Free Design for Murder by Roy Lewis Page A

mysterious character. He was born about 1920 and became quite wealthy as a result of his activities in theSecond World War. Ostensibly, the wealth came from his business in the munitions industry. He never served in the armed forces, but on the other hand there were a number of unexplained absences from home during the forties and a few hints among the extant papers that would lead me to believe he was involved to some extent in intelligence activities. Be that as it may, there is no doubt he accumulated a great deal of money from his factories. Government contracts, it seems. A favoured client. As for his various escapades , well, they are lost in the mists of time and official fudging of details.’
    Escapades. There had been a certain relish in the manner in which Strudmore had used the word. Eric had the feeling that Strudmore would have liked to know more about George Chivers and his dashing, possibly raffish existence.
    ‘George had married quite early in life, perhaps because of the war and the feeling that all could be over very quickly. Many young people did, I understand. Carpe diem , you know, seize the day.’ Strudmore squinted at Eric, a hint of lasciviousness in his smirk. ‘Or maybe it was just animal passion. Anyway, he married Flora Denton in 1939. Their first child, Peter, was born in 1941. A second child, a daughter called Anne – that’s Miss Owen’s mother – was born a year later. Quite how much the children saw of their father during the war is difficult to ascertain; certainly, once the war was concluded George seems to have been very much the absentee husband. You will see from the files that by 1947 he was living and working in Scotland, in Edinburgh and Glasgow. There’s nothing in the papers to suggest a formal separation or a marital breakdown, but it’s clear that Flora saw little of her husband over the following years, and the children, who were in due course sent to boarding schools, lacked the guidance of a male parent intheir lives.’
    There was a tap on the door; a young woman with fashionably tousled hair and knowing eyes came in with the coffee. Strudmore smiled at her in a benign fashion and with an old-world courtesy personally handed Eric his coffee. As the young woman left with the empty tray, Strudmore’s glance lingered almost hungrily over her swaying hips. He was silent for a little while as he sipped his coffee, then laid the cup down on his desk.
    ‘Now, where was I? Ah, yes, Scotland. As I explained earlier there is some mystery about what George was up to in the north after the war but as far as I can make out it was something to do with the Ministry of Defence. But no matter. None of this is strictly relevant, hey?’ Strudmore giggled. ‘Just background matters. What is clear is that his business interests continued to flourish and by the time the children reached their majority there was certainly no shortage of money and Flora was living in some style here in Alnwick. You probably won’t know the building, but it’s quite a handsome Victorian mansion just off the A1 …’ Strudmore paused, frowned slightly, picked up his coffee cup and raised it to his lips. ‘She was still there in 1971 when some sort of argument arose, tore at the family. I don’t know whether it occurred because of George’s natural inclinations, or perhaps it was a result of marital breakdown, it’s not clear, and it’s all a private matter hushed up by the family anyway, but it seems George had been keeping a mistress in Glasgow. George was fifty years old by then, and his, ah, companion was at most about twenty, or twenty-two. Thereabouts. There was a flurry of letters, it would seem, because the girl – Sally Chalmers, I believe she was called – may have been in some financial difficulty. I’m not sure what it was all about because correspondence originally inthe file had been weeded, at the insistence of Mrs Flora Chivers, I believe.’
    Eric shifted in his chair. He