Chapter Two
TWO
Shortly before eleven, Alec telephoned from Epping police station to say he was about to leave for home. Daisy waited up for him, of course. And of course Mrs. Dobson had left a hefty snack for him, regardless of his instructions.
Sitting with him in the dining room while he ravenously disposed of a beef and horseradish sandwich, Daisy shared his Thermos flask of cocoa. She was dying to know what had kept him so late, but she refrained from asking. For once, her discretion was rewarded.
Alec sat back, nursing his mug of cocoa in both hands.
“We were out at the site till it got too dark,” he said.
“The local man, the detective from Chelmsford, left as soon as he heard we’d been called in, and he took all but a couple of constables with him, including their spades and shovels.
Not merely to Epping, but all the way to HQ in Chelmsford.
I had to send to the Yard for some of our own people and equipment, and you know how happy that’s going to make the super. ”
Daisy had had her own clashes with Superintendent Crane. One never could tell what would set off an explosion, and Alec had not always been on her side. It was a subject better avoided.
Suddenly she realised the implications of the need for digging tools. “There were more than three bodies?” she asked, aghast.
“No, no! Or at least, we didn’t find any more. DI Gant’s men had only dug down far enough to be sure there was a third body. Thank heaven they weren’t buried very deep.”
“If they had been, they probably wouldn’t have been found. All the same, it must have been quite a job to bury three victims! Do you think there was more than one murderer? Or perhaps he had an accomplice.”
“It’s much too soon for any theories. But the local medico says one—the one that was found first—has been there for no longer than a week, one for several months, and one for at least a year.”
“Ugh!”
“It was rather ugh. The two later ones, anyway. Not much left of the first, poor beggar, what with foxes and badgers and—”
“Darling, must you?”
“You asked. They left most of the bones, luckily, or we might never have realised he was there. The murderer must have covered over their diggings each time he brought a new victim.” He yawned. “Come on, time for bed. I’ll have to be up early.”
“You must be awfully tired.”
“Not too tired,” he said with a grin, and kissed her. “Chief inspectors don’t have to do the actual digging.”
“How lucky I married a chief inspector!”
* * *
At an ungodly hour in the morning, Daisy got up in time to go downstairs in her dressing-gown to bid him good-bye. The sun was shining with the promise of a perfect June day.
“Better take your umbrella anyway,” she said. “You never can tell. Do you think there’s the slightest chance of clearing up the case in time to go to Belinda’s sports day?”
“Very little.”
“I’d better write and warn her, then if you can it’ll be a nice surprise, instead of a nasty one when you don’t turn up.”
“You’ll go anyway?” he asked a trifle anxiously. There were still occasional moments when he couldn’t quite believe she loved Belinda like a daughter, not a stepdaughter.
“Darling, of course. I wouldn’t let her down for the world. I’ll stay the weekend, as we planned, and take her out to lunch on Sunday. Melanie and Sakari are going, too, so we’ll have a lovely hen-party.”
Alec laughed. “In fact, I’d be thoroughly in the way.”
“Well, now you come to mention it…” she teased. “No, never! We’d just do different things if you were there.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
He put on his hat and opened the front door, then turned and said thoughtfully, “One curious circumstance you might want to ponder, but you must promise not to mention it to another soul.”
“I promise.”
“The most recent body had a piece of paper safety-pinned to the jacket, and the other two have safety-pins in the same position, though the paper’s disintegrated. It’s a bit tattered but as far as we can make out, it says, Justice! Revenge! with exclamation marks included.”
“I’ll think about it. Written, or one of those with cut-out words stuck on?”
“Cut-out letters, pasted in two semicircles, to form a circle. It’s pinned over his heart, and he was shot right through the centre.”
“Good gracious! I wonder what it means?”
“So do we. And you, as a writer, seem to pick up almost as many odd bits of information as do we coppers. Perhaps it will ring a bell with you if it doesn’t with us.”
“Not immediately, but I’ll let it stew in the back of my mind.”
“If ever I heard a mixed metaphor, that was one!”
“I’m always careful when I’m writing an article. Are all three of them men?”
“They are. And that’s all you’re getting out of me. I’ll ring if I’m going to be late again.”
Daisy stood on the front porch to watch him go down the steps, across the street, and down the path through the communal garden—it would have been a typical London Square if it hadn’t been a Circle.
Since she had learnt to drive and the Met had acquired more police cars, he often left their Austin Chummy for her use.
The Hampstead tube station was only a couple of minutes’ walk and took him direct to Charing Cross, a few minutes’ walk from New Scotland Yard.
But she didn’t want to drive alone all the way to Saffron Walden, she decided. She’d ring up Sakari later and beg a lift.
Alec turned at the fountain and waved to her.
She waved back, then hurried into the house and closed the door.
This wasn’t the sort of neighbourhood where women stood on doorsteps in their dressing-gowns gossiping.
Fortunately, having discovered Daisy was the daughter of the late Viscount Dalrymple, the neighbours tended to make allowances for the peculiarities of the aristocracy.
All except the Bennetts, at the bottom: they had undoubtedly trained their field glasses on the Fletchers since the moment the front door opened.
Daisy enjoyed living in Constable Circle, but the nosy, gossipy Bennetts were definitely a fly in the ointment.
After breakfast she went to the kitchen for her daily consultation with Mrs. Dobson, to settle the everlasting question about what to have for dinner when they didn’t know whether Alec would be eating at home or not, and if so, at what time.
They sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea each, a procedure that would have shocked Daisy’s aristocratic mother quite as much as it had shocked her middle-class mother-in-law.
Then she took Oliver, Miranda, and Nana for a walk on Hampstead Heath.
Mrs. Gilpin insisted on going, too; more, Daisy suspected, because she enjoyed the cachet of being nurse to twins than because she still thought Daisy incompetent to look after her own children for an hour.
At least, now that the children were walking part of the way, Bertha was left behind to get on with the endless mountains of ironing.
Once they were safely away from the road, Nana was let off the lead and the twins lifted down from their double pushchair.
Nurse sat down on the nearest bench with this symbol of her pride parked beside her, while Daisy walked on and the dog and the twins ran and tumbled on the grass about her.
And all the time she was turning over in the back of her mind the strange target found on the body of the murdered man. It must represent a target, obviously, but what was the significance of the words pasted round the edge? Justice! Revenge!
“Mama, carry!”
Daisy picked up Miranda and turned back. Oliver clutched her skirt, whining. Nurse, whose eagle eye had never ceased to watch, came to meet them. Mrs. Gilpin could be a frightful wet blanket, but Daisy was very much aware she could never manage without her.
They returned to the house, where Nurse Gilpin dealt efficiently with the children and the pushchair. Daisy settled with a cup of coffee on the chair in the hall, and dialled Sakari’s number.
The Prasads’ butler, acquainted with Mrs. Fletcher, admitted that Mrs. Prasad might indeed possibly be available to speak upon the telephone.
“Daisy?”
“Good morning, Sakari.”
“My dear Daisy, good morning to you.” Sakari’s rich voice, with its precise accent, conveyed as usual a hint of amusement. “I trust you have not rung to tell me you are unable to attend the coming ordeal. I count on your support.”
“Darling, when it comes to sports, it’s no good relying on me. I was always a hopeless duffer. I could never remember the score and the rules were all Greek to me.”
“Then perhaps I shall be able to assist.” She chuckled. “I have been taking Greek classes for some weeks.” The Indian woman was an inveterate taker of classes and attender of lectures on all subjects under the sun.
“How brave! The alphabet’s impossible, for a start!” Daisy’s school for young ladies had not considered it wise to tax female brains with Latin and Greek.
“Indeed not. Compared to Hindi, the alphabet is very similar to your own. Unfortunately, I do not believe it will be of any assistance when we are watching our children run up and down the school field.”
“I don’t think they’ll actually be playing games, just running races, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to understand.”
“I am much relieved. But you are not going to desert us, are you?”
“No. Alec almost certainly won’t be able to go, though. I could drive myself—or go by train, I suppose—but I wondered whether you might have room for me in your car?”
“But yes, of course! As long as you do not intend to bring with you the twins and the nanny and the nurserymaid and the dog?”
“Belinda would love to see the twins, but it’s just too complicated.”