Ellis Peters - George Felse 02 - Death and the Joyful Woman by Ellis Peters Page A

an instant good impression upon him. However, he went through the motions of scepticism; he wouldn’t commit himself to believing absolutely in her until he’d called Grocott, who was back in the office by now waiting for the telephone to ring.
    The call tended to confirm his view that Jean was honest, and her testimony reliable. Young Leslie, called discreetly into conference from his dusty warehouse behind the big shop in Duke Street, had told a story which tallied at all points with his wife’s. Instead of going straight back after posting his letters he’d gone for a walk round by the park. He hadn’t been away quite half an hour, because he was certain the church clock hadn’t struck ten when he let himself into the house again. All very simple and entirely probable, and there had certainly been no contact between husband and wife. Yet the result, perversely, was to make George turn and take another look at his dispositions; and there was still room for doubt. As Jean had so unwisely revealed that she knew, Duckett’s bald statement was in the noon papers. Armiger had been found dead last night on the premises of The Jolly Barmaid with severe head injuries; foul play was, by implication, taken for granted, though Duckett had avoided committing himself. That was enough to alert both the dispossessed son and his fiercely loyal wife; guilty or innocent, they would know they must shortly account for their movements on that evening, guilty or innocent they might find themselves without a surety except each other, and make haste to co-ordinate the details of their story before the questions were asked. There’d been time for a telephone call between the appearance of the early editions on the streets and George’s two-thirty deadline. Depressed, George searched for the vindicating detail which should justify him in throwing this doubt overboard, but he couldn’t find one. Given the intelligence Jean certainly did not lack, there could have been collusion.
    “How did he look?”
    “Not too bad. A bit shocked, naturally, but he didn’t pretend they’d been on good terms, or that he was terribly cut up. Even if he was, actually, he wouldn’t let you see it. A very reserved chap, and a bit on the defensive, too.”
    “Scared?”
    “I wouldn’t say scared. But he’s well aware that he’s in a spot to attract, shall we say, the unwelcome attentions of the nosy public as well as ours. He’s no fool, and he knows his affairs are common property. Knows his strongest card is that he had nothing to gain by killing his dad, too.”
    “Did he take pains to call your attention to the fact?”
    “You underestimate him,” said Grocott with a short laugh. “He’s giving us credit for seeing that much ourselves. He just seemed to me to be leaning back on it for reassurance every time the going looked a bit rough.”
    “How does he get on with the drivers and warehouse men?” asked George curiously. Such little communities don’t always take kindly to young men of superior education and manners accidentally dropped among them, especially if the alien tends to keep himself to himself.
    “Surprisingly well. They seem to like him, call him Les, and let him mull in with them or keep quiet according to how he feels. Main thing is, I think, that there’s nothing phoney about him. He doesn’t try to be hail-fellow-well-met or drop his accent and pick up theirs. They’d soon freeze him out if he did, but he’s a lot too sensible for that. Or too proud. Either way it’s worked out to his advantage.”
    The picture that emerged, thought George as he walked back to his car, was an attractive one, but he had to beware of being disarmed by that into writing off Leslie Armiger as innocent. Money is not the only motive for killing. There on one side was the heiress, already so wealthy that the money motive was no motive at all, and on the other side this young couple, very poor indeed but with nothing whatever to gain by