‘No, well,’ said Mr Pilley with another foolish grin, ‘we sat and talked for a bit and, er . . . ’
‘You had sexual intercourse with Miss Rugg on the back seat of your car.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Well, yes, if you want to put it like that.’ Mr Pilley appeared shocked at such frankness.
‘When you got to Irlam Old Hall, what did you do?’
‘I parked the car outside them iron gates, like, and we said good night. Then Jule got out and went through that little gate what’s in the middle of the big ones, and I drove back to my digs in Creedon. I was in bed by half past eleven, straight I was! You can ask Mrs Clayton.’
‘Why?’ asked Dover, never one to miss a chance of cheap sarcasm. ‘Was she there with you?’
‘Here, there’s no need to be coarse!’ objected Mr Pilley. ‘I only meant. . . ’
‘Oh, never mind,’ snapped Dover crossly. He couldn’t stand people who couldn’t take his jokes. ‘Now, when you were with Miss Rugg, did she last Tuesday evening, or any other time for that matter, say or do anything to indicate that she intended to run away from home or commit suicide, or anything?’
Mr Pilley thought for a moment. ‘No, I can’t say she did. She behaved just like normal. She asked me to get her a couple of petticoats – tangerine colour, she wanted them, it’s this year’s colour, you know-and I said I’d try and have them for Tuesday week – that’s when I was going to be in Creedon again.’
‘Did you have any quarrel or argument with her?’
‘No.’ Gordon Pilley shook his head. ‘Well, I was a bit short with her when I found her painting her finger-nails all over the tea table. I mean, the Regal’s a very respectable place with proper table-cloths and waitresses and everything. It’s not one of these crummy help-yourself joints, you know. I know Jule’s rather common, like, but I thought that was going a bit too far. She was painting ’em green, too.’ Mr Pilley shuddered fastidiously. ‘Fairly put me off my tea, it did. Looked blooming awful, I thought, like a vampire, but it seems she’d just bought the stuff and couldn’t wait to try it. She must have spent a fortune on cosmetics, that girl. Still, it wasn’t a row or anything serious like.’
‘Just a lovers’ tiff, no doubt,’ said Dover, indulging in a bit of elephantine irony.
The questioning went on. Dover took Mr Pilley through his story again and succeeded in getting nothing more of interest. Mr Pilley, not surprisingly perhaps in view of everything, was able to supply the chief inspector with a highly detailed account of every single item of clothing which Juliet was wearing that night. For the underwear he gave, with a superb air of professional detachment, not only the colour but the make, style, size and cost as well. Sergeant MacGregor dutifully wrote down all the details.
At long last Dover gave a disgruntled sigh and looked as though he was about to take his leave. Mr Pilley was sweating slightly and now, seeing an end to his ordeal, relaxed understandably with relief.. Dover noted this and fired, as he always did, a parting shot aimed at the solar plexus, or even lower.
‘How much did Juliet Rugg blackmail you for?’ he demanded abruptly with a terrible, menacing scowl.
‘Eh?’ yelped Mr Pilley.
‘You heard me!’ snarled Dover. ‘How much were you paying her to keep her mouth shut?’
‘I wasn’t paying her nothing!’ howled Mr Pilley. ‘Here, what are you getting at? There was no question of payment between Jule and me. I give her a few presents now and again but that’s all. What the hell do you think I am?’ He bridled at the implied slur on his manhood. ‘I don’t have to pay for it, you know!’
‘I’m suggesting,’ repeated Dover doggedly, ‘that Juliet Rugg was blackmailing you. I want to know how much she got out of you in return for not spilling the beans to your wife!’
‘Oh no,’ wailed Mr Pilley, ‘you’ve got it all wrong, straight you have. Jule never even mentioned my wife. I’m not saying she wasn’t a bit on the greedy side and she certainly stung me a packet on all these suspender belts and things – course I got ’em at cost, but even so. But Jule wasn’t a fool-give credit where it’s due, I say. She knew I’d no money to spare! What do you think I am, a bleeding millionaire? What with the kid and the payments on the furniture and Marge wanting a holiday at Butlin’s this year! God help me, I can hardly keep me head above water as it is! And I’ve got to spend a lot on my clothes, you know, you’ve got to dress snappy in my line of business.’
Dover blew crossly down his nose and scowled at Gordon Pilley, who was now quite pink with indignation.
‘So you deny that Juliet Rugg was blackmailing you?’
‘I do indeed. Definitely!’ said Mr Pilley with dignity,
‘Make a note of that, Sergeant, just in case!’ This was Dover being nasty. His shock tactics hadn’t worked quite so successfully as he’d hoped, but that was no reason for letting Gordon Pilley think he’d got away with it.
There was a long pause while Sergeant MacGregor wrote up his notes, during which Dover stared unblinkingly and ferociously at Mr Pilley. Mr Pilley fidgeted uneasily. He was feeling terribly guilty and knew that he looked it. If only he’d known that they were coming he could have smartened himself up a bit, but getting caught like this, unshaven and in his shirt-sleeves, well, it gave rather a bad impression.
At long last he had his statement read over to him and listened anxiously to Dover’s warning that if it wasn’t the truth he’d better say so now, otherwise it would be the worse for him. With a
