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“Oh dear,” said Gwenda. “That’s very disappointing. We did so hope you could help.”
“What’s the trouble?” His eyes flickered quickly from one face to another. “Quarrel? Left home? Matter of money?”
Gwenda said: “She went away—suddenly—from Dillmouth—eighteen years ago with—with someone.”
Jackie Afflick said amusedly: “And you thought she might have gone away with me? Now why?”
Gwenda spoke boldly: “Because we heard that you—and she—had once—been—well, fond of each other.”
“Me and Helen? Oh, but there was nothing in that. Just a boy and girl affair. Neither of us took it seriously.” He added drily, “We weren’t encouraged to do so.”
“You must think us dreadfully impertinent,” began Gwenda, but he interrupted her.
“What’s the odds? I’m not sensitive. You want to find a certain person and you think I may be able to help. Ask me anything you please—I’ve nought to conceal.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “So you’re Halliday’s daughter?”
“Yes. Did you know my father?”
He shook his head.
“I dropped in to see Helen once when I was over at Dillmouth on business. I’d heard she was married and living there. She was civil enough—” he paused—“but she didn’t ask me to stay to dinner. No, I didn’t meet your father.”
Had there, Gwenda wondered, been a trace of rancour in that “She didn’t ask me to stay to dinner?”
“Did she—if you remember—seem happy?”
Afflick shrugged his shoulders.
“Happy enough. But there, it’s a long time ago. I’d have remembered if she’d looked unhappy.”
He added with what seemed a perfectly natural curiosity: “Do you mean to say you’ve never heard anything of her since Dillmouth eighteen years ago?”
“Nothing.”
“No—letters?”
“There were two letters,” said Giles. “But we have some reason to think that she didn’t write them.”
“You think she didn’t write them?” Afflick seemed faintly amused. “Sounds like a mystery on the flicks.”
“That’s rather what it seems like to us.”
“What about her brother, the doctor chap, doesn’t he know where she is?”
“No.”
“I see. Regular mystery, isn’t it? Why not advertise?”
“We have.”
Afflick said casually: “Looks as though she’s dead. You mightn’t have heard.”
Gwenda shivered.
“Cold, Mrs. Reed?”
“No. I was thinking of Helen dead. I don’t like to think of her dead.”
“You’re right there. I don’t like to think of it myself. Stunning looks she had.”
Gwenda said impulsively: “You knew her. You knew her well. I’ve only got a child’s memory of her. What was she like? What did people feel about her? What did you feel?”
He looked at her for a moment or two.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mrs. Reed. Believe it or not, as you like. I was sorry for the kid.”
“Sorry?” She turned a puzzled stare on him.
“Just that. There she was—just home from school. Longing for a bit of fun like any girl might, and there was that stiff middle-aged brother of hers with his ideas about what a girl could do and couldn’t do. No fun at all, that kid hadn’t. Well, I took her about a bit—showed her a bit of life. I wasn’t really keen on her and she wasn’t really keen on me. She just liked the fun of being a daredevil. Then of course they found out we were meeting and he put a stop to it. Don’t blame him, really. Cut above me, she was. We weren’t engaged or anything of that kind. I meant to marry sometime—but not till I was a good bit older. And I meant to get on and to find a wife who’d help me get on. Helen hadn’t any money, and it wouldn’t have been a suitable match in any way. We were just good friends with a bit of flirtation thrown in.”
“But you must have been angry with the doctor—”
Gwenda paused and Afflick said: “I was riled, I admit. You don’t fancy being told you’re not good enough. But there, it’s no good being thin-skinned.”
“And then,” said Giles, “you lost your job.”
Afflick’s face was not quite so pleasant.
“Fired, I was. Out of Fane and Watchman’s. And I’ve a very good idea who was responsible for that.”
“Oh?” Giles made his tone interrogative, but Afflick shook his head.
“I’m not saying anything. I’ve my own ideas. I was framed—that’s all—and I’ve a very fair idea of who did it. And why!” The colour suffused his cheeks. “Dirty work,” he said. “Spying on a man—laying traps for him—lying about him. Oh, I’ve had my enemies all right. But I’ve never let them get me down. I’ve always given as good as I got. And I don’t forget.”
He stopped. Suddenly his manner changed back again. He was genial once more.
“So I can’t help you, I’m afraid. A little bit of fun between me and Helen—that was all. It didn’t go deep.”
Gwenda stared at him. It was a clear enough story—but was it true? she wondered. Something jarred—it came to the surface of her mind what that something was.
“All the same,” she said, “you looked her up when you came to Dillmouth later.”
He laughed.
“You’ve got me there, Mrs. Reed. Yes, I did. Wanted to show her perhaps that I wasn’t down and out just because a long-faced lawyer had pushed me out of his office. I had a nice business and I was driving a posh car and I’d done very well for myself.”
“You came to see her more than once, didn’t you?”
He hesitated a moment.
“Twice—perhaps three times. Just dropped in.” He nodded with sudden finality. “Sorry I can’t help you.”
Giles got up.
“We must apologize for taking up so much of your time.”
“That’s all right. Quite a change to talk about old times.”
The door opened and a woman looked in and apologized swiftly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t know you had anyone—”
“Come in, my dear, come in. Meet my wife. This is Mr. and Mrs. Reed.”
Mrs. Afflick shook hands. She was a tall, thin, depressed-looking woman, dressed in rather unexpectedly well-cut clothes.
“Been talking over old times, we have,” said Mr. Afflick. “Old times before I met you, Dorothy.”
He turned to them.
“Met my wife on a cruise,” he said. “She doesn’t come from this part of the world. Cousin of Lord Polterham’s, she is.”
He spoke with pride—the thin woman flushed.
“They’re very nice, these cruises,” said Giles.
“Very educational,” said Afflick. “Now, I didn’t have any education to speak of.”
“I always tell my husband we must go on one of those Hellenic cruises,” said Mrs. Afflick.
“No time. I’m a busy man.”
“And we mustn’t keep you,” said Giles. “Good-bye and thank you. You’ll let me know about the quotation for the outing?”
Afflick escorted them to the door. Gwenda glanced back over her shoulder. Mrs. Afflick was standing in the doorway of the study. Her face, fastened on her husband’s back, was curiously and rather unpleasantly apprehensive.
Giles and Gwenda said good-bye again and went towards their car.
“Bother, I’ve left my scarf,” said Gwenda.
“You’re always leaving something,” said Giles.
“Don’t looked martyred. I’ll get it.”
She ran back into the house. Through the open door of the study she heard Afflick say loudly: “What do you want to come butting in for? Never any sense.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie. I didn’t know. Who are those people and why have they upset you so?”
“They haven’t upset me. I—” He stopped as he saw Gwenda standing in the doorway.
“Oh, Mr. Afflick, did I leave a scarf?”
“Scarf? No, Mrs. Reed, it’s not here.”
“Stupid of me. It must be in the car.”
She went out again.
Giles had turned the car. Drawn up by the kerb was a large yellow limousine resplendent with chromium.
“Some car,” said Giles.
“‘A posh car,’” said Gwenda. “Do you remember, Giles? Edith Pagett when she was telling us what Lily said? Lily had put her money on Captain Erskine, not ‘our mystery man in the flashy car.’ Don’t you see, the mystery man in the flashy car was Jackie Afflick?”
“Yes,” said Giles. “And in her letter to the doctor Lily mentioned a ‘posh car.’”
They looked at each other.
“He was there—‘on the spot,’ as Miss Marple would say—on that night. Oh Giles, I can hardly wait until Thursday to hear what Lily Kimble says.”
“Suppose she gets cold feet and doesn’t turn up after all?”
“Oh, she’ll come. Giles, if that flashy car was there that night—”
“Think it was a yellow peril like this?”
“Admiring my bus?” Mr. Afflick’s genial voice made them jump. He was leaning over the neatly clipped hedge behind them. “Little Buttercup, that’s what I call her. I’ve always liked a nice bit of bodywork. Hits you in the eye, doesn’t she?”
