‘You mean that the police suspect Edward? Oh, but that is nonsense! Edward is a most religious man.’
‘How often did Mr James visit your daughter here at weekends?’
‘How often? Oh, one in three or four. He needed his weekends for study. Karen understood that. I did not mind. It was better to have her to myself.’
‘A very discouraging interview, don’t you think?’ asked Laura, when she and Dame Beatrice were on their way home.
‘I noticed that you took little part in it.’
‘Thought I’d better keep out, in case I said the wrong thing. It’s clear she has no suspicions of Edward James, though, isn’t it? One thing – you didn’t let on, I noticed, that we don’t believe Karen was killed where she was found. Is it a police secret?’
‘The Superintendent did not say so, but perhaps the fewer who know the better.’
‘Mightn’t it have stimulated Mrs Schumann to tell us a bit more if you’d told her? While she thinks Karen was killed in those woods she’s naturally flummoxed. She can’t understand her having travelled so far in the time at her disposal.’
‘There is something in what you say. What I want to know now is how Mrs Schumann herself spent the day.’
‘But we know that, don’t we? She took her dog – oh, look here, surely you don’t suspect her of killing her daughter? I believe I asked you that some days ago.’
‘I would like to know from what hour, and for how long, the house was empty that day. I also want to know at what time Miss Schumann left her lodgings that morning and whether she used the car we suspect (but do not know for certain) she possessed. You see the point, of course?’
‘I think so. You believe that Karen Schumann was up to something, and that, if we knew what it was, we might make a guess as to why she had to be killed. But surely you were on the ball when you suggested that Karen and Edward James may have had a more serious row than the two Mrs Schumann mentioned. That being so, it’s very likely that the couple planned to meet at the cottage, knowing that Mrs Schumann would be out, in order to get things settled privately, where nobody would disturb them. My guess is that, instead of a reconciliation taking place, there was a further bust-up, and James – perhaps without really intending to – did for Karen by choking her with the dog-whistle cord and then, not being sure whether she was quite dead, finished off matters by strangling her.’
‘It is a tenable hypothesis. How do you account for the comparatively early hour at which this would have taken place?’
‘Oh, that’s simple. Karen knew the time when her mother was leaving the cottage with the clumber spaniel, but had no idea of when to expect her back, so she played it safe, as she thought, and arranged to get there well before lunch-time.’
(12)
The next interview was with Phillips.
‘So you got nothing new from Mrs Schumann,’ he said. ‘I’ve had another talk with her, too, and I’m sure she’s told us everything she knows. I’ve done my best to jog her memory, but I can’t get anything more, and I’m pretty certain there’s nothing more to get. The only extra bit of information she supplied doesn’t help at all, so far as I can see. I asked her for the address of the house to which she took her stud dog. It’s in Ringwood. I went there, and confirmed with the people that the service was given, and seems to have been successful.’
‘At what time did Mrs Schumann get there?’ Dame Beatrice enquired.
‘As near as they could remember, at about a quarter past twelve. The dog was eager, the bitch willing, so matters did not take long, and Mrs Schumann stayed to lunch and drove herself and the dog away again at half-past two or thereabouts.’
‘So she would have left her cottage …’
‘Roughly speaking, at eleven forty-five, and would have got back to it at about three.’
‘So her daughter must have been dead before she left her cottage.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Phillips, staring. ‘Surely, ma’am, you’re not suggesting …’
‘I am not suggesting anything, Superintendent. I was merely passing a remark.’
‘Well, they say a nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse, ma’am, but I really don’t think we need to nod or to wink in that direction.’
‘Of course not,’ said Dame Beatrice meekly. ‘Have you traced the telephone call which was said by Mrs Schumann to have come from her daughter to inform her of the day’s holiday and to ask whether she would be at home?’
‘Oh, yes, the call has been checked. It was made from the school. The school secretary made it at Miss Schumann’s request, but, of course, she did not stay in the room to overhear what was said.’
‘Is the school telephone in the secretary’s room, then?’
‘The one the staff use, yes, ma’am. There is an extension to the headmaster’s study, of course, and another to the caretaker’s house.’
‘One would think Miss Schumann would have put her own call through. What was the object of getting the secretary to do it, I wonder?’
‘There was a reason for that, ma’am. The secretary now does all the ringing up, whether it’s school business or staff private calls. It seems that the teachers are supposed to pay for private calls, but last year there was such a discrepancy between the telephone account and the money in the kitty – the headmaster and the secretary keep a careful record of all their own calls – that the head decided that staff using the telephone were neglecting to brass up, so now the secretary does all the ringing up, keeps a list of staff calls and charges them up each month when the teachers get paid.
‘An admirable system.’
‘I’ve also
