions?’

‘Two of them relate to sums of money. The first concerns the ten thousand pounds with which your husband financed the expedition to Everest.’

‘My husband did no such thing.’

‘But Harry Askham paid that money.’

‘Then it was done without my knowledge.’

‘Why was that, Mrs Askham?’

She made the gesture of flicking her skirt. ‘I wouldn’t necessarily know. I think I told you before that I didn’t meddle with my husband’s business. He was quite generous with his charities.’

‘Even when they were anonymous?’

‘He could also be disinterested.’

‘Surprisingly so, it would seem.’

She let the thrust go by her. ‘And there was a second sum of money?’

‘Yes.’ Gently hit the word hard. ‘Another disinterested donation. We haven’t obtained the figures for this one but it would need to be in the tens of thousands. And it was paid to Arthur Fleece. On his successful return from the expedition.’

‘That I consider to be absurd.’

‘I quite agree. Unless it had a motive.’

‘There could be none.’ Her chin was up, she let her eyes sweep him witheringly. ‘Wherever this man obtained his money, I can assure you it was not from Harry, Harry had obligations to nobody. Certainly not to a sacked employee.’

‘Fleece was sacked?’

‘So I understood. I remember it being mentioned at the time. Some dishonesty in his records. I don’t remember precisely what.’

‘Then there would be a record of that at Metropolitan Electric. Some of the staff would remember the incident.’

‘They might.’ She picked a thread from her skirt. ‘But then again, it was probably hushed up.’

Gently’s nod was caustic. ‘I feel sure it would have been. The air at Hendon seems to have a relaxing effect on memories. But you knew nothing of this payment?’

‘Nothing whatever. It was never made.’

The foil was handsome, but that didn’t betray her into complacency. From the height of her expensive presence, she continued to eye him with alert attention. Henry Askham had straightened a little as though perhaps taking courage from his formidable mother. Evans was sitting in a crouching attitude. He seemed holding himself to spring on something or somebody.

‘I’d like you to consider those two payments together and in conjunction with what happened on Everest. I think you will come to a certain conclusion. I think your son has already done so.’

‘I didn’t know-!’

Askham flung round, a truly ghastly look on his face. He stared in horror at his mother, who regally inclined in his direction.

‘Henry. You’d better leave the talking to me.’

‘But you don’t understand! I had to tell him-’

‘You are over-imaginative, Henry.’

‘But this… this…!’

‘You must control your nerves, boy. You should try to be more reserved in public. Superintendent, you will kindly excuse him. As an only son he’s been spoiled, I’m afraid.’

Askham groaned and pulled away from her. She sat still and unmoved. Her hands lay quietly on her lap and the muscles of her mouth were unstressed. After a moment she resumed calmly:

‘I missed the point of your last question. I thought that what happened on Everest was beyond any sort of proof.’

‘You are familiar with accounts of it, then.’

‘Oh yes. Is that discreditable?’

‘And with the version Kincaid gave?’

‘One could scarcely escape that.’

‘How would you interpret it, Mrs Askham?’

‘I’m not certain that I want to. But if it were proved, then I should say Kincaid had reason to murder Fleece.’

‘You may take it as being proved.’

‘Oh, really?’ Her chin was lifting again. ‘Then a conviction is almost certain. I suppose I should congratulate you, Superintendent.’

‘And those two sums of money are proved. Your husband paid for that expedition. And he paid Fleece when he returned. And he caused Paula Kincaid to vanish.’

‘You are wrong. Completely wrong.’

‘And Fleece knew something else, didn’t he? Your husband went for a ride on a tiger, and the tiger came back: he came for you.’

‘Stop it… stop it!’ Henry Askham sprang up, his eyes wild and his hair dishevelled. ‘I can’t stand it, I tell you, I can’t! I shall go mad… you’ve got to stop it!’

‘Henry.’ Her voice cut like a knife.

‘And you. You. You knew all about it! Knew that Father — oh, my God! I can’t stand it — I shall go mad!’

‘Henry, be silent.’

‘I can’t… I can’t!’

‘You will control yourself this moment.’

‘I’m finished. I just can’t take it.’

‘It isn’t true, Henry. It isn’t true.’

Neither of them had seen Gently’s finger on the bell-push, nor noticed the door swinging silently open. He came in looking perplexed, his intense eyes switching about him, the brown suit he’d worn in the cells crumpled and badly needing a press. Then he heard the voice of the seated woman. His eyes grew wide, he began to tremble. He took a stumbled step forward and gave a little sobbing cry.

‘Paula… Paula! ’

Mrs Askham whirled to her feet. He was standing with his hands outstretched towards her.

Was it altogether real, the tableau enacting in that room, painfully extending itself to moments, a scene in which every actor had dried? The spindly man with his appealing hands and tears rolling down his cheeks, the thunderstruck woman with ghost-seeing eyes, the staring young man backed against the cabinet? It seemed to hang breathlessly on the brink of unbeing, as though a sudden movement might sweep it away: dissolved and cut by its own emotion like a celluloid shadow from the screen.

Then slowly Mrs Askham turned her back on Kincaid.

‘Paula!’

The movement drew him after it. But he seemed to be shackled, he could advance only one foot. He stopped. He became as motionless as before.

‘Paula. Oh, look at me!’

She wouldn’t. Her face was bitter. She wasn’t seeing Gently, though her eyes faced straight towards him.

‘Paula, I love you. It’s never changed. I love you, Paula. I love you!’

Her mouth opened before she spoke. Finally she said:

‘It’s no use, Reg.’

‘But, Paula, I love you. I want you!’

‘No, Reg. It’s no use.’

‘Paula, listen to me. I’m rich now…’

Her lips twisted. ‘And I’m poor!’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He came another step. ‘I’m rich, Paula. Don’t you hear? We’ve got money now. A hundred thousand! I brought it back with me from Tibet.’

A hundred thousand…! Gently saw the pitying expression that passed over her face. What was a hundred thousand to Mrs Askham: would it melt one splinter of her ice? She’d tossed the sum away on trifles, some fresh bloodstock, a new yacht; and that little man in his scrubby suit thought he was going to tempt her with such a bagatelle! The anger blazed. She swung on Kincaid: