the asthma but really it was because she was crazy."
"Isn't she certifiable?"
"You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get anyone certified, sir. The doctor did say that if ever he saw her in one of her tantrums he could get an urgency order, but they're cunning, you see. By the time the doctor gets there she's as normal as you or me. She's been into Stowerton once or twice as a voluntary patient. About four years ago she got herself a man friend. The whole place was buzzing with it. Elizabeth was training to be a physiotherapist at the time. Anyway, the upshot of it all was that the boyfriend preferred young Liz."
"Mater pulchra,filia pulchrior," Archery murmured.
"Just as you say, sir. She gave up her training and went to live with him. Mrs. Crilling went off her rocker again and spent six months in Stowerton. When she came out she wouldn't leave the happy couple alone, letters, phone calls, personal appearances, the lot. Liz couldn't stand it so eventually she went back to mother. The boyfriend was in the car trade and he gave her that Mini."
Archery sighed. "I don't know if I ought to tell you this, but you've been very kind to me, you and Mr. Wexford..." Burden felt the stirring of guilt. It wasn't what he would call kind. "Mrs. Crilling said that if Elizabethshe calls her her babywent to prison ... it might mean prison, mightn't it?"
"It might well."
"Then she'd tell you something, you or the prison authorities. I got the impression she'd feel compelled to give you some information Mrs. Crilling wanted kept secret."
"Thank you very much, sir. We shall have to wait and see what time brings forth."
Archery finished his tea. Suddenly he felt like a traitor. Had he betrayed Mrs. Crilling because he wanted to keep in with the police?
"I wondered," he said, justifying himself, "if it could have anything to do with Mrs. Primero's murder. I don't see why Mrs. Crilling couldn't have worn the raincoat and hidden it. You admit yourself she's unbalanced. She was there, she had just as much opportunity as Painter."
Burden shook his head. "What was the motive?"
"Mad people have motives which seem very thin to normal men."
"But she dotes on her daughter in her funny way. She wouldn't have taken the kid with her."
Archery said slowly, "At the trial she said she went over the first time at twenty-five past six. But we've only her word for it. Suppose instead she went at twenty to seven when Painter had already been and gone . Then she took the child back later because no one would believe a killer would wittingly let a child discover a body she knew was there."
"You've missed your vocation, sir," said Burden, getting up. "You should have come in on our lark. You'd have been a superintendent by now."
"I'm letting my fancy run away with me," Archery said. To avoid a repetition of the gentle teasing, he added quickly, changing the subject, "Do you happen to know the visiting times at Stowerton Infirmary?"
"Alice Flower's next on your list, is she? I'd give the matron a ring first, if I were you. Visiting's seven till seven-thirty."
*8*
The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow. Psalm 90. The Burial of the Dead
Alice Flower was eighty-seven, almost as old as her employer had been at the time of her death. A series of strokes had battered her old frame as tempests batter an ancient house, but the house was strong and sturdily built. No gimcrack refinements of decoration or delicacy had ever belonged to it. It had been made to endure wind and weather.
She lay in a narrow high bed in a ward called Honeysuckle. The ward was full of similar old women in similar beds. They had clean pink faces and white hair through which patches of rose-pink scalp showed. Every bed trolley held at least two vases of flowers, the sops to conscience, Archery supposed, of visiting relatives who only had to sit and
"Isn't she certifiable?"
"You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get anyone certified, sir. The doctor did say that if ever he saw her in one of her tantrums he could get an urgency order, but they're cunning, you see. By the time the doctor gets there she's as normal as you or me. She's been into Stowerton once or twice as a voluntary patient. About four years ago she got herself a man friend. The whole place was buzzing with it. Elizabeth was training to be a physiotherapist at the time. Anyway, the upshot of it all was that the boyfriend preferred young Liz."
"Mater pulchra,filia pulchrior," Archery murmured.
"Just as you say, sir. She gave up her training and went to live with him. Mrs. Crilling went off her rocker again and spent six months in Stowerton. When she came out she wouldn't leave the happy couple alone, letters, phone calls, personal appearances, the lot. Liz couldn't stand it so eventually she went back to mother. The boyfriend was in the car trade and he gave her that Mini."
Archery sighed. "I don't know if I ought to tell you this, but you've been very kind to me, you and Mr. Wexford..." Burden felt the stirring of guilt. It wasn't what he would call kind. "Mrs. Crilling said that if Elizabethshe calls her her babywent to prison ... it might mean prison, mightn't it?"
"It might well."
"Then she'd tell you something, you or the prison authorities. I got the impression she'd feel compelled to give you some information Mrs. Crilling wanted kept secret."
"Thank you very much, sir. We shall have to wait and see what time brings forth."
Archery finished his tea. Suddenly he felt like a traitor. Had he betrayed Mrs. Crilling because he wanted to keep in with the police?
"I wondered," he said, justifying himself, "if it could have anything to do with Mrs. Primero's murder. I don't see why Mrs. Crilling couldn't have worn the raincoat and hidden it. You admit yourself she's unbalanced. She was there, she had just as much opportunity as Painter."
Burden shook his head. "What was the motive?"
"Mad people have motives which seem very thin to normal men."
"But she dotes on her daughter in her funny way. She wouldn't have taken the kid with her."
Archery said slowly, "At the trial she said she went over the first time at twenty-five past six. But we've only her word for it. Suppose instead she went at twenty to seven when Painter had already been and gone . Then she took the child back later because no one would believe a killer would wittingly let a child discover a body she knew was there."
"You've missed your vocation, sir," said Burden, getting up. "You should have come in on our lark. You'd have been a superintendent by now."
"I'm letting my fancy run away with me," Archery said. To avoid a repetition of the gentle teasing, he added quickly, changing the subject, "Do you happen to know the visiting times at Stowerton Infirmary?"
"Alice Flower's next on your list, is she? I'd give the matron a ring first, if I were you. Visiting's seven till seven-thirty."
*8*
The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years, yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow. Psalm 90. The Burial of the Dead
Alice Flower was eighty-seven, almost as old as her employer had been at the time of her death. A series of strokes had battered her old frame as tempests batter an ancient house, but the house was strong and sturdily built. No gimcrack refinements of decoration or delicacy had ever belonged to it. It had been made to endure wind and weather.
She lay in a narrow high bed in a ward called Honeysuckle. The ward was full of similar old women in similar beds. They had clean pink faces and white hair through which patches of rose-pink scalp showed. Every bed trolley held at least two vases of flowers, the sops to conscience, Archery supposed, of visiting relatives who only had to sit and
Similar Books
