In short, everything added to the mystery. The police had questioned everyone in Meldrum Slocum who had been connected with the Manor and the Battleby family in the hope that they would know of anyone who was in league with ‘Beat Me Bobby’ to torch the place for him. But Battleby was so thoroughly disliked as a boorish drunk that nothing came of that line of questioning. Had anyone a sufficient grudge against the man? Mrs Meadows nervously admitted that he had sacked her but Mr and Mrs Sawlie were adamant they were with her when the fire started and for an hour before she had been in the pub. Above all the Filipino maid was a major suspect because of the pressurised cans of Oriental Splendour and Rose Blossom which had contributed so explosively to the conflagration, but she had the perfect alibi: it had been her day off and she had spent it applying to become a trainee nurse in Hereford. She hadn’t got back to Meldrum Slocum until the following morning because the train had broken down.
Reading the report, Flint could find nothing to explain the arson or the possible murder of the Shadow Minister. The confusion would never be unravelled. For the first time in his long career as a policeman he began to appreciate Henry Wilt’s refusal to see things in terms of good and evil or black and white. There were grey areas in between and the world was dominated by them to a far greater extent than he had ever imagined. It was a revelation to the Inspector and a liberating one. Outside, the sun shone brightly down. Flint got up and went out into that sunshine and walked cheerfully across the park.
In the summer-house in the back garden at Oakhurst Avenue Wilt sat contentedly, stroking Tibby the tail-less cat happy in the knowledge that this was his own version of Old England and that he would always remain a suburban man. Adventures were for the adventurous and he had strayed from his proper role in life as husband to Eva with her multitude of temporary enthusiasms, and as the father of four uncontrollable girls. He would never again venture from the routine of the Tech, his chats over pints of bitter with Peter Braintree at the Duck and Dragon, and Eva’s complaints that he drank too much and had no ambition. Next year they would go to the Lake District for their summer holiday.
The End
