preferred not to think of the consequences. She hurried out to the garage and took them up to an empty trunk in the attic and locked it. Then she returned to the garage and moved the car over the spot where Wilt had fallen and locked Wilfred and Pickles inside. They would act as a deterrent to any investigation of the place. Somehow she had been sure the police would pay her another visit and she had no wish to answer any more awkward questions.
She need not have worried. The police had checked at the Country Club and Battleby’s alibi seemed authentic. He had been there at least an hour before the fire had broken out and the arson investigators had found no sign of a delayed-action device. Whoever had started the fire, it couldn’t have been the beastly Battleby or Mrs Rottecombe. And they’d got the bloody paedophile on two charges, one of which would put him away for a very long time and ruin the swine’s reputation for life. The Superintendent didn’t care so much about the arson. On the other hand, while he detested Ruthless Ruth, he had to be careful. She was the wife of an influential Member of Parliament who could ask awkward questions in the House about police interrogation methods and harassment. It would pay to be polite to her for the time being. Talking about the fire would give him a chance to study her.
‘I’m extremely sorry to bother you,’ he said when she opened the front door. ‘It’s just that there are some points in the case against Mr Battleby that are bothering us and we thought you might be in a position to enlighten us. We are simply concerned with the fire at the Manor House.’
Ruth Rottecombe hesitated for a moment and decided to be conciliatory. ‘If I can be of any help, I’ll certainly try. You’d better come in.’
She held the door open but the Superintendent was not anxious to enter a house if those damned bull terriers were loose inside. It had taken all his courage to drive up and get out of the car.
‘About those two dogs…’ he began but Mrs Rottecombe reassured him.
‘They are locked in the garage. Do come in.’
They went into the drawing room.
‘Please take a seat.’
The Superintendent sat down hesitantly. This was hardly the reception he’d expected. Mrs Rottecombe pulled up a chair and prepared to answer questions.
The Superintendent picked his words carefully. ‘We have checked with the Club Secretary and he has confirmed that Battleby was at the Country Club playing bridge for nearly an hour before the fire broke out. Secondly, the kitchen door was unlocked. So it was perfectly possible that someone else started the fire.’
‘But that’s impossible. I locked–’ Ruth said before realising she was walking into a trap. ‘I mean, someone must have known where the keys were kept. I hope you don’t think I–’
‘Certainly not,’ said the Superintendent. ‘We know you were at the Club at the same time. No, there’s no suspicion against you. I can guarantee that. What interests us more is a set of footprints in the vegetable garden. They are those of a man who came down from the track behind the house. Now in the mud in the track we’ve also found tyre marks which indicate that a vehicle was parked there and drove off hurriedly some time later on. It begins to look as though the fire was started deliberately by a third party.’
Mrs Rottecombe bridled at that ‘third’. ‘Are you suggesting Bob hired someone to start the fire–’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ said the Superintendent hurriedly. ‘I simply meant that someone, some unknown person, entered the house and caused the fire. We also have
