Читать книгу A Violent End - Emma Page - Страница 11

There was the sound of a car outside. ‘That’ll be Joan now, with the children,’ Clayton said.

Kelsey went to the window and looked out. Mrs Clayton was sitting in the car, talking over her shoulder to the two children in the back seat. Telling them to go off and play in the garden till they were called, no doubt, prompted by the sight of the police car drawn up behind her husband’s. The children got out of the car and ran off round the side of the house. Mrs Clayton stepped slowly out on to the gravel and walked without haste towards the front door.

When she came in a minute or two later Clayton made to go out to speak to her but a glance from Kelsey stopped him in his tracks.

The Chief went into the front hall. Sergeant Lambert and Clayton followed him. Mrs Clayton was taking off her headscarf, hanging up her jacket. She looked at the three of them without speaking. Her manner was nervous but controlled.

Clayton started to introduce her but she interrupted him. ‘We’ve already met.’ Clayton’s expression altered as he took in the fact that they had already been to the house, had already spoken to his wife. He glanced from one face to the other, wary and alert.

‘I’d like a word with your wife alone,’ Kelsey told him. Sergeant Lambert turned back to the utility room, gesturing Clayton inside ahead of him. Clayton went without protest and Lambert closed the door behind them.

Kelsey took Mrs Clayton along to the kitchen where they both sat down. The delicious smell of cooking sharply reminded the Chief that it was a long time since he had eaten. Outside he could hear the children laughing, calling to each other.

He didn’t mince matters, he asked Mrs Clayton for an account of her husband’s movements the previous evening. She appeared tense and subdued but answered in a straightforward manner.

She hadn’t gone to collect the children from school as usual at the end of the afternoon, she explained, as there was to be a rehearsal after lessons for the Christmas play and the children were to be collected at eight o’clock. She had therefore arranged to spend the afternoon driving round to collect jumble contributions for a sale to be held in aid of the Parent-Teacher Association. She had a list of people who had phoned to say they had jumble to give. She had taken the stuff along to the hall where it was to be stored; several mothers were at work there, examining and sorting.

She had got back home at around seven. Paul came in not very long afterwards, sometime between seven-fifteen and seven-thirty, at a guess. She couldn’t be more precise, she hadn’t looked at the clock. She had been relaxing in front of the television with a cup of tea, tired after her exertions.

‘Is that your husband’s usual time for coming home on a Friday?’ Kelsey asked.

Her fingers plucked at her skirt. ‘He doesn’t have any usual time. It varies a lot. He’s never home before six-thirty but often it’s a good deal later, sometimes nine or ten.’ She was used to it, it had been like that ever since they were married.

Kelsey asked if Paul had appeared in any way agitated, if his clothes were wet or dirty.

‘I didn’t look at him,’ she answered in a flat tone. ‘I heard the front door, I knew it was Paul. I was watching television. I was pretty tired, half dozing. Paul just stuck his head round the door and said he’d be going along to the workshop after he’d had a shower. He’d had something to eat. He sounded just as usual. I said OK. I didn’t even glance round. He closed the door and went upstairs.’

‘Did you see him during the rest of the evening?’

‘I went off at a quarter to eight to pick the children up from school. When we got back I saw the light on in his workshop.’ She and the children knew better than to disturb him in there. She went to bed around ten-thirty. She didn’t know what time Paul had gone to bed. They had separate rooms, had had them since they’d moved to this larger house. It saved him disturbing her when he worked late or got up early as he often did when an idea struck him and he would go down to the workshop for an hour or two before breakfast.

Kelsey asked what her husband had worn the previous day. She pondered before replying. He had gone out in the morning in a business suit, as usual. She couldn’t say which one–he had several and wore them in turn, he never wore the same suit two days running. He always wore a white shirt with a business suit, plain or fine-striped, and there had been a white shirt in the laundry basket this morning, so she assumed that was the one he had worn. She had done the laundry that morning, she never let it accumulate. She couldn’t say if he had worn a coat or jacket over his suit. He had said goodbye to her in the kitchen, she hadn’t seen him leave. He might have picked up a coat or jacket from the hall on his way out.

She didn’t accompany the Chief when he went back to the utility room. She remained where she was, sitting back now, slumped in her chair. She looked pale and tired; she seemed sunk into herself. Kelsey spoke to her as he went from the room but she didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.

In the utility room Sergeant Lambert had taken up his post by the door. Clayton had spent the interval sitting on a tall, padded stool, with his arms folded across his chest and his head lowered; he had made no effort to engage the sergeant in conversation. He looked up as the Chief came in but he didn’t get to his feet.

‘We’ll have the name and address of the customer you called on yesterday on your way home from the exhibition,’ Kelsey told him briskly. Clayton supplied the details.

‘And the times, as exact as possible, when you arrived and left this customer.’

‘I arrived there at ten minutes to six,’ Clayton answered without hesitation. ‘I know that because I’d checked the time, I’d hesitated about calling in. But the customer works on his own account, he often stays late. As I drove up I saw the light on in his office, so I went in. His secretary was still there. She made us some tea and I stayed talking with the customer for half an hour or more.’ They had chatted about business, trade in general, the exhibition.