Political Suicide Read Free Page A

all this Westminster stuff is sheer drudgery, and damned dull to boot—or else you go after money. Let’s face it, James wasn’t born to money: he set up this small printing and duplicating business when he was quite young, with some money he was left. It was very efficient, used very modern methods and so on, and it positively spawned other little businesses all over the country. But James lost interest. Sold out. You’ve got to be single-minded if you want to make a lot of money.”
    â€œInstead he went into politics?”
    â€œExactly. And he always kept very busy, even as a back-bencher. But he was much too wet—politically wet, I mean—to get anywhere much. And there doesn’t seem to be any point unless you do , not in my book.”
    â€œPerhaps not,” murmured Sutcliffe. “Was there any political problem in the last few weeks that seemed to be bothering him?”
    â€œWell—” she seemed uncertain—“nothing special that I can recall . Constituency problems, naturally. He was depressed by the rising unemployment in Bootham. Have you been to Bootham, ever? No, well it’s not the sort of place one goes to, deliberately. Between you and me, a frightful hole. He found the problems of the unemployed families terribly depressing, though one does sometimes feel, doesn’t one, that some of themhave almost brought it on them selves , and if you can’t do anything about it, there’s not much point in bringing all their problems home. But there—that was James.”
    â€œSo you didn’t live in the constituency?”
    â€œGood Lord, no. Well, we have a cottage. In a little village called Moreton. Very much outside: still in the constituency, but not in Bootham. Bootham East is the better part of town, naturally, but even so there wasn’t anywhere where I’d care to live , even for the odd weekend. We used the cottage when we went up on constituency business—James for his fortnightly surgery, me to open something or other. I’ll get rid of it now, of course. Though, really—house prices in Yorkshire are rock bottom.”
    â€œTell me: Thursday night, when he didn’t come home—weren’t you worried?”
    â€œWell, I didn’t know. I can see I shall have to enlighten you, Superintendent, as to how politicians’ wives live, what they have to put up with.”
    â€œYou mean the hours—all-night sittings, and so on?”
    â€œExactly. And when they don’t sit late, all the manœuvrings and conspirings, and the constituency business, and Christ knows what. We—we have a guest bedroom here, of course, and we have an agreement that if James comes in—came in—after I’d gone to bed, then he slept there. So really, when I didn’t see him all day, I wasn’t in the least surprised, because that was very much business as usual. I went to bed at—oh, about half past eleven, I suppose, and never gave a second thought to James’s not being home.”
    â€œAnd when you found out in the morning that he hadn’t slept in the spare bed?”
    â€œWell, actually, I didn’t. I mean, I came down toget the children’s breakfast—I do that once or twice a week, because we’ve got a Danish au pair , and she gives them the oddest things on rye bread, so I do try to make sure they have something sensible now and again. And I was just sitting down to my own when your sergeant came.”
    â€œAnd then you went up and found the bed hadn’t been slept in, I suppose.”
    â€œNaturally, of course it hadn’t. I understand the body had probably been in the water some hours.”
    â€œThat’s what we think. I’ll be getting the results of the post mortem later today. So you can’t think of any special reason—?”
    But they were interrupted by the entrance of two wide-eyed children, very neat and clean, and an enormous