Free Unnatural Causes by P. D. James

that she was welcome to it. She wouldn’t consider it. When I pressed her she became overwrought, so I left it. After all, she’s thirty, isn’t she? She’s not a child. I couldn’t force her to stay.”
    “No, of course not.” Celia Calthrop thought that her niece would hardly have welcomed Sylvia in the house. She had noticed that most women were less sympathetic to the girl than were men, and Elizabeth made no secret of her dislike. The voice from the armchair asked: “What happened after we left?”
    “Nothing very much. Jane Dalgleish seems to think that he may have been killed with her chopper. Apparently she missed it about three months ago.”
    “Did Inspector Reckless tell you that he was killed that way?”
    “No. But surely …”
    “Then we still don’t know how he died. He could have been killed in a dozen different ways and his hands chopped off after death. I imagine that they were. It wouldn’t be an easy thing to do if your victim were alive and conscious. Inspector Reckless must know if it happened that way. There wouldn’t be very much bleeding for one thing. And I expect he knows the time of death to an hour or so even without the PM report.”
    Her aunt said: “Surely he died on Tuesday night? Something must have happened to him on Tuesday. Maurice would never walk out of his club like that and spend the night away without a word to anyone. He died on Tuesday night when Sylvia and I were at the pictures.”
    She spoke with stubborn confidence. She wished it to be so, therefore, it must be so. Maurice had died on Tuesday night and her alibi was assured. She added: “It’s unfortunate for Justin and Oliver that they happened to be in town that evening. They’ve got alibis of a sort, of course. But it’s a pity all the same.”
    The girl said quietly: “I was in London on Tuesday night too.” Before her aunt could speak she went on quickly:“All right, I know what you’re going to say. I was supposed to be on a bed of sickness in Cambridge. Well, they let me up earlier than I told you. I took the first fast train to Liverpool Street on Tuesday morning. I was meeting someone there for lunch. No one you know. Someone from Cambridge. He’s gone down now. Anyway he didn’t turn up. There was a message of course, very polite, very regretful. It’s a pity, though, that we arranged to meet where we were known. I didn’t much enjoy seeing the head waiter look sorry for me. Not that I was surprised really. It isn’t important. But I wasn’t going to have Oliver and Justin gossiping over my affairs. I don’t see why I should tell Reckless, either. Let him find out for himself.”
    Celia thought: “But you told me!” She felt a surge of happiness so acute that she was glad that they sat in the shadows. This was the first real confidence she had ever received from the girl. And happiness made her wise. Resisting the first impulse to comfort or question she said: “I’m not sure, dear, that it was sensible of you to spend the whole day in town. You’re not really strong yet. Still, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm. What did you do after lunch?”
    “Oh, worked for the afternoon in the London Library. Then I went to a news theatre. It was getting lateish then so I thought I’d better stay the night. After all, you weren’t expecting me at any particular time. I had a meal at the Coventry Street Lyons and then managed to get a room at the Walter Scott Hotel in Bloomsbury. Most of the evening I spent just walking in London. I suppose I collected my key and went to my room just before eleven.”
    Miss Calthrop broke in eagerly: “Then the porter will be able to vouch for you. And perhaps someone will remember you at Lyons. But I think you were right to say nothing about it for the present. It’s entirely your own concern. What we’ll dois to wait until we know the time of death. We can reconsider the whole matter then.”
    It was difficult for her to keep the ring of