‘Really?’ said Wing Commander Pile with a sneer.
‘If you’d bashed his head in or held his face down in the mud, nobody would ever have known it was murder, would they? In the conditions after the earthquake, anybody could have had an accident and no questions asked. Just you remember that, laddie, when you get to thinking you’re infallible.’ Wing Commander Pile yawned elaborately behind his hand. ‘Is this going to take much longer?’ he asked.
Dover ignored the interruption. ‘As soon as you were satisfied that Chantry was dead, you nipped off double-quick and joined in with the rescue work like any other public-spirited citizen. All you had to do now was act normal and keep quiet. Everything was going your way. The rain kept pouring down so, if you’d left any traces, they’d all be washed away. And then you got a real bonus – the ground you’d left Chantry on started slipping away down the side of the hill in a sea of mud.’ Dover shook his head sadly. ‘If only you hadn’t been such a fool as to strangle him! It was such an amateurish mistake. We’d neither of us be sitting here now if only you’d used your loaf.’
Wing Commander Pile looked annoyed but said nothing. ‘So there it is,’ said Dover, opening MacGregor’s tin of cigarettes again. ‘And you made nearly as big a botch-up of killing Mrs Boyle, apart from the fact that you murdered the wrong person. I mean, fancy leaving that wire and the screws for forensic to get their greedy paws on! It may take a bit of time but they’ll trace ’em back to you, don’t you worry.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Wing Commander Pile.
‘Think you’ve covered your traces, do you?’
‘There are no traces to cover.’
‘Don’t you kid yourself! With your ham-fisted way of going on, a two-year-old baby’ll be able to pin ’em on to you.’ Dover leaned forward, sociably exhaling a mouthful of smoke in the wing commander’s face. ‘Do you know, if I put my mind to it, I could tell you a dozen ways of making somebody trip down those stairs without writing murder in big letters all over it. And I wouldn’t have turned that landing light out, either.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ said Wing Commander Pile indifferently.
‘’Course not! I’d have found a dud electric light bulb and switched ’em over. ’Strewth, you didn’t even try to make it look like an accident.’
‘I didn’t try to make it look like anything for the simple reason that I had absolutely nothing to do with either the death of my dear friend, Walter Chantry, or of Mrs Boyle. I have, I am afraid, comparatively little knowledge of the law but it is my guess that you would not even obtain a warrant for my arrest on such flimsy grounds. Wild speculation is not evidence – and of this latter commodity you have not so far produced one scrap. If you intend to charge me, go right ahead. I understand one can extract extremely heavy damages from the police in cases of wrongful arrest.’
Superintendent Underbarrow squirmed. What a fool he’d been to let himself get mixed up in this. Pile was keeping as cool as a cucumber. He wasn’t going to crack, not in a month of Sundays he wasn’t. Superintendent Underbarrow had visions of himself being left holding a very nasty baby indeed.
Dover, on the other hand, was quite unperturbed. Admittedly, he hadn’t got Wing Commander Pile grovelling at his feet and begging for mercy but it was early days yet. He confidently anticipated a very different attitude when the going got really dirty. ‘So,’ he said, cocking his head at Wing Commander Pile, ‘you’re not prepared to sign a full confession?’
Wing Commander Pile looked back with a perfectly steady gaze and laughed.
‘It’d be to your advantage,' insisted Dover. ‘Save us raking all that muck up in open court.’
The sardonic twist faded from Wing Commander Pile’s lips. Even from behind, a pessimistic Superintendent Underbarrow could tell that Dover had at last struck oil. The wing commander cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Aw – come off it!’ advised Dover with gruesome good humour. ‘You must take me for a complete Charlie. You shouldn’t have tried to polish me off, you know. In fact, of all the mistakes you’ve made in your life of crime, I reckon that was your biggest. Started me thinking, you see.’
Wing Commander Pile stood up abruptly. ‘I am not going to listen to any more of this.’
Dover grinned unpleasantly. ‘No?’
Wing Commander Pile addressed himself to Superintendent Underbarrow. ‘Kindly stand aside!’
The superintendent eyed him shrewdly and gave Dover the benefit of what little doubt remained. He glanced at the candlestick to make sure that it was within easy reach and then, slowly and deliberately, shook his head.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Dover as his hapless victim sat down again. ‘Now we can start discussing your motive. We needn’t bother our heads about why you had the infernal cheek to try and kill me because that’s obvious. You knew it was only a matter of time before I nabbed you so you hadn’t much choice.’ Wing Commander Pile gritted his teeth and tried, with decreasing expectation of success, to dominate the interview. ‘If it will speed things up at all, I am quite prepared to concede that whoever killed Mr Chantry probably tried to kill you for the reasons you mention. I can only repeat that it was not me.’ He looked at his watch. ‘My daughter is alone in her room. If anything happens
