‘Already I can see Painter when I look at her. Instead of her mouth and her eyes I can see his thick lips and his bloodlust. It’s the same blood, Chief Inspector, the blood that mingled with Mrs Primero’s, on the floor, on the clothes, down the water pipes. That blood will be in my grandchild.’ He seemed to realize that he had allowed himself to be carried away, for he stopped suddenly, blushed, and shut his eyes briefly as if wincing at the sight he had described.
Wexford said gently, ‘I wish I could help you, Mr Archery, but the case is closed, over, finished. There is nothing more I can do.’
Archery shrugged and quoted softly, almost as if he could not stop himself, ‘“He took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person …”’ Then he jumped up, his expression suddenly contrite. ‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector. That was an appalling thing to say. May I tell you what I intend to do?’
‘Pontius Pilate, that’s me,’ said Wexford. ‘So see you show more respect in future.’
Burden grinned. ‘What exactly did he want, sir?’
‘Firstly to tell him Painter may have been unjustly executed, which I can’t. Damn it all, it would be tantamount to saying I didn’t know my job. It was my first murder case, Mike, and it was fortunate for me it was so straightforward. Archery’s going to do a spot of enquiry on his own. Hopeless after sixteen years but it’s useless telling him. Secondly, he wanted my permission to go around hunting up all the witnesses Wanted my support if they come round here, complaining and foaming at the mouth.’
‘And all he’s got to go on,’ said Burden thoughtfully, ‘is Mrs Painter’s sentimental belief in her husband’s innocence?’
‘Aah, that’s nothing! That’s a load of hooey. If you got the chop, wouldn’t Jean tell John and Pat you were innocent? Wouldn’t my wife tell the girls? It’s natural. Painter didn’t make any last-minute confessions – you know what the prison authorities are like for watching out for things like that. No, she dreamed it up and convinced herself.’
‘Has Archery ever met her?’
‘Not yet, but he’s making a day of it. She and her second husband live in Purley and he’s got himself an invite for tea.’
‘You say the girl told him at Whitsun. Why has he waited so long? It must be a couple of months.’
‘I asked him that. He said that for the first couple of weeks he and his wife just let it ride. They thought the son might see reason. But he wouldn’t. He got his father to get hold of a transcript of the trial, nagged him into working on Griswold. Of course he’s an only child and as spoilt as they come. The upshot was that Archery promised to start poking his nose into it as soon as he got his fortnight’s holiday.’
‘So he’ll be back?’
‘That will depend on Mrs Painter,’ said Wexford.
5
… That they may see their children Christianly and virtuously brought up.
The Solemnization of Matrimony
THE KERSHAWS’ HOUSE was about a mile from the town centre, separated from shops, station, cinema and churches by thousands of other large suburban villas. For number 20 Craig Hill was large, halfheartedly Georgian and built of raspberry red brick. The garden was planted with annuals, the lawn was clover-free and the dead heads had been nipped off the standard rose bushes. On the concrete drive a boy of about twelve was washing down a large white Ford.
Archery parked his car at the kerb. Unlike Wexford he had not yet seen the coach house at Victor’s Piece, but he had read about it and it seemed to him that Mrs Kershaw had climbed high. Sweat started on his forehead and his upper lip as he got out of the car . He told himself that it was unusually hot and that he had always been prone to feel the heat.
‘This is Mr Kershaw’s house, isn’t it?’ he asked the boy.
‘That’s right.’ He was very like Tess, but his hair was fairer and
Wexford said gently, ‘I wish I could help you, Mr Archery, but the case is closed, over, finished. There is nothing more I can do.’
Archery shrugged and quoted softly, almost as if he could not stop himself, ‘“He took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person …”’ Then he jumped up, his expression suddenly contrite. ‘Forgive me, Chief Inspector. That was an appalling thing to say. May I tell you what I intend to do?’
‘Pontius Pilate, that’s me,’ said Wexford. ‘So see you show more respect in future.’
Burden grinned. ‘What exactly did he want, sir?’
‘Firstly to tell him Painter may have been unjustly executed, which I can’t. Damn it all, it would be tantamount to saying I didn’t know my job. It was my first murder case, Mike, and it was fortunate for me it was so straightforward. Archery’s going to do a spot of enquiry on his own. Hopeless after sixteen years but it’s useless telling him. Secondly, he wanted my permission to go around hunting up all the witnesses Wanted my support if they come round here, complaining and foaming at the mouth.’
‘And all he’s got to go on,’ said Burden thoughtfully, ‘is Mrs Painter’s sentimental belief in her husband’s innocence?’
‘Aah, that’s nothing! That’s a load of hooey. If you got the chop, wouldn’t Jean tell John and Pat you were innocent? Wouldn’t my wife tell the girls? It’s natural. Painter didn’t make any last-minute confessions – you know what the prison authorities are like for watching out for things like that. No, she dreamed it up and convinced herself.’
‘Has Archery ever met her?’
‘Not yet, but he’s making a day of it. She and her second husband live in Purley and he’s got himself an invite for tea.’
‘You say the girl told him at Whitsun. Why has he waited so long? It must be a couple of months.’
‘I asked him that. He said that for the first couple of weeks he and his wife just let it ride. They thought the son might see reason. But he wouldn’t. He got his father to get hold of a transcript of the trial, nagged him into working on Griswold. Of course he’s an only child and as spoilt as they come. The upshot was that Archery promised to start poking his nose into it as soon as he got his fortnight’s holiday.’
‘So he’ll be back?’
‘That will depend on Mrs Painter,’ said Wexford.
5
… That they may see their children Christianly and virtuously brought up.
The Solemnization of Matrimony
THE KERSHAWS’ HOUSE was about a mile from the town centre, separated from shops, station, cinema and churches by thousands of other large suburban villas. For number 20 Craig Hill was large, halfheartedly Georgian and built of raspberry red brick. The garden was planted with annuals, the lawn was clover-free and the dead heads had been nipped off the standard rose bushes. On the concrete drive a boy of about twelve was washing down a large white Ford.
Archery parked his car at the kerb. Unlike Wexford he had not yet seen the coach house at Victor’s Piece, but he had read about it and it seemed to him that Mrs Kershaw had climbed high. Sweat started on his forehead and his upper lip as he got out of the car . He told himself that it was unusually hot and that he had always been prone to feel the heat.
‘This is Mr Kershaw’s house, isn’t it?’ he asked the boy.
‘That’s right.’ He was very like Tess, but his hair was fairer and
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