Faintley Speaking

‘I know all this, Mr Trench. Miss Faintley is dead. She was murdered. We have to find her murderer. You agree?’

‘Of course I do. But I can’t help you. What happened was this: Faintley… Miss Faintley, I should say… asked me to go to the public telephone on the evening of the Old Scholars’ party. The time was fixed, and all that, and I went along to the telephone-box, as we’d arranged. I waited for the call. It did not come. I had to get home, and I was not really committed… I did not feel I was committed… to remain beyond the appointed time. So I left the telephone-box and went home.’

‘And you really felt you were fulfilling your obligations?’

‘Of course not,’ replied the wretched man. ‘But how could I have stayed out any longer?’

‘You would know that better than I. Tell me, Mr Trench, what sort of message did you expect to get from Miss Faintley that evening?’

‘I didn’t know what to expect. My salary does not go far, and when Miss Faintley suggested that she was prepared to spend five pounds if I would accept a message, well, it was fixed up between us. I stood in the call-box quite a long time, but she didn’t ring, and so, as it was rather a nasty night, I went home, as I’ve told you, and thought no more about it. I just concluded she had changed her mind, and that I’d got very wet for nothing.’

‘Almost as soon as you left the box, that call came through. It was answered by an impartial witness who had gone to the public call-box on his own account, and accidentally received Miss Faintley’s message. When he heard of her death he went to the police.’

‘My God, then, I’m glad I wasn’t there to take it myself!’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘It wouldn’t do for the police to know I’d telephoned Faintley. They always suspect the worst! I’ve never been in any kind of trouble.’

‘Didn’t you think it odd that a fellow-member of your school staff should offer you five pounds for answering a telephone call?’

‘She said it was a matter of life and death. I took it that some near relative was ill.’

‘And during a matter of life and death, Miss Faintley was at a school party! It won’t do, Mr Trench. You are not doing yourself justice. You are an intelligent man… a professional man. Do you seriously tell me that that is what you thought?’

‘I didn’t trouble to think at all. I needed the money badly, and I was terribly disappointed not to get it. After all, it was no business of mine to worry about what Faintley was up to. I didn’t give a damn! And I’m not answering any more of these questions without a lawyer! Excuse me. I have to get back to my boys.’

‘One moment, Mr Trench,’ said Mrs Bradley; and so formidable was the strength of her personality and so persuasive her beautiful voice that the harassed man halted half-way to the door and turned round. ‘I am not a police officer. I am a psychiatrist and a doctor. Why have you allowed your wife to arrive at her present deplorable state? Why don’t you take her away from Kindleford to some larger, more interesting place? She’s killing herself. You must know that. She has no friends, no interests, here, and that is why she drinks as she does. You don’t even take her on holiday.’

She half-expected a vituperative outburst from Trench. He did open his mouth and he flushed angrily. But then he regained control of himself, stared at the carpet, and said, with difficulty:

‘She’s ruined my life. Why should I do anything for her?’

‘I don’t need to answer that question. Look here, man, you cannot allow her to commit slow suicide. If you do, you are as much of a murderer as the man who killed Miss Faintley. Get her away! Show her some affection instead of the pious horror which you affect! Take her out of herself! If she wants to drink, have people in, and all get drunk together!’

Trench looked up. He had had enough of it.

‘She’s hopeless,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen her, of course, and you know. You’re a — snooper! Keep your — nose out of my affairs, or I’ll…’

‘Yes?’ said Mrs Bradley calmly. She measured him with a mild, professional eye. ‘How many times did you work with Miss Faintley? How convenient has it been to have a wife who was seldom in a condition to ask any questions? What were you doing on all those occasions when you did not attend school functions on the excuse of having an invalid at home?’

There was no doubt about the effect of these questions on Trench. All the hysterical bluster had disappeared. He looked older. His weak chin was shaking with horror. His eyes, as they caught hers, were begging for mercy.

‘I swear,’ he stammered, ‘I swear I had nothing to do with Faintley’s death. I swear it by…’

‘No, don’t trouble,’ said Mrs Bradley briskly. ‘What you had better do is to go straight to the police as soon as school is over, and tell them everything you know. One thing in particular you must tell them. You must tell them that you are the person who met Miss Faintley in the cathedral city of Torbury, and you must explain to them the reason for your visit. I do not say confess to the murder. That might, at this stage, be going a little too far. By the way, I have a little present for you.’ She took out an envelope and produced a small piece of fern. Trench gave a horrified moan. She gave the sagging man a kindly pat on the arm and watched him stumble out of the room. The chisel he flung, as he turned round suddenly at the door, stuck in the wooden window-frame before it fell to the floor. Mrs Bradley darted to the door, slammed it shut behind him, shot the bolt which protected Miss Golightly from unauthorized visitors (especially from members of the staff who brought recalcitrant children to her or complaints against one another) and rang up the police.

Chapter Twelve

CROMLECH DOWN BAY

‘Look like the innocent flower,

But be the serpent under’t.’

shakespeare – Macbeth