Chapter 10
The sun had disappeared behind the hill, but the air was still warm and Daisy sat on in the garden, determined to catch Alec as he passed on his way to the police station.
The girls, having solicitously settled her in a deck-chair with a book, had gone down to the beach for a while and were now indoors eating their supper.
Perhaps she dozed off. At any rate, she was startled when a voice nearby said, “Hullo, Mrs. Fletcher.”
Donald Baskin was coming up the steps from the path, and beyond him Daisy saw Alec walking on towards the town with Constable Puckle and an unknown young man dressed for tennis.
“Alec, wait!” she called, and started to get up in a hurry. The deck-chair collapsed beneath her.
Baskin dropped his stick and rushed to help her. He had her on her feet and was righting the chair when Alec bounded up the steps.
“Daisy, are you hurt?”
“Not at all,” she said crossly. She hadn’t fallen far, but she was shaken and flustered.
“Sorry!” Baskin apologized. “I took you by surprise.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Baskin. It was yours, Alec. You were trying to sneak past without my seeing you!”
“You need your rest, love, after all that dashing up and down cliffs.”
“I didn’t dash, I took my time. And I’m perfectly rested, thank you. I’m coming with you.”
“The girls …”
“Mrs. Anstruther is giving them supper. I’m sure she won’t mind keeping an eye on them for half an hour. Would you mind giving her the message, Mr. Baskin?”
“Not at all. I’ll be here, too.”
“Thank you. And tell them I’ll be back to tuck them into bed.” Daisy took Alec’s arm and tugged him towards the steps. “Oh, good, Puckle has gone ahead. Tell me all about it, now, before they drag you in to take charge and you go all official and secretive.”
“Daisy, why on earth did you tell them I’m a copper?”
“I didn’t, darling. Puckle was being rather dismissive—I’m afraid I set up his back the other day, over Sid—and Belinda flew to the rescue with the information that her daddy’s a Scotland Yard chief inspector and therefore knows all about dead bodies.
I could hardly deny it. Believe me, I’d much rather you took a proper holiday for once. What have you done with the body?”
“The lifeboat came and took it off. That young chap walking with Puckle is a medical student, the nearest thing on hand to a police surgeon. Enthusiastic, but he couldn’t do much more than confirm that Enderby was dead, which was perfectly obvious.”
“It was Enderby, then? You weren’t sure.”
“Yes, the lifeboatmen recognized him, as did Vernon, the doctor-to-be.”
“Probably murder then,” Daisy said with a sigh. “At least, plenty of people must have felt like murdering him. Oh blast, they’re bound to rope you in, darling.”
“Puckle seems to think the presence of a Scotland Yard detective on the scene is prima facie evidence of murder. I gathered his superiors in Exeter intended to ring up and ask for my help. It’s not likely to be refused.”
“Blast! I suppose Vernon couldn’t tell you whether he fell or was drowned, or when?”
“There was evidence that he fell, probably around three o’clock.”
“Not long before we got there! I don’t want to hear the gory details. I just hope it wasn’t Baskin or Anstruther who pushed him over. I like them both.”
“Baskin?” Alec’s sudden alertness told Daisy he was already mentally involved in the case, however outwardly reluctant. “What do you know about Baskin and Enderby?”
“Nothing specific, darling. Just that he seemed inexplicably curious about him. He wanted to know how long he’d lived in Westcombe, where he came from, where he spent the War, how he and Mrs. Enderby got on together.”
Alec raised his eyebrows. “Odd! He asked you? How did he expect you to know?”
“No, mostly he asked Mrs. Anstruther. It was most embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Why? Daisy, don’t tell me you already knew about her affair with Enderby!”
“Actually, yes, I did.”
“Great Scott, they weren’t carrying on in the house, with Belinda and Deva here?”
“No, no. It was over already. She told me.”
“How do you do it? You just gaze at people with those deceptively guileless blue eyes of yours, and they fall over themselves to make you a gift of all their secrets. I don’t suppose Baskin told you why he wanted to know about Enderby?”
“I’m afraid not. The oddest thing was that when I told him I’d heard the Enderbys quarrelling, he looked relieved.”
“Hmm. That is odd. He had the same reaction when he heard of Enderby’s death. But at first, when he thought the man was alive but injured, I could have sworn he looked as if he didn’t know what to do next, as if some long-held plan had been thwarted.”
“That would fit, if he’d intended to have a go at Enderby himself and someone beat him to it. I suppose he was glad to hear the Enderbys
were not on the best of terms because he didn’t want Nancy Enderby to be upset by an attack on Georgie Porgie. But surely that means he didn’t push him over?”
“Unless he’s a damn good actor.”
“He’s a schoolmaster, not an actor,” Daisy pointed out.
“So he says. But come to think of it, schoolmasters must act all the time, at least the good ones. They shouldn’t let on when they take a dislike to a particular child, or a special liking, come to that, which is bound to happen sometimes.”
“But if he was such a good actor, darling, he would have concealed his relief at Enderby’s death.”
“He doesn’t know I’m a policeman. I don’t suppose he has much opinion of Puckle’s powers of perception.”
“Well, if you want to get so convoluted, perhaps he put on a look of relief because he knew the police would find out he had good reason to hate Enderby and would wonder why he wasn’t pleased by his death.”
Alec laughed. “Who knows? At the very least, Baskin will bear investigation. For one thing, he was up on the cliffs this afternoon.”
“I rather hope they will put you in charge, darling,” Daisy said soberly. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the local police don’t look beyond Anstruther, after that row in the pub last night.”
“I’ll look, love, but however much you like him and his wife, you must admit that Peter Anstruther has to be the top name on my list.”
“I suppose so. You can add a couple of others below him, though. Nancy Enderby, for one. She knew about his carryings-on and wasn’t a bit happy about it. And his latest flame was a local farmer’s daughter.”
“Name?”
“No idea. You can bet someone in the village will know, though. I wonder if she was the woman I saw looking upset when the Enderbys were quarrelling? But I only had a glimpse and she wasn’t in any way distinctive.
I doubt I could pick her out if you lined up every female in the district.
” At this point they reached the corner of the main
street. Daisy eyed the steep cobbled hill. “I won’t come any farther,” she decided.
“You’re not to rush back and tell Anstruther he’s under suspicion.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“I wouldn’t put it past you. Do they know Enderby’s been found dead?”
“I haven’t told them, and I told the girls not to mention the ‘accident.’ But Baskin may be letting the cat out of the bag right this minute.”
“I asked him to keep quiet about it. There’s the lifeboatmen, though. No chance they’ll all hold their tongues. It’ll be all over town soon, if it’s not already. It’s a pity we’re staying at the Anstruthers’.”
“Do you want to see if we can get rooms at the Schooner? I’d feel like a rat deserting a sinking ship.”
“No, it would probably cause even more talk. We’ll stay put. I’ll see you later, love.”
“Much later, no doubt,” Daisy said gloomily. “I’ll ask Mrs. Anstruther to leave out a cold supper for you, though it’s a bit much to be asking favours when you may arrest her husband any minute!”
Alec followed Puckle and Vernon up the hill.
The boy had caught up with them long before they reached the village.
His slight shake of the head Alec had interpreted as meaning that whatever had fixed his attention on the path had come to nothing as a clue for the powerful intellect and meticulous methods of the surrogate Dr. Thorndyke.
He had a nasty feeling he was going to have to contend with meddling from both Daisy and Vernon in this case. As far as the latter was concerned, it was entirely his own fault.
The police station was lit by two ancient and inadequate gas fixtures. By their wavery illumination, Alec saw Vernon seated at the high counter with a pad of paper, a wooden pen, and an inkwell. “I’m writing an official report of my findings, Chief Inspector,” he said grandly.
“I trust your penmanship hasn’t yet deteriorated to the level of most medical men.”
“If it’s illegible, it’s the fault of this damn’ pen!
Beg your pardon, Mrs. Puckle,” he added with a cheeky grin towards the constable’s better half, who was poring over a telegram form with her husband.
“One doesn’t usually need a fountain pen when playing tennis, but I’ll be d—bothered if I’ve written with one of these horrible things since I was seven or eight. ”
“I’m sure Thorndyke would cope admirably with whatever writing implement was put in his hands.”
“By Jove, sir, I believe you’re right!” He buckled down to his scratching with renewed enthusiasm.
Alec turned to the Puckles.
“This is the wife, sir. A wire come while I was gone. Show the chief inspector, Martha.”
“’Tis for you, sir, but it don’t seem to make much sense. I writ it down just like the exchange said, sir.”
ALL YOURS I DONT WANT TO KNOW CRANE, Alec read. He sighed. “It’s confirmation that I’m to take over the case. Thank you, Mrs. Puckle.”
“You’ll want a bite to eat, sir, missing your supper at Mrs. Anstruther’s, I’ll be bound. I’ve a nice fish pie and some runner beans from the garden.”
“That’s very kind of you. A bit later, perhaps, when I’ve got things sorted out.”
“It’ll be waiting when you’re ready, sir. Now, Fred, mind your manners and ask the gentleman to sit down.” She trotted off through the door to the living quarters.