to tell you that you mustn’t worry, because somehow it would come out what really happened.’
Gretchen said: ‘I would like to see him, when I may.’
Gently nodded, peering into a file of advice notes. ‘There won’t be any difficulty made about that. You can come along with me, if you like. I suppose you didn’t know much about your father’s business affairs, my dear?’
‘Oh no… he did not think that a woman had any part in business.’
‘He was one of the old school… I’m just a child at business matters myself. I spent a couple of hours looking through the firm’s books on Sunday, but I might just as well have had a nap. Why doesn’t somebody think out a way of making book-keeping intelligible?’
Gretchen kept her dark eyes riveted upon him, on edge, trying to gather something of what would come. But Gently seemed to be in no hurry. He prodded and poked, drawer by drawer, sometimes musing over bits and pieces with raised eyebrows, as though he had forgotten Gretchen’s existence. Occasionally he made a remark of no particular significance and once or twice he asked questions about things. For the rest, Gretchen might just as well not have been there and towards the end of Gently’s investigating she began to get impatient.
At last he appeared to have finished. He replaced everything which had been removed except a green card and closed the drawers. The card he handed to Gretchen. ‘Have you seen this before?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘It is an advice card from his suppliers in Holland… this is perhaps the last one.’
‘Do you remember it being received?’
‘I think it came one day my father went to London on business. He picked up his mail as he went out.’
‘There is something scribbled across one of the margins. Would that be your father’s handwriting?’
‘Oh yes. He often made little notes like this.’
‘Have you ever heard that name before — “The Straight Grain Timber Merchants”?’
‘I know nothing of his business…’
‘The name is entirely unfamiliar to you?’
‘Yes… entirely unfamiliar.’
Gently received back the card and put it carefully away in his wallet. He took out a large new bag of peppermint creams. ‘Have one?’ he invited. Gretchen refused. Gently placed half a dozen of them on the desk in line-of-battle and stowed the bag back in his pocket again.
He said: ‘Miss Gretchen, I think it’s time you told me the truth about last Saturday.’
Gretchen started back in her chair. ‘Inspector… what is it you mean? I’ve told you everything!’
Gently shook his head sadly and removed the first of the peppermint creams. He said nothing.
‘But you took it down… everything I said! What more can there be?’
‘First,’ said Gently, swallowing, ‘you didn’t go to the pictures, Miss Gretchen.’
‘But I did… to the Carlton… it was Meet Me in Rio!’
‘Secondly,’ continued Gently, unheeding, ‘the chauffeur, Fisher, was in the habit of visiting you on Saturday afternoons, here, in this house.’
‘You cannot say that, oh no…!’
‘And thirdly,’ proceeded Gently, ‘Fisher did not spend the afternoon at his flat, as he would have us believe. He left it at about two o’clock and returned again at four twenty-two and a half p.m. exactly. In addition to this somebody — and I suggest it was either Fisher or yourself — was seen by your brother at the head of the main stairway when he entered.’
‘But this is… impossible!’
‘There are supplementary facts, Miss Gretchen. Fisher has been your lover since January. You are with child by Fisher. You have refused to see Fisher since the discovery of the crime. Fisher has been hinting that he may soon be boss here. He has also hinted that he has knowledge of the crime unknown to the police. When you have added all that together, Miss Gretchen, you will come to the irresistible conclusion that both you and he spent the Saturday afternoon in this house.’
Gretchen gave a low moan and buried her face in her two plump hands.
‘I can appreciate your feelings,’ said Gently kindly, ‘and believe me, I hate this side of the business almost as much as yourself. But there are some important things which must take the place of personal considerations or there could be no human society. Miss Gretchen, if your brother is to receive justice you must tell the truth. His life is very nearly in your hands.’
‘It isn’t true,’ moaned Gretchen, ‘I can’t help him… it isn’t true!’ and her shoulders heaved with sobbing.
Gently took the second peppermint cream. ‘If you won’t speak,’ he said, ‘you are leaving me with only one possible conclusion. I shall have to think that you are shielding your lover at the expense of your brother’s life and that you are doing it because you can only save his life by accusing your lover… is that what you want me to think?’
Gretchen sprang upright, staring at him. ‘No, no! That is not so — he didn’t do it!’
‘But what else can I think, if you will not tell me the truth?’
‘I tell you he did not do it!’
Gently shrugged and shook his head, made a pattern with the four remaining peppermint creams. Into the comparative quiet of the room broke the distant shriek of a circular saw biting at oak. The sound was mirrored by a quiver that ran through Gretchen’s body. ‘Look!’ she said, ‘I tell you — I tell you the truth about myself!’
Gently’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘I would like the truth about everything you can tell me, Miss Gretchen.’
‘It is about everything… it is the truth…’ She stared at him with wide open eyes, as though she would compel him to believe her by the naked will. ‘You are right, I did not go to the pictures… at least, I did not go in. I just go there to find out about it so I can pretend, that is all.’
‘At what time was this, Miss Gretchen?’
‘I don’t know… about half-past four.’
‘It would be about the time that Fisher returned to his flat… or a little longer, to enable you to reach the Carlton?’
‘He — was — not — there!’ She beat on her knees with her clenched hands. ‘I do not know where he is — if he go out, he go out, but it is not to me. I am the one who was there, in the house… it is me that Peter sees…’
‘Just a moment,’ Gently interrupted, ‘let’s begin at the beginning, shall we? What did you do after lunch?’
‘I told you, I have a wash, then I fetch my coffee from the kitchen and take it to my room.’
‘Was Susan in the kitchen when you fetched your coffee?’
‘But of course.’
‘Did you have any conversation with Susan at that time?’
‘No doubt… we said something.’
‘Did she ask you, for instance, whether you were expecting a visit from Fisher that afternoon?’
‘It may be that she did.’
‘And what did you reply?’
‘Oh… nothing special. I just shrug my shoulders and let her think what she like.’
‘You gave her the impression that he was coming?’
‘I do not know.’
‘It was the afternoon on which he customarily visited you, Miss Gretchen. If you gave Susan the impression that he was not coming, then surely she would have commented on it and perhaps enquired why that was so. Did she do this?’
‘No… I think perhaps she thought he was coming.’
‘Why was it, in fact, that he did not come?’
Gretchen twisted her hands together. ‘How should I know…?’
‘Then you were expecting him?’
‘No! I knew he would not come… I think he told me that the last time, but I forget why.’
‘Had there been a quarrel?’
‘Perhaps it was that.’
‘Had it come to your knowledge that Fisher associated with other women besides yourself?’
The clenched hands pulled apart. ‘I do not know that!’
