Typists being beneath one's notice, presumably. "She was to someone."
Mainwaring flushed and sank into the rich, brocade sofa. He lived in a renovated Tudor house at the other end of the High Street from Rookswood. "All right So I rang up that agency-"
"The Smart Girls Secretarial Service-"
"Silly bloody name. I rang them up and made the arrangements. It was merely a favor to Lady Kennington. When I was at Stonington one day, going over the details of the property, she said she needed someone to help clear up her late husband's paperwork. I don't know what it was. Debts, most likely. I take it you've heard about the theft of that necklace of Lord Kennington. That and a few other pieces. Lady Kennington would be a rich woman if she had that lot. The necklace is still going missing, isn't' it?"
"Lady Kennington is hard up; is that why she's selling?"
"I expect so."
"What time did you tell Cora Binns to appear for the appointment?"
"Look, I didn't tell this Binns person anything. I talked to some woman at the agency-wait a minute. They asked me who I'd had in the past and I said I couldn't remember the name." He relaxed a bit, pleased with himself. "There you are, Superintendent; just you contact that agency and talk to whoever it was took the call. That should certainly prove this was nothing more than coincidence."
"We have done. The girl's on holiday at the moment."
Frustrated again, Mainwaring said, "Well, why in hell would this Binns person have been going to Stonington through the Horndean wood?"
"What directions did you give the agency?"
"To take the train to Hertfield. And for them to advance her five pounds for a cab and Lady Kennington would make good."
"Cora Binns didn't take a cab. She took the Littlebourne-Horndean bus. She got off in Littlebourne."
"Well, I don't know anything about that, do I?" His face was suffused with blood.
"Your wife's away, Mr. Mainwaring?" asked Jury, suddenly changing the subject.
It unnerved him even more. His drink stopped halfway to his lips. "Away, yes. Visiting her mother." The relationship obviously didn't sit well with the husband.
"These anonymous letters-you have any ideas about that?"
He almost laughed as he said, "I told your sergeant, no. They're all rubbish, of course."
"You seem very sure. Why? I mean, you might be sure in your own case, but as to, for instance, Dr. Riddley or Ramona Wey?"
Mainwaring didn't like that coupling, that was clear. "That's absurd."
"You'd vouch for the character of each?"
"I certainly-"
What he'd do was interrupted by the rather plummy tones of the door chime, dropping its mellifluous treble into the dark hallway. Mainwaring looked toward the door, rather nervously. "Excuse me, will you?"
It was a woman's voice that came to Jury from the hall, first in normal and then in hushed tones.
II
Ramona Wey held out a hand to Jury which was marble-white and marble-cold. She was wearing a very short black velvet cape over a white wool dress and a fall of jet beads. With that white skin and black helmet of hair, Jury imagined Ramona Wey went in for that black-and-white ensemble rather often. She was a woman, clearly, who strove for dramatic effects; she was trying to have one on Jury right now, and not realizing, as she looked him over carefully, that she was failing. Except, perhaps, for the one effect, probably induced by Jury's memory of Katie O'Brien, lying like the princess beneath the glass bell. Looking at Ramona Wey, he could only think of the queen and the poisoned apple.
Despite the presence of Scotland Yard, she seemed to feel right at home. She knew where the cigarettes were and the drinks cabinet and did not bother waiting to be offered either. Jury inferred it was an announcement of proprietorial rights. When she had supplied herself with cigarette and whiskey, she sank into a comfortable chair by the fire.
"I'm glad you stopped by, Miss Wey," said Jury. Mainwaring wasn't, that was. clear. He obviously realized how her making free with the house would look to police. "You have an antiques shop in Hertfield, I understand."
"Yes. The Jewel Box. I deal most exclusively in antique jewelry and semiprecious stones. You're here about this murder, I expect?"
"You didn't know the woman?"
"Of course not. I told that inspector from Hertfield everything I did know-which was nothing. I supposed she was some stranger, passing through."
"Funny sort of place to pass through, that wood." Jury waited, but Ramona Wey made no further contribution to Jury's speculations; she simply moved her shoulders in a vague sort of way. "Cora Binns was her name."
"Really?" The tone was flat and rather bored.
Such indifference to a bloody murder on her doorstep could only be studied.
"You're one of the people who got an anonymous letter-"
"Yes. They were all rubbish, of course."
"You were seen as having a liaison with both Dr. Riddley and Mr. Mainwaring."
She laughed. "Obviously, whoever wrote them wasn't very observant."
Mainwaring must have picked up a hint of something to come. "Ramona-" He was trying to check her, but failing.
"Oh, don't be silly, Freddie. All the superintendent has to do is check with Stella."
Mainwaring returned to his gloomy contemplation of the fire.
She looked at Jury, waiting for him to ask. He didn't; she was, obviously, only too eager to tell him. "Freddie and Stella are divorcing. That's why she's gone to her mother's. We're planning on marrying."
"Don't stand there looking so ashen, darling," said Ramona Wey to Mainwaring. "It'd have to come out soon, anyway. Besides, it does give us an alibi, doesn't it?" She smiled archly, looking at Jury. "All that ‘where were you on the fatal night' stuff the inspector was asking. Well, we were together, weren't we? He seemed to think that woman's getting murdered had something to do with these poison pen letters. Do you?"
"Indirectly, yes. How long have you been living in Littlebourne, Miss Wey?"
She considered. "Oh, about a year and a half, I suppose. I was very fortunate; my aunt died and left me a bit of money. So, as I've always been interested in old jewelry, I bought up this little shop. I've done rather well, if I do say it."
"You had dealings with Lord Kennington?" That he would bring this up did seem to surprise her. She reached out her glass to Mainwaring for another drink before she answered. "Yes. He had quite a wonderful collection of jewelry. He bought bits and pieces from me over the months-nothing terribly valuable; I don't deal in things like that emerald necklace that got stolen. I expect you heard about the secretary making off with it?" Jury nodded. "Trevor Tree." She looked off.
Mainwaring handed her drink to her and said, "I didn't know you knew him, Ramona."
"Well, I didn't, not well. He came into the shop once or twice for Kennington. I suppose he was handsome in a common sort of way."
Jury doubted Tree's looks being "common" would really put off Ramona, who had a good touch of it herself. "Did you know him, Mr. Mainwaring?"
"No, no, I didn't. He came into Littlebourne a few times, I heard afterwards. Hung about the Blue Boy with one or two of the regulars. Derek Bodenheim, as a matter of fact, who's no stranger to the place. But I doubt the family knew Tree. Why's all this coming up now?"
"This emerald of Kennington's was quite valuable, I understand." She nodded. "Was it such a large stone, or what?"
"No, not large, relatively speaking. But large for its history and its quality. Maybe six or seven carats, twenty-three or more millimeters, I think. It was Egyptian, you see, and flawless. No defects, no irregularities. It was a saturated, intense green-what they call a ‘muzo' green-with a little blue in it. And it was carved. Very old, and very fine. Worth easily a quarter of a million pounds, I'd say."
Jury looked at her. "You seem to have studied it pretty closely."
She returned the look with a cold one of her own. "It is my business, isn't it?"
"What sorts of things did he buy from you?"
She thought for a moment. "Several brooches. Mourning pins, mostly. Some rings, several of those over the months. A lapis lazuli bracelet and necklace. Other odds and ends. I can't remember the whole lot. Anyway, what's that to do with all of this other mess?" She smiled at him, her purplish lip rouge glistening black in the firelight. "Shouldn't you be asking us instead, ‘Where were you on the night of the murder?' "
Jury smiled. "You've told me that." He looked from one to the other. "Together. Where were you on the Tuesday afternoon, two weeks ago?"
Both Mainwaring and Ramona Wey looked at Jury with surprise. "Whatever happened then?" she asked.
FOURTEEN
I
JURY looked at his hand, the one which had just shaken Melrose Plant's, and asked, "Why would you cut off the fingers of one hand, Mr. Plant?"
It was nine-thirty in the Bold Blue Boy as Melrose Plant drew his napkin across his lap, and answered, "You've only just arrived, have neither inquired about the menu nor Aunt Agatha, and you're already talking about hacked-off fingers. You certainly do get down to cases, don't you, even when you're two hours late for dinner. Mrs. O'Brien, who seems kindness itself in spite of her troubles, has kept the kitchen open. Molly, our waitress, showed no similar inclination until I crossed her palm with silver. I have taken the liberty of ordering; I hope you don't mind. They do steak and chips, mullet and chips, plaice and chips. An elaborate menu, to be sure, but I was assisted in my choice by Molly, who informed me that they were out of mullet and the plaice had gone off. Thus I plumped for the steak. How are you, Superintendent? Congratulations on your long overdue promotion."