‘He was carving part of a cabinet by hand... and he cut his leg open with the knife. He bled... he tried to reach the door... there was blood all over the floor... pints of it. He’s had cuts sometimes before but this was an artery... Mackie found him.’
‘Oh, no,’ I said in protest.
‘She’s in a terrible state and she won’t let them give her sedatives because of the baby.’
Despite his efforts, tears filled his eyes. He waited for his face to steady, then took out a handkerchief and fiercely blew his nose.
‘Fiona’s with her,’ he said. ‘She’s been marvellous.’ He swallowed. ‘I didn’t want to burden you with this but you’d soon have wondered why Mackie hadn’t come.’
‘That’s the least of things.’
‘I have to go back now, but I wanted to tell you myself.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘There’s so much to see to.’ His voice wavered again. ‘I wish you were there. The horses need to go out. I need your help.’
I wanted very much to give it but he could see I couldn’t.
‘In a few days,’ I said, and he nodded.
‘There has to be an inquest,’ he said wretchedly.
He stayed for a while sitting exhaustedly as if loath to take up his burdens again, postponing the moment when he would have to go back to supporting everyone else. Eventually he sighed deeply, pushed himself to his feet and with a wan smile departed.
Admirable man, Tremayne.
Doone arrived very soon after Tremayne had gone and came straight to the point.
‘Who shot you?’
‘Some kid playing Robin Hood,’ I said.
‘Be serious.’
‘Seriously, I didn’t see.’
He sat in the visitors’ chair and looked at me broodingly.
‘I saw Mr Tremayne Vickers in the car park,’ he said. ‘I suppose he told you their bad news?’
‘Yes. Dreadful for them.’
‘You wouldn’t think, would you,’ he added, ‘that this could be another murder?’
He saw my surprise. ‘I hadn’t thought of it,’ I said.
‘It looks like an accident,’ he said with a certain delicacy, ‘but he was experienced with that knife, was young Mr Vickers, and after Angela Brickell, after Mr Goodhaven, after your little bit of trouble...’ He left the thought hanging and I did nothing to bring it to earth. He sighed after a while and asked how I was feeling.
‘Fine.’
‘Hm.’ He bent down and picked up a carrier that he’d lain on the floor. ‘Thought you might like to see this.’ He drew out a sturdy transparent plastic inner bag and held it up to the light to show me the contents.
An arrow, cut into two pieces.
One half was clean and pale, and the other stained and dark, with a long black section sharpened at the tip.
‘We’ve had our lab take a look at this,’ he said in his sing-song way, ‘but they say there are no distinctive tool marks. It could have been sharpened by any straight blade in the kingdom.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘But charring the point, now, that’s in your books.’
‘And in other books besides mine.’
He nodded. ‘Yesterday morning, at Shellerton House, Mr Tremayne Vickers and young Mr and Mrs Perkin Vickers all told me they’d spent three or four hours looking for you on Monday night. Young Gareth didn’t want them to give up, they said, but Mr Vickers senior told him you’d be all right even if you had got lost. You knew how to look after yourself, he said. They were just about to go home when they found you.’
‘Lucky me.’
He nodded. ‘An inch either way and you’d be history, so I hear. I told them all not to worry, I would go on working with you as soon as you were conscious and we would see our way together to a solution of the whole case.’
‘Did you?’ He took away what breath I still had.
‘Mr Tremayne Vickers said he was delighted.’ He paused. ‘Did you follow that trail of paint towards the clearing they talk about?’
‘Mm.’
‘And was it along the trail that someone shot at you?’
‘Mm.’
‘We’ll be taking a look at it ourselves, I shouldn’t wonder.’
I made no comment and he looked disappointed.
‘You should be wanting your assailant brought to justice.’ Text book words again. ‘You don’t seem to care.’
‘I’m tired,’ I said.
‘You wouldn’t be interested then in the glue.’
‘What glue?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes, glue.’
‘For sticking marble to floorboards,’ he said. ‘We had it analysed. Regular impact adhesive. On sale everywhere. Untraceable.’
‘And the alibis?’
‘We’re working on them, but everyone moved about so much except poor young Mr Vickers, who was in his workroom all the time.’
He seemed to be waiting for me to react, rather as if he’d floated a fly in front of a fish.
I smiled at him a little and displayed no interest. His moustache seemed to droop further from the lack of good results. He rose to go and told me to take care. Good advice, though a bit too late. He would proceed, he said, with his enquiries.
I wished him luck.
‘You’re too quiet,’ he said.
When he’d gone I lay and thought for a long time about poor young Mr Vickers, and of what I should have told Doone, and hadn’t.
Perkin, I thought, was one of the very few people who’d known about the camera and the trail. I’d listened to Gareth tell him in detail on Sunday evening.
Mackie had told Sam Yaeger on Monday morning.
