Dover’s instructions were eventually executed to his complete satisfaction and a somewhat mixed foursome found themselves settled round the fire. The room was warming up nicely and the tea was black enough to put hair on your chest.
Something, however, still seemed to be lacking and Dover fidgeted about hopefully on his sofa.
Mrs Hooper, saucer-eyed with fright and weariness, nudged her husband who had perched himself protectively on the arm of her chair. ‘You should have brought some biscuits, Colin,’ she whispered timidly.
He frowned warningly at her. ‘They don’t want any biscuits,’ he whispered back.
Which is where he was wrong.
Mr Hooper flounced out of the room and then in again with mounting exasperation showing in every line of his face. Much to his wife’s dismay he had forgotten the best plates and a clean white doily. A whole packet of biscuits – naked, unashamed and sixpence off – was slapped down on the coffee table with the clear implication that those that didn’t like it could lump it.
Dover had a hand out before the coffee table had stopped vibrating.
Colin Hooper nerved himself for a bit of plain speaking. ‘Have you found my father-in-law’s murderer yet?’ he demanded.
‘Not quite,’ said Dover with the air of a cat positively constipated on canary feathers. ‘Not quite.’
‘But you are making some progress?’
‘Some progress,’ agreed Dover, implying that he could say much more were his lips not sealed. ‘I think I can safely say that one or two bits of the jig-saw puzzle are beginning to drop into place.’
Oh, Christ, thought MacGregor irreverently, what are we playing now – Hercules Bloody Poirot?
Millie Hooper was staring at Dover as though he were some obese and malignant idol that needed placating. ‘You’ve not had much time,’ she said.
‘True, true. Mind you, I’m not much of a one for sitting back with my feet up and letting the grass grow under ’em.’
‘I can see that,’ murmured Millie Hooper.
‘But it’s not all rushing around like a scalded clockwork mouse, you know.’ Dover jerked a fat and grimy thumb at MacGregor. ‘That’s where young hopefuls like him make their big mistake. It’s not dust you want to stir up, I tell ’em, it’s your brains!’ He leaned forward to address Mrs Hooper more intimately. ‘I don’t mind telling you I’ve solved more murders just sitting quietly with my eyes closed than you’ve had hot dinners.’
‘Gosh!’ said Millie Hooper.
It was left to Colin Hooper to break up what could have blossomed into a beautiful friendship. ‘Did you want to ask us something special?’
‘Eh?’
‘Well, making a special journey to come round here in the middle of the night, without warning, and . . .’
‘I’ve got my reasons,’ retorted Dover, managing to appear sly and defiant at the same time. ‘Besides, we didn’t make a special journey. I’ve just been having one of my little chats with that crummy bunch of daubers across the street. Most instructive, that was. Call themselves artists? I tell you, scum like that want.. .’
Even Dover noticed that his words were having a remarkable effect upon young Millie Hooper. Her face had not had much colour in it before but now it blanched to a staring white which made her eyes look bigger and rounder than ever. She tried to stifle the groan that rose to her lips by gripping the sleeve of her housecoat with her teeth.
Colin Hooper turned in alarm. ‘Millie, love, what is it?’
She shook her head, unable to answer.
Her distress was catching and it was Colin Hooper’s turn to go pale. ‘Oh, God,’ he cried, ‘it’s not starting already, is it?’ He jumped to his feet and tried to make Millie lie back in the chair. ‘Now, just you stay there, love, and don’t worry about anything. You’ll be all right. Just try and relax, eh? I’ll phone for the doctor right away.’
She summoned up enough strength to stop him before he dashed out of the room. ‘No, Colin, I don’t need the doctor. It’s not that.’
‘Well, what is it, love?’
Millie Hooper closed her eyes and then, helplessly, began to sob.
Her husband dropped on his knees beside her, murmuring vague reassurances. When these didn’t seem to be doing much good he broke off and rounded angrily on Dover. ‘This is all your fault, blast your eyes! Coming round here and frightening the life out of her! Well, I’m warning you, if anything happens to Millie or the baby, I’ll kill you, by God I will!’ Dover helped himself to another biscuit. ‘You want to watch that temper of yours, laddie. It’ll be getting you into trouble one of these days – if it hasn’t already.’
‘You stinking, sadistic old windbag!’ shouted Colin Hooper, losing control and beating his fists on the arm of Millie’s chair, ‘You’ve got thirty seconds to get out of my house!’ Millie Hooper, the tears still dribbling down her face, grabbed her husband’s hands. ‘Oh, Colin, don’t!’ she begged. ‘It’s no good. Can’t you see. He knows.’
Colin Hooper stared at her. ‘He knows?’
‘Why else should he come straight round here. She must have told him.’
Colin Hooper’s shoulders sagged dejectedly. ‘But you said she promised.’
‘I know, and she did, pet, but that was before Dad was murdered, wasn’t it? Things are different now. You can’t blame her really. They probably kept on and on at her until they broke her down.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Colin Hooper grimly, glaring at Dover, ‘bullying women, I should think that’s just about their mark.’ He put his arms round his wife’s shoulders.
Dover passed his empty tea cup to MacGregor for a refill and sat back, quite content to wait until somebody got around to explaining to him what the hell was going on.
‘Did she tell you?’
Dover looked Colin Hooper straight in the
