Charles Todd - A matter of Justice

The owner of the glove firm lived in a large house next but one to the High Street, with black iron gates and a handsome hedge setting it off.

Greer was just stepping out his door, on his way to his office, when the two policemen lifted the gate latch and started up the short walk.

Greer said, "We will speak here, at the house," as if he'd called the meeting, not the reverse.

A man of middle height with graying hair and an air of confidence, he waited for them to pass through the door before him and then shut it behind them. "This way."

He led them to a study at the back of the house, overlooking the side gardens. A bench in the grassy lawn stood beside a small pool, and a frog perched on the pool's edge. Set apart by trees, this appeared to be a retreat, and one of the long study windows opened on to it.

Greer took his chair behind the broad maple desk and gestured to the other two placed across from him.

"Well. This is to do with Harold Quarles. What is it you want to know?"

"He dined at your house on Saturday evening. What time did he arrive?"

"We had another guest, a Mr. Nelson. They came in together promptly at seven." There was something in his tone of voice that told Rutledge he was not pleased about that.

"Did Mr. Nelson bring Quarles in from Hallowfields?"

"As to that, I don't know."

"Did they leave at the same time?"

"No, Mr. Nelson remained here for another hour or more. He had a business proposition to put before us. Neither Quarles nor I approved of it. We both preferred to see Cambury stay as it is, rather than bring in new industry to the area. Mr. Nelson believed that the village could support two business enterprises and wanted our backing in presenting his concept to the town fathers."

"And so he stayed on to try to convince you?"

"Quarles was adamant in his position. He said what he had to say early on, and then left. I expect Mr. Nelson had already put as much effort into persuading Quarles as he did afterward with me."

"What sort of new industry?" Padgett wanted to know.

"He felt that gloves had seen their day, and that the up-and-coming field would be leather goods of a different sort. Valises, wallets, diaries-a long list of items. I think if Quarles had believed it would benefit me in any way, he'd have been against change on general principles. But I disliked the idea as well. For once," he said, smiling wryly, "we were actually in agreement about this matter."

"You felt that Nelson met Quarles first, possibly driving him here, in order to bring him around to his position?"

"As Quarles left first and on foot, it's a natural assumption."

"How did you know he left on foot?"

Greer flushed. "I asked my butler."

"As he was leaving, did Nelson follow Quarles into the street to finish the conversation between them?"

"No, of course not, I told you he'd stayed. He joined me in a glass of port, and continued to try to persuade me."

"Do you think Mr. Nelson had any reason to wish Quarles harm? That he might have followed him back to Hallowfields, talked to him again, and in a fit of anger, attacked him?" It was Padgett's question now, and Greer turned to him in disgust.

"That's absurd. Nelson mentioned three villages he's interested in for his factory. We were the first he spoke to, because of my glove firm. He still had two others to visit. One of them has nearer access to the railway. It would suit his purpose much better. But there's less competition in Cambury, and I think that held a great appeal." He shrugged. "Labor would be cheaper here, you see, versus the convenience of the railway for shipping."

"Is it possible that Quarles agreed with Mr. Nelson after all, and you went out as Quarles left and had words with him?" Rutledge asked.

"I don't pursue my guests into the street to harangue them."

"But you failed to inform us that you'd seen the victim on the evening he was killed," Rutledge said.

"I saw no reason to present myself at the police station just to tell them I'd had a dinner guest who later died. You found me soon enough, and as you can see, I was in no way involved with what happened to Harold Quarles."

"Has your staff told you that not only was Quarles murdered, he was also put into the Christmas angel harness and hauled into the rafters of the tithe barn?"

No one had. They could see the shock in Greer's eyes, and the graying of the skin on his face.

"My good God!"

Rutledge waited, saying nothing.

After a moment, Greer went on, "You suspect Nelson of having done such a thing? But how could he know the harness existed? He lives in Manchester." Greer stirred uneasily, as if thinking that should it benefit Nelson to kill one of the objectors to his project, why not make it a clean sweep and kill both?

He reached for the telephone on his desk and asked to be connected to Manchester, and the firm of one R. S. Nelson.

They waited, and in due course, Nelson was brought to the telephone at the other end.

There was a brief conversation, as if Nelson thought Greer was calling to change his position. Then Greer said, "No, I just wanted to ask if you'd spoken to Harold Quarles after you left me on Saturday evening? "

There was a reply at the other end.

Greer said, "No reason in particular. I could see that he was not going to budge. I wondered if you'd felt otherwise."

After a moment, grimacing, he said, "Well, if you must know, Quarles was murdered that night. And the police are here asking if you or I know anything about that, as apparently we're the last people to have seen him alive."

He listened, then said, "I see. I'll wish you a good day."

Hanging up the receiver with some force, Greer said, "He informed me he had no need to turn to murder to see his business prosper, and he'd judged Quarles as the sort who resisted change for the sake of resisting. And he accepted that, because, and I quote, 'I grew up in the north myself, and know a stubborn bastard when I see one.' "

He spoke the words with distaste. "I had no desire to work with that man on Saturday evening, and even less desire to do it now. If you will excuse me, I'm late at my office, and I think there's nothing more I can do to help the police in their inquiry." He stood up, dismissing them.

Rutledge said, "Thank you for your time. You'll still be required to make a statement about events of that evening. If you will give Inspector Padgett the direction of Mr. Nelson in Manchester, he'll ask the police there to take his."

That seemed to please Greer and make up for the unpleasantness of having to present himself at the police station.

He followed them out, and as he closed the gate behind them, he said, "I never liked Harold Quarles, and I've made no pretense of anything else. But I don't resort to murder to settle my differences. I would not have willingly invited the man to dine, most certainly not on a social occasion. Because he doesn't entertain at Hallowfields, it was left to me to invite both men here. I can tell you that my wife didn't join us. It was not that sort of evening."

He nodded and left them standing there.

"Pompous ass," said Padgett, watching Greer walk up the street.

"But he filled in that hour for us. What's left is to find out who argued with Quarles before he reached the corner of the High Street, where Hunter tells us he was alone."

"You believe him then?" Padgett asked. "And Nelson as well?"

"It doesn't appear to be a motive strong enough for what happened at the tithe barn. I hardly see this man Nelson killing someone he had never met before just to rid himself of an obstacle to the site for his factory. Do you?"

"No," Padgett returned grudgingly. "But by God, I'll see to it we have both statements in our hands."

They had reached the High Street themselves now, and in the distance Greer was just walking through a door. "His place of business?" Rutledge asked.