Chief had never set foot inside Springfield House but he had been aware of its existence since his childhood. On his way to the library on Saturday mornings as a schoolboy he used to pass the house with its tall gates firmly closed, the drive rank with weeds, grass thrusting up through the circle of gravel before the house. The place had always seemed to him to have an air of mystery and romance, past grandeurs and faded splendours.
They reached the tree-lined road and Lambert turned the car in through the gates, standing open now, splendidly refurbished, the elegant black spears tipped with gold, glittering in the afternoon sun. A car was drawn up before the house, a blue Ford Orion.
Lambert’s third ring at the bell was answered by Colborn. He wore a dark business suit, he looked pale and weary. He didn’t appear surprised to see them–as if, Lambert thought, he was too tired to feel surprise about anything. Kelsey had come across him briefly at functions in the town but Colborn showed no sign of recognition. He stood in silence, looking at them.
The Chief introduced himself and explained that they had called in connection with the death of a customer of the bank, Mrs Venetia Franklin. Colborn listened with no expression on his face other than that of deep fatigue as Kelsey told him they had been to the bank and had been given details of Mrs Franklin’s account. ‘One or two questions arise,’ Kelsey added. ‘You might be able to help. We were passing the house, we took a chance you might be at home.’
‘I dropped in for a bite of lunch,’ Colborn said flatly. ‘I spent the morning at Holloway’s–Holloway’s Heating and Plumbing. He kept me later than I expected.’ He stepped aside for them to enter. ‘This is a terrible business about Mrs Franklin,’ he said as he closed the door. ‘Utterly beyond belief.’ He took them into his study and offered them drinks which they refused. He took a glass of whisky himself and sat cradling it. He seemed totally exhausted; his speech, movements and gestures were all profoundly lethargic. He displayed no impatience as he sat waiting for Kelsey to ask his questions, he stared down into his glass, his face drained, tinged with grey.
‘How long have you known Mrs Franklin?’ Kelsey began.
‘About two years.’ Still he sat gazing into his glass. ‘She came to us after her divorce. She wanted a different bank from her ex-husband.’ He glanced briefly at the Chief. ‘That’s very common.’
‘Had you known her before that?’
He moved his head. ‘Very vaguely. I’d come across her at some charity function in the town. I just knew her to stop and speak a word to.’
‘No more than that?’ Colborn shook his head in silence. He raised his glass and took a long drink.
‘After she began banking with you,’ Kelsey went on, ‘did you extend your acquaintance with her?’
He turned his glass in his hands. ‘As a customer, yes, naturally. She asked my advice about investments, credit cards, and so on.’
‘Did you become friendly with her on a personal level?’
‘No, I can’t say I did.’ He passed a hand across his forehead. ‘I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. I’ve had a pretty strenuous time at the bank lately. So many firms in difficulties these days, so much that can go wrong, one has to walk a perpetual tightrope when it comes to making decisions.’
‘We won’t keep you much longer,’ Kelsey promised. ‘I wondered if you knew Mrs Franklin from way back, before she was married?’
Colborn shook his head.
‘Did you at any time form a close friendship with her?’ Again he shook his head. He showed neither impatience nor resentment at the line of questioning, he didn’t ask what the Chief was driving at. He said nothing at all beyond answering what he was asked, sitting there grey and fatigued, drinking his whisky.
‘When did you last see Mrs Franklin?’ the Chief continued.
‘About ten days ago, in the bank.’
‘In the way of business?’
‘Not even that. She was standing at the counter when I happened to cross the hall. I just said good morning as I passed.’
‘Have you any idea where she might have intended going this last weekend?’
‘No idea at all.’ He looked across at Kelsey. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got rather a bad migraine. It tends to come on if I get over-tired. I had a fairly hectic weekend. I was at a seminar at the bank’s place in the country. I went straight there from work on Friday afternoon, I didn’t get back till Sunday night. I haven’t had a chance to relax properly for days.’ He glanced at his watch and uttered an exclamation. ‘I must go, I have appointments.’
Kelsey stood up. ‘We’ll be off, then. Don’t trouble yourself, we’ll find our own way out.’ He paused on the study threshold and glanced back. Colborn hadn’t moved but still sat in his chair, looking as if all effort was utterly beyond him.
Outside in the car Sergeant Lambert said, ‘He looked pretty rough. I hadn’t credited banking with being such a wearing business.’ As he switched on the engine he suddenly added, ‘Youngjohn’s–the shop where Venetia worked as a girl. It’s in Broad Street, a few doors from the Allied Bank.’
Kelsey’s head came sharply round, he sat for a moment in silence, staring at Lambert, then he said, ‘That customer, the one Colborn spent the morning with—’
‘Holloway’s Heating and Plumbing.’ Lambert knew where the business was situated, out on the industrial estate. A small, thriving business, bent on expansion.
‘We’ll nip along there now,’ Kelsey said. ‘We’ll have a word with Holloway.’
Ten minutes later they were in Holloway’s office. ‘We’ve been trying to get a word with Mr Colborn,’ the Chief told him. ‘We understood he was here with you.
‘He was here,’ Holloway said with an edge of impatience. He was a short, thickset bull of a man with a jutting jaw. ‘For all the good he did he might as well never have come. He left here some time ago, before twelve.’ He flung out a hand. ‘Total waste of time, he was in no state to make head or tail of my books. He looked half dead when he got here, as if he’d been up all night. I asked him if he was all right and he said he was. But when he started asking me the same questions twice over I put it to him fair and square that he hadn’t got his mind on what he was supposed to be doing.
‘Then he came out with it and said he had one hell of a migraine, he could hardly see straight. I said to him: “Why on earth didn’t you say so right out, instead of carrying on with this pantomime? You could have cancelled the appointment, fixed another day.’” He thrust out his jaw. ‘I told him, “The last thing I need is my commercial future judged by a guy with migraine.”’ He walked with Kelsey to the door. ‘So he gave in and took himself off. I don’t know where you’ll find him now. He may be back at the bank or he may have gone home to bed. That’s where I’d be in his condition, he looked absolutely knackered to me.’
‘Back to Springfield House,’ Kelsey directed as he got into the car. ‘I’ll lay you two to one Colborn’s still there.’
And the blue Orion was still drawn up by the front door when they again turned in through the gates. This time it took four rings before Colborn came to the door. The grey had left his face, his cheeks were flushed, he looked as if he had just been wakened from a doze. Again he said nothing but stood looking at them without impatience or irritation.
‘A couple of points we overlooked when we were here,’ Kelsey said in a tone of apology. ‘If we might step inside again. It won’t take a minute.’
Colborn drew back the door in silence and they stepped inside. He closed the door and turned to face them. In the same moment the Chief produced the brown scarf in its plastic wrapping and thrust it out