Chapter Seven
The following day, three investigators went their separate ways from 221B with differing degrees of alacrity.
Jack (after the usual challenge of leaving Mrs Robinson in the early hours of the morning, her efforts to bind him to her boudoir becoming ever more inventive and on one memorable occasion, quite literal) took the list provided by Bill Cooper of guests at the Pallister party and called upon Wing Commander Matthews, with Senior Constable Collins in tow.
The couple lived in a neat little house in Richmond, but it took a few minutes for anyone to answer the door. Jack was reaching to ring the bell a second time when a clearly flustered Matthews answered it himself. Behind him, Jack caught sight of the pretty, blond wife (Velma? Vera, that was it) turning to scurry up the stairs. He didn't think he was mistaken in seeing tears in her eyes.
"Sorry to bother you, Matthews, but I wondered if I could go through the party guest list with you?"
"Of course, Inspector, please – come in."
All courtesy, he showed them to a tidy, if rather cluttered sitting room. He gestured for them to sit, but Jack remained on his feet for a moment.
"Matthews, I must apologise – I couldn't help noticing your wife seems upset?"
The Wing Commander concealed his impatience poorly. "Really, it's nothing, Inspector. She is a little overcome at the news of Pallister's death, that's all. Which is ridiculous given that she only met the man for the first time the day before yesterday. Women!" came the exasperated exclamation.
Above all an honest man, Jack was unable to deny his sympathy with the sentiment, and decided to capitalise upon it.
"He was quite a hit with several of the ladies at the party, I recall – did you know any of the others?"
"Just one of them," admitted Matthews. "The little redhead you may have noticed is the wife of my Squadron Leader, Ed Wright – name's Evie." Jack cast his mind back, and recalled a tall, prematurely balding airman to whom he'd been briefly introduced. "Evie and Vera are friendly, do a lot together." Barely-hidden irritation bubbled to the surface again. "The first thing Vera did when she heard Pallister was dead was telephone Evie."
"I'm sure it was a great shock to everyone," remarked Jack politely. He was starting to find Matthews' attitude to Pallister's death more interesting. Was the man really so oblivious to the suspicion that must hang over him? He decided to test a theory.
"After all, Pallister did a great deal for both Britain and Australia – he was a major influence in the war, I understand? Served on the front line, and received battle honours?"
Matthews was plainly unimpressed.
"Received battle honours and escaped entirely unscathed. What does that tell you, Inspector?"
"That he was either smart, lucky or both?" suggested Jack mildly.
Apparently this was the point at which it did become inappropriate to speak ill of the dead, because Matthews immediately clammed up. A "Perhaps" was all that could be drawn from him and, deciding that he'd gleaned all he could, Jack pulled out the guest list and settled to the tedious task of checking each name with the Wing Commander. Only a handful, according to Matthews, had ever visited the airfield.
Within half an hour, the Inspector and Collins were back in the car.
"Where to, sir?"
"The station, Collins. I said I'd be there for Miss Fisher and Mr Butler when they completed their own enquiries, and I want to work through the connections we've made so far."
Collins let in the clutch and Jack stared unseeingly out of the window. Just how jealous a man was Cedric Matthews?