Shadow of the Hangman(14)

‘What time would you like me to start, sir?’ asked Ruth.

‘As soon as we quit the building,’ he replied. ‘There’s a lot to do, I fear.’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work, sir.’

‘Then I suggest that you start here in my office.’

She gave a pale smile. ‘I was about to say the same thing, sir.’





When he called at her lodging, Peter Skillen was quick to realise that there were two Anne Horners. The woman’s landlady described her in a way that was markedly at variance with the account given by Esther Ricks. Peter had been led to believe that the necessary woman spent most of her time alone in her rented room. Joan Claydon, the landlady, told a different story. To begin with, it transpired that Anne had disappeared for days before – though always after forewarning Joan. Where her lodger went, the landlady didn’t know but she explained that Anne always fulfilled her duties at the Home Office during her periods away from the house.

‘There is another thing, Mr Skillen,’ added Joan.

‘What was that?’

‘She usually brought a small gift for me.’

‘That was kind of her.’

‘Anne is more of a friend than a lodger.’

‘What of Mrs Ricks?’ asked Peter.

‘She and her sister hardly ever see each other.’

‘That’s not what I was told.’

‘Then you was told wrong, sir,’ said Joan, wagging a finger. ‘Anne never really got on with her sister. When they were younger, Mrs Ricks used to bully her a lot. She was always trying to tell Anne what to do.’

‘Is that why Mrs Horner refused to move in with her sister?’

‘That was one of them.’

Joan Claydon was a large, expressive, motherly woman in her early fifties, surprisingly well groomed in view of her limited resources. As well as coping with two female lodgers in the modest dwelling, she had to nurse a sick husband and look after a medley of pet dogs and cats, yet she did it all without complaint. Even in repose, she seemed to be smiling and positively exuded amiability. Having met her sister, Peter could see why Anne Horner had chosen the companionship of the landlady before that of Esther Ricks. While the sister would have exerted a measure of control over Anne’s life, Joan was much more understanding and tolerant. She simply wanted everyone under her roof to be contented.

‘I suppose that I shouldn’t say this, Mr Skillen,’ she began, lowering her voice to impart a secret, ‘but you might as well know the truth. When Mrs Ricks invited her sister to live there, it wasn’t as a favour.’

‘Why was that, Mrs Claydon?’

‘She expected Anne to pay twice what I ask in rent.’

‘Ah,’ said Peter, ‘so it wasn’t simply a question of filial loyalty.’

Joan blinked. ‘What does that mean, sir?’

‘She wasn’t merely acting out of sisterly love.’

‘Oh, I think that dried up years ago.’

‘Did anyone – apart from Mrs Ricks, that is – call here for Mrs Horner?’

‘No, they didn’t.’

‘So you saw no sign of any … admirers?’

‘I never pried into her private life, Mr Skillen. It’s not my place to do that. On the other hand,’ she said with a confiding glint, ‘you were bound to wonder. I mean, Anne is still a lovely woman and she’s kept her figure – not like Mrs Ricks, for instance. Men would look at her in a way they wouldn’t look at her sister, if you follow me and I’m sure you do. But – hand on heart – I can’t honestly tell you that any of them did more than look.’

After talking to her for several minutes to win her confidence, Peter asked if he might see the missing woman’s room. The landlady became very protective, saying that it would be wrong for anyone – especially a stranger – to conduct a search.

‘It’s something I’d never dream of doing myself,’ she affirmed.

‘My position is somewhat different, Mrs Claydon. My appointed task is to track down Mrs Horner and I need any assistance that I can get. It may be – and this is conjectural, of course – that there is something in her room that might give me a clue as to her whereabouts. Surely, you’d raise no objection if that clue led indirectly to her safe return.’ He could see her resolve weakening. ‘You’re welcome to be present. I’ll touch nothing that you feel is sacrosanct.’

Joan blinked again. ‘That’s another word I don’t know, sir.’

‘You can tell me where it’s indelicate of me to look.’

There was a long pause, as she pursed her lips and weighed everything up in her mind.