Free Hardcastle's Traitors by Graham Ison

to do with the murder, and told me that he’d spent the night with you.’ Hardcastle avoided saying that Villiers had not mentioned her by name, rather than to reveal details of the observation that he had ordered two of his officers to conduct.
    â€˜I’m not denying that Haydn Villiers was here, Inspector, but he certainly did not spend the night with me. The idea is preposterous. He merely called to give me a letter from my husband, and to assure me that he was in good health and safe.’ Annabel glanced momentarily at her satin-slippered feet. ‘Mind you, Haydn did make me a gift of some French perfume that it’s almost impossible to obtain in England since the war started, so I suppose he’s not all bad.’
    â€˜What time did Captain Villiers leave here, madam?’ asked Marriott.
    Annabel Powell paused, long enough for the detectives to know that whatever she said, it would not be the truth. ‘About nine o’clock, I suppose,’ she said eventually, having decided that it was a little later than courtesy demanded, but not too late to raise doubts about her morality.
    â€˜And was that the only occasion Captain Villiers called on you?’ asked Hardcastle.
    â€˜Yes, it was.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mrs Powell,’ said Hardcastle, as he and Marriott rose to their feet. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
    Leaving the house, the two detectives walked through to King’s Road in the hope of finding a rare cab.
    â€˜Well, what d’you think of that, Marriott?’
    â€˜Judging by the way Mrs Powell was dressed, sir, it wouldn’t surprise me if young Villiers was upstairs in her bed while we were talking to her.’
    â€˜Nor me, Marriott. She certainly looked as though she’d just tumbled out of her four-poster.’ Hardcastle always assumed that the moneyed classes slept in a four-poster bed. ‘But I’ll tell you this much: I’d put money on it being the last time the bold captain sees the inside of Annabel Powell’s bedroom.’
    â€˜D’you think she was lying, sir?’
    â€˜I’m sure she was, Marriott. It certainly took her long enough to come up with a time that Villiers was supposed to have left her. Mind you, I wouldn’t have expected the colonel’s lady to admit having had a bit of jig-a-jig with one of her husband’s virile young officers. Even so, we’ll have another word with Captain Villiers.’
    â€˜Shall I get one of the DCs to send for him, sir?’
    â€˜Yes, and sooner rather than later, Marriott.’
    In the event, Marriott’s intention to send for the young army captain proved to be unnecessary.
    At two o’clock that afternoon, an irate Haydn Villiers was shown into Hardcastle’s office. He was red in the face and bore all the signs of being incandescent with rage.
    â€˜I take it that Annabel Powell’s been in touch with you, Captain Villiers,’ observed Hardcastle mildly, before Villiers had a chance to speak.
    â€˜Damn’ right, she has. What the hell d’you think you were doing, going to see her? And how the devil did you know where to find her?’
    Hardcastle declined to answer that question. ‘I’m dealing with a vicious murder, Captain Villiers, and I was checking your alibi. Had you furnished me with the lady’s name, I would have acted discreetly, and quite possibly accepted your word for it,’ he said, not that he would have let it go at that. ‘As it is, you wouldn’t name the lady and I suspected that you weren’t telling me the truth. And it seems I was right. Mrs Powell denied that you spent the night with her.’
    â€˜Of course she did. She’s my colonel’s wife for God’s sake.’
    â€˜So she said.’ Hardcastle spent a few moments filling and lighting his pipe, further frustrating Villiers. ‘Perhaps you’d better give me your side of the story, then,’ he