Who Saw Him Die? by Sheila Radley Page B

lending out walking frames and wheelchairs, and she knows her to say good morning to. Miss Bell’s one of the top Red Cross people in the county, though, and Molly finds her a bit awe-inspiring. But then, I believe Eunice Bell’s like that. It was typical of her to make a direct approach to the Super about her brother’s accident. We’ll probably find that she thinks she’s summoned us to an interview with her .’
    Quantrill held the gate for his sergeant to walk through. Hilary took a closer look at Tower House, gloomy behind the last few damp yellow leaves on the branches of the trees beside the drive. ‘It’s such a depressing place,’ she said. ‘No wonder poor Clanger Bell lost his wits. Is there anything eccentric about his sister, do you know?’
    â€˜Nothing I’ve ever heard mentioned. This allegation of murder sounds so far-fetched, though, that I’m wondering whether the shock of her brother’s death, on top of the strain of looking after him for so many years, has tipped her off balance. Who dealt with the accident, by the way?’
    â€˜PC Powell, sir.’
    â€˜Hmm. Tim Powell’s a bright lad. If there was anything suspicious about that accident, he’d have spotted it. On the other hand, he hasn’t yet developed into what you might call a sympathetic listener – and that may be all Miss Bell really needs. Let’s be patient and hear what she has to say, and with a bit of luck we’ll be able to talk her out of the idea that her brother was murdered.’

Chapter Seven
    Eunice Bell, stiff and uncommunicative, led her visitors through the chill gloom of the hall to the equally unwelcoming drawing room, heavy with Victorian furniture and the cold silence of disuse. As the two detectives followed her into the room she took her stand beside the empty marble fireplace and looked severely at the Chief Inspector.
    â€˜Quantrill,’ she said. Her voice was as strong and spiny as the evergreen foliage of the monkey puzzle tree that blocked most of the light from the north-facing window. ‘Do I know your wife?’
    Chief Inspector Quantrill was aware that he spoke with a slow Suffolk accent, and he was not normally well disposed to witnesses who addressed him as though he were one of several applicants for the post of jobbing gardener. But having decided that this enquiry could best be cleared up by kindness, he answered her peaceably. ‘Quite probably. My wife works as a receptionist at the health centre, and I believe she helps with the Red Cross medical loan service.’
    Miss Bell ducked her head in what was clearly intended to be a gracious nod. ‘Ah yes. I thought I’d heard the name in that connection. As well as in connection with Breckham Market CID, of course. But I don’t believe –’ she turned, stiff-necked, to look hard at Hilary Lloyd ‘– that I’ve heard your name mentioned before.’
    â€˜Probably not.’ Hilary, suspecting that Eunice Bell’s formidable manner was a protective façade, answered her with a pleasant smile. She too liked to keep her private life private, but she achieved it by being apparently outgoing, doing so much lively talking that people could spend hours in her company without realising that she was giving away nothing about herself at all. Miss Bell’s method of keeping people at bay was no doubt extremely effective but it did run the risk, Hilary thought, of needlessly putting their backs up.
    â€˜But I would like to say,’ the sergeant went on sincerely, after explaining that she had come to Breckham Market only the previous year, ‘how saddened my colleagues and I were by your brother’s death.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ Eunice Bell ducked her head in acknowledgement. ‘Superintendent Roydon was kind enough to say much the same thing. I’m well aware that my brother was often a nuisance. As I told Mr