‘I left before lunchtime. I didn’t see any police.’
‘But you must have heard about the break-in.’
‘I did. But by then it was too late. I’d already sold what I’d found to Mr Whitehead and maybe he’d sold it too. I looked in the shop window and it wasn’t there.’ Brent shrugged. ‘I’d done nothing wrong.’
That much was questionable. But even Chubb would have been forced to admit that Brent’s crime was a very minor one. If, that is, he was telling the truth. ‘Where did you find the buckle?’ he asked.
‘It was in the grass. In front of the house.’
Chubb glanced at Pünd, as if asking for guidance. ‘It would be interesting, I think, to see the exact spot,’ Pünd said.
Chubb agreed and the four of them left together, Brent complaining all the while as he was carried back to Pye Hall. Once again they drove past the Lodge House with its two stone griffins almost seeming to whisper to each other and for a moment Fraser was reminded of the game that the two boys, Robert and Tom Blakiston, had played together at night, the code words that they had rapped out to each other when they were in bed. It suddenly struck him that the game had a significance he had overlooked but before he could mention it to Pünd, they had arrived. Brent called to them to stop and they pulled in about halfway up the drive, opposite the lake.
‘It was over here!’ He led them across the lawn. In front of them the lake stretched out, dank and oily with the woodland behind. Perhaps it was the story that Robert had told them earlier but there was something indisputably evil about it. The brighter the sun, the blacker the water appeared. They stopped about fifteen or twenty feet from the edge, Brent pointing down as if he remembered the exact spot. ‘It was here.’
‘Just lying here?’ Chubb sounded unconvinced.
‘The sun was glinting off it. That’s how I saw it.’
Chubb considered the possibilities. ‘Well, I suppose if someone had been carrying a whole pile of the stuff, if they were on foot and in a hurry, they might have dropped a piece without noticing it.’
‘It is possible.’ Pünd was already working out the angles. He looked back at the driveway, the Lodge House, the front door. ‘And yet it is strange, Detective Inspector. Why would the burglar come this way? He broke into the house through the back …?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then to reach the gate, it would have been faster to continue along the other side of the driveway.’
‘Unless they were heading for Dingle Dell …’ The inspector examined the line of trees with the vicarage somewhere on the other side of the lake. ‘No chance of being seen if they go out through the wood.’
‘That is true,’ Pünd agreed. ‘And yet, you will forgive me, Detective Inspector. You are a thief. You are carrying a great many pieces of silver jewellery and coins. Would you wish to make your way through thick woodland in the middle of the night?’ His eyes settled on the black surface. ‘The lake holds many mysteries,’ he said. ‘I believe it has further stories to tell and wonder if it would be possible for you to arrange an inspection by police divers, I have a suspicion, an idea …’ He shook his head as if dismissing the thought.
‘Divers?’ Chubb shook his head. ‘That’s going to cost a pretty penny or two. What is it exactly you’re hoping to find?’
‘The true reason why Pye Hall was burgled on the same evening as Mary Blakiston’s funeral.’
Chubb nodded. ‘I’ll see to it.’
‘Do you want anything else?’ Brent asked.
‘I will keep you only for a few moments more, Mr Brent. I would like you to show us the door that was broken when the burglary took place.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Brent was relieved that the investigation seemed to be moving away from him. ‘We can cut across through the rose garden.’
‘There is one other question I wish to put to you,’ Pünd said. As they walked, Fraser noticed that the detective was leaning heavily on his stick. ‘I understand that Sir Magnus had made it known to you that he wished to dispense with your employment.’
Brent started as if stung. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Is it true?’
‘Yes.’ The groundsman was scowling now. His whole body seemed to have become stooped, his curly hair flopping over his forehead.
‘Why did you not mention to this to me when we met?’
‘You never asked me.’
Pünd nodded. That was fair enough. ‘Why did he ask you to leave?’
‘I don’t know. But he was always on at me. Mrs Blakiston used to complain about me. Them two! They were like – like Bob and Gladys Grove.’
‘It’s a television programme,’ Fraser said, overhearing. ‘The Grove Family.’
This was exactly the sort of thing that Fraser would know. And which Pünd wouldn’t.
‘When did he tell you?’
‘The day Sir Magnus died.’
In other words, just before the first death.
‘He must have given you a reason.’
‘He gave me no reason. No good reason. I’ve been coming here ever since I was a boy. My father was here before me. And he come out here and just said that was the end of it.’
They had come to the rose garden. It was surrounded by a wall with an entrance that was an arbour shaped out of dark green leaves. Beyond, there was crazy paving, a statue of a cherub, all the different roses, and a bench.
And on the bench, Frances Pye and Jack Dartford were sitting, holding hands, engaged in a passionate kiss.
3
In fact, nobody was really very surprised. It had been obvious to Pünd – and even to Fraser – that Lady Pye and her ex-tennis partner had been conducting an affair. What else could they possibly have been doing in London on the day of the murder? Chubb had known it too and even the guilty parties only seemed mildly put out that they had been discovered in flagrante. It was going to happen sooner or later so why not now? They were still on the bench, sitting slightly apart, facing the three men who stood over them. A smirking Brent had been sent on his way.
‘I think you should explain yourself, Lady Pye,’ Chubb said.
‘There’s nothing really to explain,’ she replied, coolly. ‘Jack and I have been seeing each other for almost two years. That day in London … I was with him the whole time. But there was no shopping, no art galleries. After lunch, we had a room at the Dorchester. Jack stayed with me until about half past five. I left at seven. You can ask them if you don’t believe me.’