Colin Watson: Lonelyheart 4122

“If, as you say, she has not been here, you have no need to worry on her account, Mrs Staunch.”

“Yes, but why did...”

Purbright had held up his hand. He was listening intently.

From the back of the house came a small scuffling, fumbling sound. They heard a door being opened.

Mrs Staunch jumped up from her chair, but at once Purbright caught and held her arm.

The back door clicked shut. Someone was walking across the tiled floor of the kitchen.

“Don!” Mrs Staunch shouted. “There are two policemen who are asking a lot of silly questions. We are in here. I wish you would come and tell them that they’re...”

The door from the kitchen was pushed open. There entered a slightly dishevelled, slightly unsteady Miss Teatime.

Mrs Staunch stared, her mouth slowly opening. Then from the mouth came a scream.

“Where’s Don? Where’s my husband? Damn you! Where’s Don?”

She tried to throw herself forward, but Purbright’s grip did not yield.

Miss Teatime gazed at her regretfully.

“I am afraid he is in that cesspool thing down the garden.”

Mrs Staunch’s screams subsided into a low, sobbing howl. Her body folded helplessly across the inspector’s arm.

“I really am very sorry,” said Miss Teatime. “But it was his idea entirely to go waltzing about in the dark with his arms round my waist. The cover was off, you know.”

She turned her sorrowful gaze to Sergeant Love and added, as if for his own special information:

“I bloody nearly fell in myself.”