The Mudflats of the Dead

accepted the invitation with an eagerness which indicated that she was glad not to be alone for the day. As it was she and not her husband whom Dame Beatrice really wanted to talk with, the arrangements suited all parties.

Seated side by side on the back seat of Dame Beatrice’s car, the two women exchanged casual chat and then Morag said,

‘We had some good news by this morning’s post. I don’t know whether we told you that Cupar’s father took him into partnership when he qualified? He died a few months ago and Cupar has now sold the practice and is going in for research, as he has always wanted to do.’

‘How interesting. Research into what?’

‘Heart surgery. He thinks another breakthrough is on the way, and he wants to be one of the team.’

‘How interesting.’

‘Yes. It means moving from London to Lancashire, but I don’t mind that.’

The dining room at The Stadholder was full and in the general buzz of conversation there was little likelihood, Dame Beatrice thought, of her conversation with Morag being overheard, although she doubted whether anybody who did manage to overhear anything would make much out of it.

Morag had refused a cocktail in the lounge, so they went in fairly early to lunch and when they had ordered and the wine had been brought, Dame Beatrice abandoned polite chit-chat and settled down to business.

‘Have you heard from the Kirbys?’ she enquired.

‘Only a short note from Miranda to say that they had been to see Camilla’s flat-mates. A good thing they did, as those girls had heard nothing about her death.’

‘They had not seen a newspaper report?’

‘They don’t read the papers much, I gather. Anyway, I expect, in the London dailies, an accidental death by drowning would only have rated a small paragraph tucked away somewhere. It’s not as though the poor child was anybody important.’

‘I have been interviewed by the Stack Ferry press.’

‘About the drowning?’

‘Well, that was not the original purpose of the interview, but I have invoked the reporter’s help. He suggested that Miss Hoveton St John may have been taken for a sail in somebody’s yacht on the day she came here with Mr Kirby and, at my request, the reporter is following up his own suggestion.’

‘I can’t see that it would help, even if somebody did take her sailing that day. It was long before she was drowned.’

‘Yachtsmen belong to sailing clubs and their boats are registered with such. Yachtsmen can be traced. Whether one of them can tell me anything which will help my enquiry I do not know.’

‘Dame Beatrice, you seem to be taking all this very seriously. Do you think Camilla was murdered? Are you saying that some crazy yachtsman took her out to sea and pushed her overboard?’

‘I am saying nothing of the kind at present. I know that she met her death by drowning, but I know nothing about what happened to her beforehand.’

‘I can tell you one thing, for what it’s worth,’ said Morag. ‘It’s about the suitcase.’

‘Yes? You mean you know where it is?’

‘No, I don’t mean that.’

‘It might help a great deal if we knew where she had deposited it, because we should at least know where she went when she left the cottage.’

‘Well, I haven’t a clue about that. All I know is what I expect people have already told you. Whenever she took her suitcase to wherever it is, she didn’t leave the cottage with it on the night she went off and did not come back, and that was also the night on which Colin Palgrave left us.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I don’t know how much – I mean, how many details – you’ve been given, but to recap, as they say, Colin didn’t want to stay in the cottage after Cupar and I turned up. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like Miranda’s rearrangement of the sleeping quarters; it was because he had once been engaged to me. He felt it was awkward our both staying in the same house. As for the broken engagement, I didn’t mind in the least. I wouldn’t have been happy if I’d married him. I know that now. Of course, I was hurt and humiliated at the time – any girl would have been – but I soon got over it and then Cupar came along.’

‘A happy solution, I am sure.’

‘Yes, it certainly was. It would never have done for me to have married Colin, particularly now.’

‘You refer, no doubt, to the death of Miss St John.’

‘Well, after Colin bathed with her that night, she was never seen alive again, was she?’

‘We cannot be sure that that is so. Certainly nobody has come forward to say he saw her.’

‘Please tell me something, Dame Beatrice. A woman of your eminence doesn’t interest herself in a matter of this sort unless—’

‘Unless she believes that something more than an accident was involved?’

‘Well, yes. Was she murdered?’

‘I am not the Delphic oracle, my dear.’

‘And, if you were, you would give me one of its double-tongued answers, I suppose.’

‘How well you understand me. Let us take a liqueur with our coffee. I must drink to our better acquaintance.’

‘And then I’m afraid I must go. Cupar will be back and he likes to find me there when he gets in.’ But she did not hurry, Dame Beatrice noticed. They took coffee and brandy in the lounge and their chat became desultory. Dame Beatrice thought that Morag was trying to decide whether to disclose some item of important information or whether either discretion or fear was suggesting that she remain silent on the subject she was turning over in her mind.

At last she appeared to make it up. She spoke abruptly, almost disjointedly, as she asked whether Dame Beatrice had made any enquiries at The Stadholder about Camilla’s missing suitcase.

‘No. I changed my mind,’ Dame Beatrice said. ‘Wherever the suitcase is, it is not in this hotel. I am certain of that.’

‘Well, I don’t believe the girl herself took it out of the cottage. In fact, I know she didn’t.’

Dame Beatrice waited for more, but all Morag asked, before they left the lounge and went out to the car, was not put in a serious tone, but in a light, almost amused one which did not deceive the hearer. The question was intended seriously.

‘Do you believe a murderer always returns to the scene of the crime, Dame Beatrice?’

‘In my experience, a good many murderers cannot leave the scene of the crime without exciting suspicion,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Oh, you’re speaking of domestic murders, family affairs,’ said Morag. She sounded relieved.

‘You began a subject you did not finish.’

‘Did I?’

‘It seemed so to me. How do you know that Miss St John did not take her suitcase when she left the cottage?’

‘Because Cupar saw her leave the cottage while I was still out walking. He says she was carrying nothing but a towel.’

‘That has little or no significance. She probably removed the suitcase from the cottage while the rest of you were at the public house.’

‘I only meant that Cupar actually saw her leave the cottage.’

‘That is a most important statement.’ But Dame Beatrice did not disclose wherein its importance lay, or even whether she believed it.

CHAPTER 9

FURTHER INFORMATION

‘One should never take sides in anything, Mr. Kelvil.’