‘A good thing I’m not given to shedding tears, then!’ retorted his wife. ‘It seemed to me that you spoke those trenchant words with a wealth of sinister meaning behind them.’
‘I shall go to see Mrs Schumann again,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Another heart-to-heart talk with her seems indicated. She must know more about this than she has told us.’
(11)
For a reason known to herself but kept from Laura, Dame Beatrice did not ring up Mrs Schumann, but descended upon her, accompanied by Laura and Fergus, at three o’clock of a cold, cloudy, windy afternoon in December. They found her in one of the outhouses where she kennelled her dogs. It stood at one end of their exercise-paddock and was a reasonably roomy building and, although weatherproof, it was dilapidated and somewhat ramshackle in appearance. A man was with her. They were in animated discussion until Mrs Schumann was aware of the visitors.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Dame Beatrice, insincerely. ‘I am afraid we come at an unfortunate time.’
‘No, no, my dear friend, not at all. You have brought Mrs Gavin’s dog, I see. How nice. You want me to look him over, perhaps?’
‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. He seems in good health.’
‘His spirits are high?’
‘Well, he’s a quiet dog, but he seems quite happy with us.’
‘Leave him with me, and please to go inside. It is cold for you to stand about here. The back door is open, if you will be so good. Please to make yourselves at home. Mrs Gavin knows the way. She has been here before.’
As it was very chilly in the garden, Laura took Dame Beatrice into the cottage. The back door led into a scullery which opened into the kitchen. On the kitchen table were several printed folders. Laura glanced at them in passing. Dame Beatrice gave them closer attention. They were from firms which specialised in properly constructed kennel ranges.
Beyond the kitchen a passage led to the front door, and a couple of rooms opened off this passage. Laura tried the first of these, but it was locked. The second opened into a small sitting-room smelling strongly of dog.
‘I wonder what’s hidden in Bluebeard’s Chamber?’ said Laura lightly. ‘It wasn’t locked when Hamish and I bought the dog.’ She walked to the window and looked out. The view was of a tangle of bushes, a large paddock of unkempt grass and a half-dozen pine trees. Beyond the fence was the Forest. The cottage was a lonely one and a possible inference was that in some part of it or its grounds Karen Schumann had been murdered. ‘I wonder where it happened?’ Laura went on. ‘In that locked room, do you think?’
‘We do not know for certain that this is where the murder took place,’ remonstrated Dame Beatrice. ‘We know only that it was not where the body was found. The room is locked, I expect, because it was the domain of the master of the house and has been kept sacrosanct since his death.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t think that’s the reason, because I remember we were given tea in there. It was smothered in books from floor to ceiling. I had a look at them while Mrs Schumann was getting tea. A pretty mixed bag they were, as regards publication dates, but mostly they were hardly up my street – commentaries on the scriptures, sermons and such – all, or nearly all, in German. I imagine that they belonged to the husband, as you say. He was some kind of parson, wasn’t he?’
‘Mrs Schumann referred to him as a scholar and a pastor.’
‘Wonder how long she’ll be?’
They were not kept waiting. Mrs Schumann came in and apologised for leaving them alone.
‘A man I needed to see. In early spring I re-house my dogs. Expensive, but what? The old sheds, they almost fall down. Besides, nobody will buy my puppies if the place looks so bad. Bad housing, bad dogs, they think. Dame Beatrice, you are a psychiatrist. You believe I am right?’
‘Yes, I think most people are influenced by their surroundings,’ Dame Beatrice agreed. ‘But, tell me, do you not keep a kennel-maid?’
‘No, no, I manage. My Karen helped me at week-ends, in holidays, and so on. Otherwise I manage. My husband did not help, but I did not mind, and now that he is dead, Karen also, the more I have to occupy me the better.’
‘I understand that very well.’
‘Edward tells me you have been to see him. Did you find him helpful? I fear not.’
‘No, we did not find him helpful, although I am sure he did his best. We wondered whether he could help us to reconstruct the manner in which your daughter spent that day. The school was on holiday …’
‘Yes, I told you.’
‘You also told us that your daughter telephoned to find out whether you would be at home.’
‘So. And Edward? He was not with Karen. He spent the day with his work.’
‘Studying in the school library, it seems.’
‘It would be like that, yes. Sometimes I think he paid too little attention to my Karen. It is not a good plan to neglect a young woman. She went out with her friends, perhaps?’
‘If you mean the two young women with whom she shared a flat, Superintendent Phillips has been to see them. It appears that Karen did not go out with them, and gave them little indication of the way in which she proposed to spend her day.’
‘If only she had been with them, or with Edward or with me, this terrible thing would not have happened!’
‘Who can tell? You cannot suggest any reason why your daughter should have telephoned you?’
‘It is simple, is it not? To find out whether I should be at home, but, as I told you, I could not be at home that day. Perhaps you think I should have broken my engagement with my client? But that is not the way to do business.’
‘Of course it
