The Judas Pair

I realized I should be smiling, so I forced my face into a gruesome ha-ha shape as near as I could. She smiled back.

'You see, Mr. Lovejoy, I never really… well, took to my husband's collecting. It seemed such a waste of time and money.'

I gave my famous shrug, smiling understandingly. 'I suppose one can overdo it,' I lied. As if one could overdo collecting.

'Eric certainly did.'

'Where did he get his items from, Mrs. Field? Of course, I know many of the places, but my friend didn't see very much of him.'

'Through the post, mostly. I was always having to send down to the village post office. I think the case came from Norfolk.'

'What?' I must have stared because she recoiled.

'The box. Weren't you asking about them?'

'Oh, those,' I said, laughing lightly. 'When you said 'case' I thought you meant the cased clock I mentioned.' I forced another light chuckle. Stupid Lovejoy.

'The shiny pistols. I remember that because they were so heavy and the woman at the post office said she'd been there.'

You have to pay for the pleasure of watching a beautiful woman. In kind, of course. Like struggling to understand her train of thought.

'Er, been where, Mrs. Field?'

'To the place in Norfolk. She said, 'Oh, that's where the bird sanctuary is, on the coast.' She'd been there with her family, you see. I tried to remember the name for the police, but they said it didn't really matter.'

'Ah, yes. Well, I never get quite that far, so perhaps… er, one thing more.' I was almost giddy with what she'd told me.

'Yes?'

'What, er, happened to them? Only,' I added hastily, 'in case my friend asks.'

'Well, I don't know.' Any more questions would make her suspicious. 'George asked, and the police asked, but that's the point. When I returned from hospital they were gone.'

'And the rest of the antiques… ?'

'Oh, they were sold. I wasn't really interested, you see, and Eric always said to send them off to a respectable auction if anything happened. He was a very meticulous man,' she informed me primly. I nodded.

He was also a very lucky man, I thought. For a while.

She was waiting for me to go. I racked my exhausted brain. How did the police and these detectives know what questions to ask, I wondered irritably. I knew that as soon as the door closed a hundred points would occur to me. I'm like that.

'Well, thank you, Mrs. Field,' I said, rising. 'I shouldn't really have called, but my friend was on at me about it.'

'Not at all. I'm glad you did. It's always best to have these things sorted out, isn't it?'

'That's what my friend said.'

She came with me to the door, and watched me away down the drive. A priest was walking up as I screeched away from the house, probably on some ghoulish errand. They're never far away from widows, I thought unkindly, but I was feeling somehow let down. I gave him a nod and got a glance back, free of charge. I had an impression of middle age, a keen, thin face, and eyes of an interrogator. Interesting, because I'd thought fire and brimstone weren't policy any more, though fashions do change. I didn't see his cash register.

She gave me a wave in the rearview mirror. I waved back, wondering even as I accelerated out of the landscaped gardens and back among the riffraff whether I could ask her out on some pretext. But I'd now blotted my copybook with all the pretending I'd done. Women don't like that sort of thing, being unreasonable from birth. Very few of them have any natural trust.

It's a terrible way to be.

Chapter 5

Back at the cottage I summed things up, getting madder every minute at those slick so-and-so's on TV that make short work of any crime. I worked out a list in my mind of possible events as I made my tea, two eggs fried in margarine, baked beans with the tin standing in a pan of boiling water, and two of those yoghurt things for afters. I always like a lot of bread and make sandwiches of everything when I've not got company. A pint of tea, no sugar on alternate days because the quacks keep scaring the wits out of you about eating things you like, and I was off.

I sat down at the door to watch the birds fool around while I ate.

I'd learned the pistols were something vital, probably a really good pair, almost certainly Durs, as George said. Shiny, the lovely Muriel had said, and black. No decoration, but a platinum plug for the touchhold. And she'd indicated about fifteen inches long, not too far out. Shiny might mean not cross- or star-hatched, as Durs did his, but some of his early pieces were known unhatched, so that was still all right. Black, shiny, ugly… well, the poor lady was still probably slightly deranged after her shock. Cased. And Brother George had said there were accessories in it. And bought by post from Norfolk, near a coastal bird resort.

All Eric's stuff had been sold, but George was certain the flinters weren't there when he discovered his brother. And if they'd been hidden anywhere in the house, presumably Muriel would have come across them by now.

I finished my meal and sat drinking tea. It was afternoon, and the sun threw oblique shadows across the grass.