lace-edged handkerchief with the initials E.M.T.C. embroidered in one corner. ‘Gosh, this is such fun, Inspector! It’s just like that marvellous programme on television. Oh, what’s it called? Midsomer Murders, that’s it. Now, is it my turn to have a guess?’ She pretends to think for a moment, then says, ‘Could he have been kidnapped, or knocked down in a road accident? Did he drown in the river? Or maybe he just lost his memory and wandered off?’ She shakes her head. ‘No, I can’t guess. It’s beyond me. What do you think happened, Inspector? Do you think you’ll ever find him? Are you going to search for clues?’
He smiles. ‘I think that was all done a long time ago. We’re just tying up loose ends now. I just thought seeing as you appear to have known him in the past, it was worth me asking whether you’d ever seen him again.’
‘Oh, what a pity you haven’t found him! I was so hoping you’d know where he was. Pat, do you know what happened to this poor man?’
Pat rolls her eyes, ‘Of course I don’t. I never even knew the man.’ She looks at Inspector Williams. ‘This is hopeless, isn’t it? Do you want to give up?’
He smiles and closes his notebook. ‘I think we have to assume we’ll never know the full story, but I’ve enough here to write a report. There shouldn’t be any need for me to return, I think.’ He collects his papers and, as he stands to leave, lowers his voice for Pat’s ears alone. ‘And it looks like the guns were just standard-issue. I expect she’s not the only one to have kept a souvenir of that time.’
‘Cluedo,’ calls Evelyn. ‘It’s just like Cluedo. Colonel Mustard in the drawing room. Shall we have another game? I always loved being Miss Scarlet.’
40
Mrs T-C, 18 November 2016
Give Us a Clue
‘Can you help me solve ten across, dear?’ Evelyn is doing the crossword. More to the point, she is trying to convince Pat she can no longer manage to solve the Daily Telegraph cryptic, which has been her daily mental exercise for many years.
‘You know I’ve never been very good at those puzzles,’ Pat says. ‘But let me see what it says.’ She studies the page and reads the clue out loud in a ponderous voice. ‘Leave carrying early paper celebrating the past. Three letters, three more, then five and four.’ She glances at Evelyn, sitting in her armchair with a slight smile on her face. ‘No, I’ve simply no idea what it means. I’ve never understood how to do those darned things.’
‘Oh, what a shame. I’m finding it a bit of a struggle these days.’
‘I don’t know why you still bother with it if you can’t do it any more. You do have to pay for that newspaper, you know, to be delivered here, and they’re not cheap.’
‘But it’s part of my routine, dear. I’ve been doing it for years and years. Since the start of the war, I think. I had a friend who was awfully good at crosswords and she taught me all the little tricks. I don’t know exactly what happened to her, but she was recruited for something that required that kind of ability. And crosswords helped pass the time when we were in air raid shelters and on duty. You ought to try to have a routine, Pat. It gives one’s day structure, dear.’
‘I’ve got plenty of structure in my day, thank you very much. All because of you, Aunt. The police have insisted on searching every wretched part of the house because of the blasted souvenirs you’d kept in those suitcases. I don’t know what else they’re expecting to find. Cyanide capsules? An unexploded bomb perhaps?’
‘Not at Kingsley, dear. They didn’t bomb us out there in the country. It was very dull, though sometimes the Germans dumped the odd bomb on their way home. Alton had one, I think, but we didn’t. London and the big cities had all the Blitz and the unexploded bombs. There certainly won’t be any bombs at our house, you can tell them that from me.’
‘Yes, I know. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, I came here today to tell you that the policeman who was talking to you the other day is coming back again.’ She looks at her watch. ‘In fact, he should be here by now. He says he wants to ask you a few more questions.’
‘Who dear?’
‘The policeman, Inspector Williams, who