An Expert in Murder

‘Yes. Walter wrote it all down – it was one of the last things he did. He was so ill by then that I had to help him with it; perhaps that’s why he told me, but I prefer to think he did that because he 226

wanted to. Aubrey came to collect it, and he spoke to Walter. I don’t know what he said but afterwards it seemed that Walter was happy to die. Like he’d found some peace.’

The existence of such a document could well explain why someone had been willing to take the risk of entering Aubrey’s office on the night of his death, Penrose thought; its removal was vital to anyone wanting to protect Vintner’s reputation. He wondered how Josephine’s ordeal fitted into the pattern of events. ‘When did Walter die, Mrs Simmons?’ he asked.

‘In September last year. It was just after that trial, and of course Vintner committed suicide shortly after that. Everyone assumed it was because he lost in court, but it wasn’t that – it was something far deeper. He knew by then that he’d soon be back in the dock.

Vintner was stupid to bring that case with Aubrey on the other side, but he thought he was invincible. It was another way to taunt Aubrey for the past, but it backfired on him. He lost, and Aubrey took the opportunity to make it clear that it was only a matter of time before he’d lose far more. Vintner had no idea that Walter and Aubrey had been in contact, you see, but by then it was too late for him to do anything about it – Walter was beyond threats and Aubrey implied that the police had already been told.

So Vintner took the coward’s way out, but it was Aubrey’s taunt-ing that drove him to it.’

So Vintner had simply been using Josephine to get at Aubrey. All the anguish, all the remorse she had suffered after Vintner’s suicide was because she had been caught up in a deadly game between two men. No wonder Aubrey had been so loyal in his support for Josephine, but how could he have allowed her to assume responsibility for someone’s death when the blood was anywhere but on her hands? Penrose had watched as all the joy had been stripped from Josephine’s success. He had sat with her for hours, trying to convince her that she was not to blame for Vintner’s decision to take his own life – but nobody could tell you that you weren’t responsible for someone’s death; you had to feel it in your heart. If anyone understood that, he did.

‘I kidded myself that Vintner’s suicide would be the end of it,’

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Alice Simmons continued, ‘but of course it wasn’t. Death wasn’t enough for Aubrey – at least not if it came at a time of Vintner’s choosing. Aubrey wanted his name linked to what he’d done, to expose him as a murderer rather than as some sort of broken man who deserved pity. His plan was to bring everything out in the open as soon as Elspeth turned eighteen. He’d put all the money from Richard of Bordeaux in a trust fund for her – I suppose he thought that was some sort of justice with all the trouble that had gone on. She would have come of age next month, but someone was obviously determined that should never happen.’

‘Was there anyone else involved in Arthur’s murder?’

‘No, just Walter and Vintner. No one else knew until Aubrey found out.’

So who on his list could have been close to Vintner? Who would kill to protect his name? In a book, this was the moment when a striking resemblance would suddenly spring to mind, Penrose thought drily, but he would have to do it the hard way, and his heart sank at the thought of tracing endless family trees. Was that why the number for Somerset House was on Aubrey’s blotter, he wondered? Had Aubrey been trying to make the link himself before he died? And had he been successful? At least those questions might be answered in the morning when everyone got back to work after the weekend. In the meantime, he must talk to Josephine to see if she had learned anything about Vintner during the trial. And, just as importantly, to give her some sort of freedom from her unwarranted guilt.

Alice Simmons seemed to read his thoughts. ‘Betty told me about Miss Tey and her kindness to Elspeth,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry she went through what she did because of Vintner. I know there’s no consolation for that, but it will have meant so much to Elspeth to have met her – she so loved her work. Will you tell her that for me?’

Penrose smiled kindly at her. ‘It would be nice if you told her yourself – she’ll want to meet you and talk. And knowing Josephine, that’s exactly what will console her for what she went through.’

‘I’d like to see her. You know, Elspeth always thought I hated the-228

atre but I didn’t. I was just afraid of it. It hurt me so much not to be able to share that with her but I was so scared of her being pulled into another life, one that I couldn’t compete with. I wonder if all women who adopt worry about their happiness being snatched from them, or if it was just because we didn’t do it properly? It was even worse after Walter died and I had to face it on my own, and when Aubrey told me about the trust fund I knew things would never be the same. It would have made her so happy, to be welcomed like that into a world she loved but could only dream of. It’s right that she should have had that chance, but I’d be lying if I said I was glad about it. I thought she’d forget about me, and the love we had was the one thing that made what Walter did bearable. If that went, everything would have been in vain. So much loss and pain and evil, all for nothing.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I knew I’d lose her eventually, but I never expected it to happen like this. I suppose you have to believe in some kind of judgement, though, don’t you?’

‘I don’t think judgement is something we’re entitled to pass, Mrs Simmons,’ Penrose said softly, ‘either on other people or on ourselves. It’s too big a word. But if it helps, I don’t think there’s anything to regret in loving Elspeth or wanting to protect her. I know you feel that Walter did what he did for you, but it was his decision.’

She met his eyes, and Penrose could all but trace every moment of the last forty-eight hours in the lines on her face. ‘That’s kind, Inspector,’ she said. ‘The trouble is, if it meant missing out on those years with Elspeth, I wouldn’t give that boy his life back even if I could, and that is something I’ll be judged for when the time comes.’

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Fourteen

Peace was an infrequent visitor to 66 St Martin’s Lane, but one which Josephine welcomed with open arms whenever it arrived; on a Sunday afternoon, when there was so much for her to think about, it was more eagerly greeted than ever. She looked at her watch, reckoning to have half an hour or so of solitude before she was disturbed – time to collect her thoughts and bring some sort of order to the studio’s chaos. The doorbell rang before she had made much headway with either.

‘Archie! What a nice surprise! I thought you were Marta.’

‘Oh God, are you expecting the redoubtable Miss Fox?’ he asked, feigning a look of horror. ‘Perhaps I should have brought Bill for back-up after all.’

She laughed, and kissed him. ‘I’m afraid she is imminent. I telephoned them earlier to see how things were after last night, but Lydia was out. Marta sounded so down that I found myself asking her over for tea. They’re having problems, I think, and she said she needed to talk.’