Gently with the Ladies (Inspector George Gently 13)

Making a firm enemy of Reynolds was about all he’d get out of championing Fazakerly. So there were loose ends and discrepancies – wasn’t it always so, on any case? Were you never surprised by illogical details, even in cases where the main facts were indisputable? Much more important than the position of the pin-rail was Fazakerly’s awareness that the pin had been used, his being seen running down the stairs, the equivocal impression he made. The last especially would weigh with a jury. It had hung more men than had hard fact.
    Reynolds came back in.
    ‘I don’t think it was on, Chief.’
    ‘Never mind about that. Just give me a timetable.’
    ‘Somebody would have seen him from the street . . .’
    ‘We’re wasting time. Let’s get to facts.’
     
    According to medical evidence Clytie Fazakerly had died at between two and four p.m. on the Monday. She was last seen alive, except by Fazakerly, by Mrs Bannister, with whom she had lunch. She left Mrs Bannister’s flat at about two-forty p.m. She was in good spirits; they had planned, in the evening, a visit to a club cabaret in Soho. At three-thirty p.m. Fazakerly returned from his weekend sailing trip. A little later Mrs Bannister heard sounds of an altercation in the flat above. Altercations between the Fazakerlys were not unusual but this one sounded particularly violent and Mrs Bannister came out on her landing the better to hear what was going on. She heard Fazakerly calling his wife names in an angry manner. She also heard Mrs Fazakerly say something like: ‘So you’ll drop this bitch, or I’ll—!’ Soon after that the voices stopped and she heard the slamming of a door, then quick footsteps on the stairs, and she saw Fazakerly running down them. His face was pale and his eyes wild-looking. He didn’t notice Mrs Bannister. Her indicator told her the lift was in use, which she supposed was why Fazakerly was using the stairs. She was concerned, but not alarmed, and decided not to intrude on Mrs Fazakerly. At four-twenty-five p.m. the body was discovered by the Fazakerlys’ housekeeper, a Mrs Lipton, who had a free period on Monday and was not due to arrive until four-thirty p.m. The body was in a sitting position on the settee and the belaying-pin lay on the floor a few feet distant. Mrs Lipton rushed down the stairs and informed Mrs Bannister, who immediately telephoned the police.
    ‘Any signs of a struggle?’ Gently grunted.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Had she tried to defend herself?’
    ‘Apparently not.’
    ‘She’d just been sitting there, suspecting nothing, in the middle of a violent row with her husband?’
    Reynolds was beginning to turn red. ‘We don’t know she was sitting there. She may have been standing up, perhaps she’d turned her back on him. Then he could have caught her and sat her on the settee. He could have stunned her first. We can’t rule it out.
    ‘In that case he must have picked up the belaying-pin earlier, which you can hardly suppose she didn’t notice.’
    ‘He may have concealed it . . .’
    ‘You try concealing it!’
    Well, I don’t know . . . I’m damned sure he did it.’
    ‘Listen,’ Gently said. ‘The voices stop, the door slams and Fazakerly’s running. At the most he’d only have time to dot her once: anything else would be impossible. And then she’d have fallen with a thump, and Mrs Bannister heard no thump. What she’s describing isn’t murder, it’s the conclusion of a row.’
    ‘But with everything else . . .’
    ‘Who was using the lift?’
    Reynolds stared uncomprehendingly. ‘He ran down the stairs—’
    ‘Because the lift was in use! But who was using the lift just then?’
    ‘Well, one of the tenants—’
    ‘Have you checked?’
    Reynolds slowly shook his head.
    ‘If we lay off Fazakerly for a moment,’ Gently said, ‘perhaps we can start seeing some other things straight. For instance, there’s half an hour between when Fazakerly left and when Mrs Lipton discovered the body. Plenty of time for another visitor – and the lift was in use as he was leaving.’
    ‘But there’s nobody else in the picture.’
    ‘Has she left a will?’
    Reynolds nodded.
    ‘So?’
    ‘She’s left a few hundred to the housekeeper, but the bulk of it goes to the woman downstairs.’
    ‘How much?’
    ‘Nearly two hundred thousand.’
    ‘And Fazakerly gets nothing?’
    ‘Not a sou. But just a moment! Mrs Bannister is rolling in it. She’s the widow of Fletcher Bannister, the plastics