Dover and Mr Freel achieved a joint sigh in unison and there was a short pause while both men silently contemplated the unhappiness of their lot and the general unfairness of life itself. Sergeant MacGregor stared abstractedly at the almost blank pages of his notebook and tried to control the peevish rumbling of his empty stomach,
‘Well, thank you very much, Mr Freel. We won’t keep you any longer. Perhaps, however, we could have a word with your sister before we leave?’
‘Glad to have been some help to you,’ said Mr Freel, rising to his feet. ‘Perhaps you’ll follow me.’ He led them out into the hall again, indicating that they should keep to his side of the white line down the carpet. Somewhat to their surprise he opened the front door and ushered them out.
‘That’s her bell,’ he said, pointing to the one marked A. ‘She’ll come if you ring that. I haven’t,’ he added, ‘spoken to her for fifteen years and I don’t intend to start now. Good afternoon.’ And with that he closed the front door in their faces.
‘Oh, ring the bloody bell, Sergeant,’ growled Dover, ‘and let’s get on with it. I’ve never met so many nuts on one case in my entire life. Wouldn’t surprise me if his blasted sister came down on a broomstick!’
When Amy Freel, however, eventually opened the door she looked surprisingly normal. She was a plumpish, untidy-looking woman wearing a shapeless flowered dress and gold-rimmed spectacles. Dover guessed her to be in her middle fifties and possibly a year or two younger than her brother.
She was obviously delighted to see the two detectives and gushingly conducted them upstairs, smilingly requesting them in the hall to keep to her side of the white line. They were shown into her sitting-room in which every visible item of furniture seemed to have been covered with chintz. What looked like a very substantial afternoon tea lay waiting for them on a low table by the fire.
‘I saw you coming,’ she explained, ‘so I’d time to get it ready for you. I knew you wouldn’t get anything from him. And you haven’t had any lunch either, have you, you poor things! What did you go back to see Mr Bogolepov for? Was it something the Chubb-Smiths told you?’
Amy Freel’s sandwiches were excellent, and very welcome, but Dover had no intention of paying for them by satisfying his hostess’s startlingly well-based curiosity. He plunged once more into the old routine, alternating mouthfuls of food with his tatty stock questions. He got, once again, tatty stock answers. Although Amy Freel clearly spent most of her days peeping out at her neighbours’ doings from behind her sitting-room curtains, she was, regrettably, not indulging in her hobby late on Tuesday night. She was as sorry about this as Dover was.
‘If only I’d known,’ she wailed, ‘that something like this was going to happen! I’d have sat up all night for you. It’s really most frustrating to have Bingo getting all the excitement. And detective stories are my hobby, you know, not hers! She’s more interested in dogs and war memoirs, but I’m the recognized crime expert. Of course Georgie reads a lot of thrillers, but I don’t think those count, really, do you? Besides, she never remembers what she’s read and what she hasn’t. She doesn’t read constructively, like I do.’
‘Did you know Juliet Rugg well?’ asked Dover.
‘No.’ Miss Freel shook her head in regret and passed a plate of cakes around. ‘I doubt if I’ve said more than “good morning” to the girl more than twice in my life. Of course I know all about her reputation, that’s common knowledge. She was very friendly with Michael Chubb-Smith at one stage, you know. His mother was very worried about it. Juliet used to call at her house quite often before the baby was born.’ She cocked an inquiring eye at the chief inspector, who, munching away placidly, didn’t rise to the bait. ‘And, of course, I shudder to think what’s been going on at the Counters’ place. I know Sir John’s as old as the hills but I always say, you know what men are like. I mean, why on earth should he employ a girl with an illegitimate black baby if wasn’t for something like that? I feel so sorry for Eve. Sir John may be a baronet and he may have lots of money, but in my opinion he’s a disgusting old man, and I don’t care who knows it. Some of the things he’s said in my presence – well, I just wouldn’t dare to repeat them.’
‘Good,’ said Dover without thinking, and passed his cup over for a refill.
‘Mind you,’ Miss Freel went happily on, ‘if I’d known Juliet was going to disappear like this I’d have taken much more interest in her. I’d have invited her to tea and had a nice long chat with her. I might have been able to help you then,’ she said with a kindly smile. ‘However, it’s no good crying over spilt milk, is it?’ She leaned forward eagerly in her chair. ‘Now, tell me, what do you really think has happened to her? As I see it, it must be either murder or kidnapping. We can rule suicide out, I’m quite sure of that. She wasn’t the type. And if she’d just run off with some man or other, I’m sure somebody would have reported her whereabouts by now. No, what puzzles me is – where’s the body? She was such a big girl, you know. If something happened to her after Bingo saw her on Tuesday night and before she got back to the Counters – where’s the body? You couldn’t just pick her up in your arms and walk out with her and you couldn’t drive her out in a car because the gates were locked.’
‘Somebody might have
