bug or two.’
‘I cannot congratulate you upon your choice of metaphor, but your meaning is plain. Why do you think the members of the party have changed their previous statements?’
‘Well, I think you may compliment yourself on that. We believe it was your appearance on the scene which caused panic in the henhouse. Anyway, confessions and retractions have been pouring in and we can do with all the help you can give us.’
‘You would like me to interview them all?’
‘The whole boiling, if you will, and one after one, as my great-aunt used to put it. I expect they’ll kick a bit, but no doubt you’re used to that kind of reaction.’
‘My private patients are all volunteers, but this is scarcely a private matter. Very well, I will do as you ask. Is there any way of keeping them segregated until I have seen them all?’
‘I’ll tell Mowbray to see to that. We don’t want them swapping news and views until you’ve finished with them. The easiest way to make sure they can’t get together is to hold the interviews at the police station. Would you object to that?’
‘Certainly not, in principle; in practice, however, there is the difficulty that I have no idea how long each interview may take. We can scarcely lock them in separate police cells for the night. However, we must hope for the best. What are Mrs Veryan’s plans? She will have to be one of my victims, I suppose, although I have already seen her.’
‘You might like to see her first, then.’
‘Very well. After that I should like the others in this order: my godson, Miss Priscilla, Mrs Saltergate, Tom Hassocks, Miss Fiona, Mr Tynant, Dr Lochlure, Mr Saltergate.’
The Chief Constable wrote the names in a column, showed them to her and then mentioned the two workmen.
‘I do not intend to talk to them at present,’ she said. ‘Later on I may see them, but only if all other approaches fail.’
‘Oh, I agree. It is most unlikely that they can contribute anything. Whatever Saltergate may have said to Veryan (and vice versa) would not have been said in front of the men.’
Nobody else but Laura was present at the interviews. She was there to take shorthand notes and was placed at a table a little apart from Dame Beatrice and whoever Dame Beatrice was questioning.
Grace Veryan this time was composed and businesslike. She said she had been told that everybody was to be interviewed and that she was afraid she was going to be of very little help as a source of information. No, she had no idea that Malpas had been interested in astronomy. He must have taken it up after they had parted. He had never mentioned it when they met.
‘How often did you meet?’ Dame Beatrice enquired. ‘I assume that you refer to meetings after the divorce.’
‘Oh, off and on, quite a number of times. It was always when other people were present, but we had many mutual friends and we made it clear that neither of us would find it in the least embarrassing to meet at their houses. There was no animosity between us. As a matter of fact, Malpas asked me to join him on this dig, but I had already accepted Martha Gwent’s invitation to cruise on her yacht.’
‘Would you have joined him but for that?’
‘No. I should have found another excuse.’
‘Professor Veryan died on Sunday night. When did you say you heard the news?’
‘Not until first thing on Tuesday morning.’
‘Will you ask the policeman on the door to send my godson Monkswood in?’
Bonamy was on his best behaviour. He called his godmother “Dame Beatrice” throughout the interview, sat up straight in his chair, did not so much as glance in Laura’s direction and had even put on a formal suit and a tie.
‘Now, then,’ said Dame Beatrice briskly, ‘I have others to see, so let us despatch you and yours in as short a time as possible. You appear to have no alibi for the night of the murder.’
‘Murder? So it’s called that openly, is it?’
‘Do you care to amend your previous statement?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Why should I?’
‘First, because it may not be the truth.’
‘Oh, look, Dame Beatrice! I mean – well, I
‘Second, because you are exposing yourself to a certain amount of suspicion and, in any case, are not following the general trend if you do not supply me with a better story.’
‘I can’t help that.’
‘I suppose a girl is involved.’
‘Oh, well, dammit, no! You mustn’t take any notice of that blighter Tom.’
‘I am sure that she would prefer to be involved in what might be called her private capacity, than in the full glare of a public appearance in the witness-box.’
Bonamy took his time. He stared thoughtfully at the table-top, looked across at his godmother, looked down again and then laughed.
‘No, Dame Beatrice,’ he said, ‘you don’t bluff me like that. I’m sticking to what I said. I cruised around with
