Chapter 22 Chapter Twenty Two

The interrogation is over.It was just a formality, and while forewarned, there was still a feeling of anticlimactic resentment in almost everyone. The police department announced a two-week adjournment. Gerda and Mrs. Paterson had come from London in a hired car.In a black dress and an ill-fitting hat, she looked tense and confused. Just as she was about to get back into the car, Mrs Angkatell came up to her and she stopped. "How are you, Gerda, dear? I hope, you slept well. I think it's going to go as well as we'd like, doesn't it? What a pity, but I fully understand how sad this turn of events can be."

Mrs. Patterson looked at her sister complainingly because she hadn't made the proper introduction.She said in her cheerful voice: "It was Miss Collins' idea - to drive straight back. Expensive, of course, but we think it's worth it." "Oh, how I agree with you." Mrs. Patterson lowered her voice. "I'm going to take Gerda and the children straight to Coxhill. She needs rest and quiet. Those journalists! You don't know, they're literally flocking to Harley Street." A young man took a picture of them.Elsie Patterson pushed her sister into the car and drove away.

Others had only a fleeting impression of Gerda's face beneath the ill-conforming hat brim.It was empty, lost—she looked like a retarded child in that moment. Mitch Hardcastle sighed softly and whispered: "Poor guy." Edward said angrily: "What did everyone see in Krystal? That miserable woman looked completely heartbroken." "Her heart is totally with him," Mickey said. "But why? He's a selfish type, in a way a good mate, but—" He paused.Then he asked, "What do you think of him, Mitch?" "Me!" Mickey considered, and finally she said, "I think I respect him." Even she was quite surprised at her own words.

"Respect him? Why?" "Well, he's good at his job." "Do you think of him from the perspective of a doctor!" "yes." There is no time to say more. Henrietta will drive Mickey back to London in her own car.Edward will rush back to Hollow Manor for lunch, and then take the afternoon train with David.He said vaguely to Mitch, "You'll have to come out and have lunch with me someday," and Mitch said it would be great, but she couldn't be away for more than an hour.Edward gave her a charming smile, and said: "Oh, that's a special reason. I'm sure they'll understand."

Then he walked to Henrietta. "I'll call you, Henrietta." "Okay, fight, Edward. But I'll probably be out most of the time." "outside?" She gave him a quick, mocking smile. "Keep my sorrows at bay. You don't want me sitting at home moping, do you?" He said slowly, "I don't quite understand you these days, Henrietta. You seem to be a different person." Her face softened."My dear Edward," she said unexpectedly, and took his arm quickly and firmly. Then she turned to Lucy Angkatell. "I can come back if I want, can you, Lucy?"

Lucy Angkatell said, "Of course, dear. And there's going to be a trial here in at least two weeks." Henrietta walked to where she parked.Her and Mickey's suitcases were already in there. They got in the car and drove off. The car climbed up the long mountain road and came to the road on the ridge.Below them was a leaf of brown and gold quivering in the cold of the gray autumn day. Mickey suddenly said: "I'm glad to be away - even away from Lucy. Even though she's cute, sometimes she makes me shudder." Henrietta looked intently in the rearview mirror.

She said rather casually: "Lucy has a characteristic coloratura voice—even when dealing with murder." "You know, murder never occurred to me before." "Why should you have thought about it? It's not something people think about, in a crossword puzzle it's a six-letter word, or something pleasant on the cover of a book. But in reality—" She stopped.Mitch finished the sentence for her: "It's real. That's what scares a man." Henrietta says: "You needn't be afraid, you're outside of it. Maybe there's only one of us who's afraid."

Mitch says: "We're all on the sidelines now. We're all out." Henrietta muttered: "Are we?" She was looking in the rearview mirror again.Suddenly she put her foot on the accelerator, and the car sped up immediately.She glanced at the speedometer. It was already over fifty miles, and the pointer pointed to sixty miles in an instant. Mitch looks sideways at Henrietta's profile.It doesn't look like you're driving recklessly.She likes high speeds, but the winding road is hardly suitable for their speed.A smile played on Henrietta's lips. She said, "Look over your shoulder, Mitch. See that car behind you?"

"What's wrong?" "It's a Ventura Type Ten." "Really?" Mitch wasn't particularly interested. "They're the kind of small cars that are useful, fuel-efficient, all-terrain, but not fast." "Not fast?" Strange, thought Mitch, that Henrietta had always been so obsessed with those cars and how they performed. "As I said, they're not fast--but that car, Mitch, kept us at a distance even when we got to sixty miles." Mitch turned his face to her in surprise. "Do you mean--" Henrietta nodded. "I believe it was the police who put a special engine on a very ordinary looking car."

Mitch says: "You mean they're still spying on all of us?" "It seems pretty obvious." Mickey trembled. "Henrietta, can you understand the significance of the second gun in this case?" "No, but it clears Gerda. But it doesn't seem to add anything beyond that." "But if it's one of Henry's guns—" "We don't know it is. It hasn't been found, remember that." "That's true. It's quite possible it was someone out there. You know who I think killed John, Henrietta? The woman." "Veronica Clay?"

"right." Henrietta was silent.With her eyes fixed on the road ahead, she continued driving. "Don't you think it's possible?" Mitch insisted. "Possibly, yes," said Henrietta slowly. "Then you don't think—" "It's no use thinking about a thing just because you want to think about it. That's the perfect solution - freeing us all from suspicion!" "Us? But—" "We're all involved - all of us. Even you, Mitch, dear - they're struggling to come up with a motive for you shooting John. Of course I'd love to be Veronica. Nothing I couldn't be happier to see her put on that lovely performance in the dock!" Mitch gave her a quick look. "Tell me, Henrietta, does all this fill you with vengeance?" "You mean—" Henrietta paused a moment—"because I love John?" "yes." When Mickey speaks, she realizes with a slight shock that this stark reality is being spoken for the first time.It has long been accepted by all of them, Lucy and Henry, Mickey and even Edward, everyone knows that Henrietta loves John Crystal, but no one has ever mentioned this fact indirectly in words before . Henrietta seemed to be thinking, and there was a pause in the conversation.Then she said in her thoughtful voice: "I can't explain to you how I feel. Maybe I don't know either." They are now exercising on the Albert Bridge. Henrietta says: "You'd better come to the sculpture room with me. We'll have a cup of tea, and then I'll drive you back to your dorm." It was a short afternoon in London, and the light was already fading.They drove to the door of the sculpture room, and Henrietta put the key in the lock.She went in and turned on the light. "It's cold," she said. "We'd better turn on the gas. Oh, what a nuisance—I mean should have bought some matches on the way." "Can't the lighter work?" "Mine doesn't work, and anyway it's always hard to light a gas stove with a lighter. Just like in your own home. There's a blind old man standing on the corner over there. I always buy matches from him." Yes. I'll be right back." Mitch is alone in the sculpture room, walking around looking at Henrietta's work.She had a sense of mystery and terror in the empty sculpture room with these things of wood and bronze. There is a head with high cheekbones and a steel helmet, perhaps of a Red Army soldier; and a large stationary frog of pink granite.At the end of the sculpture room, she came to an almost life-size wooden sculpture. Henrietta was looking at the statue when she unlocked the door with the key and walked in noiselessly. Mitch turned away. "What is this, Henrietta? It's rather terrible." "That? That's The Adorer. It's going to be sent to the International Exhibition," Mitch stared at it and repeated: "It's horrible." Henrietta knelt down and lit the gas stove, turning her head over her shoulder, and said: "It's very funny you say that. Why do you find it terrible?" "I think—because it has no face." "You're absolutely right, Mitch." "It's very nice, Henrietta." Henrietta said softly: "This is a beautiful pear wood statue." She straightened her knees, stood up, threw her big canvas bag and fur coat on the couch, and threw two boxes of matches on the table. Mitch was struck by the expression on her face—a sudden and very inexplicable joy. "It's time for tea," said Henrietta.There was that same warm joy in her voice that Mickey had already seen in her face. It was a discordant note - but Mitch forgot about it in the ensuing train of thoughts evoked by those two boxes of matches. "Do you remember those matches that Veronica Clay took?" "When Lucy insisted on coaxing her into accepting the whole half of the matches? Remember." "Did anyone find out if she had any matches in her house?" "I think the police will. They're very thorough." A thin, triumphant smile played over Henrietta's mouth.Mitch was bewildered, almost disgusted. She thought, "Can Henrietta really care about John? Can she? Of course not." A faint bleak chill hit her whole body.When she thought: "Edward won't have to wait long anymore..." Her pettiness kept the thought from warming her.She wants Edward to be happy, doesn't she?It seemed impossible for her to have Edward.To Edward, she will always be "Little Mickey".There will never be more than this.A woman can never be loved. Unfortunately, Edward, is that faithful type of man.Oh, and the faithful usually get what they want in the end. Edward and Henrietta lived in Ainswick...and that was the happy end of the story.Edward and Henrietta lived happily ever after. She can see this very clearly. "Cheer up, Mitch," said Henrietta. "You can't let a murder get you down. Let's go out later and get something to eat, shall we?" But Mitch quickly replied that she had to go back to her room.She still had something to do--write letters.In fact, she'd better leave as soon as she's finished her tea. "Okay, I'll drive you there." "I can take a taxi." "Nonsense. Since we have a car, let's use it." They walked out the door into the damp air of the night.As they drove past the end of the garage, Henrietta pointed to a car parked nearby. "A Ventura Ten. Our shadow, you'll see them, it will follow us." "How disgusting it all is!" "Do you think so? I don't mind." Henrietta let Mitch out of the car in front of her house, then went back to the garage and put the car away. Then she went back to the sculpture room alone again. For some time she stood absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the mantelpiece.Then she sighed and muttered to herself in a low voice: "Then—go to work. Better not waste time." She took off her plaid coat and put on the smock. After an hour and a half, she stepped back to study what she had finished.With clay on her cheeks and tousled hair, she nods approvingly at the models on the shelf. This is a rough outline of a horse.Large clumps of irregular clay were slapped on it.It's the kind of horse that could make a colonel overwhelm a cavalry regiment, so it's not like any real, living horse.It may have tormented Henrietta's hunter-gatherer Irish ancestors, too.Even so it's still a horse -- a horse in theory. Henrietta wondered what Sheriff Grange would think if he saw it.Her mouth grinned happily as he pictured his face in his mind.