‘But you’re surely not—I mean . . .’
Here we go, thought Troy, pinching the final biscuit. Altogether now, one, two, three: break-in, break-in. Wasn’t it a break-in? Brian did not let him down.
‘There was no sign of a forced entry, sir,’ replied Barnaby, omitting for the moment the matter of an unsecured kitchen. ‘Would you describe Mr Hadleigh as a cautious person?’
‘In what way?’
‘Might he for instance be likely to open the door to just anyone late at night?’
‘Doubt it. You know what they’re like, the professional classes. Piling up more stuff than any person could possibly need in one lifetime then frightened to death someone else might get a bite of their cherry.’ Troy snorted at the unconscious double entendre then turned his snort into a cough. ‘He’d got a door chain, window locks, burglar alarm. They all have round the Green.’
‘Given the present climate,’ said Barnaby dryly, ‘they’d be foolish to do otherwise.’
‘But all this hardware’s just a challenge to a really enterprising kid,’ cried Brian. ‘I’ve tried to explain this but will they listen?’ He sighed briefly over the intransigence of the bourgeoisie. ‘You should see Laura Hutton’s place - been there yet?’ Barnaby shook his head. ‘Like the Bastille.’
‘She’s probably got a lot of fancy pieces,’ said Troy. ‘Being in the trade, like.’
‘Some trade. Ripping off pensioners then selling the stuff at fifty times the price.’
‘An attractive woman all the same,’ murmured Barnaby, recalling his purchase of Joyce’s footstool.
‘If you like tall redheaded icebergs with more money than they know what to do with.’ If? thought Troy. If ? This man was round the twist. ‘Personally I’ve always found her completely unreal.’
‘You were Mr Hadleigh’s nearest neighbour—’
‘Only geographically. We didn’t mix.’
‘He was a widower, I understand. Would you happen to know if he was . . . well . . . emotionally involved with anyone at the time of his death?’
‘If you mean having it off,’ said Brian, with forthright contempt, ‘why don’t you say so? The answer’s no. At least not with anyone in Midsomer Worthy.’
‘How come you’re so sure, Mr Clapton?’ asked Troy.
‘Easy to see you don’t live in a village. Half the people there’ve got nothing better to do, once they’ve finished the Times crossword and checked their share prices, but stare out of the window. They don’t miss a trick, believe me.’
‘I wonder if there is anything you could tell us about Mr Hadleigh’s background?’
‘A civil servant who had taken early retirement. And we all know what that means. A platinum handshake and a fat pension all out of the taxpayer’s pocket. I’ve no time for people of that ilk.’ He caught the chief inspector’s eye and seemed to read something there that stayed his tongue. He paused, then added, rather awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry that he’s dead, of course.’
‘I’m sure,’ said Barnaby. ‘Now - if we could get back to yesterday evening. You left Plover’s Rest when exactly?’
‘Ten fifteen.’
‘And then?’
‘Home, where else? Marked some essays for the morning and went to bed.’
‘Sleep well?’
‘Oh yes. Do a proper day’s work and you have no trouble dropping off.’
The look he gave them underlined the implication in his words. Barnaby, though he had experienced in his long career tiredness so absolute that, waking or sleeping, he seemed to be trudging endlessly down a dark corridor of exhaustion in iron boots, rode this supercilious attack with ease. Troy took it personally, as he did everything, and reacted as if stung.
‘So, just to recap,’ said Barnaby, ‘you went home, did some checking and went to bed.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Brian shot his cuff and studied his watch. He managed to give the impression that though everyone else in the room might have world enough and time, his own was very tightly structured, crammed with exciting incident and that a plane for LA was standing by even as they spoke.
‘In other words, you did not go out at all?’
‘No.’ After a lengthy pause Brian picked up his cup, put it down again. Coughed. Blew his nose and peered into his hanky before putting it back into his pocket.
‘Mrs Clapton, on the other hand,’ said Sergeant Troy quietly (almost as if musing to himself), ‘seemed to have had a lot of trouble dropping off. She was still awake in the small hours. Heard Max Jennings drive away.’