The Scold's Bridle Read Free Page A

persuaded them they were at risk. He knew better than anyone that statistics proved it was young men aged between fifteen and twenty-five who were the group most vulnerable to violent death. He had sorted out too many drunken brawls and picked too many stabbed and bludgeoned bodies from gutters outside pubs to be in any doubt of that. "She died in her bath," he said unemotionally. "Her wrists were slit. At the moment the pathologist is inclining towards suicide and we are only asking questions to satisfy ourselves that she did in fact take her own life."
    "But Jesus didn't die in his bath," said Violet in bewilderment.
    "She was wearing a scold's bridle on her head with flowers in it. I think perhaps Mrs. Spede thought it was a crown of thorns." It made no sense otherwise, he thought.
    "I
hated
that thing. Mathilda was always
very
peculiar about it." Violet had a habit, Cooper noticed, of emphasizing words she thought important. "It must have been suicide, then. She wore it when her arthritis was bad. It took her mind off the
pain
, you know. She always said she'd kill herself if it got so bad she couldn't stand it." She turned tear-filled eyes to her husband. "Why didn't she call out to us? I'm sure there's
something
we could have done to help."
    "Would you have heard her?" asked Cooper.
    "Oh, yes, especially if she was in the bathroom. She could have rattled the pipes. We'd certainly have heard
that
."
    Cooper transferred his attention to Mr. Orloff. "Did you hear anything at all that night?"
    Duncan gave the question long and thoughtful consideration. "Our days are very uneventful," he said apologetically. "All I can say is that if we had heard something, we'd have acted"-he spread his hands in a gesture of surrender-"like this morning when Jenny started screaming. There was nothing like that on Saturday."
    "Yet you both assumed she'd been murdered by a gang. You mentioned 'they.' "
    "It's difficult to think straight when people are screaming," he said, reproaching himself with a shake of the head. "And to be perfectly honest; I wasn't at all sure the Spedes themselves hadn't done something. They're not the brightest couple as you've probably discovered for yourself. Mind you, it wouldn't have been intentional. They're foolish, not dangerous. I assumed there'd been some sort of accident," he spread his palms on his fat knees, "I've been worrying that I should have gone in to do something, saved her perhaps, but if she died on Saturday...?" His voice tailed off on a query.
    Cooper shook his head. "You couldn't have done anything for her. What about during the daytime? Did you hear anything then?"
    "On Saturday, you mean?" He shook his head. "Nothing that leaps to mind. Certainly nothing unsettling." He looked at Violet as if seeking inspiration. "We notice if the bell rings in Cedar House, because it's very rare for Mathilda to have visitors, but otherwise"-he shrugged helplessly-"so little happens here, Sergeant, and we do watch a lot of television."
    "And you didn't wonder where she was on Sunday?"
    Violet dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, dear," she whispered, "could we have saved her then? How
awful
, Duncan."
    "No," said Cooper firmly, "she was certainly dead by three o'clock on Sunday morning."
    "We were friends, you know," said Violet. "Duncan and I have known her for fifty years. She sold us this cottage when Duncan retired five years ago. That's not to say she was the
easiest
person in the world to get on with. She could be very cruel to people she didn't like, but the trick with Mathilda was not to
impose
. We never did, of course, but there were those who did."
    Cooper licked the point of his pencil. "Who for example?"
    Violet lowered her voice. "Joanna and Ruth, her daughter and granddaughter. They
never
left her alone, always complaining, always demanding money. And the vicar was shocking." She cast a guilty glance at her husband. "I know Duncan doesn't approve of tittle-tattle but the vicar was always pricking her