Colin Forbes - The Main chance

Paula froze inside. This conjured up an aspect of life in the manor she had never dreamt of. Tweed sensed her reaction, spoke quickly to change the subject. `Also,' he said, addressing Warner, 'I understand you drive a green Ford. A witness at Dodd's End,' he continued, making it up, 'saw such a car parked just outside the hamlet. About the time Mrs Carlyle was murdered. And for that evening you – and Crystal – have no alibi. You were supposed to be locked away in this apartment with no one to confirm that.' `I was at a small party in Gladworth,' Crystal snapped. 'I have told you that.'

Not a strong alibi, if one at all,' Paula interjected. 'A girl friend or two would support your statement after you'd asked them to cover for you while you joined a boyfriend in his flat.'

For the first time Crystal went silent. She stood staring at a wall. I could have hit the nail on the head, Paula said to herself.

Warner's large hands were gripping the edge of his desk as though about to leap out of his chair. When he spoke, looking at Tweed with eyes which had no feeling in them, 'Who is this Mrs Carlyle?' he thundered. `She was a lady of flexible morals.' He paused, careful not to mention Marshal. 'There is a direct link with your mother's murder since Mrs Carlyle was murdered using exactly the same kind of weapon. Do you know anyone here who has exceptional mechanical ability when it comes to moulding metal?' `I don't quite follow you,' Warner said quietly. `Someone with the ability and nerve to handle barbed wire, to have the equipment – protective gloves, strong cutters – and able to mould it into any shape required like a sculptor.' `Snape; Warner said promptly. `What are you doing?' Paula asked as they made their way down the main staircase. `I want to accelerate the investigation. The best way to do that is to stir everyone up. Which I'll continue to do.' `You do take risks. At one moment I thought it was going to end up as a physical struggle between you and Warner, plus a cat-fight between me and Crystal' `That's what I mean by stirring things up.' `We were on the edge of violence in that apartment,' Paula persisted. `In other words, I stirred things up there. But when I felt the atmosphere was getting torrid I switched the subject.' `I did notice that. Here's Lavinia.'

She stood at the foot of the staircase, smiling as always. She pointed to the library. `I collected the papers from Snape's cabin myself. They're on the round table.' `I'm most grateful,' Tweed responded. 'Do you read them?' `Every day. Keeps me in contact with the outside world.' She smiled again. 'It reminds me that there is an outside world. I'll leave you in peace now.' `If you can spare me a few minutes,' Tweed suggested, 'I would appreciate you and I having a quiet talk. In the library, if that would suit you.'

Lavinia laughed. She then curtseyed gracefully. 'My turn to be grilled, my lord. Is it an honour to be left to be the last? From what I've heard everyone else has been subjected to your eagle eye'

The three of them went into the library. As Lavinia sat at the round table Paula, tactfully, gathered up the pile of newspapers and headed towards the hall. `I'm sure Tweed would prefer to interview you alone,' she said with a wicked smile. 'I'll take these to my apartment to see what, if anything, has been happening in the world.'

Tweed sat down in a chair facing Lavinia. He had never realized how narrow the table was. As he settled himself he felt his knees touch hers. He pulled back his chair. `Excuse me.' `You have never done anything which has in the least offended me.'

She was still wearing her white polo-necked jumper. She pulled it down tightly over her figure. Her long slim fingers were clasped lightly together, resting on the table. Her pool-like eyes gazed straight into his. Tweed forced himself to meet the hypnotic stare. `Actually…' He cleared his throat, 'you are not the last to be intensively interviewed. I still have Snape.' `Our perfect butler,' she replied ironically. `From your tone I gather you don't trust him.' `We all have our faults.' Her tone was becoming more husky. Her eyes never left his and he still couldn't read their expression. 'I can rely on him always to be near the hall if someone arrives.' `What about his lunchtime?' `He always warns me. He cooks his own meal in his cabin and eats it there.' `He has no friends?' `None that I know of.' `What about everyone else? Surely with the two families someone has a friend?' `I don't think so.' She lifted a hand and pushed her jet-black hair away from her face. 'Strange, isn't it?' Her smile was enticing.

Damn it! Tweed said to himself. She's playing with me. This was the kind of interview he'd never experienced before. In all other interrogations in his career he had broken through by now. He had a sudden idea that might upset her amazing self-control. She leaned closer to him as though aware he had at long last thought of something. `Did you know Warner's late wife?' `Moira was before I came here from Medfords. So I never met her.' `I have been told that she died in a car crash at Hook's Corner. I have also been told her brakes had been tampered with, which could be why she went over the edge. Warner seems to have adjusted to the tragedy quickly.'

Now who told you that?' she asked with a smile. `I'm asking the questions.' `I have the impression we are having a pleasant conversation.'

Tweed was almost speechless. He forced himself to continue meeting her gaze, to detect a flicker. Nothing. It was as though she was controlling the interrogation. He sat up more erect and his voice was sharper. `What about Marshal? You must know he plays around with any attractive available lady, then drops her for the next one. A kind of movable harem.' `I love that last phrase.' She laughed. 'Yes, of course I know about Marshal's roving eye. It's common knowledge. Men are like that. At least some men. By no means all men.' `Well, at least you're not cynical.' `I didn't want you to think I was being personal.' Tweed's mind whirled. She had stopped him in his tracks. He made himself say something. `There's been a second murder. A Mrs Carlyle at a cramped hamlet called Dodd's End. I'm wondering about Marshal. We have a definite connection – the same method was used that was employed on your grandmother.' `I know.'

At last he had her. He became aware his clasped hands had been tightly clenched. He relaxed, leaned closer to her. `So how do you know that?' he snapped. `It's in the newspaper. Today's. Paula can show you.'

Tweed sighed inwardly. She had trumped his ace. Rapidly he listed the other occupants of the manor. While she waited Lavinia leant back and put her arms behind her neck, then stretched her body. A normal reaction, Tweed told himself quickly. She had remained previously in exactly her original position. It was a natural act of exercise. She then leant across the table, her hands lightly interlaced. `I get the impression there is intense rivalry, verging on physical violence at times. What is their relationship? Crystal and Leo,' he said. `Brother and sister.' She smiled to show she wasn't making fun of him. 'The trouble is Crystal is the younger, twenty-eight. She always thinks Leo gets more attention from her father. She doesn't like it.' `Why not?' `Because…' She smiled again. 'She expects plenty of attention from men.' `At times Crystal seems almost savage.' `That's simply her vitality.' `Mrs Grandy,' he said suddenly. 'I admit I've overlooked her. Presumably Bella had her vetted before she employed her. Where does she come from?' `No one knows. She appeared in Gladworth five years ago. She's a marvellous cook, always punctual, acts also as the housekeeper. At 5 a.m. a small group of girls come in from Gladworth. They clean the whole house, leave by 6.30 a.m., which is probably why you've never seen them. We are well organized here.' `One last question, Lavinia.' Tweed paused to see her reaction.