“Your old friend Mr Holbein.”
“Fruity Holbein? Don’t tell me you’re going to bring one-armed bandits into the good cause.”
“Indeed, no. Let me explain. It happens that I am blessed with a very progressive committee. I have convinced its members that the efficiency of the organization would be increased enormously by the installation of a computer...”
“Good God!”
“...to say nothing of the prestige such a contrivance would bestow upon them personally. They were very pleased indeed to learn that a computer of modest capacity could be purchased through a friend of mine in the trade for as little as two hundred and fifty pounds. The sum has now been allocated and Mr Holbein has set to work.”
“What on earth does Fruity know about computers?”
“He has assured me,” said Miss Teatime, “that he can produce a very persuasive article. I am not myself mechanically minded, but he did tell me that it was a simple matter of something called pin-table cannibalization.
“But, there”—she uncorked the bottle and replenished their teacups—“we have talked sufficiently about my little interests. Now you must tell me of yourself. How goes”—her voice dropped significantly—“the
“Oh, it’s over,” said Mr Hive breezily. “All but the fellow paying the bill, anyway.”
“A successful termination, of course?”
“By no means—although I don’t blame myself. The parties are reconciled.”
“Oh, what a waste of your time, Mortimer. I hope they are thoroughly ashamed of themselves.”
“I doubt it. One thing I’ve learned—the private eye gets precious little consideration in this country. He’s been given what they nowadays call a bad image.”
“Public ignorance, Mortimer. Public ignorance. What can you expect”—Miss Teatime gazed sternly out of the window—“of a generation brought up to think that life is all cock and candyfloss?”
Over the telephone to Purbright came the impatient, matter-of-fact voice of Dr Fergusson.
“This woman from what-d’you-call-it, Brompton Gardens...”
“Oh, yes, doctor?”
“I thought I’d better give you a tinkle. Something a bit odd. It’ll be in the report, of course, but it might be as well for you to know straight away.”
“I see.”
“She did drown. No doubt about that. No evidence of organic disease—nothing significant, anyway. Time of death—hang on a minute...yes, eleven last night, give or take a bit—before midnight, certainly, but not more than an hour or an hour and a half before...”
“Between ten-thirty and twelve, then?”
“That’s what I said. Yes. Now, then—here’s the queer thing. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well, there’s quite definite bruising on both ankles. A set, a distinct set of five bruises on each. Just at the bottom of the lower leg. And both sets match.”
“Fingers?”
“I’d say there’s not a doubt of it.”
The inspector waited a moment, but Fergusson did not elaborate.
“Any other marks, doctor?”
“Well, I didn’t intend to give you the full report over the phone, you know.”
“Naturally not. I do appreciate your having told me this much. It was just that I wondered if the body showed signs of injury.”
“Bruises are injuries, old man. No, it’s all right, I see what you mean. There were other marks, actually. Knuckles, elbows—abrasions, you know. If what we’re both thinking is true, she must have flayed about a bit, poor soul. And there was a broad bruise just over the diaphragm.”
“Where she hit the wall when she was pushed over...”
“Speculation’s your job, not mine. I don’t think I’d argue on that one, though. Not really.”
Click. Fergusson had quit the line.
Purbright took his tidings to the office of the chief constable. Mr Chubb, gravely nibbling the last of the three wholemeal biscuits that came with his afternoon pot of tea, heard him out in silence. Then, as Purbright had known he would, he shook his head slowly and said: “It sounds an unpleasant business, Mr Purbright.”
“I’m afraid it does, sir.”
“Mind you, I must say it’s very hard to credit. She’s done some splendid work, you know, this woman. My wife knows her well. They were on several committees together. She’ll be upset about this.”
“She was popular, was she—Mrs Palgrove?”
“Oh, I don’t know about popular, exactly—all these good ladies squabble a bit at times, you know. I’ve heard she was inclined to rule the roost. But, good gracious, that’s no reason why anyone should...Brompton
