The Mangle Street Murders Part 9

*Did you see him write it?'

*Yes, and I saw him put it in the envelope and write on that and hand it to his mother-in-law.'

*And how was her demeanour?'

*Very upset, sobbing, at one point she fainted.'

*How did she fall?' I asked.

*Downwards, of course.' The inspector rolled his eyes.

*No, I meant...'

*I had her down as much more self-contained than that,' Sidney Grice broke in, and Inspector Pound snorted.

*She had just lost her daughter and been told that her son-in-law was accused of the murder.'

*But she took his side. Did she not?'

*Most definitely. She told him not to worry. She would get the best help available.'

*And here I am,' Sidney Grice said as the door swung slowly open.

14.

The Hounds of h.e.l.l The man was seated at a table, head on hand and eyes closed. He was under a tall grilled window, side on to us, in a shabby grey suit with a collarless open-necked shirt. A portly constable stood behind him.

*h.e.l.lo, Ashby,' Inspector Pound said, and the man opened his eyes. *You have a visitor.'

The prisoner looked at us and seemed to light up a little. He half stood but the constable put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him down again.

*Mr Grice,' the prisoner said. *I recognize you from your photograph in the newspapers. You must have received my letter. Thank you so much for coming.'

*I am Miss Middleton,' I said. *I am here to help.'

His face lit in a brief strained smile. *I am much in need of that.'

It would have been difficult to guess his age for his face was darkened by stubble and paled by distress, but there was still something boyish about it. Perhaps it was the dark yellow ma.s.s of hair falling into a long fringe over his forehead or the eyes so big and brown, though slightly reddened now. Had I not known differently, I would have judged him to be in his late twenties.

*Fetch two chairs,' Inspector Pound told the constable.

*And a cup of tea would be welcome,' Sidney Grice called after him, and then stood surveying the prisoner for a while.

*Let him stand for a moment,' he said to the inspector. *It is not right to shake hands with a seated man.'

William Ashby rose stiffly to his feet.

*You have a strong grip and a direct gaze,' my guardian told him, *but I have seen many a villain with as honest a face.'

*The world knows me for a decent man.' William Ashby's voice was firm and clear. *I don't think you will find anyone to disagree with that.'

Sidney Grice paused. *Why did you write that letter?'

William Ashby looked puzzled. *To ask for your help, Mr Grice.'

My guardian scoffed. *You will have to do better than that.'

*I cannot do better than the truth.'

*What are you?' Sidney Grice surveyed him head to toe. *Five foot six?'

*I should say so.'

*And are you left- or right-handed?'

*Left.'

*In everything?'

*Pretty well.'

*So you write with your left hand?'

*Yes.'

Somebody was whistling as they walked along the corridor.

*And you hold a knife with your left? When you are eating, I mean.'

*Yes. Always.'

The whistling got louder, then faded.

*Please be seated.'

Sidney Grice put his satchel on the floor, hung his coat carefully over the back of a chair and sat to face the prisoner, placing his notebook on the table between them.

*How old are you, Mr Ashby?'

*Thirty-five in July.'

Sidney Grice wrote something in his notebook, but crossed it out immediately.

*If you wish to celebrate that birthday you had better answer truthfully.'

*You may rely upon that, sir.' He glanced at me.

*Unfortunately for you, I cannot,' Sidney Grice said, *for you have already told me at least one untruth. You are not a fraction over five feet and five inches.'

William Ashby looked aghast.

*But I have not measured myself for years, Mr Grice.'

*It is such a small detail,' I said.

*It is the small details that decide whether a man walks free or to the gallows,' Sidney Grice said. *I do not suppose you told a deliberate lie, but an inaccurate fact is misleading whatever the motive behind it.'

William Ashby put his hands on the table palm down and inhaled deeply.

*I shall try to be more accurate.'

*You are not from round here originally.'

*No. I come from Lancashire.'

*Wigan,' I said, and William Ashby looked surprised. I added, *I know the accent even though you have learned not to drop your H's. I was-'

*Thank you, Miss Middleton,' Sidney Grice broke in.

The constable returned, struggling with two chairs and kicking the door shut behind him.

*No tea then?' Sidney Grice asked and the constable huffed.

*I only have two hands.'

*Even without your police training I had observed that,' Sidney Grice said, *but I also note that they are both free now.'

Inspector Pound nodded to the constable.

*Nice and hot,' Sidney Grice said as the constable lumbered off.

Inspector Pound sat at the end of the table and I between my guardian and the wall.

*And how old was your wife?'

*Sarah was just turned nineteen.'

*So young,' I said, and Sidney Grice asked, *Did you celebrate her birthday?'

*I bought her a pair of cotton gloves.'

*What colour?'

*Brown. I do not see-'

*It is not for you to see.' Sidney Grice's voice flashed with anger. *The barrister who uses all his professional cunning to try to propel you to your grave will not explain the purpose of his questioning. How long had you been married?'

William Ashby met my eyes again in a silent plea.

*I am sorry... one year in April just gone.'

*Happily?'

William Ashby cleared his throat. *Very.'

*Never a cross word?'

*Many a cross word,' William Ashby said, *and all of them regretted then forgotten. Have you ever been in love?'

*With my work,' Sidney Grice said, *and I have an ivory-handled revolver which I am quite fond of. Was this your first marriage?'

The constable returned with a mug of tea.

*Yes. Though I was engaged to be married when I was twenty-three.' William Ashby hung his head for a moment. *She died of the fever.'

*And no one could save her,' Sidney Grice mocked.

*That is a horrible thing to say,' I told him.

*And was your wife's life insured?' my guardian asked, as if I had not spoken.

*Yes. For one hundred pounds with Jonah Insurance. I took out the policy just before Christmas.'

The constable coughed to cover his amus.e.m.e.nt and Sidney Grice made another note, underlined it, and said, *Why so much? Indeed, why any at all?'

William Ashby ran his fingers through his hair. *I don't know. I took advice.'

*From whom?'

*Mr Jonah himself.'

The constable sn.i.g.g.e.red.

*Share the joke, man,' Inspector Pound said.

*He's a bit of a card, old Jonah.' The constable grinned. *Sell you the spit in your mouth, he could. Insurance is his latest trick, but be sure he will never pay a penny out to anyone. He closes his businesses the moment the claims start coming in and opens another the next day.'

I watched William Ashby but his reaction to this news was one of complete indifference.

*I hope you did not do it for the money then,' Sidney Grice said and, for the first time, the prisoner flared. His face reddened and he clenched the edge of the table as if to upturn it.