Means Of Evil And Other Stories by Ruth Rendell Read Free Book Online Page B

"Mrs. Wrangton and her daughter——that's Mrs. Betts, Mrs. Doreen Betts——they hated each other, they were cat and dog. And I don't think Mr. Betts had spoken to Mrs. Wrangton for a year or more. Considering the house was Mrs. Wrangton's and every stick of furniture in it belonged to her, I used to think they were very ungrateful. I never liked the way Mrs. Betts spoke about her mother, let alone the way she spoke to her, but I couldn't say a word. Mr. Betts is retired now but he only had a very ordinary sort of job in the Post Office and they lived rent-free in Mrs. Wrangton's home. It's a nice house, you know, late Victorian, and they built to last in those days. I used to think it badly needed doing up and it was a pity Mr. Betts couldn't get down to a bit of painting, when Mrs. Wrangton said to me she was having decorators in, having the whole house done up inside and out . . ."
   Wexford cut short the flow of what seemed like irrelevancies. "Why were the Bettses and Mrs. Wrangton on such bad terms?"
   The look he got implied that seldom had Nurse Radcliffe come across such depths of naivety. "It's a sad fact, Mr. Wexford, that people can outstay their welcome in this world. To put it bluntly, Mr. and Mrs. Betts couldn't wait for something to happen to Mrs. Wrangton." Her voice lingered over the euphemism. "They hadn't been married all that long, you know," she said surprisingly. "Only five or six years. Mrs. Betts was just a spinster before that, living at home with Mother. Mr. Betts was a widower that she met at the Over-Sixties Club. Mrs. Wrangton used to say she could have done better for herself——seems funny to say that about a woman of her age, doesn't it?——and that Mr. Betts was only after the house and her money."
   "You mean she said it to you?"
   "Well, not just to me, to anybody," said Nurse Radcliffe, unconsciously blackening the dead woman to whom she showed such conscious bias. "She really felt it. I think she bitterly resented having him in the house."
   Wexford moved a little impatiently in his chair. "If we were to investigate every death just because the victim happened to be on bad terms with his or her relations . . ."
   "Oh, no, no, it's not just that, not at all. Mrs. Betts sent for Dr. Moss on May 23rd, just four days after Dr. Crocker went away. Why did she? There wasn't anything wrong with Mrs. Wrangton. I was getting her dressed after her bath and I was amazed to see Dr. Moss. Mrs. Wrangton said, I don't know what you're doing here, I never asked my daughter to send for you. Just because I overslept a bit this morning, she said. She was so proud of her good health, poor dear, never had an illness in her long life but the once and that was more an allergy than an illness. I can tell you why he was sent for, Mr. Wexford. So that when Mrs. Wrangton died he'd be within his rights signing the death certificate. He wasn't her doctor, you see, but it'd be all right if he'd attended her within the past two weeks, that's the law. They're all saying Mrs. Betts waited for Dr. Crocker to go away, she knew he'd never have just accepted her mother's death like that. He'd have asked for a post-mortem and then the fat would have been in the fire." Nurse Radcliffe didn't specify how, and Wexford thought better of interrupting her again. "The last time I saw Mrs. Wrangton," she went on, "was on June 1st. I had a word with the painter as I was going out. There were two of them but this was a young boy, about twenty. I asked him when they expected to finish, and he said, sooner than they thought, next week, because Mrs. Betts had told them just to finish the kitchen and the outside and then to leave it. I thought it was funny at the time, Mrs. Wrangton hadn't said a word to me about it. In fact, what she'd said was, wouldn't it be nice when the bathroom walls were all tiled and I wouldn't have to worry about splashing when I bathed her.
   "Mr. Wexford, it's possible Mrs. Betts stopped