Here Lies Gloria Mundy

There was also a letter from Anthony Wotton. He wrote that he had telephoned my flat but had no answer. He supposed I was taking a holiday on the strength of the money I had received for the brochures and hoped I had not been spending all my time out on the tiles. When I got back, he and Celia would welcome it if I felt inclined to pay them another visit. There was a postscript:

Dame B has been here again and insisted on seeing Celia and me separately. When we compared notes afterwards, it seemed that she asked both of us to estimate the height of Gloria. Celia said that Gloria was at least two inches shorter than herself. I chanced naming an actual figure and put it at five five, which really comes to about the same thing, as Celia is five six and three-quarters.

I read this and then telephoned Dame Beatrice to say that I was back in London. She responded by saying that Coberley was up on remand in a day or two and that, in view of the evidence which was now available, there was much less chance of his ever being brought to trial unless the police could establish some connection between him and the so-far-unknown deceased.

‘Of course,’ she said in conclusion, ‘the most telling evidence against him now is the fact that he knew where he had placed that impounded dagger, but I doubt whether it will amount to much. The broken window, which nobody disputes, means that some unauthorised person forced an entry, whereas Coberley had a key. Moreover, the dagger was in a wooden box which Coberley had made no attempt to hide — I believe you yourself saw the wooden box when he let you into the old house — and there is every probability that the intruder investigated the contents of the box. Whether the long dagger which Mr Coberley had placed in it was the weapon used to kill Miss Mundy’s deputy I now have strong reason to doubt, as it appears to be beyond dispute that the murder was not committed at the old house or the body burnt there. When can you come to see me?’

‘Is tomorrow too soon?’ I asked. She answered that that would be splendid and that I was to get to the Stone House in time for lunch.

15

Little Progress

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Of course,’ said Dame Beatrice when we met next day, ‘one thing stands out clearly. Miss Mundy must have needed to have it supposed that she was dead. She took some risks to achieve this and at first it seemed that she had succeeded. The first thing which drew my attention to the facts was Miss Brockworth’s assertion that the red and black scorched (but not burnt-up) hair was a wig. This could have been merely a spiteful remark from somebody who, quite obviously, disliked Miss Mundy, but when I challenged the police, the detective-inspector was compelled to admit that Miss Eglantine’s possibly irresponsible statement was correct. The striking coiffure was indeed a wig and was the only means, so far as you and Mr Wotton were concerned, of identifying the body.’

‘But of whom should Gloria have been so scared as to go to such lengths to fake a corpse to look like her own?’ I asked.

‘That has yet to be discovered. There could be two inferences, both of which will have to be examined. She may have feared that the police were on her trail for some crime she had committed earlier, or else she may have a personal enemy of whom she was desperately afraid.’

‘Could be some relative of that Italian who committed suicide on Gloria’s account,’ I said, not really meaning my words to be taken seriously. Dame Beatrice, however, seized upon them.

‘An Italian who committed suicide on Miss Mundy’s account?’ she said. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘I can’t. I had the story at second hand and was given no details. I don’t know how he killed himself or where or even when.’

‘But there was some connection with Miss Mundy. From whom did you get the story?’

‘I don’t remember. I expect Wotton mentioned it. It would have come either from Wotton or McMaster. Nobody else I know would have spoken to me about Gloria. She must have been living with the Italian — he was an artist, it seems — and so got dragged into giving evidence.’

‘There was no suggestion that it was anything but suicide, I suppose? But how should you know, since you had such a brief, undetailed account of it?’

‘Are you wondering whether Gloria murdered the bloke?’ I asked flatly.

‘Well,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘I do not rule out the possibility, since there seems a strong likelihood that she murdered that woman found in the old house at Beeches Lawn.’

‘Well, if the police are of that opinion, it won’t be long before they catch up with her.’

‘London is a good place in which to hide.’

‘She skipped from Trends pretty quickly when she realised that McMaster had recognised her.’

‘That is dependent upon whether she did realise it, but let the inference stand. Do you know whether Mr McMaster has informed the police that he recognised her?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure not. He’s the kind of bloke who would always let the hen partridges fly.’

‘Shades of Peachum, Mr Stratford?’